Page 101 of Claimed By Prince Daddy

My fangs poked out. “Think about it, Sasha! We have not sighted the Dark Fae since they handed their asses to them during the Great War. Humans no longer remember Werekind nor the Dark Fae. The Fae are not being worshiped and believed to be gods, by the humans, as was tradition eons ago.” I raked my fingers through my hair. “Why would they come back to the human realm and risk the Werekind’s wrath again? Aside from that, how could they possibly manipulate werebears?”

“I don’t know how,” Sasha murmured. Her hands clenched into fists at her side. “But I know they’re manipulating the werebears somehow. Maybe the reason they’re forgotten by the humans is why they’re causing the bears to kill them. They’re retaliating.”

“There isnomanipulation, Sasha.” I slapped the side of my head for emphasis. “Our minds are fucking impenetrable. We aren’t victims of the Fae’s persuasion, unlike the other weres—wolves, for example.”

Sasha shot me a dark and angry frown.

She grabbed the hem of her shirt and tore at the garment, ripping a piece of the black fabric.

I clamped a hand on her wrist. “What the hell are you doing?”

She shook me off. “Getting proof.” Sasha stooped and swiped at the soil with her garment. She folded the fabric into a neat square and tucked it in her back pocket before stalking toward the Jeep parked at the bottom of the slope.

“Where are you going?”

“Weare going for a drive,” Sasha called over her shoulder. She reached the driver’s door. “Stop gawking and get in the damn car.”

A snarl tore from my chest. After raking a hand through my hair, I hurried after her.

The little minx just might peel off and leave me here.

I slipped into my seat. Sasha waited long enough for me to click my seatbelt on, and then we were off. She had me holding onto the ‘Oh-shit handle’ as she raced her way into town. We sped past various stores and the downtown district before she drove into the backside of town. The sun had long ago dipped behind the horizon, leaving shadows to play over the roads. My hair stiffened, warnings firing off inside my gut. We were in the Werekind district. The humans thought it was the less desirable part of town, but it served as an open camouflage for us.

Turning in my seat to look at Sasha, I asked, “Where the hell are we going?” The determined look on her face made my stomach knot.

Sasha didn’t answer. She jerked the Jeep into a hard right, and we swung into a parking lot filled with vehicles. I glanced around. My gaze snagged on the black rectangular building up ahead that blended with the backdrop of the obsidian sky. No moon hung in the heavens, only stars glittering like diamond dust.

Oh, hell no…

I whirled on Sasha. “Why are we at a were-bar?”

She stepped out of the car and smirked at me. “Because we’re going to see a witch.”

CHAPTER SEVEN: AN UNLIKELY ALLY

SASHA

Harmless was the look I was going for as we slipped into the were-bar.

The connection between witches and Dark Fae, because of shared bloodlines from ages ago, was common knowledge among Werekind. If anyone could smell and identify the Dark Fae, it would be a witch. But the problem was, witches didn’t take to Werekind. I made my way to the oak counter that formed a horseshoe formation in the center of the space. A petite girl wearing a black dress with a braid of long raven hair glanced up at me, serving an eagle shifter a beer at the corner of the bar. Her honeyed-complexion paled. She drew back from the shifter and hurried to the back of the bar where an older woman stood whipping up a cocktail. They exchanged hushed words and shifty glances steeped in suspicion. The older woman appeared to be in her late forties with threads of silver weaving through her dark locks, like ice shards streaking a road.

Since witches lived for centuries, calling her middle-aged might have been a stretch.

Damon stalked past me, his spine ramrod straight. I gasped and rushed forward. No telling what shit would come out once the big oaf opened his mouth. Damon slammed his palms on the surface of the bar before I could reach him.

Dammit!

A few werecats, seated on either side of Damon, glanced up from their drinks. Upon catching sight of the burly bear, they skidded out of their seats and scurried off.

In a low voice, Damon asked, “Who is the head witch here?”

I wanted to facepalm myself.

Well, that’s one way to break the ice. Might as well roll with it.

All eyes swung toward the werebear. A hush descended.

The middle-aged witch placed an empty glass on the rack. “Who's asking?” Her voice sounded edged in steel.

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