Spellbound by the Alpha

Cordella The rose quartz display was crooked again. I sighed, crouching down to straighten the chunkier pieces of love-charged crystal on the bottom shelf. If one more college girl walked in and took a photo for her manifestation board without buying something, I was going to start charging a photography fee. Or maybe cast a charm that made people drop their iced coffee every time they said “Mercury’s in Gatorade.” The bell over the door chimed. I didn’t have to look up. The scent of sandalwood and iron-will announced her before she even spoke. “You’re not ready.” My mother’s voice always sounded like a verdict. I stood slowly, brushing my hands on my skirt and forcing a smile. “Good morning to you too, Calliope.” She frowned at the nickname. I rarely called her Mom. Not in public. Not when she was wearing her ceremonial black blazer that screamed I run a coven and a university, fear me. She looked like a high-powered attorney, not the Alter of one of the oldest witch bloodlines on the eastern seaboard. “Summer Solstice is in two days,” she said, stepping deeper into the shop and surveying the space like she was inspecting troops. “You’ll be assisting me during the ritual. I expect you to be prepared.” My stomach twisted. “Of course.” “Don’t be late,” she added, then turned on her heel and swept out with the same drama she always entered with. I waited until the door clicked shut before letting out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. From behind the curtain that separated the storefront from the back, Piper’s voice floated out. “You should just tell her you’re not ready.” She popped out a second later, hair in space buns, a bag of spicy chips in her hand. Goddess, I loved that woman. “I’m ready,” I said, grabbing a selenite wand to fiddle with. “I think. Maybe. I don’t know. It’s just—” “You don’t want to be Alter.” “I didn’t say that,” I argued weakly. “You didn’t have to.” She leaned against the counter and took a loud, obnoxious bite. “You like your shop. You like being in the coven, not running it. You like your magic how you like your coffee—quiet and personal, not flashy and full of expectations.” “I just…” I rubbed my temple. “I’m happy here. Why does that feel like a crime?” Piper shrugged. “Because you’re Calliope Blackwood’s daughter.” Right. Legacy. No pressure. I didn’t ask to be born the only child of a woman who wore power like perfume and expected me to do the same. I didn’t ask to be the heir to a coven full of women who barely looked me in the eye. Not when half of them thought they should be next in line. The only one who never made me feel small was Piper. And even she gave me that look sometimes. “Come out tonight,” she said suddenly, perking up like the thought had been brewing for a while. "Let’s go to The Borderline. It’s been forever.” I groaned. “That place smells like beer and bad decisions.” “Exactly.” She wiggled her brows. “You need beer and a bad decision. Just one night before Solstice Eve. We’ll get a drink, flirt with a warlock, maybe throw hands with a werewolf. What’s the worst that could happen?” I laughed. “Famous last words.” But the thing was… I kind of needed a night off from being the reluctant heir to a throne I didn’t want. And Piper wasn’t wrong. Just one night. The Borderline was a bar right on the border between our two respected territories and the only place witches and wolves ever mingled. What could possibly go wrong? Heston The numbers on the screen didn’t lie, but they still pissed me off. “Six percent under projected for quarter two,” my beta, Max, muttered from across the table. “We think the holdup on permits from the university district is intentional.” I leaned back in my chair, arms folded across my chest, jaw tight. “It is.” The room went silent. Four men around me, all pack, all loyal, stared, waiting. I wasn’t just their Alpha. I was their CEO. Blue Co. built half the damn city. My name signed their paychecks. My word was law. And I hated this part of the job. “Reach out to Councilwoman Watts again,” I said finally. “Sweet-talk if you have to. And send her another bottle of that overpriced wine she liked.” “Already on it.” “Good.” I stood. “Meeting adjourned.” Chairs scraped. Binders shut. I didn’t wait. I was halfway down the hallway to the upper offices when I heard his voice. “Still brooding?” I glanced over my shoulder. “Always.” Rowan leaned against my office door, arms crossed like he owned the place. Middle brother. Second smartest guy I knew. First if you asked him. “You’re Alpha now,” he said. “You can delegate.” “I do.” “You just hate it.” “Correct.” He smirked. “Dad’s waiting in his office.” Of course, he was. I found our father, Garreth Blue, standing behind his desk like he was born there—tall, broad, same blue-gray stare I’d inherited. “You’re late.” “I was running a company.” He didn’t smile. Rarely does. “So were we. Sit down.” I stayed standing. A power move. My father forgets he isn't Alpha anymore. “You know what we need to talk about,” he continued. “You’ve been Alpha for a year. Your Luna should be at your side.” “Maybe the Moon Goddess forgot about me.” Garreth growled, the sound low and full of warning. “Watch your mouth. You’re a Blue. A pureblood Alpha. You don’t question the Goddess. You fulfill her prophecy. You lead. You breed. You bond.” I grit my teeth. “Maybe I’m too busy leading.” The door opened again before he could respond. Ridge strolled in, youngest of the three of us, all swagger and charm. He looked like the kind of guy who never had to try. Probably because he didn’t. “I heard yelling,” he said cheerfully. “So obviously I’m in the right place.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “What do you want?” “To drag your broody ass out for a drink.” “Pass.” “C’mon,” he said. “You work. You growl. You occasionally screw some poor human with daddy issues. Then repeat. One night at The Borderline won’t kill you.” “I don’t do bars.” “You don’t do fun.” I opened my mouth to argue, but Rowan—the traitor—cut in. “It’s one night, Heston. Blow off some steam. Show the pack you’re still human under all that Alpha scowl.” I stared at both of them. One night. Fine. “Dress like you’re not giving a TED Talk,” Ridge added as I walked away. I flipped him off over my shoulder.