The Pack: Rule Number 1 - No Mates

The Pack: Rule Number 1 - No Mates

Chapter Three Hundred

ANASTACIA

The interior of the shop was all dark wood and corners of candlelight. Entire shelves devoted to different

elements stood in every corner of the room. Candles and herbs, crystals and scrying bowls, books that looked

too new to be of any use and jewelry that claimed to bring luck and love. These are all things that drench the

space, clogging it and washing it of any true magic. None of it feels real. It is all simple... artificial. The man

behind the high glass counter looks as if he would rather be anywhere else but here, and judging by the way he

keeps looking at the clock on the wall, it appears it will be a very long day for him.

| am just about to give up what I originally thought was going to be a fantastic find when | feel it... an energy

that thrums from beyond a beaded hallway. My eyes fix on the dark space beyond, my breath coming in quick

gasps as Paul finally enters the store at my back. He had allowedto enter on my own, claiming he didn’t

want anything to do with any of it, but now here he is. As if he could sense my apprehension. As if he could feel

my plight.

“What is it, beautiful?” he whispers, dipping down close to my ear. “What's wrong?”

“It’s...” | start toward the beaded doorway only to be stopped by the cashier.

“That room is private!” he says quickly, hardly looking up from his phone.

| feel it when Paul tenses at my back, so I'm only half surprised when he speaks to the shopkeeper like they are

old friends. “Kyle?” Paul

says.

The shopkeeper flinches, finally looking up from his device and studying Paul for a cool minute before a half

smile breaks out across his

handsfeatures.

“Paul?” the man, Kyle, says.

“Dude! Long tno see. How are you?”

Kyle shrugs, his brow furrowing, despair clouding his energy in such a way that speaks of tremendous grief. “Oh

you know. I've been

better.” Kyle clears his throat. “What the fuck are you doing here? | never pegged you for a Wiccan.”

Paul chortles, laughing heartily until | jab him in the ribs. “Uh,” he coughs. “Not me. My girl. She’s into this

shhhh-stuff.”

“Very cute save Pretty Paul,” | tease him, raising an eyebrow.

Your girl... huh... that is the second tyou’ve gone and said it. Better watch out or | might actually start to

believe.

Paul dragsagainst him, keeping my body tight against his as he eyes the scented candles up front, right next

to Kyle. “Are you working here, dude?” His tone is mildly insulting and | half expect Kyle to get angry, but he

doesn’t.

“Uh... no. Not exactly. A - um... a friend of mine owns this spot and | promised I'd help her out by watching the

place for her while she’s sick.”

I sense a lie in his words. Not all of them, but there is ssort of untruth in what he claims. | don’t know why,

or how | know this, but | do. This man, Kyle, is omitting something with extrpurpose.

How peculiar.

“Kyle, is it?” | ask as sweetly as I'm able, doing a double take when | see Paul gathering two armfuls of golden

brown candles. What the devil? Is this the entire inventory?”

Kyle's jaw clenches, his ice blue eyes flicking briefly toward the beaded doorway then back again. “Um... yes.”

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A lie. A complete one this time.

Huh.

“I see, well your friend certainly has a lot of ties for sale, but I'm finting for something a bit more authentic

so... nice meeting you.” Without another word | stomp toward the door angrily, only to be stopped by Paul when

he whistles my way and drops about fifty pounds of useless wax on the counter. “Wait a minute, baby, | thought

you needed candles. What's wrong with the ones in here?”

| smile, turning around and slanting my eyes at his friend Kyle. “Nothing. They're fine for fire hazards and

romantic dinners. But they're not what I’m looking for. The one’s that | need are back there in that | pinch my

fingers into the air as | glare at Kyle “-private storeroom and your buddy won't letbuy any.”

“What the fuck?” Kyle snaps, dropping his phone in his pocket. “Who the fuck-"

Paul holds a hand up, stopping Kyle with a look. “Hey, hey, hey, careful, Kyle. Choose your next words wisely.”

