Mates (ON HOLD)

46. wild witches

A/N: I know Livator is actually not a name, I literally pulled it out of my ass. If some of you were wondering, it's pronounced Live (as in 'I live in Chicago') - a (as in the a from 'literature') - tour (as in 'tour').

Liv - a - tor. When Matches calls him 'Liv' he's saying it like he lives not his lives. But when Parlia calls him 'Liva' he's saying leave - a. Helps, maybe?

Let's just get to the baes, you're right.

Enjoy ;)

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C H A P T E R  F O R T Y-S I X:
wild witches

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M A T C H E S

Six a.m. The sun is pushing up over the horizon and my hands tap against the back of the seat. I can feel Livator's fingers against the seat between us, rushing over one another while we all stare out to the huge house in front of us.

Jamie makes the first sound, clearing her throat, "This might have been a bad plan."

Parlia took a deep breath to calm his nerves, "I think it might have been, yeah."

The hundreds of witches that stood in front of Parlia's jeep stood their ground as proof of his statement, all of them chatting amongst themselves as we pulled up into Coven Rose's driveway, our wolf scents following into witch territory.

"We really should have thought this through more." Jamie jumped her nervous foot, looking out at all the witches watching us wearily.

Parlia shook his head, "We need to try. They don't like Gainer and my father but they should understand what we're trying to do."

"Should." Liv sighed, laying his head back against the leather, "But will they?"

We all sat there, watching these witches stare at us, and I shook my head. With a laugh, I pulled on the handle of the car door, "Worth a shot, yeah?"

"W-Wait! Matches!" Jamie whispered, pushing open her door as I walked around the car, head up.

"Jesus, Michaelson." Parlia mumbled, coming to join his nervous mate beside me.

Staring out into the group of witches, I felt a familiar hand run up my arm, pushing me gently forward. I looked to the owner of it, catching Liv's nod and determined browns. He knew, just like we all did, that Coven Rose was no joke and it could hold a grudge harder than diamond. We weren't walking in stupidly blind. We needed their help and all we could do was push to ask, even with a hundred, dangerous, wandering eyes. It was all we could do, ask, and I'll be damned if I didn't try.

Taking a deep breath, I shook away my fear, knowing it'd do nothing for me. We were walking into one of the most powerful covens in the country and one with an angry and festering itch to keep away from Ground Fury at all costs. Sherman took one their own for himself and went against the Moon Goddess. If anything, the witches were people of destiny. The Witches Raven was no joke to them. They hated us and my fear would only weigh down my chances to stay afloat in this hell storm that was coming our way.

With my chest full of determination, I pushed forward, steps calm and composed as the witches parted like they were the Red Sea and I carried Moses staff. Their open path led through their weary gazes, all the way to a tall, curly haired woman with eyes as green as the trees swooping around the mansion.