Veiled Spirits

Does Cain have any other expression other than glaring? Because I haven’t seen his captivating face without his eyes narrowed on me.

Luca doesn’t say anything for a beat. He just clenches his jaw, causing a vein to throb on the side of his stupidly handsome face.

Why couldn’t the universe give me ugly mates?

At least it would be easier to stay away if they didn’t look like models.

“I’ll spar with you,” Luca finally concedes. “On one condition. You have to go on a date with each of us at a time of our choosing.”

My mouth pops open at his ridiculous demand. “What? No! I am not going on a date with any of you. Besides, what are you, like eighty?” I ask. I know full well he isn’t anywhere close to that. Even with wolves aging much slower than humans, there’s no way he’s that old.

“Cute,” Luca tells me, clearly unimpressed. “No. I’m thirty.”

My brows raise in surprise. He’s really young to be an alpha, maybe the youngest one in recent history. Usually, wolves are around fifty to sixty when they take over their packs. With their slow aging, wolves still look around thirty at that age.

I blank my face to cover up how impressed I am. I have a feeling Luca doesn’t need a bigger ego. “Wow. You really are an old man. Who knew the Nightshade Alpha was a cradle robber?” I tell him in as serious of a voice as I can manage, just to irritate him. He’s really not that much older than me. It’s fun needling the overbearing wolf, though.

Luca glares at me and opens his mouth to say something. Bishop beats him to it. “Izzy,” Bishop groans. “Could you try not to antagonize Luca for a whole five seconds, please?”

“You wanted me to talk to them. I’m talking!” I protest. I am technically following his instructions.

“Is she always this mouthy?” Luca asks Bishop with a raised brow.

My mouth pops open at the audacity of this wolf to talk about me like I’m not here. I’m also not mouthy. I just have a sarcastic streak. I growl and send a punch of magic to the infuriating wolf’s midsection. He doubles over with a satisfying groan.

Straightening up, Luca advances on me a step, the promise of violence in his eyes. “You want to play, little mate?”

My eyes widen. I flounder for something to say in response to his threat and invitation. Half of me wants to say hell, yes. The other half actually has an ounce of self-preservation and screams no.

When I don’t say anything, Luca chuckles, the sound menacing. “You either agree to go on a date with us, or you can deal with the consequences of your magic alone.”

My mouth drops open again that he’d do that. I know he just met me, but I thought maybe he’d care about me, since I’m his mate and all.

Apparently not.

I don’t even know why I’m surprised. Most people don’t like me, much less care about me.

My heart squeezes at his callous disregard for how dangerous it is for me to let my magic out. I logically know he doesn’t have any idea what could happen to me. But it still feels like someone shoved jagged glass around my heart, which tears into the organ with every beat.

I whirl around before he can see just how much his lack of concern guts me. “Goddamn it,” I softly growl to the brick in front of me, wanting to kick the wall in frustration. The last thing I need right now is to get emotional in front of my bullheaded mates.

“I don’t think he means it, kid. Even if he does, he doesn’t know what it could do to you,” Aggie says, attempting to reassure me. Her words echo my own thoughts.

Jesus. I must really be a mess if Aggie’s being nice to me.

This entire night has been a shit show. I’m so ready for it to be over. My shoulders slump in defeat as I realize I have no other option but to agree to his terms. I turn around, ready to agree. Instead, I come face to face with Bishop’s chest. He’s standing between me and the wolves, giving me a moment to process everything in peace.

A lump forms in my throat at his thoughtfulness. I let my head thump against his hard chest as I try to absorb his strength. His warm arms wrap around my back, squeezing me comfortingly.

“You okay?” Bishop asks me again.

“I’m just so tired,” I whisper brokenly. I’m so tired of taking the whole town’s shit. I’m so tired of having the safety of everyone I care about resting on my shoulders. I’m so tired of having to spend all night, every night, crossing ghosts. And all that comes with it.

I’m just fucking tired of it all.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. What can I do to help?”

I just shake my head. There’s nothing he or anyone can do about it. I’m the only one who can fix anything. That fact just makes me feel more overwhelmed. But I don’t have time to fall apart right now. I need to get my shit together and get this over with. There are ghosts I need to cross tonight.