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Chapter Eleven

Sutton

Quickly and carefully, I placed the jar I’d just filled with cemetery dirt into my bag, then wrapped the small bunch of Hyssop I’d risked taking in a damp cloth and tucked it in there as well.

Then froze at the sound of voices.

Shit.

The clink of the padlock on the iron cemetery gate came next.

I needed to get the hell out of here. Ducking low, I sprinted for one of the large trees that edged the fence line and tucked myself in as far as I could.

Boo chirped, then poked his head out from my jacket. I held my finger to my lips, and he ducked back.

Laughter carried through the darkness. My mother’s. I’d know it anywhere. She laughed a lot, usually at people’s expense. Chatter followed. My sister was with her, and another of my cousins—Harriet, by the sounds.

I’d needed ingredients for Tarrant’s order, so risked coming back to the cemetery so soon. Now I was going to get caught and hauled in front of the witch’s council.

I leaned back as far as I could go as they walked by, trying not to freaking breathe.

They were terrible people, judgmental, cruel, but still it hurt.

I tried not to let it, but the coven you were born into was part of you, it was in your blood.

Being here always felt right, but tonight, standing here, hiding from my own mother, my sister, my family again , truly brought home just how unwelcome I would always be. I didn’t belong here anymore.

I couldn’t stay here and risk getting caught. I had to move. When they were far enough away and distracted, I pulled the hood of my sweatshirt up, slipped out from my hiding spot, and ran for the gate. I was just about there?—

“Hey!” my mother yelled.

Oh no.

“Sutton! Is that you?”

“You thieving bitch,” my sister screeched.

I didn’t stop. I ran until I reached my car parked several blocks away, but my heart didn’t slow, not until I was back in my apartment.

Stupid.

I should never have gone back so soon.

They’d make me pay for that.

I was screwed.

I strained against the gurney, fighting the binds strapping me down, panic filling me. The Chemist pulled on his black latex gloves and picked up his scalpel. The door opened and someone walked in. The Chemist paused as they approached.

Poe stood on the other side of the gurney and held out his hand. The Chemist gave him the scalpel and walked away.

“Now,” Poe said, his black eyes dancing with excitement. “Where were we?”

Then he opened his mouth…and howled.

My eyes shot open.

I sat up, heart pounding, then held my breath, listening. The nightmare was awful, and not the first time I’d had it, but it wasn’t what woke me up. Something else had.

Shit, had the witch’s council come for me already?

My mother would have called and reported me for trespassing, I had no doubt.

The little studio I’d rented over a cigar shop in the center of the city was warded—still.

I listened hard, but everything was silent.

I shook my head, on edge after what happened tonight.

The council wouldn’t come in the middle of the night, not for trespassing, surely.

I forced myself to lie back down.

A howl echoed in the distance, making my heart lurch into my throat.

I shot back up, and Boo stopped chewing the fruit I’d put out for him.

I’d heard it in my dreams, hadn’t I? That’s what woke me.

That howl had reached through my dreams. Shoving back the covers, I stumbled out of bed and rushed to the window.

Breathing heavily, hand shaking, I eased back the curtain.

I knew who I was going to see before I spotted him, because I realized I felt him close. Somehow, I felt him.

A huge hound sat in the dark street below my window, his eyes still green, glowing up at me.

What the hell was he doing here?

Pain flashed so bright through me, I moaned. Why was he doing this? Gods. Not again. I battered the pain back with rage, pushing it down as deep as I could get it. Anger was much better, much easier. Much safer.

Dropping the curtain, I strode around my bed, snatched my phone from the bedside table, then stomped back to the window, where I jerked back the curtains and held up my phone.

The massive hound blinked up at me, then shifted smoothly, going from four legs to two, black fur giving way to muscled, tattooed skin.

Naked, he scooped up the jeans beside him and pulled them on, and then took something from his pocket, his phone.

I didn’t want to talk to him. I didn’t want to hear that deep gravelly voice, so instead, I messaged him.

Sutton: Why are you here?

I watched as he looked down at his phone, reading my message, then head bent, he tapped out his reply. Boo flew over to me, took a look out the window, then obviously unbothered, flew back and carried on eating. My phone beeped.

Jagger: Loth saw you tonight. Don’t want you hanging around Poe. That fucking demon is trouble, understand?

I knew exactly the kind of trouble Poe was, but what the hell did it have to do with Jagger? He’d made his position clear.

Sutton: Who I spend time with is none of your business.

Jagger looked back down, and even from here I could see his shoulders stiffen. He stabbed at his phone screen with those long, thick fingers and my phone chimed again.

