Underneath the lingering, stale odor of cigarette smoke and—was that apple cider vinegar? What the hell was that person doing? Dying Easter eggs?
“She’s in this one,” James said, unlocking the next door and jarring me from whatever the hell that was. He pushed open the door and flipped the light switch on just as I came into the room after him.
“Tied her to a chair,” he said with a grunt, stepping to the side and bringing her into full view.
“You tied a fucking witch to a chair?” And it wasn’t just any witch glaring up at me with lilac eyes that held a promise of death.
“She kept trying to wave her hands around and cast spells or some shit,” he answered with a shrug. “She’s not supposed to be here. We’re five miles inside lycan territory,” he said directly to the girl.
“You should probably back up there, friend,” I tried not to laugh, knowing that the second she was free, James was fucking toast.
“Fine. Just do whatever the hell it is you guys do for trespassing.” He glared at the witch. “What is it nowadays? Tar? Starvation? In my day, if you were caught in another territory, we took a thumb,” he snapped at her.
“Okay, well, seeing as we’re all immortal in this room, and it’s always our day, we’re going to let the lass keep her thumbs.” I pulled a dagger from the sheath at my thigh and moved toward the witch.
She didn’t bat an eye at the knife, but firmly fixed her glare on the lycan.
“So what’s it going to be?” James asked, the hairs on his forearms rising.
I sighed. There wasn’t enough time in my day for this bullshit. Ransom could have sent one of his trainees down here to handle this. Then again, a trainee wouldn’t have known what to do with a hundred and thirty pounds of pissed off witch. “James, you should really go. I’ll handle it from here.”
“Really?” The guy looked disappointed.
“Really.” I pointed to the lass who sat with her hands and mouth duct-taped in the chair. “Because she’s not just any witch. That there is Jocelyn, Genevieve’s heir, and I really don’t think you want Genevieve down here asking why you taped the lass to a chair. Do you?”
The guy had the sense to go a little pale. “She’s the… Fuck.”
Jocelyn raised a haughty eyebrow.
“Go on. I’ve got this.” Hopefully, if he left quickly, I could talk the lass out of not castrating him with a flick of her wrist.
“Yeah. Okay.” He practically ran out the door.
“What the hell are you doing here, lass?” I asked, ripping the tape off her mouth in one long pull. “Does your mother know—”
“I’m going to yank his intestines out of his belly button and then make him use them as a fucking belt,” she hissed.
“You’d think that purple hair of yours would be enough warning, but alas, here we are.” I paused, the tip of my knife at the edge of the bonds that held her wrists. “How the fuck did you let yourself get tied to a chair?” I looked over at her with raised brows.
“That would be none of your business.” She tilted that stubborn chin of hers.
“Right.” There was a story here. “Okay, I’m going to cut you free, but I’ll have your word that no harm is going to come to that lycan or his issue.”
She scoffed, then sighed once she realized I was serious. “Fine. I swear not to harm the territory-police over there. Fuck, it’s just a damned border. It’s not like I’m sneaking around his house at night.”
“Uh-huh.” I slit the first piece of tape, then the other. “Those borders are all that hold the Covenant together, and as the heir to the Witches, you should know better.”
“Please, do mansplain a little louder.” She smiled sweetly at me.
“Jocelyn,” I snapped, coming to my feet. “When your mother hears—”
“Then don’t tell her.” She rose from the chair, rubbing the red patches on her wrists. “I was here to help…a…” She fumbled with her words, no doubt seeking for the word closest to the truth without actually being the truth. “An acquaintance.” She nodded, pleased with herself.
“Right. Let’s get you the fuck out of here before Luka decides to make a point out of you.” I pointed toward the door.
“Pity they didn’t send Benedict. It’s so much more fun to lie around that one,” she said over her shoulder as she walked to the door. I closed it behind us, and Jocelyn leaped over the balcony railing, lowering herself slowly as her hair fluttered around her.
“No need to show off,” I muttered. Fucking witches and their flying.
I passed the next door, again feeling that subtle pull, and paused, taking a deep breath and breaking apart the scents one by one. Smoke. Sweat. Sex. Apple cider vinegar…. My fucking heart stopped. Bergamot and lime.