Page 97
Story: Bewitched
I pull away from Kane, putting some needed distance between us.
“Are you Selene Bowers?” one of the officers asks.
I nod.
“Would you like to tell us why you called us out here?” the other officer asks, her eyes moving over me and Kane.
For the next thirty minutes, Kane and I recount what happened to the two Politia officers. I covertly glance at their name tags: Officer Howahkan is the man and Officer Mwangi is the woman. They contact Kane’s pack to inform them of the incident, and then I take the group of us inside my residence hall.
When we pass the house’s library, we catch sight of a witch who sits passed out on one of the wingback chairs, her legs spread and her skirt around her waist. Another woman—a shifter, I think—kneels before her, her head on the witch’s thigh. She too appears to be passed out.
Officer Howahkan clears his throat, clearly not cool with what he’s seen.
He’s obviously not attended too many events with witches. We really do party hard.
I lead the group upstairs, toward my room, skirting around a witch sitting on the landing while singing a bawdy drinking song to her fox familiar, her magenta magic swirling around her.
We head down the third-floor hallway to my room, and once I let the group inside, the officers look over the broken glass, the rumpled sheets, and Kane’s discarded shirt. And then Kane and I recount the evening’s events all over again, starting with the foiled bang session and ending with Kane shifting. The entire time we recount the events, the coven sister in the room next door has really loud, enthusiastic sex.
Good for her. Should have been me, but good for her.
We all eventually head back downstairs, passing that same witch on the landing, only now she and her familiar have fallen asleep together. The couple in the library is still passed out, and honestly, they’ll probably be there until morning.
Officer Mwangi shakes her head at all of it.
I hurriedly escort them out to the front porch before closing the door behind me and giving my sisters their privacy.
“Well, I think that’s all we need for now,” Officer Howahkan says to me and Kane. “We’ll let you know if we apprehend your attacker.”
Officer Mwangi scrutinizes me as her partner turns to her, clearly ready to wrap this up.
Her eyes, however, are fixed on me. “Weren’t you the same girl who reported the last murder?” she asks.
Um…I have zero recollection of meeting this person.
I swallow delicately. “Um. Yeah.”
Kane glances over at me, his brows rising. Officer Howahkan too stares at me with unnerving intensity.
“What a coincidence,” Officer Mwangi says, though the way she says it makes it clear she’s thinking it’s not a coincidence at all. She gives me a once-over, like I’ve just gottenwaymore suspicious.
I feel my hackles rise.
“Whoa,” Kane says, lifting a hand in a placating gesture. “Tonight wasn’t Selene’s fault. A man broke into her room and attacked us.”
Officer Mwangi’s attention moves to Kane, and she gives him a look like he’s gullible.
I hear an ominous growl low in Kane’s chest. I glance at him, remembering how he reacted when I ordered him around earlier this evening. And now he perceived something else as a challenge.
Just where in lycanthrope hierarchy does Kane fall?
Because he’s acting like an alpha. A possessive one too.
Officer Mwangi dips her head, and I don’t know if she means for it to be a submissive display, but it seems to satisfy Kane’s wolf, who quiets at the action.
But placating gestures or not, the damage from the officer’s words has already been done. I can sense it in the air like a sick sort of magic itself.
Somehow, between stumbling upon a corpse and getting accosted by an ancient sorcerer, the Politia has determined I’m suspicious enough to take note of.
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