Untamed Fate (Magic Side: Wolf Bound Book 2)
: Chapter 32

Jaxson

It took an hour to organize everyone and start setting up the shelter at the roller derby rink. The old warehouse bustled with activity as werewolves folded up bleachers and hauled in crates of water, food, and blankets. We’d bought out every box store in the area.

It was like prepping for a hurricane.

No one liked the idea of sleeping in a giant circle of magic created by the LaSalles, but as much as Savannah drove me to madness, I trusted her, and she trusted her cousin. That was something.

Stephanie would be rolling over in her grave.

I’d gotten pushback from every direction, but people complied. I was alpha. That was the way things worked.

Space was limited, so people would be sleeping here around the clock in shifts. Most of the signups were families afraid for their pups. I assumed many of the more conservative members of our pack would rather die in their sleep than accept help from the LaSalles.

I wouldn’t make sleeping here mandatory, but I’d camp in the rink, and hopefully, the pack would follow my lead.

All the LaSalles have to do is not fuck this up.

The warehouse doors slammed open, and Casey LaSalle stepped through like a cowboy entering a saloon.

My eyes went wide. He had a bandolier of wolfsbane cannisters draped around his chest and a couple dangling from his side. Half a dozen werewolves spun around and extended their claws. Menacing snarls echoed throughout the vast room.

Casey thrust his hands out to the sides. “Nobody better fucking try to eat me! I’m here to help.”

The fucking lunatic.

A tsunami of rage roared through me, and it took every ounce of strength not to shift. I wasn’t the only one. Every wolf in the place was pissed.

“Everybody stand down!” I roared and pushed my alpha presence through the room, trying to maintain control over my pack as well as my own wolf.

I spun on Savannah. “Talk to your idiot cousin. Now.”

Her face was crimson, and the scents of shame and embarrassment poured off her. At least all the pack would smell it too and know how she felt.

Savannah rushed over and hissed at the moron. “Are you insane, Casey? You look like a terrorist!”

He slowly lowered his hands. “I’m just coming prepared.”

“God. Please try not to start a fight. You’re here to help. We’re all on the same side, you idiot,” she snapped, her voice cutting like a blade.

Casey huffed.

Seeing her upbraid him in public calmed my wolf, and half a smile twitched at the corner of my lips. I tamped it down and set my face with a stern, grim expression.

I strode over, trying to use my power to soothe and calm the pack. There was no hiding the fury in my eyes. It took every ounce of strength I had to keep my voice steady, and I pushed my magic toward him to force him to calm the fuck down, too.

“Thank you for coming,” I growled. “None of my people will do anything to hurt you or provoke you, I promise. Just don’t do anything stupid. Like walking around here with a bandolier of wolfsbane.”

Casey glared back at me. “Fine. But I know you’re using that alpha voodoo on me to make my brain soft, so I’ll be watching for any funny business.”

“So will we.”

Casey nodded and dialed his phone. “Okay, you guys can come in.”

Two sorcerers Casey’s age walked into the room, and Savannah tensed. The scent of her hatred boiled up, and she spun toward me, as her eyes had turned yellow and her fangs dropped. I could tell a full shift was coming, and her cousin was standing two feet behind her.

Help me, her golden eyes begged.

I touched her arm and pushed a wave of power into her to stop the shift dead in its tracks.

Her teeth retracted and eyes cleared, and I breathed a deep sigh of relief. She had a bit of blood on her lips. I pointed to my own, and she wiped her mouth with the back of her wrist.

Her anger wasn’t gone, just repressed. Like mine.

“Who are those assholes?” I snarled as two pricks approached. If they’d done anything to Savannah, I’d break their backs over the bleachers.

“Two jerks I know from the Indies.” She spun on her cousin. “What the hell are they doing here, Casey? I thought you weren’t trying to start a fight.”

He shrugged. “Penance. For insulting my cousin at the bonfire. They’ll behave. Anyway, I needed help, and I wasn’t going to bring Mom.”

Bonfire? Had they triggered Savannah’s first shift? I’d hang their corpses from the dockside cranes.

Savannah turned on me, her eyes wide and pleading. “I think I’ve got this, Jaxson. Walk away.”

She knew. The scents of hatred and murder coiled around me, plain for anyone to see. This was the curse of having a mate. I’d do anything to protect her, even murder two sorcerers who were offering to help our pack.

The pack had to come first. Savannah couldn’t be my mate. We’d replace a way to fix this.

I cursed, reined in my wolf and emotions, and buried them deep. But I did step up in Casey’s face. “Wolfsbane stays outside, or you all stay outside. Not negotiable. You have my guarantee of protection.”

He grimaced, then unslung the bandolier and handed it to one of his goons. “Put this in my ride.”

“All of it.”

