Page 58 of The Delta’s Rogue (Crescent Lake #4)

The petite witch’s eyes widen when she sees me, knuckles turning as white as the dress on her body as her grip on the drink tray she carries tightens. The other, older female flicks her wrist, and with a whoosh of air magic, the door shuts behind them.

She speaks to us as she saunters further into the room, but her words float in one ear and out the other.

I can’t focus on anything she’s saying. All I can focus on is the scent wafting towards me from the miniature witch.

Honeysuckle. Pomegranate. Mango. Sensuous and sweet, and crafted by Selene herself.

It’s not the small witch I smell. Like the night I brought Haven to the pack, after her ex attacked her and her scent lingered on my skin and clothing, this scent lingers on the young witch.

The scent of my mate .

My little rogue.

My Sarina.

A clashing war of emotions begins within me.

The sliver of joy at the confirmation that she is mine is sliced into pieces by the disappointment that she isn’t here to share this moment with me.

The galloping of my heart in celebration is trampled by the bitter realization that it will be another week until we rescue her.

“I hope you’ve found the event enjoyable so far.” The other witch stares straight into the side of my face .

“Her name is Amara,” Dominic mindlinks me as the younger witch moves further into the room with our drinks, making a beeline straight to me.

Thank the Goddess he was listening to her and noticed I was not.

“I’ve never seen anything quite like this.” I take my drink from the petite witch.

My lycan whines and strains against my hold on him.

The scent, while muted, calls to us. It swirls and spirals like the tail of a comet flying through time and space.

My instincts scream at me to drop my act, to grab that tiny, fragile witch and shake answers out of her, to force her to tell me where Sarina is and how to get her to safety.

But I can’t do any of that without blowing our cover. I can only hope there is a chance for me to speak with her alone, even if it’s brief, and I can only console myself by remembering we have a half-concocted plan to rescue Sarina when she’s auctioned next weekend.

My years of hiding the truth from my friends, and the long days of repressing my lycan’s bloodthirsty and possessive urges, aid me in my current self-control. As much as I’ve hated concealing the truth and resisting his impulses, I’m grateful for the discipline both have instilled in me.

“Will you be bidding on any merchandise today?” Amara sweeps her eyes towards Nolan and Cassandra. “I see you’ve brought a toy with you. Perhaps you’d like a second pet to double your entertainment and enjoyment?”

Her gaze lingers on them.

No. It lingers on Cassandra .

She trails her eyes up and down Cassandra’s scantily clad body, smirking in amused approval at Cassandra’s gold lingerie set that reveals more than it covers.

A throaty laugh escapes her as Nolan yanks Cassandra’s low, sleek ponytail, forcing her to arch and reveal her breasts, where her nipples poke through the tiny triangles of fabric.

Cassandra exposes her throat to Nolan, and Amara’s eyes lock on the choker wrapped around Cassandra’s neck before examining the possessive grip of Nolan’s other hand on Cassandra’s bare ass.

“Yes, she would be even more exquisite with a companion,” Amara declares. “Can’t you picture it? Can’t you imagine how fun it would be to watch them play with each other before you all take turns having your own fun with them?”

Nolan swallows, body taut as a tightrope, his chest heaving from the effort it takes to restrain himself and hold in the furious growl I can sense building within him.

His hand cupping Cassandra’s ass slides around to her inner thigh, fingers tracing over the tattoo of his name that we remembered to hide this time.

Cassandra’s hands slide up and down his chest, soothing him and keeping him reclined against the couch, her eyes glazing over for a split-second as she mindlinks him.

“I can imagine it, yes.” I squeeze my glass and shove my other hand in my pocket as I jerk my chin towards the window and the stage to hide the flaring of my nostrils. “But I’ve yet to see anything on that stage that catches my eye.”

Breathe , I remind myself. Breathe .

But breathing fills my lungs with more of that scent attached to the smaller witch. Sarina’s scent.

My lycan terrorizes the cage I placed him in, throwing a tantrum and clawing at the prison that is my mind. He demands I set him free and get answers, but I roll my neck and keep him inside.

Cassandra catches my eye for half a second, and I take another deep breath. She’s here to block our auras if needed, but mine is running wild and I’m unsure if I can keep it back much longer. I’m unsure if she’s prepared for it to hit her while she’s putting on her show to keep Amara unawares.

The petite, dark-haired witch stops in front of Dominic and hands him his drink. Even though she’s serving him, her eyes give me a pointed stare.

Dominic tenses and holds his breath as he takes his drink, his jaw clenched and eyes simmering as he stares down his nose at her.

The small witch’s eyes flick towards the stage and then back to me before she gives Dominic a quick nod and an over-the-top smile. Then she repeats the motion once more, eyes shooting daggers towards the stage before landing on my face again.

I frown and glance at the strawberry-blonde girl the customers currently bid on, sipping my drink to give myself something to focus on other than the scent of Sarina on this female’s skin and clothing.

While soft, the scent fills the room and reaches every corner, now that the witch is moving around.

Amara schmoozes away behind me, going on and on about Goddess knows what, kissing my ass and pretending like she cares about anything more than the potential money I can give their operation by purchasing a female.

