Page 31 of Do You Even Hex, Bro?
Kyle's face darkens with indignation. "You know nothing about our relationship."
"I know enough," I counter. "She chose our territory as sanctuary. That's answer enough for me."
He doesn't need to know she's our mate, not if we can help that. She's the one who should know it first.
"This is absurd," Kyle snaps. "Stand aside. We're taking her home."
He takes another step forward, and everything happens at once.
Sean launches forward in a blur of sandy fur, tackling Kyle to the ground. Three-hundred-plus pounds of mostly muscle and all aggression pin the witch down, crushing him into the ground, massive jaws hovering inches from his throat. The witch freezes in terror, survival instinct momentarily overriding arrogance.
"Kyle!" The redhead screams, hands filling with crackling energy.
The blond witch traces quick symbols in the air that manifest as golden shields, positioning himself to attack. But Micah circles behind them, cutting off any chance of retreat. Killian stands his ground, midnight fur bristling.
I raise my hands, trying to de-escalate before someone dies. Not that I give a shit about sparing these fuckers, but tearing three witches apart is going to make protecting our mate even more complicated. "Nobody needs to get hurt. Your friend is still breathing because we're allowing it."
Kyle remains impressively composed for someone with werewolf fangs at his jugular. "Rebecca, Ryan, stand down," heorders tightly. "These animals don't understand what they're interfering with."
Sean's growl deepens, saliva dripping onto Kyle's designer shirt.
The air thickens with competing magic. The witches' spells humming with potential energy, our pack bonds radiating protective fury, and from the house, the faint signature of our Bonded's unique power.
No wonder they're fighting so hard to get her back. She's like nothing I've ever encountered. But it's clear these assholes don't appreciate her as anything more than a trophy for their coven.
Killian shifts in one fluid motion, standing naked and somehow even more imposing in human form.
"Here's what's going to happen," he states, voice lethally calm. "Your coven is going to leave our territory.Now. You won't return. You won't contact Regina again. Consider your ties severed."
"You can't—" Ryan begins.
"If any of you takes another step toward our house," Killian continues as if uninterrupted, "my packmate will rip out Glitter Fingers' throat. Are we understanding each other?"
The red-haired witch looks genuinely frightened now. "Kyle, maybe we should?—"
"Shut up," Kyle cuts her off, still staring up at Sean's dripping fangs. "You cannot break a coven bond by mere declaration,wolf.'
Before anyone can respond, a new presence registers on the periphery of my awareness. An ancient magical signature, quiet yet unmistakably powerful. Unmistakably familiar.
All of us—wolves and witches alike—freeze as the forest at the edge of the clearing seems to darken, shadows deepening unnaturally. I catch glimpse of something massive moving through the trees, a monstrous silhouette that makes my wolf growl.
But what emerges is merely a man.
Professor Elias Villeneuve steps from the tree line as though he'd been summoned from some dark fantasy, his lean six-and-a-half-foot frame cutting an elegant silhouette against the shadows.
Even at this ungodly hour, he's immaculately dressed in one of his signature charcoal suits. His short black hair is perfectly styled despite the fact he just stepped out of the forest. Those sharp, aristocratic features and penetrating dark eyes survey the scene with cold amusement at Sean pinning Kyle, Killian and I naked and ready to shift back and finish this, the witches with magic dancing at their fingertips.
Of all the complications this night could bring, Professor Villeneuve might be the worst. Not only is he on the University Disciplinary Committee, but he's also the most infuriatingly smug supernatural being I've ever encountered. And while I'm reluctant to encourage Killian's conspiracy theories, even I have to admit, something about him has always felt... off.
Wrong in ways I can't articulate.
"When I felt multiple trespassers trip my wards, I knew there'd be trouble," the professor says, his voice carrying effortlesslyacross the clearing. "Imagine my shock to find it involves my four favorite degenerates on campus."
Why do I get the feeling he's not actually shocked? Sean snorts.
Shut up, Killian responds through our bond, while snarling aloud, "Villeneuve."
Just what we need.
