The Curse Of The Alpha

20

Word Court: 1745

~Meara

Sire comes down the stairs, looking tense.

"Where are we going?" I question, glancing down at the note that miraculously appeared on the dresser this morning.

We returned to his manor yesterday. He was so exhausted he went to bed almost immediately, leaving me to spend most of the night with my thoughts.

I'm not sure what to feel about Sire and the mate bond yet.

"I don't feel right. I need more magic," he muses, shuddering as if he can feel the physical sensation of its absence.

"You're the most powerful person in this realm, how could you need more power?" I wonder. Furthermore, where could such power come from?

Sire rubs his wary eyes, still not entirely recovered.

"There sheer number of witches Carran has employed is not something I can face alone. I need more magic so I am not vulnerable to another attack," he tells me.

I rub my arms. I suppose that is a fair reason, and doesn't mean he is going to use that power in an attack against Carran. But it still makes me nervous...

"And how are you going to do that?"

"A witch I know, that will most certainly be on my side," he assures me. I raise my brow, wondering how he knew of such a witch when he was only awake in this century for a short period of time.

I narrow my eyes. "Are you certain this has nothing to do with revenge?"

"You agreed to trust me," he reminds me.

"Alright. And I must come I suppose?"

Sire nods. "You are my mate. There isn't a moment where I don't want you by my side anymore."

He isn't just saying that to flatter me. He truly desires my presence, I'm just not sure I can give it to him. I'm still learning to trust him, and it's difficult adjusting to such a man being near me so often.

I slap my hand into his, ignoring the fluttering of sparks against my skin. "Fine. Let's go."

He promptly transports us out of the manor and to a quaint little village that I immediately don't recognise. We must be outside the Pack, which is a surprising relief, even if I have been told that these parts are dangerous.

Sire leads me into a small cottage, which turns out to be a shop selling fresh fruit and vegetables. He has to duck his head as we wander into the small shop.

The girl sitting behind the counter looks up from her book, her eyes widen.

"Oh...oh my-"

"Is Rivera here?" Sire questions.

She swallows, looking over Sire with horror. I can't tell if it's his towering height, visible tattoos and piercing eyes, or if she knows him.

"Y...yes." She scrambles up, tugging at a piece of rope attached to one of the floorboards. "Down there."

She tugs up a hatch door, waving her hand through a cloud of dust that billows up. I peer over, seeing a set of concrete stairs that lead down into a sea of shadows.

"Thank you," Sire tells the girl, starting down the stairs.

I follow him apprehensively. "Why did she act like that?"

"She may recognise me from Rivera's work. She is a witch, but also a talented portrait artist," he tells me. He's finally able to raise his head as we make it to the bottom of the stairs.