Mated By Fate by Christa Wick

Chapter Three

The moment Sethwas gone from the room, Lana took in a steadying breath. Though it made no sense whatsoever, she didn’t like seeing him leave, didn’t like the feel of him gone.

Does Stockholm syndrome set in this quickly? Seriously, what the hell was wrong with her?

Not wanting to pull at that thread for the moment, she directed her attention at her other captor. Remembering then what Seth had said about Denver ‘lying through his teeth,’ Lana glanced over at him to puzzle over the statement.

Clearly, Seth wasn’t referring to Denver being attracted to her because he was barely paying her any attention. At all. No, his gritty focus was wholly centered elsewhere, as if he was listening intently for something—or someone—outside. Every time he would catch Lana watching him, however, his expression would slacken into the blank expressions her disaffected students liked to keep plastered on their faces in the discipline room she supervised at the nearby middle school.

That’s when she heard a woman's voice, and witnessed an immediate transformation in Denver she couldn’t quite believe, to be frank. His eyes gleamed downright wolfish in every definition of the word when the door opened and warmly smiling woman in question walked in, with Seth following behind her.

Lana watched as Denver's gaze swept quickly over the woman making her way toward her. It was more than obvious then why Seth had called him a liar. Denver wasn’t just taking in the woman’s full curves, he was downright drinking her in like a thirsty man in a desert.

Big girl or not, the woman was definitely a stunner, with dark blonde hair that fell in curls around her shoulders, gorgeously luminous skin, thick lashes, and a natural pouty set of lips that was pure Hollywood glamour.

And the longer Denver studied the beautiful blonde, the more his mouth tipped up at the corner into the closest thing to a smile Lana had seen yet on him.

Walking right past him, seemingly unaware of his eyes tracking her every movement, the woman walked up to the bed, hand extended in greeting. "Hello, Lana. I'm Esme Stone. I wish we could have met under better circumstances."

Lana took the woman's hand, surprised to find a soothing calm wash over her the second they shook hands. While it took some effort—because something about Esme was genuinely disarming—Lana doggedly had to remind herself she had no reason to trust the woman.

Still, she didn’t want to be rude. Pointing to a nearby chair, she offered politely, “Do you want to sit?”

Esme's eyes sparkled when she smiled at Lana. "I was just about to ask if I could. Thank you."

Earlier, Seth had dwarfed the chair with his muscular frame, but Esme fit perfectly, her plump figure very similar to Lana’s.

She imagined, had they met in non-kidnapping circumstances of course, that they could’ve been friends who could raid each other’s closets from time to time.

“So,” began Esme with a deep, cleansing breath. “Let’s just dive right in. The reason why Seth and Denver called me over here is because I’m a witch.”

Lana's brows shot up. Okay, so maybe they wouldn’t be friends. This Esme chick was just as crazy as her kidnappers.

Esme leaned closer, and Lana immediately shrunk back.

Nodding in understanding, Esme paused and retreated, respecting Lana’s personal space with an apologetic head tilt. “Just so you know, while Seth wants me to put a forgetting spell on you, I'm not going to."

Seth shot forward, but Denver was faster. "The hell you won’t,” Denver growled at Esme. “You are blood bound to protect the clan. You know exactly what will happen to you if you don't! I won't allow that."

It took Lana a moment, but when she replayed his last gruff statement once more in her head, she heard the stark concern that changed the meaning of his words altogether. It wasn’t her disobedience he wouldn’t tolerate, but rather the repercussions.

Great. So both of her captors were secretly sweet and gentle beneath all the crazy.

Esme flicked her gaze over to Denver for one short, sizzling second before all but dismissing him in her demeanor. "If you want your dog to stay, Seth, keep him muzzled."

Denver all but hulked out in response. Lana had no idea what to make of the pair’s strange way of interacting with each other, but one thing was evident. They had chemistry.

Even though both of them were fighting it tooth and nail.

“As I was saying,” Esme continued, “I won’t be putting a forgetting spell on you, Lana. Which means you and I are going to have a lot to chat about, as I imagine you have a lot of questions.”

The men exchanged a look. Though Denver looked positively lethal—well, as lethal as a bear of a man could look glaring at a woman he clearly had a love/hate relationship with—he heeded Seth’s silent orders to stand down.

