Untamed Mate (Feral Shifters 2)

“It’s a long story,” I mutter, digging around for a piece of egg. “Basically, there are three guys who betrayed me. Not romantically,” I add before she can ask. “We had a truce, and they screwed me over.”

“So you want revenge,” Rue clarifies.

“No. Not really.” I shove a fork full of beans into my mouth before I can say something dickish. “They’re… evil. They’re going to do something really bad that could affect the entire world. I need to find them and stop them.”

“That’s noble of you.”

I shrug. “It’s a purpose, I guess.”

“I tracked a man down once,” Rue says softly. She sets the rolled feather ball on the towel, then glances at me. “And I used a spell to end his reign of terror too. Only his sin wasn’t against the world. Just against me.”

Her expression looks haunted but hard, and something about it tells me she had no choice but to do whatever it was she did. Being in the position I am now, I can’t even blame her. Hell, I’d be more likely to cheer her on. I wonder if her cryptic “among other things” answer regarding being covenless has something to do with this guy.

I’m starting to find it surprising how many broken people there are in the world. Now that I’m one of them, it’s like I’m part of a special club. I can see broken people everywhere.

Rue lights a black pillar candle, then closes her eyes. She cups her hands around the candle and whispers to herself for several moments as I finish my breakfast. Then she marks a sigil in the air over the candle, and black, smoky magic whips like a lasso around the wax.

Seeing it makes me miss Sable, my best friend Ridge’s mate. She’s a hybrid shifter and witch, and she became like a little sister to me in the months before I left my pack lands. I haven’t spoken to either of them in more than two years.

Finally, Rue steps away from the altar and smiles at me. “Almost done! This candle has to burn down, then there’s one last step.”

“How long will that take?”

“Five hours or so, as I told you when you arrived.” Rue shoots me a look, amusement lacing her tone.

“So we sit and watch a candle burn for five hours?”

“No,” she disagrees. “I’m going to open the store, and you’re going to help me out until the candle’s gone.”

I hold up both hands and shake my head. “No, thanks. I’m not big on having to talk to strangers. I can find a bar nearby to hang out—”

“I’ll knock a hundred off your bill,” she says with a knowing smile.

Dammit. I can’t say no to that. Not with my funds being as low as they are.

The morning passes slowly. Rue tasks me with changing the price tags on several items around the store, stuff her suppliers had recently raised their prices on. I balance my time between slapping stickers on quartz crystals and poking my head into the back room to check on the candle’s progress. In between customers, Rue and I chat about anything and everything that comes to mind. Movies, music, favorite foods, funny stories from our past. I learn a ton about her family in Mexico, and I tell her about kicking Ridge’s ass in card games every night for a year. For the first time since I left pack lands, I feel like I’m connecting with a woman. Someone who, if circumstances were different, might even be my friend.

My plan is still unfolding in my mind, so while I’m shooting the shit with Rue, I ask for a few more things that might help me on my mission. A few small things that might make my job a little easier. And she’s happy to help.

Around mid-afternoon, after a rush of customers and my fumbled attempts to pretend I knew where things are in the store, I look in on the candle to find it extinguished. Excitement buzzes under my skin as Rue puts a little clock sign on the front door saying she’ll be back in an hour, then we lock up and return to the altar for the final step.

The candle has left a little hunk of wax behind, which Rue throws into a small metal tray that she slides onto the gas burner. Once the flame melts the wax, she puts three drops of some kind of oil in the wax. Then she starts dipping the rolled feather-slash-potion ball in the wax like she’s dipping a candle. She rolls it in the hot wax, then removes it to let the excess drip away. After it dries, she rolls it again and removes it again. Over and over, building up a thick layer of wax.

I remain silent, watching her with interest. I watched Sable do a lot of sigil magic back home in Montana, but I’ve never seen potion magic before. Clearly, every step has a purpose, and every ingredient a purpose beyond that. Combined with the sigil spell she put on the candle, I’m hopeful that this shit might actually work.

When she’s finished with the wax, Rue works a needle through the oblong ball, then threads a leather thong through the hole.

“You’ll wear it like a necklace,” she explains, holding it out to me. “When you’re ready for it to reveal their location, cup it between your hands and whisper their names. A tendril of black smoke will guide your every step from there.”

I fasten the makeshift necklace around my neck and settle the waxy ball against my skin. “Thank you.”

Rue shakes her head and puts a hand on my shoulder. “No, thank you. Today was fun. I tend to isolate myself so much that even when I’m surrounded by people in the store, I feel alone. I liked having your company.”

“I liked your company, too,” I tell her, and realize as I say the words that I mean them.

“Come back and visit if you ever get a chance. I’ll be here.” She squeezes my shoulder, then gives me a shove toward the door. “Go on. Go save the world, wolf.”