Fatal Temptation: Between Two Alphas

Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

JACE

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

I glance at the winding road and the guardhouse at the base of the hill. Mansions dot the hillside all the

way up into this gated community. Modern homes with walls of glass and infinity pools, chalet-style

designs and a couple homes that look like Italian villas plucked from Tuscany and dropped onto these

exclusive streets.

But it isn’t the fancy houses, or the gates surrounding the community that give me pause.

It’s the magical wards in place that lift up from the ground in a transparent sheet. My wolf eyes see it–

our eyes have nine times more rods than cones, so our grayscale vision far surpasses humans. It isn’t

just the magic, but the actual energy I can see, shimmering in a veil that would prove impossible to

pass through, which means any thoughts I had of a covert arrival are pretty much shot to shit.

Fine.

Fuck it.

I drive up to the guardhouse and roll down the window.

The witch slowly slides open hers. “I’m sure this is going to be good.”

She’s mid-twenties, with dark brown skin and flawless hair. She could be a model or actress or some

powerful, centuries old which stuck here for some infraction. Who knows?

“I’m here to see Morgan Devereaux. I’m a friend of Mia Riorsen.”

“A friend, you say?” she scoffs. “I doubt that.”

Her dark eyes hold contempt. Maybe they all know what we did to Mia. Part of me is glad she found

friends, people to defend her.

The other half of me is plain pissed.

One witch was deadly enough.

Taking on this whole coven–which Jacob relayed was who lived in this swanky little subdivision–that

was suicidal.

“Mia is injured. And she needs help,” that much was true. “If you and your sisters are her friends, then

you need to let me through.”

She purses her lips. A butterfly lands near the booth and she talks to it–whispering in some ancient

tongue. Then the little bug flits off, like some message-carrying moth in Lord of the Rings.

“Please,” I say again. “She needs your help.”

I watch her deliberate for several seconds.

“It’s not my call,” she finally says.

But then her cell phone beeps and she looks at the screen. Her lips curve into a dangerous smile.

“Hmm. Looks like you’re in luck. Go on up.”

Something about the way she says ‘luck’ makes me think I’m anything but.

“Number 13.”

I slide back into the car and wait for the gate to rise. Then, like the parting of a waterfall, the veil of

magic lifts up. I accelerate up the mountainside. This really is prime real estate and the homes are

spaced wide apart, something you never really see in California where space is at such a premium.

My wolf Thane prowls beneath my skin. He hates this place and is very unsettled at the thought of us

heading into the heart of a coven. Can’t say I’m crazy about this plan either.

But desperate times and all that…

When I reach Mia’s witch-friend’s home, the door is open.

A tall, striking woman stands at the entryway, her arms crossed. She wears skinny jeans and a white

blouse. She looks stylish and wealthy and flawless. Her hair is a big tumble of strawberry blonde curls

and her eyes are pale. She wears only lipstick, a bright reddish color and it draws all my attention to

her mouth.

She smirks.

Like the witch in the guardhouse, I suspect I “amuse” her.

“Morgan, I presume.”

“You do realize the risk you’re taking coming here.”

“I do.” It’s why I had to come alone. There was always the chance–and a high one at that–that this

witch would kill any enemies on sight.

“Wonderful. Then let me make this simple for you, wolf. You have two options. One, you turn right

around, get back in your car and drive yourself back across the country. Or two, I make you get back in

your car and drive back across the country. And I warn you, it’s very likely you’ll drive off a cliff along

the way.”

I open my mouth ready to argue with her, when there’s a shatter from somewhere in the house followed

by a child’s scream.

Morgan spins and runs inside.

I follow.

At a glance my mind registers the details of the room. Oversized white linen furniture. House plants and

accent walls. For as modern as the outside of this house appears, the inside is warm, cozy, with

artwork and colorful blankets and lots of decorative glass.

I run into the kitchen to see one such glass piece shattered all over the floor.

A young girl stands in the middle of the colorful shards. “I told you it would work,” she says proudly.

“It would’ve been easier to just go outside.” This from the young boy who is now behind me.

Morgan’s gaze swings to the boy and that’s when she notices me. “Impossible!” she screams. All at

once, I’m blown backward, my body lifting off the ground and slamming into the wall. Another inch and

my head will hit the ceiling. My arms and legs are stretched.

I growl and try to shift, but my wolf is cut off.

In the next instant my shoulders pop.

The little boy comes to stand beneath me. “Auntie Morgan, you’ve broken his arms.”

I grunt and curse and try not to scream–as I’m drawn and quartered. The muscles in my body are being

torn apart. One hip tears. My bones are breaking. I clench my teeth.

The pain is unbearable.

The boy’s clear green eyes blink up at me. “You just shattered his hips. Much more and you’ll snap his

spine. There’s no coming back from that.”

Her red hair flies wildly behind her. Her eyes are all white, her lips moving in a chant that is swallowed

by the wind she creates.

“No one who would do harm can dare enter this house!” she screams.

The boy nods. “Well that should answer your question then. He isn’t a threat.” His voice sounds more

like a child’s now, “Please stop.”

All at once I’m dropped to the ground.

Immediately Thane takes over. My already broken limbs and torn muscles accommodating his huge

size.

My wolf snarls and growls as he breaks free. I move in front of the boy to place myself between him

and this witch. The boy reaches out and pets my shoulder.

All at once, it hits me.

This is my nephew.

My niece is cowering in the kitchen. And this witch is only trying to protect them.

She isn’t my enemy. Not really.

I shift back. My nephew hands me a throw blanket from the couch and I wrap it around my waist before

either female can see something they shouldn’t.

I squat down beside him. “Do you know who I am?”

We have the same eyes. He looks like Cam did as a child.

“You’re not my father.”

“No.”

“Uncle?”

“That’s right.”

Morgan twirls her hand and the shards of glass in the kitchen spin up fast as a centrifuge and reform

into a vase.

“See,” the little girl says. “I knew she’d fix it.”

Morgan arches a brow at her. “The water and flowers are still on the floor. You made the mess, you

clean it up.” She glances at me. There’s something in her eyes as she studies me, but it’s blinked away Property of Nô)(velDr(a)ma.Org.

before I can figure out what it is.

My clothes float over and into my hands. “You can clean up too,” she tells me.

I take my shirt and jeans and walk into the first room I see. I close the door behind me to dress.

Normally when we shift so abruptly our clothes are shredded. But Morgan must’ve used the same

magic she did on the vase because my clothes aren’t missing a thread.

I’m in a library.

Tomes line the walls. Books so old the covers are made of animal skins rather than cardboard or paper.

On another shelf, are a slew of romance novels. The spines show shirtless guys and even some

knights and Regency heroes.

Huh. This witch had a romantic streak.

I wouldn’t have thought that.

Thane makes a rumbling sound in my chest.

He’s…intrigued by this woman.

If I’d met her under other conditions, I might like her more too.

I didn’t often play outside of my species–and I didn’t do long-term relationships. But something told me

this witch would be fierce in bed.

Yes, my wolf insists.

No, Thane. She’s no good for us.

He might not hold a grudge, but she’d literally shattered all four of my limbs. If my nephew hadn’t

intervened, I might be dead. One didn’t forget that kind of pain right away.

My wolf growls. Mate.

Oh hell no.

Mate, he insists.

Are you fuckin’ kidding me!?