Chapter 29

Ylenia guided Colette back to her place, where Avram was perched in the corner, his gaze sharp and unyielding. He watched them like he was afraid they’d vanish the moment he blinked. He was seated on a squat wooden stool, leaning against the wall, his ankles crossed.

Ylenia did her best to ignore him, even though she could feel his stare drilling into her back. As one of Dancescu’s men, she wasn’t overly worried about an attack. His crew had more self-control than the other males in the pack. Unless a she-wolf was in heat.

She-wolves went into heat once a month, much like the menstrual cycle of a human woman. But unlike human women, she-wolves didn’t experience menopause. They could continue to go into heat and get pregnant. But they tried to avoid impregnating the older she-wolves.

Ylenia laid out everything she needed on the long table and started with a body salve she’d been letting age for a fortnight. She asked Avram to look away, but he predictably refused, as she began to undress Colette.

She applied the salve all over Colette’s body, layer upon layer, ensuring not a single inch of her skin was missed. As she did this, she quietly started the incantation.

The incantation was long, and Ylenia wasn’t even sure if it was legitimate, as she’d never used it before. Like everything else she had for spell casting and her witch lineage, she’d found the hefty leather-bound book while scavenging.

It was the best she could do, given that her family had not only abandoned her but also cut her off from her witch heritage. She had to scrape together whatever she could.

Sure, she had natural abilities, but that was where it ended. She had no one to teach her, to help her become stronger. It wasn’t fair.

She often found herself angry at her birth mother. She felt cheated, like a life had been stolen from her. She was stuck in a pack with few women.

The men had watched her from a young age, their gazes predatory. Taking a she-wolf before her first heat was illegal and punishable by public execution.

Ylenia was grateful for her mother. She was a plump, blonde woman with gentle blue eyes. It was obvious they weren’t related by blood. Ylenia was born with thick, dark, red curls and golden eyes that slanted like a fox’s.

Her mom was wonderful and taught her how to be the pack healer and did her best to help Ylenia manage her natural gifts. It was frustrating knowing that she could never reach her full potential because she’d been abandoned.

“This doesn’t taste good,” Colette mumbled, frowning at her glass.

“I know. I figured it wouldn’t when I saw all the ingredients,” Ylenia responded, not turning around.

She was busy sorting through her things and double-checking everything. She didn’t want Colette’s failure to shift to be her fault.

Sure, Ylenia had considered—seriously considered—botching the spell and leaving Colette at Dancescu’s mercy. That way, Sorin would be all hers.

But she’d changed her mind when she saw how Sorin had spent the past three weeks treating the human like she was a gift from the Goddess herself. Which she might very well be, if she really was his mate.

Ylenia had spent a lot of time comparing herself to Colette and always found herself coming up short. Colette had silky black waves, while Ylenia had wild red curls.

Colette’s skin was pale and flawless from a human life, while Ylenia had freckled, scarred skin from a life under the sun.

It was no surprise he’d chosen Colette over her. For the first week, just seeing Colette had hurt. Colette was a reminder that she would never be good enough for Sorin.

He saw something different in the human woman. He treated her like a doting husband. It made Ylenia so jealous. For years, she’d slept with him, and yet he’d never formed an attachment like that.

“Are you almost done?” Avram grumbled from his spot across the room.

Ylenia shot him a glare, her lips pressed into a thin line. “No, Avram. I have hours until the full moon, and I need to make sure everything is perfect,” she snapped back.

He grunted, and she could hear him shift, even though she wasn’t looking at him. She was rereading the same spell over and over to make sure she didn’t miss anything.

If Colette didn’t pass this test set by Dancescu, she was sure the pack would crumble. Sorin would likely take his own life. He’d shared the joyous news of his newfound mate with every senior she-wolf, who was waiting with open arms for her to shift.

Not quite half the pack, but definitely a good number of she-wolves. If Colette was made an example and executed, no she-wolf would rest. They would rise up like wild animals against Dancescu. Not that anyone really liked him now, not even his own son, Stefan, and especially not Shemika.

Shemika was a stunning woman, the most beautiful in the entire pack, and she never turned down a man’s touch. Except Dancescu’s. He was a good-looking man, in terms of physical appearance. Like Stefan, but older.

He took her rejections to heart and resorted to punishing her for any misbehavior with sexual favors. Any time she did something minor, he’d make sure he had his way with her, the way she freely gave herself to the other men in the pack.

Ylenia wished she could free herself from Dancescu. He didn’t want her sexually like he did Shemika, but he certainly felt like he owned her. She was his witch, and he made sure she did his bidding.

Stefan, from what she’d seen, was a much better man. A bit aloof when it came to pack matters but definitely better than his father.

Colette sat down on a stool, sipping on Ylenia’s brew. Ylenia couldn’t help but run her fingers through Colette’s glossy black waves. Weeks in captivity and even her hair was still perfect. She thought about offering the human a shower or something before the ritual, but it seemed pointless. If Colette ~did~ shift, she’d turn into a wolf and run through the woods, ending up dirty and grimy.

“Ylenia,” Colette started.

“Yeah,” she replied, her eyes still glued to her spell book.

“Do ~you~ believe I'll transform into a wolf?”