Chapter 2

I stare at Kane, my mouth hanging open. “The what?” I ask, just to make sure I heard him right the first time.

“My mate.” The massive man only needs to take one giant step to stand right in front of me, his tall frame towering over my much shorter one. He grabs my hand and brings it to his chest, holding it in place. His touch is fire, nothing but pure lust courses through my body, only to settle between my legs with a throbbing need. “You are human, a witch sure, but essentially a human, you can’t feel it as deeply as I can, but surely you sense it?”

So that’s what it is. Why I don’t fear him as I should. Good. I’m not going crazy. “I do,” I whisper. “What is it?”

“The mate bond…The Goddess’s gift to werewolves. You can smell it too. Here--” he leans over, grabs me by the hips, and lifts me on the counter. Gripping the back of my head, he pulls me towards him --“tell me what you smell.”

I inhale deeply; his scent combined with the sensation of our bodies touching makes me nearly incoherent. “Honeysuckle,” I say, noticing the way Kane’s eyes darken and how his breathing goes from deep and even to fast and erratic. I like this game. “Cinnamon--” I inhale again --“…and I’m not sure…something musky,” the smell definitely triggers some kind of pleasant memory, but I can’t pin it down. “I’m not sure…something special. Something important to me. But I can’t place it.”

“Hm-hm,” he grunts.

Without thinking, I bury my face in his neck, desperate to find the memory. A deep rumble vibrates in his chest, sending shivers down my spine, but I am helpless now, and can’t pull myself away from him, not even if I use the strongest magic I know.

Kane wraps his hand around my ponytail, roughly pulling me away. His eyes burn into mine. The world around us closes in, stop existing. All that remains are the two of us. “It will cause you nothing but pain,” he says in a gruff voice.

Will it? Then why do I feel so happy? Content for the first time in…ever. I raise my eyebrows at him, scooting down the counter towards. It is pure torture feeling these waves and waves of dizzy pleasure surging through my body, and not acting on it. Then I remember what he is. What I am. “Well, this can’t be right. A werewolf and a witch? What kind of fucked up Goddess do you have that will pair you with--”

“Hey!” he growls. “I don’t ridicule your gods, I’ll ask you to do the same.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Finally, he lets me go, steps back, giving me some space to breathe in the process and turns back to the stove. “Besides, your gods aren’t much better. They must have approved our match.”

“Do you think our gods communicate with yours?” I’m not even sure I believe in the gods, but this Lycan king clearly does, and the ever-present voice in the back of my head warns me to shut the hell up about it.

He lifts and drops one shoulder. “I don’t know, I’m not a soothsayer. Your gods don’t choose your destiny for you?”

I snort loudly. “I don’t think the gods care much one way or the other what we do.”

“Take the wine to the dining room.”

Does he ever ask anyone nicely when he wants something, or does he just order everyone around? I open my mouth to tell him what I think of his behaviour, but my strong intuition warns me now isn’t the time. Instead, I take the wine to the dining room as he ordered. “Glasses are in the cabinet by the wall,” he calls from the kitchen.

This room, like everything else, is tastefully decorated with the most expensive furniture and art money can buy. It contrasts sharply with Aunt Mildred’s pink palace next door. Her idea of fine art is a picture of a cat painted in a vampire’s blood.

The table is already set, so all I have to do is get the glasses. By the time I find them, Kane walks in, carrying two plates. “I know it’s rude,” he says, putting one plate in front of me, “but I just dished up for you.”

“It’s okay.”

“Hm,” he grunts and takes his seat opposite me. “Your aunt would have given me a lecture on etiquette and manners.”

I smile. “Yeah. You liked her huh?”

Kane picks up his utensils and viciously starts cutting into his chicken fillet. “I did. Very much. She was my friend.”

I ache to touch him, want to comfort him, kiss him until the sadness leaves his eyes. Appalled by my desires, I grab my utensils and, like Kane, attack the chicken. I hate these feelings, but welcome them at the same time. I’ve never had them before. Not that I’m an angel, chastity isn’t exactly encouraged in our coven, but I never wanted nor needed, men for anything more than sex – and even those occasions are rare. “How did she die?” I ask, trying to divert my thoughts.

