Lorcan & Evette

Chapter Five

Lorcan didn't regret his decision to trash his mate's bedroom. Suppose, it wasn't a conventional thing for a werewolf to do for his mate but he didn't regret it all the same. She had it coming for her. The scent of another man... it was just too much for Lorcan.

My mate's been touched by another man. I can smell another man in my mate's room.

Fuck, it was nigh impossible to think straight.

But the damage was done. He'd destroyed her room and didn't regret it in the slightest.

It was just as he finished when his phone vibrated in his pocket. It was Chronos, his little brother.

Lorcan tried to calm himself before answering. He wasn't normally like this. He was calm and calculating. This was the bloody witch's fault. Worse, she didn't even know it. The witch doesn't know she has me wrapped around her little finger.

Dangerous. He dreaded to even think of it.

Despite knowing her senses weren't half as good as his, he shut the door to her bedroom to be sure. He could still hear her bumbling away downstairs- cursing him out. The sound almost brought a smile to his face. But now, there was no chance of her hearing him.

He answered the phone.

"Are you still alive?" Chronos asked. "I thought you'd have reported back by now. You're always tight with procedures. Is everything alright?"

Lorcan began to pace. "I have her."

"Who—the witch?"

"Evette."

The way her name rolled off of his tongue did things to him.

"Did it all go to plan?"

"Everyone else is dead." So no. Lorcan had set out with a team of five of his best men. The witch killed four of them. He'd finished the last one off himself. And god help him- if he'd gotten there sooner, he would've done the same to the first four. It didn't matter that he couldn't stand witches—she was still his. He'd be damned if he let anyone touch her.

Gods help the boyfriend.

His men or not- anyone that laid a finger on her would meet the same fate.

His men had been told to take her peacefully.

Either way, they'd died for impertinence.

"All of them?" Chronos asked.

"All of them," Lorcan confirmed. " The witch killed four. I killed the last."

"You killed one?" Lorcan could hear his brother's disbelief down the phone. Werewolves just didn't kill werewolves. It just wasn't the way of their kind. That kind of shit was reserved for the witches.

"She's mine."

"What?"

"The witch- she's mine."

"I don't understand you."

"She's my mate." The words were hard to get out. He'd waited so long for a woman that lacked everything he needed. A woman who'd probably spent millennia plotting to kill him. He'd dreamed of the mate he'd get. He'd longed for a mate for centuries. Those imaginings had never featured one of her kind. "Evette- the oracle- is my mate."

There was a pause on Chronos' end. "Are you sure?"

"Unfortunately. All of the urges are there."

There was the urge to mark her. Even now his fangs ached for it, even more with the scent of man taunting him. His beast was in a frenzy. There was the need to claim her. To spread her legs wide and fuck her until she remembered no other males before him. To make the witch his completely. Those needs would only get worse as the full moon drew nearer.