Seth stepped forward then and rested a hand on the back of Esme’s chair. "He's right. You must hold to your ancestor's oath. If the clan found out you let a human go without making sure she was dealt with, there would be hell to pay. The only solution is to make Lana forget while I figure out how to play this out the next time I meet her.”

The next time he meets me? Lana’s head was spinning. As far as elaborate cons go, this one was taking the cake.

Esme shrugged up at Seth. “No worries, guys. If you’d stop interrupting me, I could explain the the interesting loophole we have here. Human though she very much is, our new friend is clan."

This time, the men’s reaction was far less animated. And far more dismissive.

“Esme, you’re talking nonsense,” argued Seth, though the look he shot over to Lana held a smidgen of doubt.

"I was told she triggered your mating response," Esme challenged, matter-of-factly.

Mating response. Who outside of zoologists on National Geographic talked like that?

Lana looked at Seth to find his eyes locked on her, his expression turning grim as he replied, "She did."

Lana responded with a soft gasp. Was this all part of the con or did these loonies actually believe what they were saying?

"It's not as distressing as it might sound," Esme said as she reached across the mattress to gently pat Lana's hand. "It's a chemical reaction between mates. Think of the right set of pheromones colliding with perfectly matched receptors. You probably felt at least a little something, too."

Lana broke eye contact before she inadvertently let any of them see that Esme was right in that regard. She had felt something. But that didn’t mean anything. Seth was handsome. Charismatic. Enigmatic.

But mates? Sure, Lana believed in the romantic notion of soulmates, and even bought in to the idea that certain apps could analyze responses from detailed questionnaires to figure out if two people were a good match for each other. Still, she drew the line at the thought of two perfect strangers releasing some chemical pheromone the second they were near each other for the first time.

Esme studied Lana’s expression of disbelief before turning back to Seth. "You touched her forehead and she responded, correct?"

"Not exactly." Seth shook his head, the gesture less certain than before. "She passed out—it’s not the same thing."

"Your hand was tingling, that's why you used it. You sensed her wolf totem, however slight or deeply buried it is, and responded as an alpha to calm her and avoid exposing the pack."

"You are all crazy," Lana whispered, jerking her hand away from Esme's. “A hundred percent certifiable.”

"No, not crazy, honey,” Esme replied. “If it makes you feel better, these two guys here are having a hard time believing me right now, too. But the proof is you. You’re what’s known as a 'latent.'"

Swift sounds of reaction erupted from both men—an annoyed growl from Denver in his corner and a gentler scoff from Seth.

Esme closed her eyes at the interruption, her mouth pressing into a flat line, her voice just as even as she explained the term to Lana. "Somewhere up in your family tree you have a pair of shifters and a child born to them who couldn't shift. Think of it like…a recessive gene. Even several generations later, that recessive gene is never fully extinguished. You’re evidence of that, my dear."

"Esme, enough. Latents don't exist. That’s just a myth," Denver argued, his weight restlessly flexing from one leg to the other. "Quit with this nonsense and just do as Seth ordered already. Put a forgetting spell on her instead of spinning useless witch tales that will do no one any good and quite possibly get you killed for disobeying your blood oath."

Lana gasped at the threat, and found herself shifting forward to shield Esme, for some bizarre reason. The woman might be batshit bonkers, but she didn’t want her dead.

Esme seemed thoroughly unfazed. But she did finally look directly at Denver, for the first time since her arrival. "If latents don't exist, then neither do shifters. Or witches, for that matter. She’s as real as I am."

Her words were soft, but certain. And Lana caught what looked to be a shimmer of unshed tears in Esme’s eyes as she made the assertion.

Denver must’ve seen it too, because he startled and took a step back.

Esme took the opportunity to promptly ignore him as she had earlier. "As I was saying,” she returned her sole attention back to Lana. “Wolf cubs don't shift until they hit…well, let's call it their first puberty somewhere around age eight. But the scent of the she-wolf and certain other factors give the child's nature away almost immediately after conception."

Drawing a deep breath, Esme continued on before Lana could ask what these certain other factors were.

"In the earliest histories of the clans, such children were as loved and cherished as any cub. They were raised with their pack. But then outside ideas started seeping in and many of these special children learned to fear and despise the wolves in the same ways humans did. They turned on the packs that sheltered them, told the shifters' secrets to the villages. It became forbidden to keep such children. They were abandoned on the doorstep of the nearest farm."

