Her Wolf’s Demands by Rachel Medhurst

Chapter Six

 

Footsteps sounded behind me as I marched down the road. I’d dropped my car at a long stay car park and left it behind, ready to take the train to see Drake.

Glancing over my shoulder, I checked that no one followed me. No, it was just two young men, talking animatedly about the latest Netflix series. Jeez, I’d wanted to watch the show they’d spoken about but hadn’t had the chance.

How simple life had been when I’d curled up in my hug chair with popcorn and binged on television shows and films.

The men crossed the road, leaving me room to duck into an empty side street. Once again checking that I wasn’t being watched, I blinked, and pushed forward, running to get to the train station quicker.

I could’ve teleported to the hospital, using my magic. However, I needed time to be away from Malone so I could think – and replay our sexy times from the night before. A train journey was always soothing.

Reaching the station, I bought a ticket to London like a good girl. Yes, I could’ve also conjured one from thin air, but my conscience was still intact. Mostly.

The train engine fired up as I approached, warning me of its impending departure. My stomach fluttered with butterflies as I climbed on, being sure to cast a spell to cover my tracks. I didn’t want any witches following me.

An image of Bodhi shot into my mind as I found a seat and curled up, resting my head on the window. The pang of guilt twisted my insides, tearing me apart.

Ertha had been right, I had neglected my familiar. For a whole week, I’d stayed hidden in the woods, not daring to disobey Malone. And all along, my poor pet had suffered at the hands of the woman who wanted war.

“I’m sorry, Bo bo,” I whispered, wiping the tear that dribbled from my eye.

My brother had come home from Dr Amel when he was thirteen, holding two kittens proudly. It was tradition for witches to find their familiars around their thirteenth birthday. My father’s familiar was a snake – yeah, the irony had always struck me as a little too perfect.

When I’d run downstairs on my thirteenth birthday the year before, expecting my father to take us pet shopping, I’d been sorely disappointed. Firstly, he wasn’t there, he’d stayed at his current girlfriend’s house. Secondly, there was a card sitting on the mantelpiece, telling me that he’d get me a present when his benefit cheque came in next, but the familiar would have to wait.

Drake had been furious for me, even threatening to call social services. I’d managed to convince him that it was too risky. Social services would have placed us in homes, probably separately, and they would have noticed that we were different. In more ways than one.

So I’d gone a year without a familiar, until Drake had finished his latest treatment with Dr Amel and sold his first painting. On the way home, he’d asked the good doctor to stop at a pet store that was closing down. There, he bought Bohdi, and his own furry familiar, Barry. The kittens had been adorable, and I’d instantly fallen in love.

My throat closed as I remembered Drake’s sweet smile and proud shrug when I’d squealed in delight. Alas, the excitement would be short lived for Drake and Barry. The cat grew ill when Drake did; Drake’s recurring anxiety and paranoia causing him to whine and scratch. A year after Drake had so confidently brought the kittens’ home, our father had thrown Barry so hard against the brick wall, the poor thing had died instantly.

Tears dripped down my cheeks, soaking the sleeve of my jumper as I used it to scrub them away. Drake had never been the same since, the trauma triggering his worst ever psychosis.

“Tickets please,” a guard called, his friendly voice booming and bringing me back to the present.

The trees whirled past as the train sped towards London, taking me closer to the one person who knew me completely.

“Can I see your ticket?”

I glanced up at the guard, holding out the small piece of paper for him to inspect. He was a tall dark-skinned man with greying temples and the kindest smile I’d seen for a long time.

“Are you okay?” he asked, nodding, even though he hadn’t inspected the ticket.

Smiling, I shrugged and shook my head. “Memories have a funny way of creeping up on you.”

“They do, they do. Don’t forget that those experiences may have shaped you, but they don’t define you.” His wink warmed my heart.

“Well, wise one,” I started, enjoying the simple pleasure of talking to a friendly human, “have you ever had your world blown apart, both inside and out, by someone who suddenly had the power to destroy you with one look or one bad word?”

