There are two things I know for sure when I leave Emmerson with her gnat of a date. The first is that my loss of power has to be accelerating. I don't know why or how, but the fact that Emmerson wasn't hypnotized by my proximity, that she's not even a little bit afraid of me, that she might actually remember that conversation when I wasn't particularly careful about what I said, is a problem.

Part of me might have wanted some of this to happen—for her to see me, for me to be able to truly know her, for us to have a chance to be together, however brief. Faced with the reality, I'm starting to see the folly in that wish. 

There's still the whole wolf-human problem, even if I'm becoming less of one and more of the other faster than anticipated. Which also means I might not be able to protect her from any of the fallout from my obsession.

If I were to make a pros and cons list, in the pro column would be: Aidan might get to fuck Emmerson someday. The cons list would be about three pages, single spaced. Seems unlikely that things would work out well. Realistically, I never expected my obsession to work out at all.

Now I don't know what the fuck I'm gonna do about her, but I'm aware of what my next step has to be.

That second thing I know for sure? My family can't understand just how low I've sunk in terms of what I can control and how much juice I've got left in me. Emmerson would be a sitting duck, and they'd bring Clara in as a distraction. Doesn't matter what Clara or I want. None of us can deny the blood, even if I found a way to do it for a while.

At Trident's heavy wooden door, I hesitate, but I can't think of any other way. So I pound on the wood, and I hope he hears me over whatever woo-woo he's got going on in there.

The door opens, and Trident is smoking something. I sniff the air, but it's odorless. Doubt it's powerless. He's tall and thin with shaggy dark hair, and everything about him seems to be in disarray from his clothes to the glimpse of his little house I get around his shoulder.

"Whatever it is," Trident says, "the answer is no."

"You don't even know," I say.

"I could. Rumor is, you're an open book lately. What's in Aidan's head? Shall I take a peek?" He taps my temple, and I swat his hand away.

"Which is why I'm here."

"That's a definite no."

He hasn't invited me in, which isn't a good sign. We're buddies, or as much of buddies as a witch and a werewolf set to inherit a clan can be. He's still a witch; I'm still a wolf.

"Last time," Trident says, "my role was fun. Fucking everything up so epically amused me. Suppressing your blood so you'd let Clara leave the estate, break the engagement—that was supposed to be temporary. But..." He drags out the last word. "If you're not going to assume your place, you're no good to me. Why the fuck should I do you another favour?"

"I'll take over. I'm just proving a point."

"Which is? Wolves can get weak and human-like. The point has been made by..." He taps his chin. "Every other wolf that isn't part of your immediate family. Whatever this is," he swirls his hand around my head, "smells funny."

Witches are never straight up if they can dance around something and leave it open to interpretation. A little bullshit here, a little sugar-coating there. Voila. Recipe for a witch. Not my favorite people to deal with, but sometimes deals must be done. Whatever he smells isn't my concern right now. I just need him to do me a solid.

"I need something to cover that smell up," I say. "As you said, I'm an open book, and I can't go home like this."

He narrows his cat eyes and then a sly smile rises to his lips. "Well, that is interesting."

"If you're in my head, get the fuck out."

"You can't even tell anymore?" He lets out a raucous laugh. "Oh, honey. Go back to Clara. Be the wolf you're meant to be." He takes a step closer, and I'm sure he's probing some memory of mine, but I can't feel it. "Fraternizing with a..." He lets out another laugh. "Oh. That is a surprise."

"Stay the fuck away from her," I growl.

"You have nothing to worry about there." He seems to think for a minute. "Though I do enjoy a mess, and that is... A wonderful, chaotic tangle."

"She's got nothing to do with the choices I've made or the ones I'll make."

"No?" Trident leans his shoulder into the door. "Even if there was no Emmerson you'd still be resisting your call to Clara?"

"Yes," I say, though I know he can read the truth of my thoughts. Probably already knows all the clan and pack gossip. But I won't willingly put her into the path of further harm.

