Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 90630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
The hotel bar is on the first floor, only two floors down from where we are right now. It’s a short elevator ride, giving me just enough time to lean back, close my eyes, and slowly exhale. My mind is swirling with thoughts, and I don’t know which one to start with. The chaos screams in my head as I walk to the bar and, thankfully, snag a barstool at the counter. I order a vodka and cranberry and resist the urge to gulp it down as soon as the glass is set in front of me. I’ve seen way too many hunters turn to booze to numb the pain that comes with this job.
“So, the rumors are true,” a woman says, coming up next to me. She has a slight southern accent and the energy coming off of her is different. She’s not fully human. “Xavier Malus’s new wife is a witch.”
I turn, taking her in. She’s about my age with short red hair and striking green eyes. Dressed in an emerald green blouse and black pants, she fits in with the other business-casually dressed patrons of the bar. Though something tells me werewolves don’t usually host their pack meetings at historic hotels in downtown Charlotte.
“What makes you say that?”
“Everyone knows who you are,” she starts and motions to my ring. “We can see that thing a mile away. Plus, I can sense your magic just like you can sense that I’m a wolf. And my pack master is on the council.” She tips her head and looks me up and down. “Still, it’s hard to believe.”
“I guess,” I simply agree.
“I thought the Grand Coven forbade it.”
“Tell that to Xavier,” I chide and she laughs.
“I’m Delphi,” she says and holds out her hand.
“Wren,” I reply and shake her hand. “But you already knew that.”
“Yeah. You’re quite popular.”
“I am?” I ask, surprised.
“Even among the normies, people want to know about the human who captured Xavier Malus’s heart. And among the wolves, we want to know why the hell a witch and a vampire seemingly got married out of the blue.”
I look at her as I take another drink. There’s a question in her statement, and if they’re already trying to figure things out, the truth will surface eventually. My mind goes to wondering what Xavier would think of this conversation, but then I remember I’ve never let a man dictate what I do or don’t do. Today will not be the day I let that happen, not even when the man in question is my husband.
“Want to join us?” Delphi asks. “I just ordered a bunch of junk food and need help eating it.”
“You don’t have to ask me twice,” I chuckle. “They don’t serve food at VC meetings and I’m starving.”
“I never thought about that, but it makes sense. Vampires don’t eat. Come on.”
I grab my drink and follow Delphi, recognizing one of the women at the table as the alpha of the Charlotte pack. I met her the night Xavier took me to my first business meeting. She eyes me curiously as she takes a drink. Three other wolves are seated around her and straighten up when they see me, probably sensing the magic as well as knowing exactly who I am.
“Hi,” I say.
“This is Florence Malus,” Delphi tells everyone. “And this is my pack master, Larkin. I believe you met.”
“We did, but it’s nice to see you again,” I say, not sure the proper greeting I should give to a pack master. She holds a lot of authority—and power.
“This is Bazzel from the Raleigh pack, and Victoria and James, from our pack.”
“Nice to meet you all,” I say and slide into the curved booth next to Delphi. An awkward silence falls over the table for a few seconds.
“Okay, I’m just going to say it,” James starts, bringing his hands up as he talks. “You married the most eligible bachelor in all of North Carolina if not arguably the entire South. How did you land him?”
Hah. If only they knew. “I guess you could say we were introduced through family connections.”
“Oh wow. He is a good looking man—vampire—man-pire?” James says and we laugh. “You just kinda came out of nowhere.”
I shrug. “I guess.”
“But you did,” Larkin says. She’s maybe in her mid-forties, and is fit and well dressed. Stories circulated amongst the Order about backwoods Appalachian packs being inbred and impoverished. The Whittakers didn’t help with that rumor, and Appalachia has historically faced a high poverty rate. But the Order will also do and say anything to make werewolves less human or deserving. “I was quite curious about you after meeting you, as you can expect.”
“Yeah. I’m sure.”
“I tried to find the coven you came from, and came up empty-handed.” She takes a slow drink, and then sets her glass of whiskey down. “You never belonged to one, did you?”