Chapter 18: Heston
1528 Words
Heston
It had been a week since construction started.
A week since I’d seen her.
Cordella had been avoiding me like it was an Olympic sport. And unfortunately for me, she was damn good at it.
Every time I walked toward her shop?
The sign flickered. CLOSED. Even when I knew it wasn’t.
Cute. Infuriating. Witch.
Made sense, I guess. Last time I was in there, she was flushed and breathless, practically vibrating from the memory of my hands on her, my mouth on her, my voice in her ear. The memory was burned into me, too. And it was driving my wolf out of his damn mind.
He was restless. Pacing under my skin.
Snarling every time I looked at that street corner and didn’t see her.
We’d tasted her. Had her fall apart on our tongue.
And now? Nothing was enough.
I was halfway through pretending to focus on a set of electrical permits when Max knocked once and stepped inside without waiting for permission.
One look at his face and I knew.
“Spit it out,” I muttered.
He didn’t. He tossed a folder onto my desk instead.
“What am I looking at?”
He crossed his arms. “A formal petition. From Calliope Blackwood. She’s moving to block all future construction in the historical district.”
I stared at the documents, reread the header and felt something snap low in my gut.
Calliope Blackwood.
Alter. Dean of the university.
Cordella’s mother.
“What the f**k,” I muttered, flipping the pages.
I’d protected her shop. Gone out of my way to lock in her rent, secure her space, bring in the Harringtons to restore, not demolish. I dealt with red tape, smoothed over zoning. Personally ensured her business survived.
And now her mother was coming for my entire district?
“She sent her Alter mother after me?” I growled.
Max shrugged. “Thought you two had settled things. Wasn’t it two weeks ago you had her bent over—”
“Watch your mouth.” The snarl came out before I could stop it.
He smirked, unfazed. “Easy. I just thought things were, you know… handled.”
I stood, the chair groaning behind me.
“They were handled. I got the Harringtons to preserve the building. Put the crew on specialty work only. No demo.”
He lifted a brow. “Seems like the witch doesn’t care for handouts.”
It hit me then. She didn’t know how to accept help.
And she sure as hell didn’t want anyone to know she’d gotten it from me.
Especially not her mother.
Fuck.
Calliope wasn’t just posturing. She had connections, influence, political weight. If this petition gained traction, it could tank the entire Blue Ridge revitalization project. Years of planning—gone. My credibility—shot.
And worse?
Cordella was probably sitting in the middle of it, steaming, too proud to admit I’d done something for her, not to her.
My wolf snarled low in my chest.
This wasn’t just politics anymore.
This was personal.
I stood so fast the chair screeched against the floor, a growl vibrating low in my throat.
Max didn’t even flinch. He just leaned a hip against the wall and c****d a brow.
“Where are you going?”
“To handle it.”
My voice was sharp, final. No room for debate.
He gave a low whistle as I grabbed my jacket. “Guess the honeymoon phase is over, huh?”
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.
Because I was raging.
Not just about the petition. Not just about the political storm it would stir.
But because she ran to her mother.
Cordella. The woman who stood in my space and whispered 'please, Alpha' like it was a prayer. Who came into my office spitting fire and left me completely f*****g ruined.
She went to her mother—the Dean of the University, the High Alter, the woman who’d always seen wolves as dirt—and sicked her on me like I was a threat to be put down.
That pissed me off.
And the avoidance? The disappearing act? The smug CLOSED sign flickering whenever I got within twenty feet of her?
That pissed me off even more.
By the time I pulled up to the job site, my blood was already boiling.
The crew was working—bricks being carefully lifted from the façade, window frames salvaged and stacked. I’d handpicked this team to preserve the building.
But of course, that didn’t stop the crowd. A trio of college girls stood on the sidewalk, arms crossed and brows furrowed.
“This whole street is being gutted,” one muttered, loud enough for everyone to hear. “They’re totally ruining the vibe.”
“They said they’re keeping the shop,” another added, voice sharp with skepticism. “But for how long?”
Fuck. It was already starting.
Whispers. Judgments. The kind of public scrutiny that turned preservation into villainy—all because of that goddamn petition.
And I knew where it led.
Straight back to her.
I stormed toward the shop, jaw clenched.
The second I reached for the door, the sign flipped.
Closed.
My eyes flashed gold.
She had to be kidding.
I gripped the handle and yanked.
It didn’t budge.
She’d spelled it—again.
I gave her a chance. I gave her space.
But this?
No.
With a low snarl, I braced my hand against the frame and snapped the lock with one sharp twist.
The door flew open with a bang, smacking against the inside wall.
Cordella was behind the counter, a candle in one hand, a packet of mugwort in the other—and she froze.
Her eyes widened. Her magic flickered around her like smoke.
And I strode in.
Slow. Furious. Unstoppable.
“We’re closed,” she snapped, her voice already defensive.
“Too bad,” I growled. “Because I’m done playing nice.”
I didn’t care if she had a spell prepped. I didn’t care if she lit me on fire.
She’d brought this on herself.
And now?
I was going to put the witch in her place.
The door slammed behind me like a gavel. Final. Echoing.
She was frozen at the counter, candle halfway to its shelf, packet of mugwort trembling between her fingers.
Her eyes met mine—and I knew she felt it.
The shift in the air.
The thick, choking tension between us that hadn't burned off, not even after I'd had her shaking under my mouth, not even after I’d sworn I’d let her go.
I was done pretending.
My wolf was at the surface, snarling and feral, choking on her scent and the betrayal that tasted worse than blood.
“I thought you fought your own battles, Cordella,” I said, my voice a low growl that barely sounded human. “Storming into my territory. My office. Starting fires just to watch me burn—only to run back to Mommy the moment things got real?”
Her magic swirled around her like smoke. Agitated, defensive, and wild.
The candles on the wall flickered. Lightbulbs above buzzed and dimmed. A wind that didn’t belong to the outside howled in her wards.
“I didn’t—” she started, but her voice faltered.
I stepped closer. My eyes glowing, my wolf raging behind them.
“Didn’t what? Didn’t mean to lie to me? Didn’t think I’d notice the petition trying to destroy everything I’ve built?”
“You built?” she snapped, lips curling. “You think just because you threw me a few scraps and didn’t bulldoze my shop, you own the district? You don’t get to claim a f*****g neighborhood like you—”
“I’m not talking about the district,” I snapped, cutting her off.
The air stilled.
Magic crackled between us like lightning, but neither of us moved.
She blinked, lips parting—but said nothing.
So I kept going, voice tight, dangerous. Low.
“I protected you, Cordella. I went against investors. My own f*****g pack. I locked you in when everyone else wanted to wipe that block clean. I did that for you.”
Her eyes glittered like stormlight, mouth trembling like she wanted to curse me—or kiss me.
And gods help me, I wanted both.
“I didn’t ask for your protection,” she hissed. “I never needed it.”
“No?” I took another step. “Then why haven’t you taken off that necklace yet?”
Her lips parted, but her magic flared at the edges. Instinct. Emotion.
“Because you know what’ll happen when you do,” I said, voice low, cutting, aching. “You’ll feel it too. That I’m your mate. That this isn’t something you can burn away with a few angry glances and a protective mother.”
She gasped and I felt it in my chest.
“And maybe that scares the s**t out of you more than any spell ever could.”
Her power surged.
So did my wolf.
And still—I didn’t touch her.
But goddess, I was daring her to.
- Writer