The wolf looks up, the surprise clear on his face. “No one told you?”

I shake my head. “Once you’re banished from the coven, you’re forgotten. You stop existing in their eyes. I didn't even know she died until a few days ago.”

“Damned witches,” he mumbles under his breath. “I don’t know what happened. Why it happened. I found her…she was murdered for sure, stabbed several times--”

“By a werewolf?” I interrupt.

Gazing at me, he folds his long fingers under his chin, resting his elbows on the table. His eyes flash a warning. “No, Willow, a werewolf wouldn’t bother with a knife. She was murdered by a human.”

“You know this for sure?”

“Yes. Your aunt had been dead for several hours when I found her, but his scent was all over the place.”

“A witch?”

“Wouldn’t a witch just use magic?”

“Not necessarily. If they want to cover their trail, they’ll use…conventional methods.”

“Who would know…if a witch used that kind of magic?”

“The council…a spell as powerful and dark as a killing spell will register with the spell trackers.” Why am I giving all our secrets away to this man? This wolf? It’s like I have no control over the words coming out of my mouth.

“They’d investigate immediately. We need special permission to use that kind of magic. Killing spells attract the wrong kind of attention. A witch that uses one without permission will be punished severely.”

He nods, his eyes thoughtful. “How did you find out she died?”

“I have the power of projection. A few weeks ago, I came here. I had a vision," I shudder at the memory, "I wanted to make sure she was okay…I looked everywhere--” tears flood my eyes, and grabbing a napkin I quickly wipe them away --“in the end, I started searching the internet…I found her obituary.”

“Yes, I wrote it. I had some hope that her family would show up to claim her body.”

“I’m the only family she had. She died alone.”

Kane leans over, resting his fingers on the top of my hand. “I’m sorry. Her penthouse is yours if you want it, and I found her will. Everything she owned is yours now.”

I expected as much. I have no idea how Aunt Mildred supported herself after the coven ejected her, and she never told me. “I didn’t know the penthouse belonged to her?”

“It didn’t, but she asked me to give it to you in case something happened to her…she said you'd need it. I think she knew she’d die soon.”

“How did she pay for it?”

“She earned it…in return for her services.”

She worked for werewolves? That must have been so humiliating. Like so many times before, I feel the deep revulsion for my father pulse like an infected boil inside my chest. He forced her into this life. “She must have hated it,” I whisper aloud, more to myself than the werewolf, but he hears every word. Damn werewolf senses.

“She offered, Willow. She was happy here, and we liked her…loved her even.” Blushing I stare into his light blue eyes. Gods, he’s hot. I wonder what it would be like to bring him to my bed. He groans, closes his eyes, and squeezes the orbs with his thumb and forefinger. “Please don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Hmm,” he growls, “like you want to have your way with me.”

I have no idea what comes over me. I’m not usually sexually forward with unknown men, let alone a werewolf, but I throw all caution to the wind. “So what if I do…try to have my way with you? Will you stop me?”

He shakes his head, opens his eyes, and stares at me like he can't believe I exist. All the darkness of his lust and desires swim in those bright, intelligent orbs. He grabs the edge of the table, his knuckles turning white with the strain, “I’m begging you…my wolf is not what you’d call…civilised…when you tease me like that, you’re making it very difficult for me to control him.”

I want to keep playing with him a little, but the poor man looks like he’s in hell. “Okay, I’ll stop,” I agree.

“You have to understand something…the mate bond is…it’s like a magnet. No matter how difficult it is, you have to resist it. It can destroy your life. I have seen good, strong Alphas piss their whole life away just to make their mates happy. It’s a ridiculous arrangement if you ask me.”

I didn’t, but okay. “So what do we do about it?”

“I’d say we have to reject each other, but that’s not an option. I don’t know what to do. I already have a mate--” he must see the confusion on my face because he quickly goes on to explain --“I had a fated mate before…she rejected me.” He shakes his head, takes a sip of wine. “I needed a mate, a queen for our kingdom, it’s expected, so I just picked a suitable she-wolf to be my mate. We call them chosen mates, there’s no bond, but they get the job done just as well as a fated mate, without the added disadvantage of all those…irrational emotions.” He runs out of breath, and empties his glass.

