Spellbound by the Alpha

Chapter 10: Heston

Heston

Elise was everything a Luna should be.

Beautiful. Poised. Sweet in that practiced way that made other wolves soften around her.

Her blonde hair shimmered in the restaurant’s low lighting, and her smile was the kind that didn’t bite. Our parents had practically vibrated with excitement as we left the pack house, acting like this was prom night and not two thirty-year-olds being escorted into political courtship by legacy-obsessed elders.

She looked the part.

She was the part.

So why the hell was my mind filled with black hair and green eyes and a mouth that never seemed to know when to shut the hell up?

Cordella Blackwood.

Fucking hell.

“This place is beautiful,” Elise said as we took our seats at the booth near the fireplace, her voice soft and warm. Perfect.

“I’m glad you enjoy it,” I said, forcing a smile as I unfolded my napkin. “How’s Rivermoor?”

That got her talking. Rivermoor pack was respected, old blood, and modest in size—but known for their horse training. Animal instinct ran deep in their veins. Wolves who worked with horses tended to have a softer, subtler edge to their Alpha traits.

Not me. Blue Ridge was power and dominance, tooth and nail.

Elise smiled. “Sea Legs should take it all this year. He’s fast, clean, and listens better than most stallions I’ve trained. The pack is thriving. I’ll admit I was surprised when your mother said you wanted to go to dinner. I didn’t think I made much of an impression at the summit last year.”

Truth? She hadn’t.

Not in the wrong way. Elise had done nothing wrong. She was easy to talk to. Had manners. Looked like a Luna should. But she didn’t spark anything.

No fire. No pull. No rage-inducing need to snarl mine when someone looked at her too long.

She didn’t make me forget my own name with a glare.

She didn’t make my wolf claw the inside of my chest like he was starving for something he shouldn’t have.

That was Cordella.

“I was… encouraged,” I said diplomatically. “To give it a shot.”

Elise tilted her head, a knowing smile playing at her lips. “You mean your mother demanded it.”

I huffed out a dry laugh. “Something like that.”

The waiter came with wine. We talked about horses. About pack politics. About legacy.

And the entire time, all I could think about was a woman who would hate this place, too quiet, too polished, too full of people who bowed before rules like they were gods.

Cordella would’ve set something on fire by now. Or hexed the wine for fun.

I didn’t want that. I couldn’t want that.

But as Elise talked about breeding lines and court approval and the importance of a Luna’s presence at council, I found myself drifting.

Back to the sidewalk. Back to her voice, her fire, the way her power surged with her pulse.

And I realized something unsettling.

Elise made sense.

But Cordella made me feel.

Elise was talking—something about bloodlines and the importance of securing a seat on the Northern Coalition Council—but I couldn’t hear a word.

Because a scent hit me.

Familiar.

Sharp, sweet, smoky. Like burning herbs and sin. Like the surge of magic right before it explodes.

No.

My head snapped toward the bar, heart punching my ribs.

And there she was.

Cordella f*****g Blackwood.

Sitting like a goddamn vision in the dim glow of the restaurant's high-end lighting. Long black skirt. Tiny top. Tattoos on full display like a roadmap of rebellion. Her black hair loose and wild, falling down her back like a spell you could touch. She was laughing—laughing—with that troublemaker friend of hers, Piper.

Like she hadn’t hijacked my thoughts for days.

Like she wasn’t haunting me in the middle of a diplomatic dinner I’d rather be anywhere but at.

She didn’t belong here. Not among the soft conversations and curated wine pairings. She looked like a storm someone accidentally let in through the wrong door.

Of course she picked this place.

Of f*****g course.

My wolf clawed at my chest, pacing and growling and snarling like she was prey and he was starving.

Mine.

I squeezed my eyes shut for half a second, trying to keep them from shifting. I felt the flicker. The gold ripple behind my irises. I bit the inside of my cheek, grounding myself.

Not now. Not here.

A soft hand touched my arm.

“Heston?” Elise’s voice was concerned, her brows drawn. “Are you okay?”

No.

Not even remotely.

“I need—” My voice was gravel. I cleared my throat. “Restroom.”

And then I stood. Too fast. Didn’t wait for her reply.

I moved through the restaurant with the restraint of someone walking on a live wire. My shoulders tight. My vision narrowed. Every cell in my body screamed to turn around, to go to her. To do what, exactly?

I didn’t know.

Claim her? Kiss her? Kill her?

Fuck.

I reached the restroom door, shoved it open, and leaned against the sink, bracing my hands on the counter as I stared at my reflection.

My eyes were still mostly blue.

Barely.

And behind them?

My wolf snarled.

The water was ice cold as I splashed it over my face, bracing my hands on either side of the porcelain sink.

Breathe. Just f*****g breathe.

I stared into the mirror, watching the gold in my eyes fade, barely.

My wolf was right there beneath the surface, pacing, snarling, licking his chops like the moment I stepped back into the dining room, he’d make his move.

I shoved him down. Hard. Forced calm into every muscle in my body, even as they trembled with restraint.

I needed to get back to the table. Back to Elise. Back to the life I was supposed to want.

Because if I didn’t?

She’d tell her parents. They’d tell mine. And then I’d be sitting through another lecture about responsibility and bloodlines and the duty I was born into.