He unclipped the canisters on his hips and passed them over. I could smell he still had some hidden somewhere, but I sensed this was as much of a concession as I was going to get.

“What do you have to do to make the circle?” Savannah asked him.

“Well, we’ve got to etch sigils around this whole warehouse. Even with three of us, it’s going to take all day. We’ll make it as big as we can, but it’ll have to be really simple for us to get it done. It’ll only protect against dream intrusion, but not demon attacks or spells. And I’m afraid it won’t get rid of fleas or prevent rabies, either.”

She reeled back and slapped him hard across the jaw. My wolf leapt in my chest. It was perhaps the sexiest thing I’d ever seen her do.

He staggered back and rubbed his chin. “Holy shit, Savy, I was joking. But dang, you pack a mean wallop. Are you on ’roids or something? Might explain the moods…”

“You are a complete asshole, Casey.”

“Sorry.” He pointed to her I Hit Like A Girl T-shirt. “Guess I was warned.”

She stepped up, and a strange power emanated from her. She fixed him with a hard look. “You need to cut the funny business. Just look around. By tonight, this place is going to be crammed with werewolves. Mothers and fathers with frightened children. Families like yours. You’re the only one who can make sure they sleep safely tonight and the only one who can prevent them from never waking up again.”

Pride welled up in my chest. Everyone in the room was watching this showdown. They’d seen her take a stand and plead for their safety.

That was something. As much bad blood as there was in the room, everyone here knew we were depending on the little prick’s spell tonight.

What stunned me was that amid all the scents of mistrust and resentment, there was a flicker of hope.

My people, getting hope from a LaSalle. Inconceivable.

Casey nodded, pondering Savannah’s words. “Right…hero stuff. I can do that.”

His gaze panned around the room, measuring the mistrust and expectation in the gathered faces. It paused on a she-wolf’s backside as she bent over to pick up a large box of supplies and then heaved it effortlessly onto her shoulder.

His eyes dilated, and I could smell his sudden scent of…gods, no.

My claws slowly extended as Casey marched off to see if she needed help. “That lunatic is going to get the teeth knocked out of his face,” I muttered.

Savannah crossed her arms. “Probably.”

Revolting. A LaSalle.

But then again, one of them was currently my fucking mate. Not for long.

Savannah opened her mouth to speak, but my phone rang. Neve Cross. I picked up. “Tell me you’ve got a lead.”

“I’ve tracked down the author of the book. A witch named S.L. Delamont. She lives on the outskirts of Magic’s Bend,” Neve said.

A witch. Better than a sorcerer or warlock. I worked with witches from time to time. They lived in covens, which were sort of like packs.

“What do we know about her?”

Neve sighed. “Not much, unfortunately, and I know quite a few folks out there. Apparently, she’s a very private person and lives alone. She even has a girl named Molly do all her errands for her and never goes into town. I tried tracking down the girl, but I didn’t have a last name.”

My concern began to build. Witches that lived alone could be wildcards. Some were perfectly normal. Others weren’t. They were like rogue wolves. Some were natural loners, seeking solitude in the wild. Others might be antisocial or rejected by their covens for participating in unsavory activities.

“That it?” I asked. There had to be more.

Neve hesitated. “Pretty much. She has some sort of side hustle, I don’t know what it is, but I don’t think it’s legal because no one I talked to was sure. Pretty much everyone used the same words. Loner. Peculiar. Powerful.”

I didn’t like the way this was going.

“Okay. Do you have a phone number for her?”

“Nope. She doesn’t use electronics,” Neve noted.

I sighed. “Thanks for everything. We’ll head out that way in a couple hours.”

“Need backup?”

“Let’s wait and see what we’re facing. Maybe she’ll be a sweet lady living in a gingerbread house.”

Neve laughed. “If she tries to stuff you in her oven, I can get there fast.”

“Thanks.” I hung up.

Savannah, who had most certainly been listening in with her wolf hearing, narrowed her eyes. “You sound concerned.”

“Maybe. The author is a witch living in isolation. Nobody knows much about her. It could be a bad situation.”

She scowled. “Sounds to me like you have a preconceived social prejudice against powerful women who choose to live their lives alone.”

I glared. “No, I don’t. If she were a mage, it wouldn’t be a red flag. But witches draw their power from their covens and tend to congregate with each other. Essentially, like wolves, they live in packs. And I trust that mindset.”

Savannah scoffed. “So it’s just a werewolf bias, then. That makes it all okay.”

“Witches living in isolation don’t have a coven to draw their magic from, so they often turn to outside sources for power. Demons. Devils. Dark beings. Piecing that bit of knowledge together with the fact that the woman doesn’t like outsiders and wrote a little book called The Grimoire of Nightmares, which might very well be bound with human skin—that is what makes me concerned.”

“Oh.”