Page 49 of Shifting Hearts
THREE
The Second First Meeting
Emilia
T he worst part isn’t that he’s back. No, it’s that I still want him.
The bond stretches between us like a wire wrapped around my throat, tightening with every breath he takes in my space. And he takes up a lot of space. Even when he isn’t speaking, his presence fills every corner of the room. He’s too big, too loud, too familiar.
I hate that I remember how his voice sounded when he told me I wasn’t enough. I hate that my body remembers him even more than my heart does. And I hate that I agreed to help him.
But what choice do I have? I’d rather walk through fire than let him reject me again. One refusal shattered me. A second might kill what little of me is left.
At least if we catch this killer quickly, he’ll be gone just as fast. At least I hope he will leave as quickly as he appeared. And then maybe… just maybe I can breathe again.
Lucian’s eyes flick around the shop like he’s cataloging every threat.
His posture is loose, but I know better.
It’s calculated. Coiled and ready to strike.
He was always like that, lethal even when silent.
But now? There’s something darker behind his eyes.
Like he’s done more than just survive. Like he’s become the monster he once hunted.
“You got anything yet?” he asks, voice low, gravel-laced.
“I just agreed to help you five minutes ago.” I hate being pushed.
His jaw flexes and I know I’m pushing his buttons. Fuck him though. He needs my help.
“Well, unless you want me to ask the cards how to find a murderer, you’ll have to give me more than ‘someone died and it smelled funny.’”
“I said…”
“I know what you said,” I cut in, spinning toward the back room. “Come on.”
He doesn’t question me, just follows, all heat and growl and shadow. The scent of him curls behind me like smoke, earth and danger and home , though I refuse to let my traitorous heart admit that last part out loud.
I push open the heavy door to the back. It’s not a witch’s lair. Not exactly. Just my personal sanctum. Charms hang from the rafters. Shelves overflow with bones, herbs, stones, and dusty journals. It’s safe. Sacred. Mine.
Lucian doesn’t step all the way in. He hovers near the doorway, gaze drifting over the rune-carved table in the center.
“You still practice?” he asks.
I lift a brow. “That a problem, Alpha?”
His lip curls, almost a smile. But it doesn’t touch his eyes. “Just didn’t expect the half-wolf I left behind to turn full witch.”
“I didn’t turn into anything. I was this the whole time. You just never looked close enough to see it.”
His nostrils flare, and I know I hit a nerve. Good he doesn’t deserve to be comfortable.
I place a small obsidian bowl in the center of the table and drop a match in. Smoke curls upward as dried myrrh ignites.
“Now,” I say, tone clipped, “tell me about the death. Don’t leave out a single detail.”
Lucian steps forward, finally entering the space. I feel it, his aura brushing against mine, electric and bitter. He’s trying to hold it back, trying not to touch me. But it’s not fucking working.
“A challenger came into my territory,” he begins lowly. “Too green and too arrogant. But he’s strong. The kind of wolf who’d take a shot just to prove he could. I let him make his case and he left. I found him two days later. His throat was ripped out, and his heart was missing.”
I blink. “Do you think it was a ritual kill?”
“It certainly fucking looks like it.”
“It could’ve been a rogue,” I say, knowing a ritual killing will mean nothing but problems.
He shakes his head. “No rogue would know how to kill like that and leave no scent behind . There was only one trail, and it was too clean. Almost like it was placed there on purpose.”
“So, whoever did it… wanted you to follow it?” I ask with a frown.
Lucian meets my gaze. “Exactly.”
A chill spreads over my skin. Someone lured him here. To Crystal Falls. To me . But why? The question blooms like rot in my chest.
“I’ll cast a seeking spell,” I say, reaching for a carved wolf’s fang and a bundle of hawthorn twigs. “It might give us a direction.”
He nods but remains silent. I can feel his gaze on me as I work, watching my hands move, the way I whisper the words under my breath, the way I close my eyes and press the fang to my tongue before dropping it into the smoke.
The bowl hisses and the smoke darkens. A vision flashes in my mind. It’s fast, sharp, and painful.
Blood on stone. A clawed hand. A broken chain. A shadowed figure watching Lucian from the trees with glowing red eyes. And in the distance? My face.
The vision snaps off and I stumble back, my heart pounding so hard I’m afraid it might break a damn rib.
Lucian catches me before I fall, his fingers wrapped tightly around my upper arms, grounding me. The heat of him sears through the thin fabric of my shirt and my breath stutters. He doesn’t let go and I secretly don’t want him to.
“What did you see?” he asks, his voice low and rough.
I swallow. “Someone - or something - is toying with you. And it’s not just after you.” His grip tightens almost painfully. “It’s after us . ”
We stare at each other for long seconds. There’s something electric between us now, the old pain and new danger twisting into something almost unholy. My pulse drums in my throat. His jaw ticks. He finally drops his hands.
“Then we better move fast,” he mutters.
I nod. “We start at the lake. That’s where the vision pointed.”
Lucian turns to leave, but before he can step through the door, I call after him. “Lucian?” He pauses. “If this is some game, if you’re playing with me…”
He doesn’t look back. “I don’t play games, little witch.”
And then he’s gone and I’m left alone with the scent of him still in the air, my heart still racing, and the horrifying knowledge that this second first meeting is going to destroy me all over again - whether I want it to or not.