“Right,” I say, more confused than before. “So why can’t you just reject me? Get it over and done with, and we go on with our lives?”

“Because if I do…I think…I’m pretty sure that it would kill me.”

“What?” I spit the word at him. “How?”

“You are my second chance mate…there won’t be another--” he runs his hand through his thick hair --“I don’t think you’ll understand…how do I explain it? When a werewolf is rejected, it’s the deepest, most profound pain… it’s like a part of your soul dies, and you can feel it dying. It’s very difficult for us to recover from that. A lot of wolves just wither away and die.” He stares at me, desperation in his eyes. It’s like he’s willing me to understand.

“They die because they’re incomplete? They literally die of a broken heart?”

He looks relieved. “Yes, exactly.”

“What happens if someone’s mate dies?”

“Their mate usually dies soon after. Unless there’s a second chance mate waiting for them. And yes, it is exactly what it sounds like…a second chance at happiness. That’s why I didn’t die…my second chance mate, you, were waiting for me.”

“But you chose a mate.”

“Yes.”

“If you knew you had a second chance mate, why did you take another?”

“I was getting older, and my kingdom needed a queen. I was in danger of losing my throne to my brother, and that little prick can never rule.”

I don’t ask him about his brother. “So now what? Can I reject you?”

“You can, but I won’t accept it. It has to be mutual.”

I narrow my eyes at him, anger bubbling in my chest. “You selfish bastard.”

“Yes,” he says nonchalantly and gets up. “You can do whatever you like, sleep with whomever you want, live your life however you see fit, have babies, whatever, I don’t care, but I will not mark you.”

“But that means I won’t be happy with anyone else, right? You are trapping me in an unfulfilled life.”

He shrugs. “Happiness is overrated. Who told you that you deserve to be happy all the time?”

“You may find this hard to believe, Kane, but I’ve never been happy.”

“I am sorry, Willow.”

“For what exactly? For forcing me to live this half-ass life, or because I’m unhappy?”

“Take your pick.”

Shaking my head, I get up and follow him to the kitchen. “I…we can’t live like this forever though, can we? I don’t know much about mate bonds or fated mates or whatever you call it, but I have a feeling...it would tear us apart if we don’t accept it. You, more than me. There must be a solution. Something we can do.”

What am I doing? Why am I trying to convince him? I don’t actually want to be with a werewolf, do I? But the way he makes me feel, makes me forget about the terrible thing I am…everything just feels right with him. Like I have a chance at a life with him.

“What do you want from me?” he asks. “Do you want to be my little piece on the side? Hm?--” he narrows his eyes at me, --“do you want my mark? Be my hidden mate? Or do you want me to abjure my mate and take you instead?”

“What? Did I say any of that? No! I mean--”

“You don’t get it do you?--” he throws the plates in the sink, shattering them --“Don’t you think I want my mate? That I want to feel whole for the first time in thirteen years? If I thought we could make it work somehow, I’d mark you in a heartbeat.

“But…you are a witch. I’m a werewolf. We can never be together. Your family will not allow it; they’d just as soon see my head mounted on their wall…and mine…well, forget about my family, my subjects will never accept you as their queen. It’s an impossible match. I don’t know why in all the hells, in all the realms The Goddess would do this to me…to you.” He turns away from me, leaning on the counter, his chest heaving, head bowed.

“Kane, I--”

“You should go, Willow. You are welcome to the penthouse. I don’t have a use for it. I’m not here often, it should be easy enough to avoid me.”

I walk up to him, raise my hand to touch his shoulder, but then think better of it. I don’t know how he’d react. His outburst scared me – not so much that I feel the need to run or fight, but enough to make me weary. I’ve heard about werewolves’ quick tempers, but I’ve never experienced it.

Afraid, confused, and hurt, I leave him there, even though every part of me, every cell, screams at me to turn back.