Jagger: It’s my concern when you’re kissing that piece of shit.

What now? Oh my freaking gods! My fury shot higher, so hard and fast that I felt dizzy. I couldn’t ever remember being this angry. Even when I was kicked out of my coven, I hadn’t reached this level of outrage.

I couldn’t smile, I couldn’t push down all the pain, not this time, not tonight.

He didn’t want me, refused to admit we were even mates—and no, I didn’t want Poe touching me, and certainly not kissing me, but Jagger didn’t know that. He didn’t want me, but no one else could have me either? Was that how this was going to go?

He’d been gone close to a month, nearly four weeks of no contact, because I didn’t exist to him, I wasn’t important—until he thought someone else wanted me?

How dare he toy with me like that. My fingers flew across my phone screen as I typed my response.

Sutton: Your arrogance is astounding. Seriously something special. I don’t know who the hell you think you are? Not mates, right? So who I kiss is none of your business. You made your choice, Jagger. Now you need to back the fuck off and live with it.

I watched him read my message, then tap another reply, and when he looked up, his eyes had turned red.

Jagger: My instincts to protect you aren’t going anywhere, Sutton, so you’re going to have to get used to it.

I hissed, so incensed I wanted to open the window and throw my phone at his head.

Sutton: I don’t want your protection. Get that through your thick skull and leave me the hell alone. I don’t want you. I’m over you completely.

He read it, typed his reply, then looked back up and flashed his teeth.

Jagger: You’re wearing my shirt.

I looked down at myself in horror. I was.

I didn’t even think about it. Every night, I told myself not to, and every night, I couldn’t stop myself from putting it on.

It smelled of him, even after I washed it, and being surrounded by his scent, it gave me comfort. I hated that I still felt that way.

I would not let him think I needed him, because I didn’t. He was the one showing up at my place in the middle of the night. He was the one acting all jealous. Well, he couldn’t have it both ways.

My vision turned red, my anger flipping the switch inside me, and I felt as if I was outside my body watching as I tossed my phone on the bed.

Then snatching my knife from my bedside table, I yanked the curtains wider.

Light from the sign across the street hit me as I climbed onto the wide windowsill.

Jagger froze, his hand still gripping his phone lowered to his side.

Grabbing the neck of the shirt, I lifted my razor-sharp knife and sliced, hacking and slashing it right down the front, destroying the shirt.

Hopefully, he got the message—I didn’t want him either, or his fucking shirt.

Jagger

Sutton stood on the windowsill, my shirt sliced in two. She yanked it off completely, leaving her in only a pair of underwear. My gaze roamed over her bare skin glowing from the streetlights and highlighting the scars all over her beautiful body as she shoved open the waist-high window.

Scowling, she tossed my shirt at me—then, leaning forward, she lifted both hands, thrusting them out as well, and before I could say anything, not that I knew what the fuck to say anyway, she gave me a double-middle-finger salute, slammed the window closed, jumped down, and jerked the curtains closed.

Shutting me out.

I swallowed thickly. Fuck, my female was a warrior, scarred inside and out from the battles she’d fought and survived—and tonight, she’d never looked more fierce.

I realized in that moment, I was panting, the beast rolling and pushing against my flesh to get free, demanding we go and get her, that we take her home to our den and never let her out.

Coming here was a bad idea, but how the fuck could I stay away? And now that I’d seen her again after being parted from her, I wasn’t sure I could leave her again.

My hand was fucking trembling as I quickly typed out another message.

Jagger: Let me in, Sutton.

Going in was a bad idea as well, but every instinct in me roared for it, roared for me to get closer to her, right the fuck now.

I waited, but there was no answer.

Jagger: Open the door. Now. We need to talk.

Still, no reply came. I strode to the door and tried the door handle, and her ward sent a bolt through me, not strong enough to stop me but strong enough to shock some sense into me.

What the fuck was I doing?

An image of Poe touching her, kissing her, slammed through me again, and I snarled.

I hadn’t seen it for myself, but my mind was throwing up images and adding some embellishments of its own.

Like him stripping my female naked, like him tasting her bare skin—tossing her on the bed and coming down on top of her, of him?—

I gripped the sides of my head and shook it with a growl.

Yeah, it was probably a fucking good thing she wouldn’t let me in. It was hard, but I made myself step back, away from her door, instead of breaking it down, which is what I really wanted to fucking do right then.

Before I approached her again, I needed to get my shit together.

I needed to think about what the hell I was going to do.

And if I truly thought I could leave her a third time, when everything in me demanded I stay.