Lorcan & Evette

Chapter Seven

As he drove, Lorcan fought his instincts again. Wrong. His hand should've been on her thigh, squeezing it, kneading it. Mates were supposed to touch each other. To be close. Instead, she was pressed up against the window, refusing to so much as look at him. Tied up, too. As far as his kind were aware, the only time one's mate should be tied up was in the bedroom.

And yet here he sat with a mate he didn't want that probably didn't want him either. No, correction— he wanted the devil but couldn't have her. He was the King. As King, he couldn't ignore the war. He couldn't ignore her place on the opposite side. He couldn't disregard her closeness to the werewolves' biggest enemy.

He remembered a thousand years back, walking with his parents around the palace gardens in the Territories. His Mother had taken him by the hand and explained to him that he'd have his own mate someday who'd rule by his side. Someone he'd love and cherish with all his heart.

He'd waited a thousand years for his mate.

He'd waited a thousand years for a witch. A witch who'd never want him.

He wondered what his Mother would say now.

Lorcan was fighting the same battle as his great greats. He knew what his Mother would've said. She probably wouldn't have been able to see past the fact that she was a witch.

Would his subjects even accept her? They'd have no choice in the end—but would they embrace her? No. The war with the witches had taken too much from them. They'd never accept her as their Queen.

His frustration heightened, until eventually he had no choice but to bite out, "Entertain me, witch."

He needed her to distract him with her sweet voice before his claws mangled the steering wheel.

At least her voice could calm him.

Stiffly, she turned from the window, her back tense, to look at him.

His instinct needed intel. He needed to know her. The man behind the beast had no choice but to oblige.

"Entertain you?" She repeated disbelievingly. Perhaps not the best choice of words. His usual smoothness was gone. He didn't know how to speak to her. He didn't know where to start. "Listen here asshole, I might be in this shit for the long run, but I'm no jester. Entertain yourself."

He wasn't used to being spoken to like this. As King, he demanded the utmost respect. Gah! She was under his skin already.

"Need I remind you who's in charge here?"

She scoffed back at him. "Need I remind you that it's not even been a day and you've already ruined my life? I need a break. God I hate you."

He rolled his eyes. "I haven't ruined your life. I've woken you up from your fake reality. A fake reality you had no business being a part of in the first place. You're not a human. Stop acting like one."

"What difference does it make to you? Why can't I be free to live my life how I want to?"

Because having a witch for a mate was bad enough. Their worlds were already vastly different. He didn't need one that wanted to be human. That was even worse.

He could grasp what she spoke of as a witch— one thing he knew for certain? Lorcan didn't speak mortal.

"I said entertain me." So far, she'd only pissed him off. Distract me, please. His mind was no haven.

"Alright then," She said, cracking her knuckles. "How about a story?"

He'd been hoping she'd talk about herself but the sound of her voice might bring him some comfort in general. Even if it was her his beast thirsted to know about.