With a low growl vibrating in my throat, I pushed off the sink and made for the door.

But the second I stepped out...

She was there.

Leaning against the wall like she belonged in every shadow, a smirk playing at her mouth and green eyes glittering with something that looked a lot like triumph.

“Are you stalking me, Alpha?”

My jaw clenched. “I’m not the one standing outside the men’s restroom.”

She didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink.

“She's pretty,” Cordella said, voice soft but laced with an edge that dug under my skin. “Who’s that? Your girlfriend?”

Her tone was sweet.

But the look in her eyes? Fire.

I stepped forward before I even thought about it. Too close. Bad idea. Dark hallway. Secluded. Every instinct I had screamed danger and none of them cared.

“Jealous, witch?”

She laughed. Low. Wicked. It curled around me like smoke.

“I’d have to give a s**t about you to be jealous.”

That hit. Sharp and clean. But she didn’t move away.

Neither did I.

Her scent was already in my head again, crawling down my spine, waking up every primal part of me I spent years keeping under control.

“You really want to play this game here?” I asked, voice rough.

She tilted her head, lips still curved. “Who says I’m playing?”

Goddess, she was maddening.

And I was two seconds from making a mistake I couldn’t come back from.

She didn’t move. Not even an inch and that was the problem.

Because I’d stepped forward without thinking, heat pulsing in my chest, her scent wrapping around me like a noose. And she just stood there, arms crossed, lips curved, like she wanted me to cross the line.

I didn’t touch her.

But I didn’t back up either.

I leaned in, slow, deliberate, just enough to let her feel the heat rolling off me. Close enough to watch her pupils dilate. To see the way her throat bobbed with a swallow she didn’t want me to notice.

“Say it again,” I murmured, voice like smoke. “That you don’t give a shit.”

Her breath hitched, just barely but I caught it.

Then she smiled, slow and dangerous. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“I’d like the truth.”

She arched a brow, but I caught the flicker of something real behind her eyes. Something unguarded. Something that twisted the knife deeper.

“I hate you,” she whispered.

I tilted my head. “No, you don’t.”

That made her eyes flare.

“You think just because you’re tall and growly and have that whole alpha brooding thing going on that I’m going to fall to my knees and forget who I am?” she snapped.

“No,” I said softly. “I think you already forgot. Just for a second.”

Her lips parted. No words came out.

The energy between us snapped tight like a wire stretched too far. I could feel her magic humming under her skin. My wolf pressed hard against my ribs, begging to close the space.

I could touch her. Could back her up against the wall and see if her mouth still worked when her knees gave out.

But I didn’t.

I held still. Close, but untouched.

My voice dropped lower. “Tell me to walk away.”

Her breath caught again.

“Tell me to go back to my date and pretend I didn’t see you here. That I don’t dream about your f*****g voice in my head and the scent of you stuck to my skin.”

She blinked. Once. Twice.

Then her chin lifted, defiant.

“You’re not going to touch me.”

“No,” I agreed. “But you want me to.”

She didn’t deny it.

Didn’t have to. And that silence?

That silence told me everything.

I didn’t mean to touch it.

Swear to the f*****g moon—I didn’t.

But as I stood there, barely breathing her in, the glow of her power thrumming between us like a live current, my eyes flicked down.

To that necklace.

The one laced with wolfsbane and silver. The one I knew burned when I got too close.

The one she wore like a line drawn in salt.

And before I could stop myself, my hand lifted. Fingers brushed the chain. Found the glass vial.

It burned. The sting lanced through me like fire, bright and sharp, biting straight to the bone. But I didn’t drop it.

Not right away.

Because I was looking at her, smiling. My eyes shifted, the gold bleeding through. My wolf surged forward, uncoiling with a low growl that lived in the back of my throat.

"You think this could protect you from me?" I asked, voice dipping into something rougher. Darker. Not quite human.

Cordella’s gaze didn’t waver. Not even as the scent of scorched skin hung in the air between us.

“Do I look like I need protection?” she shot back, her voice soft as silk and sharp as spellcraft.

My grin turned feral. I let the pendant fall, the sting still buzzing across my fingertips.

“Careful, witch,” I murmured, stepping impossibly closer. “I’ll think you’re trying to provoke me.”

She leaned in. Closer.

Her breath grazed my jaw, warm and maddening.

“Maybe,” she whispered, “I’m trying to ruin you.”

And then she was gone.

Slipping past me, skirts swaying, like she hadn’t just set me on fire and walked away with a smile.

I stood there, stunned, heart pounding, lungs refusing to work.

Fuck.

By the time I forced my feet to move and reentered the restaurant, she’d vanished.

No Cordella. No Piper.

No trace of them at all.

Witches. Of course.

They were ghosts when they wanted to be.

Elise was still at the table, sipping her wine like nothing happened. She didn’t pout. Didn’t scowl. Didn’t ask where I’d been. Luna material, I guess.

When I slid into the seat across from her, she smiled politely.

“Are you alright?” she asked, genuine concern in her voice.

And gods, that made it worse. Because I felt like s**t. I nodded.

But my eyes?

They were already scanning the restaurant again. Looking for her.

For the witch who was going to ruin me.