Feeling a knot form in her throat, Lana tried to swallow it down. But it bubbled right back up, releasing with a pained whimper. She tried to imagine having a child, but then abandoning the baby on a stranger's doorstep, the fragile body possibly exposed to the elements and night creatures for hours before it was discovered.

Her heart ached with the thought.

"Stop this, you're upsetting her." Seth put his hand on Esme's shoulder. "Denver’s right. Just cast the spell."

"I most certainly will not.”

“Your blood oath—”

“You don't understand,” she cut him off, her jaw set with determination. “None of you get it." Volleying her gaze between Seth and Lana, she explained then, "Seth and Denver came out tonight looking for Hunters—cruel, vicious men who find and kill shifters and witches.”

She lifted a brow at Seth. “Did you scent any shifters or witches around? Any plausible reason for a Hunter to even be in the area?”

Seth frowned. “Now that you mention it…no.”

Esme exhaled and gripped Lana’s hand. “That’s because it wasn't us he was looking for—they were out hunting for latents. They were out hunting you, Lana.”

Seth suddenly lifted his hand, stretching his fingers as Lana crawled toward the opposite side of the bed, her gaze growing bigger as her breathing turned erratic.

“If I cast a forgetting spell on Lana, it'd be as good as signing her death warrant."

With a savage growl, Seth shook his hand then balled it into a fist and rubbed his other hand against it. “If you don’t want me to lose my shit, Esme, I suggest you never use Lana and death in the same sentence again.”

Esme glanced over her shoulder. "Your hand is tingling again because she’s about to royally lose her shit. Do you believe me now?"

Seth hesitated, before nodding.

Meanwhile, Lana was long past royally losing her shit. The more these insane people talked, the more certain she was that they planned to make her go completely nuts before disposing of her body in some gruesome way…on the way back to their mother ship.

Esme gave Seth a brief smile. "Now that we’re on the same page, leave me alone with her for a few minutes so she and I can talk some more. I promise, I’ll only tell her what she needs to know for now—what she needs to know to stay safe."

"No." He folded his arms across his chest, his stance widening. “Her safety is my responsibility, not yours.”

Lana slid off the bed then and felt around behind her for a weapon of some sort. "Look, I don’t know if you two are just acting out some elaborate scheme to get me to join some messed-up cult or if you’ve all escaped from a nearby loony bin, but I want you to get the hell out of my house. Now.”

With a patient sigh, Esme pinned her in place with a hard stare and four words. "You dream about shifting."

Lana shook her head, but her mouth trembled with the truth.

"You do." Her gaze narrowing even further, Esme nodded. "And you're so quick to say we're crazy because you grew up around people with violent mood swings. You have them yourself. You don't want to believe us because you think that would mean you're crazy, too, and there's nothing you're more afraid of than that."

Esme rubbed at the chair's armrests again, her eyes fluttering shut. "This is your favorite spot in the apartment—maybe the whole world right now." She reached up, her hands caressing the flared wings of the chair's back. "You come here when you're afraid, lonely, missing someone very close to you."

Behind Esme, Seth growled but she ignored the warning and said a girl’s name. "Hannah…"

Tears flowed down the cheeks of both women.

Lana sniffled. "What do you know about Hannah?"

Esme's fingers started to move across her stomach, her expression growing increasingly strained. Denver moved from the corner, his hand nervously reaching for the witch's shoulder but freezing before he touched her.

"She was like you," Esme answered. "Same hair…same eyes."

"My sister." Lana sank onto her bottom, her back against the bedroom wall, her arms wrapped around the legs she gathered close to her torso.

Esme took a shaky breath, her fingertips digging into the flesh of her belly. "She's gone now."

"Murdered," Lana confirmed.

Esme nodded, her hand coming up to brush at a lingering tear. "You should come with us, but I won't put a forgetting spell on you if you refuse. No one will believe you if you say anything—well, the Hunters will when they come again."

She rested an elbow on the mattress, her hand reaching across the bed toward Lana. "So, whatever you do, you have to leave here tonight. If not with us, then go far, far away. And you have to keep on moving. You can never stop running."

Lana closed her eyes, drew her bottom lip between her teeth. When she looked up again, she hooked Esme's gaze and held it. "How do I know you're not the ones who want to hurt me?"

"It's simple, honey." Esme stood and shook out the folds of her long skirt. Then her hand came up, the fingertips glowing with a blue light. "You'd be dead already."