Page 52

I pursed my lips. “Why would you help me? Why go against the head witch?”

“I figured…” She turned off the tap, grabbed a paper towel and faced me, resting a slender hip against the ceramic sink. “Maybe it’s time my heart wasn’t so black. Perhaps I can start changing for the better… by helping you.”

“How could you help me?”

The young witch shot a furtive glance at the bathroom door. Her voice dropped to an indistinct murmur. “By giving you a lead in your investigation. How old was your pack mate?”

“She was eight years old.” The words felt like sandpaper creeping up my throat.

“Damn,” the woman whispered, shaking her head with a frown, tugging at her lips. “Poor little thing. She had yet to live her life.”

All I could do was nod. My throat seemed to close off as the sting of tears threatened again.

The woman extended a hand. I cocked my head. She rolled her eyes and beckoned me with her fingers.

“Let’s get your pack mate justice, shall we?” The witch lifted her brows.

Hope tingled in my gut as I held out my hand to the young witch holding my torn garment. She took the offering and breathed in the scents wafting from the cloth. Her eyes snapped open wide, a breathy gasp slipping from her lips.

“What? What is it?” I asked.

She handed me back the cloth with trembling fingers and swallowed hard. “I—I mean, I can’t believe?—”

“Can’t believe what? Please tell me.”

Her gaze lingered on the cloth for a moment before finding mine. “Dark Fae. The scent on the cloth is the essence of Dark Fae.” She shook her head, closing her eyes. “Oh, God. I’ve had my suspicions but…”

I swallowed past the dry lump in my throat. “But what?”

“I’m going to tell you something about the Dark Fae, but you did not hear this from me,” she whispered.

I gave her a shaky nod. “I won’t say a word to anyone other than Damon.”

With narrowed eyes, the witch scrutinized me, as if assessing my trustworthiness.

Finally, she said, “The Fae Realm is in danger. I have only heard of its devastation, from the witches in higher positions than I, but I know for a fact the Fae Realm is dying. It is a barren wasteland; there are pockets of life—cities that thrive. But most of their realm is dying.”

I blinked. “But why? Aren’t the fae powerful? Don’t they have enough power to wield natural elements and sustain their realm and life on it? Or are the stories about the fae I’d heard as a pup false?”

A bump along the outer wall of the restroom resounded, and I flinched.

The witch whipped her head to the door; her gaze sharpening.

Yet, no one entered the bathroom. Raucous laughter soon followed.

I loosened a breath as I realized it was probably some drunk that had lost his balance and slumped against the wall beyond the door.

The young witch offered me a tremulous smile.

“What is your name?” I asked.

After a hesitant pause, she said, “Sandral.”

I nodded. “Okay, Sandral, why is the Fae Realm dying?”

She licked her lips, darting her eyes at the door. “Because, though the fae are all powerful, their energy thrives most from human beliefs.”

I cocked my head to the side, perplexed.

Upon seeing my confusion, she proceeded to explain, “Fae and humans are closely tied. Millennium upon millennium ago, they shared the same ancestors, but the lines branched off somewhere down the genetic pathways.” She sighed.

“Humans adored both Light Fae and Dark Fae, but now the light fae are gone and?—”

“What happened to them?”

She frowned. “The Dark Fae’s conquest of power wiped them out.

Some say they still live hidden within the mountains…

look, I don’t have time to explain.” She huffed.

“The Fae Realm relies on human awareness to exist and thrives on the adoration and worship of the humans. Now that those are no longer factors taking place?—”

“The fae are losing their home.” A ragged sigh escaped my lips.

“That could be the reason the Dark Fae are manipulating the werebears. As vengeance for losing the adoration of humans, they’re killing them.

” I heaved a breath. “But that still makes little sense. If they kill the humans, what does that accomplish? They’d still have no humans to restore their home. ”

“Maybe they want a new home,” the witch said.

I blinked, not understanding. Then realization dawned like a cold spray of ice water.

“The Dark Fae wants our realm.”

I slipped out of the bathroom, leaving the younger witch to follow a few moments later.

My steps unhurried, I made for the exit, my heart settling like a rock in my stomach.

To have this confirmation about the Dark Fae felt like dousing icy water over my body—jarring.

The possibility they wanted to take over the Human Realm was startling to my nerves, and my body felt as if it was unraveling tendon by tendon.

Within several feet of the door, an arm snaked around my shoulders. “Woah, there, little female,” a deep voice purred behind me. “Don’t you wanna stick around for a little while?”

