Page 77 of Wolfsbane

“It’s just . . . werewolves have pack, and—and witches have a coven. Which I—I obviously don’t anymore, but maybe . . . would you maybe want to learn magic with me? It’s just, if you can access it, you should know what to do with it, and, I don’t know, if a witchwolf is what Mother said, and we kind of make up one, we could . . . we could do a lot.”

Viktor had started to brush his thumb across my cheek while I rambled. When I was finished, he leaned down and captured my lips in a soft, undemanding kiss.

Even before he answered, it felt like acceptance.

I wasn’t alone anymore. I wouldn’t have to figure it out by myself, or test what we could do—what I could do—on my own.

I let out a dreamy sigh when he leaned back, and I couldn’t help tipping toward him.

“Absolutely,” Viktor said. “Let’s figure out what we can do.”

“After breakfast.” He was right. We both needed to eat.

And then maybe nap for a week.

But before I could think about either, Tristan came rushing around the side of the house, wide-eyed and startled.

“Ryan called,” he said, his eyes landing on me. “The coven wants to talk to you. They . . . I think you should hear them out.”

Viktor’s arm tightened around me, and I thought if the coven wanted any piece of me, they were going to have to go through a very intimidating werewolf to get it.

CHAPTER 43

Viktor

That coven of witches had never been anything but trouble, for as long as I’d been aware of them. Maybe at some point in their distant past, it had been different, but I had doubts.

More than that, I had doubts that the sudden loss of their powerful leader had made them more sensible.

Tristan didn’t seem much more hopeful than I was, the skin around his eyes tight, lips drawn into a small moue, and yet, he was suggesting Daire go.

Why?

I lifted a brow at him, and he instantly buckled and started spilling. “Some of them have decided that without Ermengarde, Daire is the coven leader. I . . . I’m sure that isn’t what Daire wants, but I think we have to handle this now, or they’ll never let it drop.”

Daire’s mouth fell open, and for a second he just stared at Tristan as though he’d said rats were on their way to eat our faces. Then he pulled back and shook his head. “No. There’s no way. I mean, I shouldn’t be leader of anything, but Destiny would never accept me as coven leader. She’d rather kill me. They . . . they don’t even know I’m awakened. Why would any of them think I should be leader?”

Tristan leaned his head back and forth, scrunching his face up and then finally, nodding. “Okay, so there are two factions, and Destiny and her lot think they should kill you.”

Daire swallowed hard at that, but he seemed quite a bit less horrified by the idea of being killed than of being in charge.

Understandable. I didn’t usually break the world into a fight of good versus evil, but in this case, it seemed clearly that. And if the bad guys wanted to kill you, it meant you were doing things correctly. If they wanted to make you their leader? Definitely the opposite.

Not that I thought Daire was able to see them as all-bad. They’d raised him, even if they’d done it so poorly that he doubted he was worthy of love.

Frankly, it made me want to go, as Tristan suggested, but to kill them all rather than talk.

That probably wouldn’t be taken well, though, even if I could definitely do it now that I had my wolf back. I’d just lie in wait in the hedge maze, and bite them all. Any who seemed likely to survive, I’d kill while they were unconscious, fighting the bite.

It wouldn’t even be a challenge.

Daire wouldn’t approve, though, so I supposed I would have to find a less bloody answer. Maybe I could poison them⁠—

“Aunt Ingeborg,” Daire whispered the name, almost like it was a revelation, and I had a spare second to be jealous before realizing that he’d said aunt, and also, how was it even possible to be jealous of someone who’d been saddled with a name like Ingeborg in modern-day America?

Tristan cocked his head, confused but curious. “Isn’t she sick? She went to . . . to that place with a nursing staff to take care of her. Didn’t she?”

Daire was off on a journey, though, as he turned and started tugging on my shirt. “She’s okay. I’ll bet anything. She’s okay, and she can help.”