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Emilio stalked closer, using his phone to film the interaction as the men stayed too focussed on each other to notice.

Not surprising, given his bracelet had started vibrating against his skin, letting him know someone was preparing to launch a magical attack.

Usually, it only reacted to threats to him personally, but apparently even the protection spell knew Rocco was a part of him.

“Go ahead. Use your magic against me. See what the punishment for that is. You might be strong, but you’re not strong enough to face the entire MC when they come for you for attacking an officer.”

Rocco growled in frustration and the tingle of his specific flavour of magic that had been stroking against Emilio’s awareness lessened. His bracelet was vibrating even harder, though. That fucker was going to do something to his mate.

Twisting the ring on his left hand until the hidden tiny spine emerged from its top, he checked to ensure a single drop of the expensive toxin was suspended on its sharp tip.

Greenery blurred around him as he moved with the kind of speed only a shifter could.

Fury filled him as he took in the image of Brand grasping his mate’s arm tight with a hand that was glowing with orange fire magic.

The guy’s road name made sick sense now. No one marked his mate but him.

The treasurer finally noticed the threat but didn’t stop what he was doing.

“Oh look. Your fiancé came to watch your humiliation. Film it even. I’ll get to him next,” Brand said.

Emilio slowed, not wanting to startle the witch. He already had enough leverage on his phone to show what happened here, so he slipped it into his pocket. There was no need to risk any evidence of what came next.

The heat emanating from Brand was growing intense, and Emilio could see the strain on his mate’s face as he neared.

The arrogant fire witch thought his magic and his position in the MC would keep him safe from a wolf.

Rocco might not be able to risk leaving a magical signature on the fucker’s body, but Emilio’s attack wouldn’t be traceable.

Smiling softly, he reached out and placed a gentle hand on top of Brand’s where it gripped Rocco’s forearm tight.

The fire witch looked confused for a moment, not noticing the soft scratch from his ring.

All the blood drained from his face as quickly as the heat dissipated from the hand he’d been attempting to mark Rocco’s skin with as the fast-acting toxin took effect.

It would block his access to his magic for up to an hour.

“You don’t touch what’s mine,” Emilio growled, gripping Brand’s wrist in his fingers and squeezing until the bone bruised beneath his hand, refusing to let him stumble back.

“If anything happens to him, or to me, the footage I just took will be sent directly to your prez and my pack. Have you ever seen wolves tear a man apart limb from limb, Brand? There’s a trick to it.

You have to keep the bite gentle enough that you don’t break through the bone before you manage to rip the limb from the joint.

It can take a while to coordinate the right pressure when you’ve got four angry wolves using you to play tug-o-war.

The last guy I saw die that way was dragged two miles into the forest before he finally bled out. ”

Once he was satisfied the fear scent had saturated the treasurer, Emilio let him go. A huffed laugh escaped him when the big, bad biker immediately spun and fled back to his ride to get away from him, smoke drifting into the air from his squealing tyres.

“Awww, puppy. He was just posturing. I wouldn’t have let him hurt me.”

“Shut up,” Emilio said, turning back to the taller man and picking up Rocco’s arm to inspect the skin where Brand had been holding it.

The outline of the treasurer’s fingers was clearly visible on the angry red skin, but it didn’t appear shiny or blistered.

It was more like someone had given him a solid spank.

Another growl escaped him as he rubbed at the spot before Rocco’s hand closed over his, the air around his arm cooling rapidly with his magic.

The change in temperature left his entire forearm red with cold, but at least Brand’s mark was no longer visible.

“Where’d you get the toxin from?” Rocco asked, fingers glancing over the silver of Emilio’s ring, which was now safely disarmed with the spike inside reloaded, ready to administer the next dose.

“What toxin?” Emilio asked, blinking up at him.

It was highly illegal, and not in the way the crime families in New Trinity usually ignored.

One of the rarer side effects was permanent disconnection from a witch’s magic, especially with repeated exposure.

A harsh penalty given they could still feel their power just out of reach for the rest of their lives.

It sent most of them into a breakdown, eventually.

He could only hope Brand was one of them.

Rocco shook his head, but his eyes flashed with something dark and possessive that called to his wolf. “You’re lucky he won’t want to advertise what was happening here and his current vulnerability or he’d be running straight to Blaze.”

Emilio barked out a laugh. “Luck has nothing to do with it. I knew what I was doing.”

“Protecting what’s yours?” Rocco asked, a smug look crossing his face as he stepped closer, pushing Emilio until his back was pressed to the rough bark of a tree.

Emilio looked away. “What’d you do to piss him off?”

“Exist? He’s had it in for me since I got here.”

The rumbling tone of Rocco’s voice was vibrating against Emilio’s skin where the witch had pressed his nose into his neck again, drawing in a deep breath like he was a wolf himself.

Once again, he was torn between his wolf’s howling to tip his head and bare his throat for a mating bite, and his desire to flip them round and show Rocco which of them was really stronger.

The problem was that he knew if he gave into the latter urge, his wolf would take over even faster as they fought and he was much more likely to lose it.

He compromised by reaching up to grab Rocco’s hair in a tight grip so he could take control, pressing his mate’s mouth into the dip above his shoulder even harder until he could feel the witch’s blunt human teeth.

The move quieted his wolf a little so he could get some breathing room, but he’d miscalculated.

Rocco didn’t act like a human would. He acted like a wolf mate, biting down.

Hard. Fuck. He was going to break skin if he kept going.

“Vermillion,” Emilio gasped.

Rocco froze before staggering back, gasping, eyes as wild as Emilio’s. They stood like that for long minutes, staring at each other as their chests rose and fell with too-fast breaths.

“I need to go before I do something we both regret,” Rocco finally said. “I’ll pick you up for the engagement announcement tomorrow night.”

Emilio stared after his retreating back, swearing under his breath. How was he supposed to live with this man without fucking him into the nearest surface and bonding him?

The next morning, Emilio woke to more mouth-watering scents drifting from his kitchen.

Apparently, his wolf had filed Rocco as ‘ not an intruder ’ and didn’t bother to wake him when they felt the tug of the potential bond.

It was cornetti and piping hot espresso waiting on his breakfast bar this time, along with a package wrapped in black and gold ribbon.

The sense of Rocco’s presence was already fading .

Emilio eyed the present like it was a bomb as he took a bite of the pastry, moaning in pleasure at the fresh, buttery taste.

Asshole:

Left you something to wear to the party tonight. Like a corsage.

Curiosity getting the better of him, Emilio used one of his knives to slice through the tape and carefully pulled the box open. A string of swear words left him as he looked inside.

Emilio:

In your fucking dreams, asshole.

Asshole:

Every night.

There was a slight tingle of Rocco’s magic against his fingers as he pulled the contents of the box out.

Not that Emilio should’ve been able to sense that, but apparently his wolf was overly attuned to the irritating witch.

What had the asshole done to it with his power?

With Rocco, it could be damn near anything to drive him crazy.

A growl escaped him, and his cock swelled so fast he was left dizzy and aching with need as he stared down at the ‘ gifts ’—a heavy metal butt plug that looked pretty close to five inches long, and a tiny lace jockstrap that was the exact dark purple of Rocco’s magic.

What. The. Fuck?