Page 252 of Alpha Mates

“When you were gone,” I start carefully, “I ran into a witch while I was looking for you.”

“A witch?!” he sputters, his fear snapping into a new shape. “You saw a witch?”

“Just the one,” I clarify. “She looked just as shocked to see me as I was to see her.”

Aiden bites out a curse. “First rogues, and now we have witches on our doorstep.”

“Witch.” I correct softly. “She was alone—and she felt powerful.”

Pausing, Aiden studies me until his expression clears with understanding. “You want us to find her.”

“Witches always find a way.” It’s the one certainty we have about the unforthcoming species.

“I know it’s crazy, but it’s something,” I add with a shrug. “A possibility when there’s none here.”

Aiden’s eyes soften, the distress sparking in them again before his jaw tightens with renewed determination. “Okay.”

My eyebrows climb. “Okay?”

“You’re right—it’s something. And I’m not losing you, Julian,” he says, gripping my hand before lifting it for a kiss. “Not you.”

I blink back the wetness in my eyes as I stare at my mate.

I’d given up—at least a piece of me had—before we got here. I suddenly hate that piece of me with a vengeance. How dare I? Even for a moment. How dare I when he needed me?

Straightening, I gather what strength I can, using him as my anchor, the centre point that he’d become in my life.

I’m not giving him up without a fight, even if that means living on this plain without Alex.

“She might’ve moved on by now, but,” I hold his gaze as my heart hammers in my chest, “maybe she didn’t.”

Aiden’s lips tug into a genuine smile as he nods. “Let’s go find a witch.”

Chapter 51

Aiden

Julian ducks under a spidering branch and straightens on the other side, eyes already sharp and scanning. His head tilts at every crack and rustle, scouting the quiet woodlands with lethal focus.

I try to do the same, but my eyes keep returning to him every five seconds.

I don’t know what happened to him between the start and end of that meeting, but something had scrubbed out that morbid acceptance. And as grateful as I am for the sudden wave of adrenaline—or hope, or whatever the hell he’s riding on—if it burns out while we’re out here, then I need to be ready.

But Julian doesn’t waver.

Each step deathly silent, deliberate. He moves like the predator he is. He’s ready for anything, and Goddess knows we could be walking into anything out here.

This is, admittedly, madness.

We’ve been home for less than twenty-four hours, and here we are, beyond packlands again, this chasing a witch. A fucking witch.

I never encountered one, and I wasn’t particularly eager to change that. But then Julian had dropped the bomb that he’d run into one out here less than a month ago, and now, here we are.

I don’t know what’s more surprising—that he hadn’t mentioned meeting the hag until now, or that a lone witch was running around out here.

Witches, like wolves, were familial creatures. We move in packs and they move in covens. That’s about where the similarities end.

They’re inherently cruel, even to their own. Where a pack protects its weakest, a coven drains their power and uses what’s left as compost. But even with all their freakish perversions, they don’t usually go it alone.