He steps back from the door, silently inviting me in. "If you don't figure out a way to cover that up," he says, "they'll kill her. It's one thing if you want to rail her. But you want her safety more than anything else, and that's a very dangerous position to be in with your family."

"Hence why I'm here," I mutter as I brush past him into the living room that's brimming with trinkets and potions and a bunch of things I couldn't begin to classify.

"What is it you want me to do?" Trident asks as he lounges on his couch and gestures toward the chair opposite him.

"Give me a mental wall. Something my parents, other wolves, witches, can't get past."

"That's a big spell. Hard to reverse later."

"Nothing wrong with someone in charge being impossible to read. We both know once I complete the ceremony, I could easily keep as many people out as I want."

"But it wouldn't be a choice anymore. Clara." He meets my gaze with a hint of a smile. "Emmerson. They'd never be able to get in."

"You can undo the spell. You once told me nothing that's done can't be undone."

"True. But all of these things have a cost. To me. To you. To people you might not have even considered. Situations you might not have thought about."

"Can you do it or not? My parents have my mother's clan coming for dinner. Diplomatic relations, my mother says, because I've grown so weak. Every fucking thing is about how I won't do the ceremony with Clara."

"I can do it." He leans forward and his cat's eyes bore into me. "But if I come to you needing something at any time during your rule, I get it. No questions asked. Consequences be damned."

That's a bad deal. A terrible one. There's no time to go negotiate with the other three witches in the area. Trident is the easiest. If he's asking for this, I can only imagine what the others would demand. In rare circumstances, a bad deal is better than no deal.

"You have my word."

"I'll take your blood." He produces a knife from his pocket along with a vial. "Insurance."

A worse deal. My blood in his hands could be potentially lethal. I hold out my palm and let him slice it, and then I squeeze a fist so a stream runs into the vial.

"I do love a desperate man," Trident says, rising from his seat to cork the vial. He gets out a stool and places the vial on the top shelf near the back. No label, and at least I'm grateful for that. Anyone who raids this place or breaks in here won't realize what they've got. 

"Give me a few hours," he says. "It'll be a lock, not a wall, and I'll have the key." He gives me a wicked grin. "Been a pleasure doing business with you, Aidan."

"How will I know when it's done?" I ask as I watch my hand heal. He thinks he's got me in a pot on the stove. Maybe he does. I won't know for sure until the temperature starts to rise.

"You'll feel the lock slot into place," he says. "Like you used to be able to feel when someone was poking around in there. Except I'll be the one poking." He sweeps something rolled in thin paper off the coffee table, and his lighter flickers to life. He takes a deep inhale. "Just me."

I draw my hands down my face and question whether this is all worth it. If I let Emmerson go... If I accept Clara again...

"Yeah," Trident agrees, "would be the much easier path."

"I just don't want it." That's the crux of it. What I should want, I don't want, and it's leading me to make one bad choice after another. Maybe some of it is residual from Trident's initial spell, the one that let me push Clara out of my life, but I can't account for Emmerson's lure. Can't explain it. Can't understand it. But I also can't deny it.

Last night when I was with her in the woods, I don't know if it was the distance between us or the fact she didn't tremble at the sight of me, but being around her felt right. Not just the additive lusting I've come to expect and that, to an extent, I understand. 

Whatever this detour is with her, I don't want to get back on the main road yet. My fate is set, and despite what I claim to my parents, I'm not dumb enough to think I can buck it forever. Just a bit more time. That's all I want.

"In time, the reason for your journey will be revealed." He blows smoke rings into the air. "We walk the path we're meant to walk. Someone else is writing the story. We're just living it."

Which is what my life has been up to this point. First born. Go to school. Learn our customs and rules well enough to enforce them someday. Give in to the call of the blood. Then it should be ceremony, power, pups, old age, retirement. Predictable. Boring.

