Spellbound by the Alpha

Chapter 16: Cordella

Cordella

Was drinking wine on a Monday frowned upon?

Probably.

But I was in full-blown crisis mode, and Piper had shown up within thirty minutes of my emergency text, bottle in hand, snacks under arm, and zero judgment in her heart.

The wine was dark and blessedly strong.

“So let me get this straight,” she said, legs tucked under her on the couch, eyes wide with barely restrained excitement. “You storm into wolf territory. Go into his office. Scream at him. And it ends with you bent over his desk?”

I downed a gulp of wine like it might erase my memory.

“I think that sums it up.”

She blinked, then gave a completely inappropriate smile. “I don’t see the problem.”

I groaned, smacking my forehead with the heel of my hand. “Be serious, Piper. This is a huge problem. I just stood up and walked out. Told him to keep the noise down when he started construction. Like that makes it fine.”

She swirled her glass, unbothered. “I mean, it is kind of sweet that he got them to keep your shop though.”

I shot her a glare.

“That’s not the point.”

But…Yeah.

I guess it was kind of okay.

I’d looked through the envelope Mr. Benson gave me after I’d calmed down enough to not set it on fire. Repairs. Upgrades. A guaranteed five-year lease with stabilized rent and an allowance for renovations to maintain “aesthetic charm.”

It was… actually generous.

Still, it didn’t mean I had to be grateful.

“Okay,” Piper said, topping off my glass like she was hosting a gossip summit. “So you broke a treaty. And did something that would make Calliope combust. So what?”

I raised an eyebrow.

“It’s just a fling,” she added with a shrug, biting into a chocolate-covered almond.

I smiled tightly. Nodded. Drank more wine.

Because I wanted to believe that.

I needed to believe that.

But what happened in that office? That wasn’t just chemistry. That wasn’t just enemies blowing off steam.

It felt… charged. Like the moment before a storm breaks. Like magic winding tight around the both of us, pulling us together.

But I wasn’t admitting that out loud.

Not yet.

“Right,” I said, plastering on a smile. “Just a fling.”

Piper beamed. “Exactly. Have fun, Della. You deserve it. Plus, you so give enemies-to-lovers energy right now. It’s delicious.”

She pulled up a ridiculous rom-com, shoved popcorn into my hands, and hit play.

And for the rest of the night, I let her distract me with wine, laughter, and the fantasy that I wasn’t seconds from spiraling back into the arms—and mouth—of Heston Blue.

I was trying to forget him.

Really, truly, trying.

But Heston Blue was like a splinter in my mind—sharp, buried deep, and impossible to ignore. It was ridiculous. Every damn day, something reminded me of him.

The scent of cedar smoke from a passing vendor? Him.

Someone in the café growling at their phone? Him.

That damn desk in my back room? Don’t get me started.

And the worst part?

It wasn’t just random reminders. It was his words. On a loop in my brain, in my bones, in my freaking dreams.

Such a good little witch…

Look how submissive you can be…

Ugh.

I wasn’t submissive. I was Cordella Blackwood. The future Alter. The woman the entire coven had been side-eying since birth like I was supposed to lead them one day.

The problem?

I didn’t want to be.

Not really.

Not that I’d ever say it out loud.

I couldn’t betray my coven like that. Couldn’t betray my mother, or the ancestors, or the legacy etched into every spellbook and stone circle.

But I already had, hadn’t I?

That office…

That Alpha…

Every time I thought about what I’d done, what I’d let him do. What I begged him for—it tied my stomach in knots.

The shame. The lust. The sick thrill of how good it felt.

I’d been in a s**t mood all week. Piper tried to drag me out for drinks on Wednesday. I bailed. Sandra cornered me after circle practice Thursday night. I nearly hexed her for breathing too close. I even closed the shop early on Tuesday.

Which, for me? A war crime.

And then came Friday.

Friday morning, I was halfway through my second cup of tea, trying to center myself with a grounding crystal and a very dramatic sigh—

BANG.

The floor rattled.

BANGBANG.

My mug jumped on the counter.

I froze.

No.

No no no no—

I stomped to the front of the shop, yanked the curtain aside—

And there they were.

Construction crews. Hard hats. Tools. Blue Co. logos.

Starting on the building.

The renovations. The ones I’d been trying to ignore. Trying to pretend weren’t real because if I acknowledged it, I’d also be acknowledging the man who made sure my shop stayed standing.

That man.

That Alpha.

Who I was definitely, totally, absolutely not still daydreaming about.

My eye twitched as I stared at the chaos outside. One of the crew looked up, noticed me watching, and waved cheerfully.

I slammed the curtain closed. Friday was about to be a very long day.

My eye twitched. Again.

The sweet little college girl standing at the counter gave me a sympathetic grimace as she handed over a bundle of incense and a bracelet.

“The construction sucks,” she said, voice full of that honest, crunchy-girl whine. “This is usually like, a chill spot? But today? Totally killed the vibes.”

Preaching to the choir, sister.

I smiled like a well-adjusted business owner and not a witch one summoning away from setting the entire worksite ablaze.

“Hopefully it’s temporary,” I said, handing over her receipt with a little too much cheer.

She left. I resisted the urge to scream.

I wasn’t going to lose it. I wasn’t.

I was going to be calm. Graceful. Mature.