An explosion of warmth tumbles throughand | step back into the heart of the room, sidling up to Paul and

checking out his selections for the first time. Honeysuckle, Milk and Honey, Honeybun, Sugared Honey, Vanilla

Caramel and Honey... What in the actual fuck? “Paul...” | say, batting my lashes up at him. “I'm concerned.

That's about two hundred dollars in candles, baby, and you hate candles.”

When | say the word baby, Paul's irises go completely black for a second and his muscles flex deliciously. With a

lick of his lips, his eyes glint in the artificial firelight of the lantern on the counter and he says, “Yeah... they don’t

have honeycomb, so | grabbed everything else honey instead.”

But...” my breath catches when | see his cheeks redden with embarrassment. “Why?”

He bites his lip, and | swear to God if we weren't in the middle of a fucking store I'd yank down his pants and ride

him into the underworld right here and right now. “Because,” he states, his eyes going heavy with lust, “they

might be the only kind I like. And...” he sighs, fishing out his credit card. “They might smell like you.”

« Oh? Really?

“I see...” Now I'm the one who's blushing. Biting down on the inside of my cheek so | don’t erupt in a girlish

giggle, | face Kyle who looks utterly amused by Paul's admonition. “Why can’t | shop what's in the other room?”

Kyle grits his teeth, throwinga helpless look. “Only... special customers are allowed back there.”

Aha... now my interest is well and truly piqued. When | say my next words, | push out my energy, asking him

with my magic instead of with my tongue. “And what signifies a special customer, Kyle?”

Kyle's eyes glaze over and he answers reluctantly, “My sister selects them herself. Based on something she sees

in their eyes. At least, that’s what she tells me.”

“But you don’t believe her, do you?” | go on, still coaxing him, still fishing for anything | can about the actual

owner of this place.

Could she be Gifted? That would be so fucking cool!

Paul’s back goes ramrod straight and he scowls, looking fromto Kyle and then back again like he knows

exactly what I've just done.

Well yeah, that's right, | forgot. Paul can see my magic in the air.

Damn it.

Paul hisses, “No little demon! What are you up to? You can’t just go around charming my friends.” But then he

fixes his eyes on Kyle and the look he gives him is cold and hard with disbelief. “And what do you mean, your

sister selects them, Kyle? As far as | know, your sister is

dead.”

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Kyle looks like he’s going to be sick, his face turning a pale sort of green as he fights against my pull. | ease back

on my magic, drawing it in as rapidly as I'm able so he doesn’t do something weird as fuck like calla witch or

throw one of those useless fucking candles at me. Once I've hauled it back, | reach out like | did before, when |

wanted to know what was in the other room and instead got his emotions.

What | receive hasfeeling about two inches tall.

Fear. Betrayal. Sadness. But there's relief there too.

The kind of relief that comes from finally speaking the truth...

Kyle is filled with these sentiments like chords in a song, these convictions that are all coming from one serrated

place. He's just broken someone’s trust and I'm the one that made him do it.

Dant it Gran! What in the Goddess have you burdenedwith?

“Con,” | say softly, suddenly wanting to leave as guilt stampedes overwith hooves that feel like blades

of sin. “Let's go.”

| shouldn't be in his head. | shouldn't be in anybody's.

Paul stares at Kyle for a long drawn out moment before snatching the bags with his purchases off the counter

and turning around without so much as a glance back.

Kyle's voice reaches out to us just as | step outside ahead of Paul. “Don’t tell him, Paul! Please! She doesn’t want

him to know.”

As | gaze back at Paul's grim face, he doesn’t meet my eyes, nor does he answer Kyle as we step out onto the

street.

Without saying a word, | follow Paul across the street, completely unsurprised when | gaze over my shoulder to

find Kyle standing at the

door watching our departure.

And the poor boy looks devastated.

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