Page 56 of Do You Even Hex, Bro?
The worst part is, he's not wrong.
Good gods, I'm discussing this with a pack of literal frat bros. What the hell has my life come to?
"I see you've done your research," I say wryly.
"Yeah," Sean says with all the enthusiasm of a giant dog wagging its tail even in his human form. "Just to be clear, we're DTF any time you want. You need it, you got it."
"I'll keep that in mind," I say, stifling a laugh. The other wolves roll their eyes, but they don't disagree with him. "Nature magic is fine for small stuff, but anything significant requires a stronger source."
"Like a coven," Rowan says, sighing.
"Or a pack," Killian adds, holding my gaze steadily.
The implication hangs between us. I shift uncomfortably in my seat. "Wolves don't typically bond with witches. There's a reason for that."
“We're notthatmuch more dangerous than vampires,” Rowan reasons.
“Yeah. At least we don’t drink people,” Sean mutters.
"You ripped a man's arm off last night," I point out.
“Killian did,” Sean says without missing a beat, pointing at him.
Killian doesn't flinch. "He was hurting you."
"You don't even know everything that happened," I remind them, still bewildered four complete strangers were willing to jump to my defense so quickly. And I’m sure it’s just because they think I’m their mate, but still. There was zero hesitation.
That’s the only reason I’m even considering this.
Gods… I really am thinking about it.
Fuck, this has to be the exhaustion talking. I'm losing it if I'm actually considering a bond with a pack of wolves. Even if they are absurdly hot wolves.
“We know enough,” Killian says, eyes burning. “We know he used you. We know he hurt you. We know he tore off your glamour to make you feel vulnerable.”
“And what happens if I say no?” I ask, needing to understand all my options even if I know I’m leaning toward yes because I’m insane, apparently.
The wolves all look at each other as if they genuinely hadn't considered that possibility. Then again, I get the feeling not a lot of people tell them no in the first place.
"Then we respect your decision," Killian says, his jaw ticking as he turns back to me. "We'd still offer to help you break your coven bond, no strings attached. And we'd obviously be hoping you reconsider, but… we'd never force you."
The honesty in his expression is almost painful to witness. All four of them wait, tense and hopeful, for my response.
"Oh, right," Killian says suddenly, breaking the silence. "We brought you something."
He nods to Micah, who reaches into a leather messenger bag I hadn't noticed before. With careful hands, he extracts three ancient-looking leather-bound books, their spines cracked with age and use. I notice with amusement that someone has tied a lopsided red bow around them, the kind you'd put on a freaking birthday present.
"These are from my great-grandmother's collection," Killian explains as Micah places the wrapped grimoires on the coffee table between us. "Family heirlooms, actually. We thought... well, we know witches usually like books."
I reach out hesitantly, running my fingers over the worn leather covers once I untie the bow. The books practically hum with old magic, sending a pleasant tingle through my fingertips.
"They're grimoires," Rowan explains. "Some of the spells are specifically for energy manipulation. We thought they might help with your situation."
The gesture is unexpectedly thoughtful—and slightly hilarious with the cheerful bow decorating such serious magical texts. A strange, equally unexpected warmth unfurls in my chest at the realization they went to great effort to make their present look nice.
“Thank you,” I tell them, looking up at their expectant and stupidly handsome faces. “That was… sweet.”
Sweet.
