Alethea
A piercing scream rips from my throat the moment my eyes land on him.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I yell.
Liam stands there, unfazed, but something about his presence makes my stomach twist. Then it hits me-everything begins to click into place.
I take a step back, my eyes narrowing. “Wait… have you been following me?”
I glance around, scanning the shadows, half-expecting Asher to step out from the darkness. My heart sinks when I realize Liam is alone. Why do I want Asher to be here? He has more important things to do than chase after me.
Liam lifts his head, his expression unreadable. “I’m alone. No one is with me.”
His voice is calm, but it does nothing to ease the frustration bubbling inside me.
“What are you doing here? This isn’t safe,” he says, stepping closer. Before I can react, he grabs my arm and moves me into a more secluded area.
I yank my arm free, glaring at him. “I should be the one asking you that!”
Liam hesitates, his fingers rubbing the back of his neck-a nervous habit. He doesn’t want to tell me.
I exhale sharply. “You know what? I don’t have time for this. I need to see the witch.” I turn back toward the door, ready to knock again.
“Then I’m coming with you.”
I whip around, staring at him in disbelief. “What? Why?”
Liam crosses his arms. “I don’t trust Gaita.”
The name sends a shiver down my spine. I’ve only heard it in whispers. “You know her?” I ask, surprised.
His jaw tightens. “Of course. Who doesn’t? She’s a witch with visions of doom.”
“She’s never had anything good to say about anyone,” Liam mutters with warning. “Be careful around her.”
I swallow hard, as my heart begins to thrum with unease. Will she have something good to say about me? I can only hope.
I let out a deep breath, I step forward and push open the door.
The moment I do, it swings open effortlessly, as if it was expecting me. Liam follows close behind.
Stepping inside, I freeze.
This is nothing like the eerie, dimly lit witch’s den I had imagined. Instead, the space is pristine white, with sleek modern furniture and state-of-the-art gadgets neatly placed around the room. It looks more like a high-end apartment than a witch’s home.
I glance around, my heart pounding in my chest. Damn, I am so nervous.
Liam’s hand rests on my shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. I glance up at him, and he nods.
“Welcome. I knew you would come.”
A voice startles me, echoing through the room. I nearly jumped out of my skin.
I whip my head around, searching for the source, but there’s no one in sight.
Where is she?
“Sit on the couch. I will join you soon.”
With shaky legs, I step toward the couch, sinking into the soft cushions. I automatically scoot over, making room for Liam. He sits beside me, his posture tense, ready for anything.
Then, she says my name.
“Alethea Weaver.”
My heart slams against my ribcage.
I clasp my hands together, but they’re already clammy with sweat. She knows my name.
And I still don’t know where the hell she is.
Liam lounges lazily on the couch, completely at ease. Has he met her before? His relaxed posture suggests this isn’t his first encounter with the witch.
Then, movement catches my eye.
A woman strides toward us like she owns the place-because, of course, she does.
She’s draped in a flowing white gown, her hair cascading down her back in silky waves. Her high cheekbones are striking, giving her an almost ethereal beauty.
As she moves closer, I notice something even more mesmerizing-her eyes. The color shifts every few seconds, flickering between shades like a living kaleidoscope.
Well, what do you expect from a witch? Anything to make them look young and otherworldly.
She lowers herself onto the couch across from me, a wide smile stretching across her face. It’s beautiful, almost too perfect.
She doesn’t speak; she just watches me intently.
I shift under her gaze, resisting the urge to demand why she’s just staring and smiling without saying a word. But I hold back.
Then, finally, she speaks.
“Why is he here with you?” She tilts her head slightly toward Liam.
There’s something in her tone.
And when I glance between them, I don’t miss the way their eyes lock-like there’s something unspoken passing between them.
Do they have a history?
The thought settles uncomfortably in my stomach.
“I don’t know,” I answer with a shrug. “And does it matter?” I shoot back, trying to ignore the way they’re still looking at each other, completely absorbed, like I don’t even exist in the room.
Oh, hell no.
I wave a hand between them. “Hello?”
It takes a second, but finally, they both snap out of it, their gazes shifting back to me.
I narrow my eyes. I’ll have to address this later. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t?
“Is Liam a friend?” Xena’s voice suddenly whispers in my mind.
I resist the urge to roll my eyes.
She rises gracefully, moving toward me with slow, deliberate steps. Her hips sway in perfect sync, like a runway model gliding down the catwalk.
She’s doing this on purpose.
I can tell by the way she never breaks eye contact with Liam. She’s trying to get a reaction out of him, to rattle his control.
I want to scream at both of them, to tell them to quit whatever game they’re playing. But before I can, she takes my hand in hers, her fingers cool against my skin.
I furrow my brows, watching closely as she studies my palm, her expression unreadable.
Then, she looks up, her gaze meeting mine-and I see it. Worry.
A cold shiver runs down my spine.
“What is it?” My voice comes out uneven, my concern growing.
She exhales slowly. “You’re weak because your mate has refused to mark you. And it will get worse if you don’t act fast.”
My mouth parts slightly. My worst fear was confirmed.
I had read about this in one of the books in the library, but I needed a confirmation-one I desperately wished wouldn’t come.
“How long do I have?” I ask, my voice steady despite the storm inside me. I sound like someone who has accepted their fate, rather than someone looking for a solution. Rather than someone willing to beg Asher to mark me.
Gaita hesitates. “Just a couple of weeks, Alethea.”
I swallow hard. “Give me a specific time.”
Liam snaps his head toward me, his eyes wide like I’ve grown two heads.
“Why are you doing this to yourself?” he demands. “This is something we can fix! Just tell Asher-he needs to mark you.”
I shake my head, clenching my jaw to hold back the scream clawing its way up my throat. He doesn’t want to.
I know it. Liam knows it.
But instead of saying it out loud, I turn to him, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Please, Liam. Don’t tell Asher what Gaita said.”
His blue eyes dilate slightly, and I can tell he’s conflicted.
I step closer. “Please.”
His jaw tightens. Then, finally, he sighs.
“Fine. I won’t tell him.”
Relief washes over me, but it’s short-lived.
“But on one condition,” he adds.
I exhale sharply, already exhausted. “What is the condition?”