His chuckle was deep in his chest as he scratched his jaw. “Of course! That’s what love is. No one can deny the joy of it or the heartache. You’ll be fine, just go into it openhearted and he’ll bow to you.”

Without waiting for my reply, he waved and disappeared down the carriage. There were only a handful of people, mainly listening to music, sitting around me.

I sniffed, sitting back when only human scent drifted up my nose. Paranormals rarely travelled out of Brighton, preferring to stay where they were welcome.

The guard’s words echoed in my head as my phone beeped. Malone.

Where the fuck are you? I’ve searched the whole camp.

Two seconds later, another beep. Malone again.

I’m worried about you.

My phone had three missed calls. Oops. I’d been so engrossed in my memories and conversation with the wise train Yoda, I hadn’t heard it vibrate.

Dialling his number, I breathed out a shaky breath. My insides quivered as the images from the night before slunk into my mind’s eye. The man had bent me over and taken me in ways I hadn’t expected. No wonder I was a little sore.

“I’m sorry,” I said quickly, interrupting his oncoming rant.

“Where are you?” His tone was strained. “You’re safe, I presume?”

His voice was like honey, sliding over my skin and making me sticky in all the right places.

Clearing my throat, I smiled to myself. “Yes, I’m safe. I’m sorting a few things before I return. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

“I don’t like it,” he muttered. “You left before I woke up, like a one night stand who doesn’t want to face their lover.”

Scoffing a laugh, I ran a hand through my hair. “You know it wasn’t like that. Last night was…” I couldn’t find the words to describe how connected I had felt to Malone. How being entwined with him all night had completed me in a way I had never experienced before.

“I know,” he replied, a low rumble in his chest.

His small growl heated my cheeks as I stared out of the window, watching the buildings grow thicker and higher. London, baby.

“I’ve cast an invisibility spell so no witch can see me. I’ll be back soon.”

“Okay.” He sighed, clearly resigned. “It’s not like I can control you. Well, not all the time, anyway.”

Chuckling, I said goodbye and ended the call, just as we pulled into the station.

I looked for the guard as I got up and made my way off the train, but he was hiding somewhere, no doubt cheering up another person.

The platform filled with people as I kept my head down and strode through the crowd who were vying to get onto the train. Someone bashed into me, apologising when I stumbled.

I was used to crowds in Brighton, but my senses were now triple what they’d been before. Scents of people’s aftershave, food, and cigarettes made my stomach roll. I had to get out of the station.

The entrance was ahead, the big doors calling to me. To the left, I spotted a huge sign indicating the toilets. Ah, I needed space to breathe.

Shoving through the door, I hurried into a cubicle and locked the door behind me. A shaky breath echoed around the small space as I leant against the door. There were many new benefits to being a hybrid, but there were a few drawbacks too. One being an overload on the senses.

Drake. I had to get to my brother.

My heart thumping, I closed my eyes and prepared to teleport. I only had to imagine Dr Amel’s hospital, and I should…

Air gushed my hair as I landed right in front of the building I’d been picturing.

“Oh, bloody hell!” A nurse gasped when I appeared beside her.

The teleport had taken seconds, and I hadn’t felt a thing. I could get used to being able to zip here, there and everywhere.

“Sorry,” I said, moving out of the way to allow her entrance to her work.

Her eyes were wide as she moved around me, keeping an exaggerated few steps away. “It’s fine.”

Using her ID, she ducked through the door, tugging it shut behind her. I didn’t blame her for being a little on edge. Not many witches had the power to teleport, it made for a rare experience. Seeing me pop up, right outside the secret hospital for witches with mental health issues, had probably startled her.

Digging out my phone, I dialled Dr Amel, hoping that he was at work. He picked up on the second ring, cheerful as ever.

“Della! How are you?”

“I’m outside,” I replied, looking through the glass doors. “I’ve come to see Drake.”

The reception area was almost empty, except for the receptionist, who eyed me suspiciously.

