A/N — Hey guys, welcome back :) Hope you'll love this 8th story in the 'Mate And His Lover' series. A big thanks to anyone who ends up here after reading all the seven books so far (and my other books, too)! Thanks for sticking with me, and hope we'll go through even more love stories in the future together. I'm going back to shorter chapter format for this book. It'll be a weekly update, near the end of each week. If you're not following my author page, please do, so you'll get notified of the updates. And as some of you long time readers already know, I really appreciate your feedback, they help me improve my writing. If you don't believe me, just read my first book, and the latest one, and you'll know the truth :D So, please, leave generous comments and votes. Bye :)
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IT'S SWELTERING INSIDE. Fire under the cauldron crackles. Water is in a rolling boil. I wipe sweat off my forehead and look at the Amore stone on my palm — a pale yellow pebble that's as important of an ingredient to a witch as salt is to a chef. I look behind the scalding cauldron at the window. Squares of pale blue light beam in. I should have opened the shutters before starting.
The water calms down. It's ready. I carefully drop the stone into it. It makes its way to the bottom slowly, swaying in its path. When it touches the iron, golden swirls rise up. I wait.
The water becomes clear again and turns ice-cold. I step closer and take a look.
The dead-still surface shows the vision of a pair of large and muscular shoulders. I bite my lower lip, and clutch my skirt. The vision pans back and his neck and jaw appear. It throbs between my legs. My chest raises and I grab the t-shirt fabric between my breasts. The vision pans back further and the face is complete.
I recognize him.
In an instant, the sensual pulse flooding me goes away and I go into shock. Scared, I stumble back, slip and fall. My heel hits the stand and the cauldron topples, spilling water everywhere. My wet skirt wraps around my thighs tightly.
I slip back over the spilled water, away from the cauldron.
It's not possible.
"CALM DOWN AND tell me what happened slowly," Tressie says as she brushes her eyelashes with a copious amount of mascara. "I get the part where you were trying out a spell from that hideous green book you bought at the fair. What happened after that?" she says and switches to applying her lip gloss over her already shiny lips.
"I was trying out the Alka Revelum spell."
Tressie's eyes and mouth gape at her reflection on the mirror before she turns around and says, "Get the fuck out. You found who your Alka is?!"
I bite my nails. "I saw a guy."
"Who? Is he hot? Does he have a big dick? How do the abs look? Oh my God! I can't believe you fucking know who your Alka is!"
"It's not... like how you think. He is... He is not like us."
Tressie drops her lipstick on the carpeted floor and gives me a serious stare. "Is he from another coven?"
I sigh. "I wish. I wish it was that. He is... not a wizard," I say, feeling my energy drain out.
Tressie's brows shrink. "What do you mean he's not a wizard? I don't understand."
I summon whatever little strength left in me to shout, "He's a werewolf!"
TRESSIE WAKES UP and I wipe away some of the drops of water I sprinkled on her face. I realize her mascara is not water-proof. While still resting her head on my lap, Tressie grabs my hand and looks at me like she wants to give me her last dying wish. "I had a strange dream. You said your Alka is a werewolf."
I worriedly look between her eyes. Have I finally driven my friend crazy?
"It wasn't a dream," I whisper.
"Hmmm?"
"Hmmm."
"How do you know he is..."
"I saw Hayden Paul."
Tressie passes out again.
AFTER REVIVING TRESSIE for a second time, we call for reinforcement — Our friend, Jo: the tall, athletic, sensible girl who helps us keep our shit together. Jo, Tressie, and I meet at our hideaway — a rundown shack behind the East River that's still standing only because of the innumerable patches we've done on it — and I fill Jo in on what happened.
On the worn out couch, spattered with exposed and rusted springs, Jo crosses her arms and legs and leans back with closed eyes. Tressie starts pacing, her wedges kicking up a haze of ashy brown dust from the wooden floor. My nail tips are gone. I start chewing the chain of my necklace.
"It's a mistake," I say. "It's like how you call a wrong number. I dialed the wrong Alka. I made a mistake"
"You've never casted a spell wrong," Jo says, sounding so confident that I wish she wouldn't.
"This time, I did. I'm so stupid. I should've stayed away from it," I say and take my forehead over my trembling hands.
"Hey," Tressie says and comes over. Her voice is tender. She grabs my hands and makes me look at her. "It's gonna be okay. We got this."
I whisper, "But if this is true, they'll k—"
"Nothing is going to happen to you," Jo says from across. "You're the smartest witch there ever has been. And you are not alone. Whether Hayden is your Alka or not, it doesn't matter. Whatever's the truth, and whatever you decide to do with that truth — we got this! Even if we've to go up against the entire fucking world, we got this. You understand?"
I nod, blinking away the tears. She's right. We've to face this. If Hayden really is my Alka then it's a blessing in disguise that I came to know of it now rather than along with everyone else on the day I ascend.
"Okay," I say. "First we have to confirm if what I saw was right."
"How are we going to do that?" Tressie asks.
"I've an idea."
