The Midnight Rogue’s Broken Mate

I Don’t Want A Mate!

[Ryder]

My gaze lingered on the necklace—a half-moon with a star resting at the curve's concave. As my fingers hovered over it, itching to pull it from around her neck, Elvis's voice called out from the doorway, breaking my focus.

"I’ll be right there," I muttered, frustrated, but released my hold on the necklace. The girl on the bed shifted slightly, still deep in slumber. My hand trembled as I pulled away. That emblem shouldn't exist anymore. It wasn't possible... but there it was, tangled around the neck of this strange young woman. At this rate, I couldn't let her go even if I wanted to. Not without answers.

Taking a deep breath, I left the room and descended the winding staircase. As I rounded the last curve, my eyes landed on Selina lounging comfortably on the couch, her long blonde hair tied back in a sleek ponytail. Beside her sat a woman with a bob of dark brown hair, her gaze fixed intently on the flatscreen as though she had never seen one so large.

"Good day, Ms. Hart," I greeted, stepping off the staircase. Both women stood up, Selina with a bold smile as she nodded. Her companion turned slowly, her dark eyes meeting mine with an unexpectedly eerie stare as if she were expecting something else.

"This is Gwenhwyfar," Selina introduced, gesturing to her friend. "A dark witch and a tracker. She can find anyone or, at the very least, locate their relatives.”

My brow raised as I looked Gwenhwyfar over, sharing a casual nod before turning to Selina. "Dark witch, you say?" I couldn't fathom why a tracker would be categorised as being a dark witch.

Gwenhwyfar chuckled, stepping forward to shake my hand. "Maybe It's because I'm half-vampire," she said with a condescending smirk, showing fangs, her hand lingering in mine a moment longer than necessary. "You're quite the specimen yourself, Mr Blackwell. You couldn't even tell from my scent?"

She was mocking me, clearly fishing for a reaction. I met her gaze with unflinching calm, my expression betraying nothing. By day, I was nearly human—dulled senses and fortunately for her, an equally mild temper.

A low, defensive growl rumbled from Elvis behind me. His posture was stiff, his eyes locked on Gwenhwyfar, a silent warning in his stance. I lifted a hand to calm him. There was no point fighting over spilt milk. "I suggest you watch your tone, Ms Gwenhwyfar. I don't need my fists to hurt you." My eyes glowed a bright shade of gold and I watched her pale under the overwhelming gaze.

"Arghh!" Her hand slipped out of mine, clutching her side painfully. "What... what did you do to me?" She clenched her teeth, visibly trying to endure the pain.

Selina stepped between us, outstretching both hands to keep us apart. "Now now, let's all play nice." She spoke cheerfully, wanting to lighten the mood. "We're here to get the job done and leave with our pockets heavier, nothing more."

Gwenhwyfar cursed then shut her eyes briefly. She was by far paler than when she'd entered. Served her right.

She cursed under her breath before calming down with a sigh, "I'll need to drink your blood.” Her tone was completely businesslike now. “All my spells involve either blood or bodies."

"It's fine, Elvis," I said, feeling him tense, then turned back to Gwenhwyfar. "I should warn you—my blood carries certain risks."

Her lips twitched into a faint, almost mocking smile. "Oh, don't worry about me. Unless you're planning to bite me, your curse has no hold over me."

I kept my face neutral, though now weary of her presence. From the crow feet beside her eyes, it was easy to tell that she was older than Selina who hardly ever took anything seriously—except when money was involved. "Suit yourself," I replied.

Our conversation was interrupted by the sudden flash of a news report on the television, the anchor detailing a brutal 'animal attack' that had left several bodies scattered in a deserted part of the city. Selina gave a low whistle as the footage played. "Would be rather inconvenient if they found your blood at the scene, wouldn't it?"