“Oh fab!” he said, “I’ll let you in.”

A loud buzz sounded from the door, so I yanked it open, almost breaking it off its hinges – okay, slight exaggeration, but I had forgotten my own strength.

“Can I help you?” the receptionist asked, narrowing her perfectly made-up eyes on me.

Waving my hand, I pointed at the phone. “I’m talking to Dr Amel now. He just let me in.”

Blinking, she swallowed before her eyes flicked to the screen in front of her. Whatever she saw there must had confirmed my claim because she waved me on.

I thanked her with a tight smile and headed to the corridor on the left.

“I’ll see you in a moment,” the doctor said, hanging up.

Every time I came to the hospital, I grew nervous. There was no reason for it, considering it was where Drake had the best help. There was just something about having to visit him in a place that wasn’t home that made me sad.

Hopefully he would be happy to see me today. He had sounded better the last time I’d spoken to him, which meant he was on the way to being well again. I just had to hope that he didn’t detect the wolf inside me. I had no idea how to explain that the scratch had turned me into a hybrid-witch.

My hands shook as I reached the locked door and pressed the buzzer. It clicked open straight away, allowing me entrance. I suddenly felt like a vulnerable young girl, come to see her unwell brother for the first time.

I had been so young when our father had dragged Drake to see Dr Amel. I hadn’t known at the time that the doctor would be Drake’s saviour. In fact, I believed that he would hurt him, maybe even kill him. The imagination of a ten year old could spiral quickly, especially when she’d experienced trauma.

“Della!” The doctor’s cheery face appeared from his office on the right of the corridor.

A genuine glow of affection rolled from him as he embraced me, hugging me tight to his chest. His prickly beard tickled my cheek as he gave me a peck.

“It’s good to see you,” I said truthfully.

Releasing me, he beamed and ducked me under the chin, just like he had when he’d reassured me all those years ago. His tanned skin was still smooth over his face, despite his greying hair. He would live forever, and I would be glad of it.

“Your brother will be so pleased to see you.” Stretching his arm out, he indicated that I should go before him.

I walked down the corridor, checking the common room as we passed it. Nope, Drake wasn’t watching television or chatting to his friends.

“He’s been painting more than usual this time.” Dr Amel pointed towards the private rooms. “But it’s helping him to get better quicker.”

Nodding, I strode down the blue corridor until we reached Drake’s door. I was about to knock when I paused and looked at Dr Amel. “He’s okay, though, yes?”

The sweet doctor smiled and inclined his head. “You know we always take care of him. We know the exact dosage of medication and the right talking therapy to help him get balanced again. He’s getting faster and faster every time. It won’t be long until he can manage it at home altogether.”

“What?” I almost choked. “He won’t have to come in anymore?”

A part of me was sad that his journey with Dr Amel would come to an end, although, it was a completely selfish reason. The doctor had been our ally since the first time he’d seen Drake, always there for us, no matter what. I’d almost wished he’d adopted us when we were young.

“That’s right.” Squeezing my shoulder, he indicated the door, encouraging me to knock. “Don’t panic, I’ll always be here for you both.”

Resisting the urge to throw my arms around him in a hug, I smiled. He had been the kindest man I’d ever known, and although it had been a few years since we’d last seen him, I had expected him to be in our lives forever.

“Thank you,” I said. “That means a lot.”

Knocking on Drake’s door before my throat closed, I nodded when he patted me and turned away, whistling as he disappeared down the corridor.

“Who is it?” Drake called.

My heart thrummed loudly as I coughed, determined not to cry. “It’s Mushbrain Head Number Two.”

The door flew open and before I could draw a breath, I was entrapped in a bear hug, my head squashed against a solid shoulder.

Linking my arms around him, I squeezed back, inhaling CK One, his favourite aftershave. I had always teased him, daring him to wear heavier scents. I was pleased he had ignored me, especially now that my nose was a super-sonic smeller.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said, holding me tight.

