Bound by Spells & Regrets

Chapter 25: Jax

She's hot, what about her?" Roman points to a girl at the bar.

"No, redheads. Give me someone black, no, brown—wait, blonde." I can barely talk properly. Roman and I finished the whole bottle in 30 minutes, and now I'm starting to loosen up. I told him I needed to fuck someone, and he's scoping out the bar for potential hookups. Human, it has to be human—I don't want any pack coming after me for taking their mates. I don't need that.

"What about her?" Roman points to a woman at the bar, laughing with her friends. She's perfect, with long legs and a body that would catch any man's eye.

"She's perfect." Perfect enough for tonight, anyway. As I walk over to her, I'm not smooth—I'm definitely out of practice when it comes to pickup lines. I haven't picked up in six months, not since that one witch vixen who's been stuck in my head. I think about how obsessed I was with her, how much it consumed my life. But I don't want her anymore. I need my brothers, my pack, and the freedom to sleep with whoever I want.

I think that, but do I believe it? Ahh, probably not.

As I approach, I try to walk straight—definitely borderline drunk.

"Hi," I smile at her.

"Hi," she smiles back and winks at her friend.

"Can I buy you a drink?" Real smooth, Casanova.

"Mmm, sure. I haven't seen you around here before, are you local?"

"No, my brother owns the bar."

"Oh, that's cool."

"What'll you have?" Please don't say Sex on the Beach. Spencer and I always joked that girls who order that are clingy.

"Mmm, Sex on the Beach."

Ah, fuck. I knew it. I can't do this. I'm not the smooth type, but I just want to forget about Harper, and here I am picking up a guaranteed clinger.

Turns out she's alright—out of town but visits often. I tell her I've got a place nearby (technically, it's my brother's house), and she agrees to come with me. As we walk to my truck, she grabs me, pushing me against it, her lips crashing into mine. The kiss is forceful, passionate even, but... it's not Harper. The thought of her, uninvited and unwanted, slips into my mind. I try to block her out, shove Blondie harder into the car, trying to force Harper's memory away. But it's useless.

My phone vibrates in my pocket. I ignore it, not caring about anything right now except forgetting. Then it rings again.

"Fuck, sorry," I mutter, fumbling for the phone. It's Eden. Why would she be calling? She never uses her personal number unless it's urgent—usually, she goes through Ashton. Blondie's staring at me, but I can't even remember her name—Sandy, Mandy, Candy? It doesn't matter. I'm either too drunk or too far gone to care. Eden's voicemail comes through, and curiosity gets the best of me.

"Jax, I think I left one of my notebooks in your car. It's in the back. I know you're probably trying to forget about Harper, but can you please have a look for me? It's important—it has details about my mom."

Eden. I owe her so much, more than she knows, and when she asks for something, I can't refuse. I turn to Blondie, apologizing as I tell her I need to handle something. As I climb into the truck, I spot Eden's notebook in the back. Reaching for it, I feel a sudden sting—Blondie smacks my ass. Hard. I flinch.

"You're naughty, making me wait and teasing me with that sexy thing." Her words are playful, but I'm not feeling it. The situation is spiraling. She smacks me again, harder this time, and I lurch forward. Fuck this is a disaster. I am definitely sobering up from the lack of nothing I feel.

As I grab the notebook, my eyes fall on something else—that damn cat figurine. The one Dawn gave me. The one that's tied to everything with Harper. Seeing it sends a wave of memories crashing through me, a surge of emotion I wasn't ready for.

I pick it up, torn between smashing it and holding on. Maybe it's a sign that I should just give up. Walk away from Harper, forget it all. But before I can decide, my phone rings again. I lose my grip on the figurine, and it crashes to the ground, shattering into pieces.

And just like that, something inside me shatters along with the figurine. My chest tightens, and I'm overwhelmed by an inexplicable sense of loss.

The smoke rises slowly at first, a thin wisp that thickens and darkens as it snakes its way up from the shattered pieces. It curls around me, filling the air with a strange heaviness. I can feel it—whatever this is—it's more than just smoke. It's power, dark and familiar, wrapping itself around me like a predator stalking its prey.

The whispers begin softly, barely audible, like distant echoes carried on the wind. But then they grow louder, clearer, until they're all I can hear. The words slip into my mind, bypassing reason, filling me with a sense of urgency I can't ignore.

"Jax, go and get her. She needs you."

I clench my fists, breathing heavily as the whispers continue to circle me. They're relentless, filling me with the certainty that Harper needs me—that I've been wrong to try and forget her, to pretend I could move on.

The smoke wraps around me, and my wolf, silent for so long, roars to life. Blondie screams and bolts, but I barely register it. I can't focus on her, not when Harper's scent suddenly fills the air, sharp and overwhelming, igniting every instinct I have. All the feelings I thought I'd buried come rushing back, flooding me, consuming me.

A howl rips from my throat, primal and fierce, and before I know it, I'm running. Running towards her, towards Harper, towards the only thing that's ever truly mattered.

I throw my head back and howl, Harper's name tearing from my throat.

The bond. It was never broken. The figurine—Dawn must have done something to it, held our bond in place. But now it's back, and I know what I have to do.

I have to find my mate. Let's go and get her, my wolf growls with enthusiasm, pushing me forward, every muscle in my body vibrating with need.

I am coming baby.