I didn't respond, though my jaw tightened slightly. Deep down, I despised Malik as much as he did me. Why would he s*******r so many innocent lives? Why couldn't he let go of his rage? This was the twenty-first century and murdering a dozen people couldn't be easily brushed off.

Elvis's concerned gaze followed mine, but he knew better than to voice his worries. Selina reached into her bag and pulled out a small, absolutely hideous bronze talisman. Runes and tiny blue stones circled its surface, arranged in a pattern.

"The talisman should keep your curse in check," she said, holding it out to me. "It'll last for three months—no longer."

Elvis took the talisman carefully, examining it with a scrutinizing eye. He seemed to relax as he handled it, though his eyes still held a bit of doubt before handing it over to me.

It looked just like the last one she made.

Soon enough, she waved Gwenhwyfar forward, and they began to set up for the spell, discussing the exorbitant price that I’d be charged. It was obvious Selina had exaggerated my wealth to her friend or the dark witch was just trying to get revenge. I watched them work, still thinking about the girl upstairs and the emblem.

The dark witch ended up saying that the one I sought was dead but her daughter was in London, probably still holding up the spell.

After everything was complete, Selina's gaze shifted upward. She cleared her throat, noticing someone watching us from the upper landing. It was the female from earlier, wide-eyed, dressed in torn clothing and looking every bit like a homeless person. Despite her state, she was still a sight to behold.

She gasped and darted back, disappearing into the hallway.

"I didn't realize you had... guests," Selina teased with a nasty smirk.

"And I didn't realise that my guests would be any of your concern, Ms Hart," I replied sarcastically and she chuckled.

Elvis moved as if to follow her, but I interrupted. "I'll go. Elvis, stay with our guests and make sure they receive their payments."

He nodded, stepping back while I quickly made my way up the stairs, following the faint feel of her presence. I couldn't smell or hear her, but the corridor led to a dead end, limiting her escape options. She was fast enough but clearly had no sense of direction. By the time she discovered her mistake, I was almost behind her.

The young woman reached for a nearby door, but I moved faster, catching her wrist and pressing her gently but firmly against the wall. There was an odd sensation that accompanied the skin-to-skin contact.

"Calm down," I said, catching her other hand and pinning both over her head before she could take a swing at me.

To my surprise, she didn't scream or cause a ruckus. Her gaze was steady, though wary as if she were trying to read me. "Please, let me go. I won't say anything," she said, her tone formal yet strangely devoid of fear. If only I could believe that.

A part of me was impressed. "You're not afraid?" I asked, arching a brow.

She glanced at me, shaking her head. "You don't look like a bad guy."

I paused, watching her carefully. "Really? Even after last night?" For a moment, she hesitated, her brows knitting together. I searched her eyes, wondering if she'd seen me in my wolf form, wondering if she remembered what I was. There was something... different about her, something that made my chest tighten and sent my senses on high alert.

"What’s your name?" I asked softly, slowly letting go.

"Celeste Winter," she answered, her tone low and attractively deep. The name suited her—the voice too. And so did her raven hair. Her eyes were pale green, likely the palest I'd ever seen and her face was mere inches away from mine, close enough that I could feel the faint warmth of her breath, smell the faintest trace of her scent. My senses were almost going wild.

It was a familiar feeling, yet, I hoped that I might be mistaken. She didn't even flinch when I reached out, brushing my fingertips over her cheek, feeling that same odd sensation from before. "Do you... feel that?" I murmured.

She stared at me, visibly puzzled, shaking her head slowly. She didn't feel it? She couldn't feel the connection and yet, the pull was undeniable on my end. This girl couldn't possibly be my mate. Could she?

There was no denying it—Celeste Winter was my mate. It confirmed the dark witch's report that the witch who cursed me was dead... After all, she was my last mate and there was never any opportunity for a rejection. Not when she suddenly vanished off the face of the earth.

"Mr?"

Her voice snapped me back to reality and a deep frown spread across my features. Bringing her home was a mistake. I didn't want a mate.