Veiled Spirits

“Like fuck it isn’t, Izzy. You’re mine. And I’ll protect you till my dying breath,” Bishop promises, his voice brooking no argument.

“Don’t say that,” I plead, my voice breaking. “You know I’m a lost cause. You’re going to have to let me go one of these days.”

Dying will suck. It’ll probably be violent and painful and brutal. It’ll likely do irrevocable damage to my soul, keeping me from finding peace in the afterlife. But it’ll be worth it because Bishop, Aiden, Rhys, Mom, and Dad will all be okay.

Knowing that everything I do keeps them safe is the only thing that keeps me going. Especially lately, when I’ve wanted to curl up and just let everything drown me.

“I’m never fucking letting you go, Isabel,” Bishop rasps.

I shake my head in denial. “You have to.” My voice wobbles, and my lips tremble, thinking about Bishop being dragged down with me. I press my lips together to hide their shaking.

Bishop doesn’t say anything else. He just pulls me into a hug. After a moment, I push away from him.

He’s getting too attached to me.

Why?

I honestly don’t know. I’m a sarcastic bitch most of the time. He has his pick of anyone, and for some unknown reason, he wants me. I need to do better at keeping my distance from him. It’s the only way to keep the infuriatingly stubborn man safe.

Glancing to the side, I see the three wolves staring at us. Each of them wears a thoughtful expression. They obviously heard way too much.

Awesome.

Archer is the first to shake it off. “While Luca and Cain clear the gym, you wanna check out our office with me, sunshine?” I raise a brow at his nickname. I’ve been called many things, but a ray of sunshine isn’t one of them. One side of his mouth tilts up at my confusion. “Your hair looks like strands of sunlight. And your disposition is just so sunny, I thought it fit perfectly.”

I snort. The man gave me an ironic nickname. He clearly knows the way to my little black heart. Archer’s more dangerous than he looks, that’s for sure. I’ll have to keep an eye on him.

He reaches out his hand for me to take. I hesitantly place mine in his. Exuberant tingles shoot up my arm, dancing and sparking because of his touch. When a mage meets their mate, they feel tingles when they touch for the first twenty-four hours. After that, touching them is like touching anyone else.

Gritting my teeth, I try to shove the feeling away. It doesn’t work.

Archer’s already turned around, tugging me behind him. He doesn’t see the struggle on my face. He pulls me down a plain corridor with black walls and carpet. It has a single steel door at the end. Punching in a code I can’t see, Archer quickly unlocks the door and pulls me into the room.

Bishop follows, closing the door after him. He leans against the cool metal of door with his eyes closed, looking exhausted.

Me fucking too, dude.

The office has gray walls, a black carpeted floor, and one small window. Along with a shiny walnut desk and black chair, the only two other items of furniture are two deep ruby chairs.

“Wanna play Would You Rather?” Archer asks from his perch on the desk. He’s swinging his legs back and forth as he looks at me expectantly. His arms are braced on the desk behind him. When he leans back, I get a flash of washboard abs.

I dart my eyes away before he can catch me staring. Shoving his defined abdomen out of my mind, I focus back on his question. “No,” I tell him. I don’t want to give him more information about me, even if it’s just silly likes and dislikes.

“Mountain or beach?” Archer asks, like I didn’t just refuse.

“Forest,” I answer to be difficult, unwilling to pick either option. The forest, especially at night, is my favorite place, though.

“Coke or Pepsi?”

“Boylan Bottling Co.” Again, an honest answer because their sodas are way better than Coke or Pepsi. But I’m mostly just saying it to annoy him.

“Sweet or salty?”

“Umami.” That’s the only one that’s a lie. I love sweets, especially pastries. They’re the one guilty pleasure I allow myself to indulge in.

Archer isn’t pissed off with me ignoring the rules of his little game. Instead, he’s grinning like a hyena, clearly pleased with me. I narrow my eyes at him, trying to figure out what has him so amused. It only causes his smile to grow larger, lighting up his entire face.

Archer looks like a quintessential surfer dude, with his sun-streaked blond hair and twinkling aquamarine eyes. Even smiling, there’s still something dangerous about the wolf. Like my magic can sense he’s a threat, even when he’s trying his hardest not to seem like one.