I was not going to storm outside and yell at the wolf I let bend me over and make me whimper into the grain of his desk like a completely unhinged person.

Nope.

I busied myself with restocking the crystal shelves, arranging the obsidian like my sanity depended on it. Which, it sort of did.

Then—

Ding.

I felt him before I saw him.

Of course I did.

That thick, charged presence.

That smell—cedarwood and arrogance.

My whole body snapped to attention. My magic twitched.

I didn’t even turn before I called out, voice sharp and snappy, “We’re closed.”

A beat.

Then, calm as can be. “Your hours say until six.”

I waved a hand lazily behind me. The glowing numbers on the open sign flickered, shifting to CLOSED with a smug little spark of static.

“There. Now they don’t.”

A pause.

“Cute.”

And finally, I looked at him.

And immediately regretted it.

Because there he was—Alpha of the Blue Ridge, six-foot-something of trouble I swore I was done thinking about. His sleeves were rolled, his tie was gone, and his eyes were locked on me like he already knew what I was trying not to feel.

And gods, the scent of him hit me all over again—earthy, masculine, with that primal heat that had no business being this potent indoors.

My thighs clenched. Involuntarily.

Rude.

“What do you want?” I snapped, grabbing a sage bundle like it might protect me.

“Relax,” he said, like that word didn’t make me want to punch something. “I’m just checking in. I’m handling this project personally.”

I blinked.

“No,” I said flatly.

“Yes.”

“No.”

He arched a brow. “You’d rather have random wolves making the decisions about your building?”

I scowled. “I’d rather you crawl back to whatever wolf den you came from and let me suffer in peace.”

He grinned. The bastard.

“Well, unfortunately for you, witch, this project’s mine. Which means you’ll be seeing a lot more of me.”

The problem was, I wanted to hate that. I really did.

But the way my breath caught said otherwise.

Dammit.

I should’ve thrown a crystal at his head.

A big one. Maybe the chunk of black tourmaline sitting by the register. That one had weight.

Instead, I just stood there, arms crossed, glaring at Heston Blue like I could hex the smirk off his face with willpower alone.

“I don’t need check-ins,” I muttered.

He took a slow, indulgent look around my shop like he had every right to stand in it. “Doesn’t look like that. You’ve got wires exposed out front and a beam that looks older than my grandfather.”

“That beam has character.”

He grinned. “It has dry rot.”

I growled under my breath, turning toward the back shelf just to get away from his scent, his presence, the sheer audacity of him.

But he followed. Of course, he followed.

He always did. Like a curse with broad shoulders.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said, his voice lower now. Smoother. Too close behind me.

I snorted. “I’ve been working.”

“Right,” he said. “Working. Stocking your little crystals. Ignoring the fact that you came into my office like a hurricane and then ran out like you hadn’t just begged me to make you—”

“Don’t.” I spun to face him, my heart thundering.

His smile was wolfish. Fitting. “Sensitive topic?”

“You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re quiet for someone who was screaming ‘please, Alpha’ five days ago.”

I blinked. Twitched.

And him? He had the audacity to look pleased with himself.

“I blacked out from anger,” I said dryly. “Anything I said under magical duress doesn’t count.”

“That what we’re calling orgasms now?” he asked, c*****g his head. “Magical duress?”

My face was on fire.

“I swear to the Goddess—”

“I’m just saying, if you ever feel the need to break the treaty again, I’m happy to accommodate.”

I shoved past him, muttering, “You are delusional.”

But he just turned with me, smiling that lazy, dangerous smile.

“Maybe. But you still didn’t deny it.”

And the worst part? I didn’t. Because some part of me remembered every second of that desk.

And it wanted more.

I needed to escape.

Not just the conversation—though gods knew I was moments from levitating myself out the back door and pretending I didn’t exist—but the heat curling low in my belly. The very real and very problematic way my magic buzzed whenever he was near.

Like it wanted to reach for him again. Like it remembered.

“Stop smiling at me like that,” I muttered, ducking behind the counter and pretending to reorganize a basket of moonstone.

Heston leaned against the glass case like he had all the time in the world, that wolfish grin still playing on his lips. “I’m not smiling.”

“Your face is smirking. Don’t insult my intelligence.”

He tilted his head, his eyes dragging down my body in a way that made me clench my jaw and my thighs.

“Can’t help it,” he said. “You’re cute when you’re flustered.”

“I’m not flustered.”

“You’re very flustered.”

I looked up from the basket of glittering stones and gave him my best death glare. The one that made toddlers cry and men backpedal.

It did not work on Heston Blue.

He straightened, finally, and rolled his shoulders like he hadn’t just spent ten minutes dismantling my dignity with his words and his face and his stupid scent.

“I’ve got to get back to the crew,” he said casually, like he hadn’t just reminded me that I begged for his touch last week. “We’re restoring the east side of the building today.”

“Joy,” I said flatly.

He moved toward the door, hand on the handle, but paused just long enough to glance back at me over his shoulder.

“See you soon, witch.”

Then he was gone.

The bell jingled.

The air shifted.

And I was left standing behind the counter, flushed, fuming, and far too wanting for someone who was supposed to be done with wolves.

I stared at the door for a solid thirty seconds.

Then dropped my head onto the counter with a groan.

“Fuck.”