So I'm going to write my own story for a little while, just long enough so that when I'm old and grey as fuck, I can say I once did something for me. Whatever happens with Emmerson, for better or worse, I'm in charge. I made these choices.

~ *~

My mother's family swarms around us in the great hall. Out number us. Seem to be sizing us up. Doesn't feel like a diplomatic mission; it's a warning. Gotta hand it to her and my dad. They aren't fucking subtle.

Joke's on them. My mother's original family wouldn't come after us. They aren't out for our blood, our position, our property. None of them are going to start a war over this coastal region. In the twenty-two years I've been alive, there's never been an inter-clan war because there's no point.

"I can't decide," my mother says as she sidles up beside me, "whether what you've done is clever or stupid."

"Fucking brilliant," I say as I sip my glass of whiskey. "Clever doesn't go far enough."

"What did you have to pay Trident? He even put his name on the lock with a rolling banner when you try to access it that says, "Keep out, fuckers."

I try and fail to suppress my grin. Guy's got balls. No doubt who'd be seeing that banner. The gesture garners a smidgen of respect from me.

"A bit brash for my taste," my mother continues. "No question that there's something behind that lock that you're worried about. Is it the human?"

At the mention of Emmerson, I feel my nostrils flare, and I scramble to get a lid on the instant rage that boils inside me at the notion my mother might think she knows something. The hackles along my back threaten to rise, but that'll be a dead giveaway that she's hit the bullseye.

Damned if I do and damned if I don't. If I hadn't gone to Trident to get the lock, she'd know exactly what I was thinking, exactly what happened between me and Emmerson last night. But its presence is like waving a red flag at a bull. How hard will she charge?

"Trident didn't ask for anything I couldn't part with," I say.

"I'm beginning to suspect Trident is also the reason you've been able to resist Clara. Perhaps your father should pay him a visit."

"I'm sure Trident would welcome that." By not being home. The "fuck you" banner and his "no questions" request once I'm in power makes me fairly certain he's fled our boundaries. While his little spell to temporarily rid me of my Clara addiction was our secret, this one is distinctly not.

"You should invite Emmerson here," my mother says. "If you're determined to get to know her, perhaps she'd like to be part of the family."

"You know that's not possible." An exercise in frustration and futility, even if it wasn't immensely dangerous for her. She'd meet my family over and over again, never remembering any of it. That's assuming she even remembers me next time I see her. 

But I think it's possible. I'm just not sure that's what I should be hoping for. It'd be better for her if she didn't remember. Maybe better for me. My mind is a fucking mess over that one.

"But highly amusing to have her here, don't you think? A human for lunch. Not literally. We aren't savages."

"No," I growl. "I don't see anything amusing."

"The fact that you can't see how unsuitable, how unattainable your fixation is... Shocking. Truly galling. We all know what you must do. Before you had Trident put in that ludicrous lock, you knew too. I saw it."

I stare at her for a beat, searching her face, somewhat surprised. Which part bothers her more? That she can no longer make sure I'll eventually fall in line or that I've got an inappropriate desire for a human? Maybe if I give her this, she'll leave me to my self-destructive vices.

"There's no rush," I say. "When the time comes, I'll do what must be done."

Her jaw tightens. "You may be foolish, but I'm glad you're not a fool." Then she sweeps around me to mingle with her relatives.

"I don't know," Trident pipes up from inside my head. "By the time this is all over, I think you may prove yourself a fool as well."

Fan-fucking-tastic. He didn't just lock everyone else out; he locked himself in. Should have taken my own advice. Witches can't be trusted.

"Now, now," Trident says. "I've literally got your life in my hands."

At least that's one less thing I have to worry about. He took my blood with him wherever he went. This time, I don't get a reply. Better for both of us if I don't know where he is. 

Before you go--hit the star, leave a comment. I'd love to hear what you're thinking since this is a writing adventure. 

Engaged readers: 138