Tears slipped into my eyes, escaping from the corners as I shut them tightly. A sob wrenched my throat, even as I tried desperately to hold it in.

“Are you okay?”

Stepping back, Drake ushered me into his room. The walls were painted white, but the splash of colour from his paintings lit up the whole place.

My eyes dried as I stared around, studying the beautiful landscape, painted over and over again. It was the standing stones that had caused a dispute between the Brighton Pack and the Brighton Coven. They were nestled in the valley, tucked beside a clump of trees.

Turning to my brother when he closed the door, I smiled. His frown was hard to read as he stared at me, his gaze narrowing when I took off my jacket.

“You’ve changed. What’s different?”

His energy was a lot less scattered as he indicated that I should sit in the armchair in the corner. Settling on the double bed, he waited for me to reply to his question. I delayed answering, looking around the room and nodding about nothing in particular.

There was a door leading to the en-suite shower room right next to a chair and a wardrobe in another corner. The third corner was kitted out with an easel and paints. Dr Amel knew my brother well.

“The doc said that you’ve done so well in your recovery, you’ll no longer need to come in.” I wrung my hands together, ducking my head under the watchful stare of the man who knew me better than anyone.

Fidgeting, he flicked his mop of mousey hair out of his eyes as he glanced at the paintings. I would have to order him to get it trimmed it as soon as he was home.

Home.

A pang gripped my chest, forcing me to inhale sharply. Our home was no longer safe. He was far from safe. And now, Bohdi had been captured. Another form of torture.

“You’re right.” I sighed, debating how much to tell him. “I have changed.”

His light eyes blinked slowly as he listened, giving me space to talk. He had always been a good listener, but when he wasn’t quite himself, he was quiet, letting others take the lead.

Licking my dry lips, I swallowed. “I’m sort of… in love.”

My blurted words took a moment to sink in. Drake slowly nodded, his eyebrows pulling low. My heart thundered, almost drowning out the tick of a clock as my blood rushed in my ears.

Shit. I’d just confessed how I felt about Malone without letting the werewolf know first. Oh, well, Drake and I shared everything, which was why guilt made my tummy roll. How could I tell my brother that I was a werewolf? He would freak the fuck out.

“With who?”

His flat tone deflated me. I shouldn’t have been surprised, it had only ever been us. And yet, I’d never baulked when he’d found a girlfriend in the art world. In fact, I’d encouraged it, pleased to see my brother happy.

“This is the part you’re not going to like,” I said, trying to smile to ease the blow. “It’s Malone.”

A shadow crossed his face as he opened his mouth, gaping at me before shaking his head. “The werewolf?”

Jeez, why did my insides wobble like jelly? I hadn’t contemplated how I would tell Drake what had happened, too wrapped up in my desperation to see him.

“Yes,” I squeaked, “the Brighton Pack alpha. Crazy, huh?”

Fuck. Stupid choice of word, dipshit.

“How?”

His dubious attitude shouldn’t have been a surprise, and yet, it stung. Did he not trust me to make the right choice for myself?

Ugh, who was I kidding? Fate had thrown Malone and I together, not giving us a choice at all. If I tried to pretend, Drake would know.

“It’s complicated. I promise I’ll tell you in more detail when you’re… home.”

My pause sent his eyebrows shooting up under his heavy mop of hair. “You know I trust you,” he started, his gaze dropping when I smiled, “so I’ll let you keep your secrets for now.”

“I’m sorry.” Looking around the room, I gestured to the paintings. “You’ve been busy.”

Another shadow crossed his face before he stood and went to one of the pictures. He reached out and traced the stones, lost in thought for several moments before remembering that I was in the room.

“Is there something about the stones that’s drawing you to paint them?” I asked cautiously.

Staying still, I held my breath, nervous that I’d prompted him about something that he wasn’t ready to speak about. In my haste to change the subject, I hadn’t thought my question through. He might have been on the road to recovery, but his slightly disconnected energy was a sign he wasn’t quite there yet.

