RYDER
When Carina disappearsinside her house, Conan and Xander immediately join me.
“What a weird turn of events.” Xander nudges my side; I haven’t budged from my spot after having Carina’s face in my hands.
Conan clears his throat, glancing to where she went. “Witches are strange beings. She’s really going willingly?”
Fearfor herfills my throat because she is.
“What happens next?” Conan asks, skipping over the fact I never answered him the first time.
“We go home. She’s grabbing a bag of her things, then she’ll spend the rest of the week with us, like it was always supposed to be.”
“What do you think about her being adopted?” Xander asks, rubbing the side of his face. “Never saw that coming. That spell the High Priestess used was neat, and I never thought I’d say that about magick, but you have to admit it is.”
Conan makes a noise of agreement, but the “neat spell” isn’t what today was about. Carina learning she comes from a whole other place—and the emotional toll that truth took—was morepressing. Was what has it so fucking hard to focus on anything that isn’t comforting her.
The door opening and Morgan stepping outside distracts them both enough I’m able to skip responding again. She looks our way but then at the base of the stairs where a person—a warlock—materializes from thin air. The same who held onto Carina the other night.
Conan twitches, instinctively moving forward. “What the fuck, they candothat? Why don’t we know about that?”
“We’re never around them long enough to know all they can do.” Xander twists my way. “Why didn’t Carina do so to escape?”
“I don’t know.” Truthfully, it doesn’t matter which powers Carina has. The male throwing scathing looks my way is enough to make my incisors to start pushing through my gums.
Threat.
The door opens again and Carina’s barely over the threshold before she’s in his arms and he’s lifting her off her feet.
He better enjoy the hold because it’ll be the final time he uses his arms. Silver coats my eyes, a rumble in my chest loud enough the two beside me overhear. Both throw looks my way before their wolves respond to mine, their own feet shuffling to move.
Kill.
Take.
Protect.
The warlock needs to let her go or I won’t be responsible for what happens to him. Not this time. He’s competition—a threat to eliminate.
Kill.
Claws rip through my skin, granting me the ability to tear him apart.
Take.
My teeth lengthen to rip out his jugular.
Protect.
My body quivers with the beginning stages of a shift.
Despite their earlier instinctual responses, Xander and Conan, cut in front of me, recognizing now isn’t the time for a fight. But they’ve blocked my view of her—and that won’t be stood for.
I blink, and then again, willing my vision and thoughts to return to normal—to sanity. Before accidentally starting a war.
Xander’s hand comes up, but he doesn’t touch me. He doesn’t dare. “What the fuck?”
A warlock is near what’s mine.
