Page 39 of Witches and Wine
“Alone?” Hermes’ brows skyrocketed, and he licked excess chocolate off his thumb.
I raked a hand through my hair, tugging on it, the horns protruding further from my head. “Why does everyone keep saying that? Yes, I encouraged her to go alone, as being a witch is something forher. I figured I was doing the right thing by not stepping on her toes over it. Apparently, the fucknot.”
“That has to be it. The High Priestess must’ve said something that spooked her.” Hermes snapped his fingers. “Think she told her you two were mates, and Chelsea didn’t know how to process it? Maybe she’s scared? She only found out she isn’t human like yesterday.”
Scratching my skin where the horns refused to disappear, I shook my head. “I don’t think?—”
Before I could finish my thought, the front door swung open, smacking against the wall, the bell rattling so fiercely it almost fell. A hulking male tall enough that he needed to duck through the doorway entered, grabbing the bell with a wince and shutting the door behind him with extra delicacy. He wore a black leather motorcycle jacket, his beard thick and dark brown with tinges of red.
“Sorry about that, Herm. I’m used to the reinforced doors in our cave fortress.”
Harkin. The resident wolf shifter who frequented the Cove but didn’t call it home. Home was with his pack in Plena Falls, where he served as alpha. Whenever we were in the same space as the other, it became a verbal pissing contest, and today, I wasn’t rightly in the mood for it.
Hermes slid between me and the counter, serving as a buffer with Harkin. He knew me all too well. “Harkin, what can I do for ya?”
Harkin wasn’t having it. A smug grin curved his lips, gaze glowing yellow as he leaned to one side, glowering at me behind Hermes. “Dionysus, are you hiding back there? Afraid I’ll bite?”
“Wouldn’t want you to snap a canine.” Flicking tree bark from my claw, I met Harkin’s glare. “What would your pack make of a toothless alpha after all?”
Hermes sighed and hung his head, giving up and sliding to the side.
Chuckling, Harkin pressed his titanic fists on the counter, pushing his weight toward me. “Only half shifting now, are we?” He referenced my partially exposed horns.
Jutting my shoulders, the beast pushed through, making the horns extend to their full length. “I’m not a shifter.”
“You might as well be, god of wine and frenzy,” Harkin barked back, his canines enlarging.
Hermes slapped the counter, garnering our attentionandgrowls. “Normally, I don’t interfere, but this is not the day for this, Harkin.” He glanced at my horns and back to Harkin. “Trust me.”
Harkin smirked and scratched the corner of his jaw like a godsdamned hound. “Suppose I should take his word on that, considering howcloseyou two are.”
This son of a bitch.
Crimson crested my vision, and I dug my claws into the counter, already making my way over it. Hermes slapped the back of his hand against my chest, forcing me back to the floor. “He’s only trying to get a rise out of you, Dion. You know that. Rein it in.”
Harkin’s amber eyes glinted at me as he chuckled before ignoring me entirely and moving his attention to the mail cubbies. “Any word from my mate, Malia? She went on a females retreat over a week ago, and I haven’t heard a word since. They were supposed to be back three days ago.”
Hermes fluttered his fingers until he reached one of the compartments labeled with a “G.” A blue light flashed, producing several envelopes. He shuffled through them with a cinch in his brow and slowly shook his head at Harkin. “Afraid not.”
Harkin shoved his fists into the counter, cracking it. “I knew it. I suspected she might be rejecting me.”
“After so many years?” Hermes asked but frowned at the destruction we’d done to his poor countertop.
There wasn’t an ounce of me that roared to throw this rejection right into the wolf’s face, but not only would that muddy my head further, but I had to admit to myself—who better to ask about the concept of mates?
Harkin snorted and dug into his jacket’s front pocket, producing a cigar and lighter. “Mind if I puff in here?”
“Be my guest,” Hermes said, flicking his wrist as if the place wasn’t full of easily flammable parchment.
Having never been good at reading the room, Harkin lit up the cigar, the embers pulsing orange as he took several puffs and let it rest in the crook of his mouth. “She hasn’t exactly been the best mate. She’s quick-tempered, selfish, constantly trying to make me jealous, and has no interest in pack affairs.” The wolf’s neck cracked as he rolled his shoulders. “I’m not entirely sure why I was mated to her to begin with, but shifters follow the bonds. It’s what we’ve always done.”
Hermes snatched another chocolate bar from his stash with such speed my godly eyes barely caught it. “Can you be mated to another?”
My intrigue was building to the point that I might be persuaded to ask the shifter a question.
“It’s possible. But I’ll be a Lonewolf if need be. I’d probably be happier at this rate.” Harkin removed the cigar and poised it between two fingers, using his thumb to scratch his cheek. “My point is, if she wants to reject me, fine. But I at least deserve the fucking respect of her saying it to myface.”
Fuck it. Chelsea was worth the blow to my ego.
