The Cursed Luna

Brother

Samson

"Can we trust Cara?" Donald asks, lounging in the chair in the tavern. His gaze travels around the table from me to Cage, finally landing on Sloane. There's a darkness behind his green eyes like there always is, and I hate how I can never tell what he's thinking by his expression. I've always felt he wears a broody demeanor as a guise, appearing content, his words and smile just a mask. But who am I to question Cage's second in command?

"The way I see it," he continues, "she's got her sister back, so what's to stop her from leading us into a trap?"

"Are you afraid of a little girl?" Sloane mutters before taking another swig of the beer from his flask. "Last time I looked, she wasn't a full witch, she was one against us, and hmm, let me see, she's still looking for her other sister, which we can say we'll continue searching for after our mission."

"Or better yet," Cage adds, "if she returns to collect Leora without us during our mission, Rai will slice both their throats. She is not leaving our side until we complete our task."

"That's fair." I raise my flask, because no matter how much I want to bend the Omega over and f**k her, she is a vessel for us to use for our benefit. "Skål," I repeat three times.

They all chant with cheer and we smash our cups together, beer sloshing over the rims and running down our hands. I drink back the whole cup in a few mouthfuls, then bang it on the table. "More."

I catch Donald's twisted expression like he hasn't finished his point, and he proves me right when he says, "We've all heard tales of witches, of the lives they've stolen with their magic. All I'm saying is we must be cautious since we don't know the full extent of her ability."

"Good point," Cage admits. "But the little Omega isn't the only one with abilities among us." He glances my way, and I steel myself. The small power I hold is not even comparable to that of a witch, or even a Cursed. "And she will be the least of our worries once we reach the real danger in the forest. If anything, maybe she'll make a good ally." He smirks and finishes his beer.

Sloane leans forward, pressing his stomach to the edge of the table. "Tell me you're talking about winning her over, because I'm up for a five-way f**k with her."

Donald groans. "I'll cut your heart out before I f**k anyone at the same time as you."

The corners of Sloane's mouth tug upward with sinister intentions, his hand reaching down and groping his c**k over his pants. "You're doing that weird s**t with your eye, Donald, where it twitches. Are you going to have a fit from thinking of sliding into her sweet p***y?"

"f**k you," Donald barks, squaring his shoulders, looking ready to dive over the table. Wouldn't be the first time these two started a fight that led to a whole tavern breaking into battle. Warfare and anger have a way of spreading like wildfire.

Cage watches them, smirking with amusement, and while I would normally enjoy the show, tonight I feel unease curling over my spine. My muscles stiffen at what's coming, and it has nothing to do with the Cursed girl, but where we're going.

The Woods of Evil are synonymous with death. No one goes in and walks back out unscathed... and that's if they survive. One tale talks of a dozen Alphas wandering inside and only one of them making it out, barely clinging to life. He spoke of the others left behind as nothing more than piles of ash left by an unseen assailant.

I shake away the dread that rises through me quicker than the frozen wind back home. Fear is a path to the dark side, and I won't let it in. After all, fear makes the wolf bigger than he is. I've seen this too many times growing up in the Ulv pack, where the leaders painted a scarier picture of their warriors to terrify the enemy. Half the time it worked. The other half we fought like the devils they believed us to be.

"Are you ready for tomorrow?" Cage asks me.

"Of course, cousin. You know I'll travel into Niflheimr by your side if needed."

He laughs boisterously and claps a hand to my shoulder. "That's why you're on my team, Samson. We've been through so much together. Faced endless battles."

"And bedded countless Omegas." I laugh. Some days I'd be happy if it were just him and me in the pack like it used to be when we grew up back in Denmark.

Cage's father and mine are brothers, and to me, Cage is like the brother I never had.

A shadow falls over us, and I twist my head around to find Grandma Magda carrying a large platter of food to our table. The aromas of roasts and vegetables have me salivating. Our table fills with plates of food quickly.

"There is more where this comes from, boys" she tells us, grinning.

"You are too generous, Grandmother," Cage answers.

Sloane dives in, and we all eat straight from the platters. The bartender soon returns with more beer.

“I’ll take this to Cara and Leora.” Cage collects a plate with a full roast chicken surrounded by helpings of bread and potatoes.

I get to my feet and reach for the platter in his grasp. "No, let me take it to them. You eat. Just don't let those two eat the whole suckling pig." We both look over to Donald and Sloane gorging on the tender meat, not even noticing we've gotten up from the table.

"Might be too late," Cage jokes and hands me the platter. I grab a couple of the forks, and I'm out of there.