“The coven commissioned me to draw them before I got ill.” His shudder made me sit up.

Yes, I’d known that they wanted a mural in the library. I’d assumed it would be a mystical scene of fairies and witches. Why had Ertha wanted a painting of the Devil’s Dyke standing stones? They were on the Brighton Pack’s turf, meaning they belonged to the wolves. What had suddenly sparked her desperation to claim them as her own?

Drake took my silent pondering as a sign to go on. “They asked me not to talk about the commission. You stand on a stone, you see, and ancient witches are channelled through a tree to poison plants.”

My mouth opened as I tried to make sense of Drake’s words. I had often tried to figure out his riddles, but I’d given up a few years ago, instead just allowing him to express himself.

“I suppose Ertha wanted a momentum of the powerful stones.”

My reply was a statement, but Drake looked around at me, a frown creasing his forehead.

“Something like that. Except for the channelled witches.”

Pressing my nails into my palms, I swallowed down the sadness that rose in my chest. He wasn’t as well as I’d first thought. Why had Dr Amel assumed he was on his way to recovery?

“A lot has happened since you’ve been gone,” I said, distracting him again. “I want you to stay here until I come and get you, okay?”

“You don’t need to treat me like a child.” His voice was tight as he lowered himself back on the bed, appearing to shake himself out of his deep thoughts.

“Sorry,” I murmured, ducking my head. “It’s just not safe for us out there at the moment. As you know, tension is brewing between the wolves and the witches and–”

“I’m not one to judge,” he interrupted, his eyes clear as he raised his eyebrows, “but isn’t shacking up with the alpha going to provoke Ertha?”

If I blurted the truth, Drake would panic. I didn’t want to set off his paranoia or have him worry about me. It took everything within me to hold back the insult that sat on my tongue. Ertha was an evil witch with a vendetta against us.

I could understand why she wanted me dead. A powerful hybrid-witch living with the werewolves went against everything our coven stood for.

“I… yes, it has…” Shame engulfed me, making my throat close.

I hadn’t believed that my own brother would be ashamed of my bond with Malone. I couldn’t blame him, I hadn’t told him everything, and the last thing he knew, Malone wanted to rip off his head.

“You’re safe from the werewolves now. Ertha is more of a threat to you. She’s desperate to find you, and I don’t know why.”

Yeah, she had a vendetta against me, I got it, but why Drake? He hadn’t done anything seriously wrong. Something was up with Ertha if she was willing to keep me alive just to find Drake.

“The witches standing on the stones,” my brother replied, looking at the painting nearest the window.

A tap on the door made us both jump. Drake rushed over, his movements almost childlike as he opened it a crack and peeked outside.

“What’s he doing here?”

My heart thumped as Malone’s scent smacked me in the face. Drake was right to sneer. How had the alpha found me?

Dr Amel’s reply was cheerful as Drake stepped back and allowed them entrance. I clenched my hands into fists as the good doctor walked in, gesturing for Malone to follow him, which he did, sauntering in behind him.

“What are you doing here?” I drawled, raising my eyebrows when Malone’s dark gaze clashed with mine.

His hulking frame towered over the doctor and my brother as they crowded into the room. The corner of his lip lifted as he appraised me, his gaze flicking to my lips. The innocent look sent ice and fire flittering across my skin.

“I’m here to meet your brother, as we arranged.” Malone glanced away from me, his gaze running over the paintings on the wall.

No doubt the same question was running through his mind. Why was Drake painting the Devil’s Dyke standing stones?

Dr Amel clicked his tongue and nodded at Drake. “Are you ready to meet your sister’s man-friend?”

It was a little late to ask my brother permission considering Malone and his pulsing presence now filled the room.

Drake nodded back, his gaze darting to the werewolf. Dr Amel would’ve sensed that Malone was a wolf, and yet, there was no judgement. That’s what I’d loved about him.

“Look…” The doctor turned to Malone and pointed at the nearest painting. “…Drake is an extremely talented artist.”

