Page 255 of Alpha Mates

It’s only then I notice that her attention has been on me, because once it shifts to Julian, I feel the pressing weight of it lift.

“This isn’t …” I search for a way to sayus trying to kill you. “… Anythingbad.”

Julian shoots me a look of obvious disappointment. I shrug. He knows exactly who he’s mated to.

“We don’t want a fight,” he corrects with a breath. “We just want to talk.”

“And what makes you think you’re in a position to decide what happens here?”

The velvet voice slithers through the tear, reaching us ahead of its owner.

Sharp, purple eyes breach the opening as it widens, making room for the witch as she gingerly steps through and lands on the balls of her feet with odd glee. Her attention shifts between Julian and me with some mix of amusement and aggravation.

She’s all sharp angles—high cheekbones and cat-like eyes. Her dark curls bracket her face, at least the strands that aren’t heavy with trinkets that jingleas she moves. It’s a mishmash of beads, rings, threads, and goddess knows what else. I doubt it’s just for show.

Power hums off her like its own living entity—a symbiote instead of a tool.

This isn’t some shrivelled witch who can’t mask her strength. She’s young, just like Julian said, but if he said the witch he met was afraid, then this sure as hell isn’t her.

The last thing this witch is feeling is fear.

“You came to find me,” she says to Julian, then clicks her tongue. “Why can’t people ever just leave a good thing alone?”

Julian frowns but stays quiet. He just watches her, cautious as I am. She moves around the tear, half skipping along the edge of her spell, completely unbothered.

“You brought company again,” she says, pivoting on one foot, but she doesn’t look at me.

Her gaze skips over me entirely, locking instead on where Emitt is crouched low in the grass. My stomach sinks. I step forward, and her eyes snap to me.

She tsks, lifting a finger. “I thought you said you didn’t want a fight.”

“We don’t,” Julian replies quickly. “We …” he exhales, steadying himself. “We need your help.”

The witch stills.

Balancing on the one foot, she darts her gaze between us with obvious scepticism. “You…” Her lip curls with disgust. “Werewolves… want the help of me,a witch?”

“Yes,” I say, not bothering to hide my irritation.

Her eyes widen a touch. “Is hell freezing over?”

“Depends—are you strong enough to make that happen?” I retort.

She smirks, moving again, ignoring the others in favour of running her eyes over Julian and me. Her gaze is probing, like a scalpel trying to peel back layer after layer. I don’t know if she finds what she’s looking for, but she frowns slightly when she looks back at Julian, or rather, at the space just above his head.

“So, two alpha werewolves want my help,” she goads in a singsong chime, sliding a finger over his neck. “What’s in it for me?”

Of course she wants something. Witches always do.

“What do you want?” he asks.

She smiles again, shrugs. “Dunno. I don’t know if I can even help you.” She lifts her chin and gestures to the tear behind her. “Let’s discuss terms.”

That alone propels the others into alertness.

Spikes!Emitt shrieks through the link.

Beckett doesn’t even bother with it. “Don’t,” he warns out loud. “It’s a trap.”