Brewing Them

Chapter 19

Chapter 19

We walked further for a couple of minutes more, this time in silence. The howls of the wolves frightened me but I put up a front, as if I didn't flinch every time I heard those wild animals. My eyes trailed over Callan, and I ran my tongue over my lips, wondering what would have happened if I just slipped up over there a little.

Mhm.

"How long? My legs are tired." I said, catching up to his abnormal speed.

Witches weren't nearly as strong as night-eaters and werewolves. We were a weak kind in terms of strength, but we possessed greater power than all of them.

"Should be here somewhere..." Callan trailed off and stopped on his steps. He looked around, eyes dark. "Come out wherever you're."

"Why are you calling him?" I cocked a brow and shot him a disapproving glare while my hands folded across my chest. "Like a dog—"

I stopped talking when I heard the silence disturbed. A werewolf appeared from nowhere, his presence threatening the life out of me. I screamed as loud as I possibly could as the wolf lunged from the tree and onto the clearing we stood above. My feet moved back itself, scurrying as the wolf came closer.

"Stop screaming." Callan said.

"No," I screamed again and grabbed his arm before pushing him forward and hiding myself behind. It was the only thing I could think of. I didn't want to killed, not by a werewolf. Fear wrapped in my throat and I asked, "Why isn't he going away?"

Unless.

The wolf shifted. I stopped screaming when I heard the sounds of his bones cracking and splitting. His face morphed into the man I had seen earlier, outside Callan's bedroom, the man I wanted to know about. He was a werewolf. No way. No. I loosened my grip from Callan's arm after leaving a good bruise on him and stepped aside before I pushed him anymore.

The man, now naked, slammed his hand over Callan's shoulder, greeting him before turning his attention to me—the screamer. I pursed my mouth shut tight. Whatever escaped from my mouth was loud and embarrassing.

"I remember you," he said, nodding his head lightly. "Wasn't she quieter in bed?" He turned to Callan and asked.

He chuckled at his words and then moved behind me, "Don't say that. She wanted to know your name." He said, something tricky in his tone, but I couldn't get what it was.

The man reached forward, extending his hand to me and just there, I caught a glimpse of the mark. But a werwolf. This was harder than I ever thought, but I had to do this. "I'm Dion, Dion Lowe." He said in a small accent. "It's nice to see a new face in court and in Callan's bed. I got tired of the old ones myself."

I wrapped my hand around his, and heaved in a breath before responding to him, "I'm Vivian."

"I know." He smiled.

It was hard to keep my focus on his face as his body was all exposed and even though there was barely any light, my eyes could still outline everything—everything. My heart beat eased as well as the tension tightened inside my stomach. It was just a werewolf, and not one from my father's family. I didn't need to worry, not about this at least.

Maybe something else.

"So, what are you doing here, Vivian?" He questioned.

"Any response you get from her will be a lie. She's here for something and no body can figure it out." Callan said behind me. I held the curses back and looked over my shoulder, finding him studying me and trying to slip into my head. "But you know how much I enjoy a game." He tried even harder, but he couldn't get in.

"I'm just here to handle some things with my father's extended family," I said, not knowing the trouble I was putting myself in. "That's all."

"And what is your father's name?" Dion asked.

I felt trapped between both of them. I was never a good liar, and even after everything, I still wasn't. Anyone could see through me. I had to be better, I had to act neutral and clam. Otherwise, these men I was looking for were going to come after me instead. It was dangerous, but I didn't know how much until now.

"Marcus Hart." I responded, taking my father's name after a very long time. My shoulder's pushed back and I continued, "He was from the Silverstream Pack, and he died a few months ago. I'm meant to take some things from his family, but it's taking me a while to reach out to them as we hadn't been in good terms."

They both listened. And I just became better at lying.

"I've heard about them," Dion said, sounding a bit surprised. "And even met some of the Hart's at the winter ball. Our packs usually tend to have tournaments every full moon."

The winter ball. They were there, just as I feared it. Thankfully, none of them could've recognized me or my mother with our masks on.

"That's good," My gaze slowly traveled down to his wrist where the mark of the pentacle was clear now. Words reached to my mouth, but I was unsure if I wanted to question with Callan breathing down my shoulder with his suspicions. "I should go back. Nice to meet you, Dion."

"You too, Vivian."

The men shared an interaction with each other. I didn't bother much and waited till Callan joined me. We began walking back to the court while Dion shifted and continued with his run. His wolf was a dark shade of brown and when it ran through the wild, it was quick and strong.

When he was gone, I let out a breath of relief.

"You're scared of werwolves..." Callan teased while glancing at me for short second. He read my face well, but not my mind. After all, he was a night-eater with some mad powers.

Everyone was differently born and bred. Some of us were stronger than the others while others had titles and lands. Some were poorer with more powers, and some were simply struggling to keeping their powers at bay. It was all about what one was gifted with.

The Sven family had been on the throne for over thousand's over years and they managed to keep us, creatures, in peace for as long as I remembered. There were inconsistencies here and there, battles and duels, but nothing terrible. Our world was under the tips of Alexandria Sven. With one order, she could kill any problem.

"I am," I nodded, agreeing with Callan. "I don't like werewolves."

"Let me guess. You didn't like your father, either?"

Sucking in a breath, I watched ahead at the long distance left and then turned my attention to Callan while stopping on my steps. "I didn't like him. Actually, I hated him so much that I killed him." I confessed without any shame in my voice.

He blinked at me, surprised with what I had said. "Your own father?" He asked, raising a silent brow at me.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Killed or be killed," I repeated his exact words.

The corner of his mouth lifted into a smirk, a fucking smirk. Leaning in closer, he lowered his voice and said, "You're crazier then I thought you'd be, little witch."

I slipped my hands behind my back and held them while my shoulders slumped forward, "Maybe I am. Or maybe not. You're never going to know."

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