Humming an affirmative, Malone stepped closer and actually admired Drake’s work. “You’re left-handed,” he said to my brother, tracing a finger down the thick grey stone in the picture. “Your brushstroke is similar to Da Vinci.”

I almost choked, covering my mouth as Drake raised his eyebrows before a smile spread on his lips. Wait. Was my brother impressed by Malone’s knowledge? Of course he was, he had studied the greats and been influenced by many.

“What do you know of Leonardo?” I asked my man, not quite believing that he knew anything.

Cocking his head to look over his shoulder, he eyed me, the brown and amber of his irises flashing when a grin spread on his face, revealing his sexy-as-fuck dimple. “I know that he was a bastard, abandoned by his father. He struggled to connect with people, his genius often a sticking point when it came to relating to others. A perfectionist, much like your brother, he aimed to see the truth in his subject, whether it was ugly or beautiful.”

My heart thumped as I sucked my tongue, trying to moisten my dry mouth. Jeez, if there was a way closer to my soul, it was through my brother, who currently beamed at Malone.

I had assumed I knew the alpha, but there was a lot more to know about the man who led the Brighton Pack. And shit, he turned me on with his intellect, just as much as his bod.

“That’s right,” Drake said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Leonardo was a troubled soul. A little like me.”

Air rushed out of my lungs as Malone stepped closer to Drake. My brother was usually wary of others when he wasn’t feeling good. Not with Malone, though. He moved closer to another painting and pointed at the tree.

“Da Vinci inspired me with his work ethic, that much is true. And yes, I’m a bit of a perfectionist. However, I don’t agonise over a painting.” Glancing at the doctor when he scoffed, Drake shrugged. “Most of the time.”

Bowing, the doctor reversed out of the room, leaving us to it.

Malone was quick to ask my brother about his other favourite artists. It was hard for me to remain angry at the alpha for following me uninvited when he made such an effort with Drake.

“I’m sorry,” Drake blurted, “for almost killing one of your men. Is he alright now?”

Placing a thick hand on Drake’s shoulder, Malone inclined his head. “He’s completely healed, thanks to your sister. Everything is forgiven and forgotten.”

I wasn’t quite sure Lionel would agree, but who was I to question Malone? Oh, that was right, his fated mate and second in command. Wait, that was becoming a running theme in my life. I probably should’ve been peeved about that but, meh, I’d save it for another day. I was too busy enjoying the friendly conversation that we shared. Who knew they would get on so well?

“I’m a carpenter,” Malone told Drake, his gaze unable to stay off the paintings.

Drake’s eyebrows rose, clearly impressed by my man’s profession. Bloody hell, it still felt strange claiming the alpha as mine.

“Malone’s tables are incredible,” I interrupted, my cheeks heating when they both smiled at me.

Dismissing them with a wave, I checked my phone, even though no one knew my number. They chatted again, both becoming animated when discussing their art.

I watched Malone, enjoying the softness of his jaw and the spark in his eyes. He kept glancing at me, his shoulders lifting when I acknowledged everything he said. It was as if he wanted me to know him, and by speaking to my brother, it was safe to allow me to see him.

“The witches,” my brother said, catching my attention. “They stand on the stone and poison the plants.”

My stomach dropped as Malone’s bright face froze, a cloud descending. Would he freak out about my brother’s illness?

“Drake.” Coming between the pair, I pointed at one of the paintings. “What did the witches ask you to do?”

Clamming up, my brother sat on his bed, shrinking in on himself. I held up my hands when he shook his head and narrowed his gaze on me. He knew something, but he was too afraid to tell me.

“It’s okay,” I said, sitting on the bed next to him. “Let’s forget it.”

“I’m sorry.” His anguished whisper made a lump come to my throat.

I was supposed to be looking out for him, and yet, he didn’t feel safe enough to tell me what he knew about the witches. Clearly their commission had been a lot bigger than just a painting. What did Drake know? And what were his cryptic riddles all about?