After spinning around, I found myself in the arms of a male werewolf.

I recognized him. He was one of the males who Damon growled at earlier at the table.

He had his hair slicked back with gel, causing the locks to resemble porcupine quills.

Beady green eyes stared down at me, thin lips curled in a lustful grin.

“No, I don’t,” I bit out, squirming in his arms. “Now, unless you want your balls kicked up into your throat, I suggest you let go of me.”

The man’s head fell back as he roared with laughter.

His grimy arms still snaked around me as he howled back to his pack mates at the table.

“Looks like we’ve got ourselves a feisty one.

” The other males cheered their approval.

The male werewolf holding me dipped his head, his cold, wet lips brushing the shell of my ear as he whispered, “I like them like that.”

A shiver trailed down my spine at the feel of his fishy lips grazing my ear.

I shrank away, fangs grown out, ready to sink my teeth into his arm.

But as quick as he grabbed me, the male released me with a shove.

I staggered, almost falling on my ass. One glance up at the male showed a marked transformation in his features.

Gone was the sleazy grin, the lust in his eyes, only to be replaced by a look of disdain—his upper lip curled back in revulsion.

“You’re a latent!” he growled.

“She’s a latent?” one of the males at the table yelled out.

“Yeah,” the male, who’d held me, snarled. “I can fucking smell it on her. She has no wolf.”

The other werewolves at the table jeered. A familiar pang of hurt lanced through me. Echoes of the voices of children from long ago crept into my mind.

She has no wolf!

Just a stupid latent!

Poor latent, no wolf means she’s not worthy of a pack!

I bit my lip hard, tasting the metallic tang of blood flooding my mouth. Weakness. I’d shown weakness, and like a bird of prey, the male werewolf sensed it.

“Aww…” he cooed mockingly. “Did that hurt your feelings, little latent?” He pushed at my shoulder. “Get the fuck out of here!” His eyes tightened to slits. “Wolfless bitch.”

One moment, the male werewolf stood before me and the next, a blur of fur barreled into him, pinning him against the far wall. I gasped, blinking.

Damon.

Two hundred plus pounds of alpha male jumped on the lean male werewolf.

Damon’s meaty paw clamped around the wolf’s throat.

The smaller werewolf clawed at his hand, kicking out as the alpha suspended him several feet off the floor.

Damon snarled, unfazed by the torn flesh of his fist, still wrapped around the male’s throat.

He squeezed, and the male wheezed, his face splotching red.

The wolf’s pack mates leaped to their feet in snarling fury.

Damon’s head snapped back to the wolves, a roar tearing from his barreled chest. The dominance he exuded slammed into the wolves—and into me—-with enough force that it stole my breath away, causing the fine hairs on my arms to stand on end.

The wolves stilled, their heads dipped, necks bared. Anyone who glanced at Damon—the gold of his eyes, thick fangs bared, stiffened hair—could tell he was moments away from losing his shit. And no one was stupid enough to go toe to toe with a raging alpha werewolf on a rampage.

Damon’s head turned to the gasping male still in his grasp.

“Apologize.” His voice sounded like a ragged whisper, dipped in ice and dangerous.

“What?” the male choked out.

Damon squeezed harder and blood spurted from the male wolf’s mouth.

I swallowed hard. My mouth and throat felt so dry—parched.

“I won’t ask again,” Damon told him in a voice sounding like graveled rage. “You shamed the female. I have no problem with flaying the skin from your flesh inch by inch and feeding it to the wild wolves, you little shit.”

“I… I’m sorry.” His green eyes fastened on Damon, holding a pleading expression.

“Not. To. Me.” Damon jutted his chin out toward me. “Apologize to the female. Now!”

The wolf’s terrified eyes skated past Damon, searching for me. “S-sorry.”

My limbs went numb with astonishment. No one had ever stood up for me besides my elder brother Ty and sister Sky.

To witness a bear, my enemy, uphold my honor—my fated mate who’d rejected me—caused a rush of warmth to bloom in my chest. A lone tear slipped from my eye, but I swiped it away.

My gaze caught and remained on the broad play of muscles in Damon’s back, the corded tendons of his forearm.

Seconds passed before Damon released the wolf.

The male crumpled to the ground, gasping for precious oxygen.

Damon spat, his saliva pelting the male’s cheek.

He cast one last murderous glare at the other wolves before whirling around and stalking toward me.

His thick arm encircled my waist, and with that, he escorted me out of the bar.