I nod along, pretending to listen and feigning interest in the auction, while I watch the little witch from the corner of my eye.

The audience cheers as the auctioneer announces the final bidding price: one hundred and thirteen thousand dollars.

I swallow the rest of my drink in one gulp and set the glass on a small table.

Amara clasps her hands together in front of her chest with a phony, reluctant sigh.

“I hate to leave when we’re having such a wonderful time getting to know each other”—her voice is coated with pure honey—“but I must return to my duties, checking on the winners and their prizes and seeing to them as they leave the event.” She spins on her heel and struts to the door, stopping only to give whispered directions to her companion.

“Brenna here will get you anything you need for the rest of the evening,” she adds out loud to us. “It will all be on the house.”

We’re all silent as she leaves and we watch the door close.

Each second it takes to click shut feels way too long, furthering the tension Amara and Brenna brought with them when they arrived.

Dominic finally storms towards it and shoves it closed, and as soon as he does, Brenna sets her tray on the couch and rushes over to me.

“Why are you here tonight?” she asks as she crosses the room. “Nevermind, that doesn’t matter. I put an illusion up so we can speak without—”

I grab her shoulders, the tips of my fingers digging into her skin, and my eyes stare straight into her frantic, broken blue ones. “Where is she? How is she? Why is her scent so strong on you?”

I can’t get the words out fast enough. I don’t know if what I say is intelligible. It doesn’t matter, though. My sole focus is on finding out whatever I can about Sarina to ease the wait between now and next week when we finally save her.

Brenna shakes her head, unperturbed by my grip on her body. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. She’s—”

“Seb.” Dominic’s voice cuts Brenna off.

His tone pulls my attention to the window, where he’s staring out at the stage as they’re preparing to auction another female. The two assistants guide her off the trapdoor platform and to the edge of the stage, where they push her to her knees.

My heart drops through my feet to the lower floor of the theater.

“Our final female is a last-minute addition to tonight’s sale,” the auctioneer says .

I take slow, shaky steps forward, eyes glued to the naked, dark-eyed female kneeling at the foot of the stage, cuffed and collared with silver.

Sarina.

“They’re selling her tonight instead,” Brenna murmurs from my left.

Not that we need her to tell us that. We can all see for ourselves.

I press my hand against the glass and hold my breath.

Sarina poses on the stage, her gaze straight ahead and her chin held high—higher than what it should be—a tiny, almost imperceptible defiance.

Her hair is longer than four years ago, her body thinner, and her eyes have lost some of their mischievous sparkle.

But underneath the changes, underneath those damned shackles, she’s still Sarina. Still mine.

My love. My life. My mate.

The others talk behind me about what we should do, what our options are, but their words are white noise, just another part of the storm tearing through the sky and destroying the lake.

Besides, their discussion is pointless. Our orders from King Malachi when we told him of our plan for tonight were clear.

Don’t engage. Don’t attack. Don’t fight. Observe only.

“The bidding for Anaís will start at fifty thousand dollars,” the auctioneer says.

I blow out my breath and curl my hand into a fist, slamming it against the glass in time with the crackling thunder rattling the estate.

The bidding begins faster than any auction before hers.

The price climbs in one-thousand-dollar increments.

It’s almost too fast for the auctioneer to keep up with.

The robotic voices overlap, each bid coming in before the previous bidder finishes speaking.

My head spins.

Sarina trembles on the stage as the price rises higher and higher. She keeps her chin lifted, but I see the fear and panic within her, shining in her eyes and vibrating through her body.

And I can feel it. Her. I feel all of her like she’s an extension of me, a hidden part of me that was only now unlocked. Rolling through me like cresting waves on the sea, her tumultuous emotions flood me, leaving no doubt in my mind of her current state.

She’s terrified. And broken.

My lycan howls, long and mournful, more present in my mind than he’s ever been, brokenhearted by the desolation we feel tumbling towards us from our mate. Our pain—his, hers, and mine—mixes until I can no longer tell whose it is. It’s sharp and heavy, and tastes of bitter resignation.

That’s from her. That I can tell, at least.

Fuck. I need to get her out.

“Sebastian?” Brenna’s hand tentatively rests on my trembling forearm.

I shove away from the window and run to the back of the room, grabbing the device they gave us when we arrived to use for bidding—the device I had no intention of using until I saw Sarina led onto that stage like a sacrifice for a bloodthirsty crowd.

I lift it to my mouth and turn it on, speaking into it before any of the others can stop me.

“Five hundred thousand dollars.”

King Malachi ordered us not to engage. He ordered us not to fight. But he gave no orders against bidding.

Dominic grabs my shoulder and spins me to face him. “Sebastian, we’re supposed to keep a low—”

“She’s mine .” My voice mixes with my lycan’s growl, and a tendril of my aura escapes, winding its way around the room. I take a step closer to Dominic and hold my ground. “She’s my mate,” I clarify, squaring my shoulders and drawing myself up to my full height.

Dominic blinks at me. Then he dips his chin and takes a step backwards, keeping his eyes downcast.

“She’s my mate”—I return my focus to the auction, my bidding device at the ready—“and I’m getting her out of here tonight, no matter how much money I have to pay to do it.”