My Ugly Mate

MY UGLY MATE

M y brain short circuits at not one, but three , council witches standing in my Community Center, unable to process how to handle the bomb threatening to explode in my town.

Aspen misconstrues my stunned silence as rage, and he’s not far off the mark. “Now, Rowe, don’t get mad. You’d never approve if I asked permission, so Mel and I agreed it was better to ask for forgiveness after. You know, Rowe-style.”

My head turns to glare daggers at Mel, betrayal churning in my gut.

Expression guilty, she shrinks back, but before I can speak, the door bangs open.

Harper and Ginny stumble in, arms laden with more boxes, but they skid to a halt when they spot the strangers.

Aspen turns to include the new arrivals. “Hey, let me introduce— Actually, this is silly. Let me call everyone here so I only have to explain once. One sec.”

As he pulls out his phone and starts dialing, Tris grabs my elbow and tugs me aside.

“What are we going to do?” Tris’s brow furrows with worry. “Owen, Haut, and Ros will hit the roof if they see the Council here.”

“I know.” The acrid taste of panic coats my tongue. “Text them a heads up. The last thing we need is our patrol going on the offensive.”

They’re already on high alert for anything suspicious.

Tris nods and whips out his phone, fingers flying over the screen as he sends a text to our group chat.

A moment later, my phone buzzes against my hip.

With the alert sent out, I take in the trashed room, which is nowhere near ready for an entire coven to have a sit down.

I catch Harper and Ginny’s attention. “Set the boxes in the corner by the shelf. Harper and Tris can start bringing in chairs while Ginny and I clear some space.”

Relieved to have someone directing them, they hurry to follow instructions.

For now, I ignore the Hutchen brothers as I grab an empty box and shove it against the back wall with more force than necessary. The cardboard crumples under my fingers.

Ginny joins me, stacking boxes in tense silence.

When Harper and Tris bring in chairs, Aspen and Mel help arrange the seats in precise rows of four across and three deep, leaving the space in front of the shelves open.

Then I perch on a chair in the back row, spine ramrod straight. Tris sits beside me, close enough for his knee to press against mine, a solid point of comfort. The coven begins to trickle in, confused voices drifting to silence as they notice the strangers, and suspicion thickens the air.

Aspen beams at them in encouragement. “Please, take a seat.”

Disappointment curdles in my gut as I glance at Mel. She should know better. These women have been hurt too many times by those claiming authority. Ambushed by trauma masquerading as friendship .

They’ve had their choices, their voices, their very identities ripped away. Now they’re being ambushed in what should be a safe space.

Bile burns the back of my throat. I trusted Mel. I even trusted Aspen.

My hands curl into fists on my thighs, nails biting into my palms.

Beside me, Tris exhales slowly, his fingers finding mine and squeezing them.

I squeeze back as Aspen introduces the Hutchen brothers to our coven, but my eyes lock onto the three men standing beside him.

The oldest, Aven, has an intensity about him, with short dark hair, chiseled features, and tattoos peeking out from under his sleeves.

Waylon is taller and broader, with a scruffy jawline that might be tempting if he wasn’t glowering at us.

The youngest, Gael, appears innocent with his long hair pulled back, but I sense a hidden edge beneath the pretty boy exterior.

Something about them sets my pulse racing and magic tingling across my skin. Dangerous. Powerful. A threat to my peace.

“Stop staring,” Tris hisses under his breath, kicking my foot .

“They’re at the head of the class, so I’m supposed to stare,” I shoot back in a furious whisper. “Besides, I’m trying to get a read on them.”

“Well, at least blink . Your eyeballs need moisture.”

When I do so, the burn eases. Damn Tris for being right.

“…certified graders who can test you up to the second ring,” Aspen explains to the group, drawing my attention back to him.

He pauses, clearly expecting more of a reaction.

A few uncertain claps echo in the room before fading out. Most of the witches glance around in confusion.

Mel steps forward, the chains hanging from her belt loop jangling. “If I may, gentlemen. We have a unique coven assembled from women who are the first in their line to be trained in the craft, so we’re all still learning what these terms and traditions mean.”

Aven’s piercing hazel eyes flick back to me, a brow arching. “All of them?”

Every head swivels in my direction, and I puff out my cheeks. “I only started learning a few months ago. Most of the people in the room have more experience than I do. ”

Tris squeezes my fingers and smiles. “Not me.”

I squeeze back in gratitude.

Aspen clears his throat, drawing the attention back to him. “Apologies, I misspoke. Delilah here actually has prior training.” He nods to the front row where my sister-in-law sits. “But we’re still ironing out how the huntsmen brand of magic intersects with the standard teachings.”

Delilah raises a hand and waves to identify herself, her auburn curls catching the overhead lights.

“Allow me to explain the significance of the ring tests.” Aven steps forward, his commanding presence demanding attention. “There are thirteen rings of magical knowledge. Each level has assessments of both magical aptitude and academic understanding. This ensures that a witch has mastered the skills and has the maturity to handle the next tier of magical secrets.”

The word secrets makes me twitchy, but I tamp down my instant rejection of restricting knowledge. It helps if I think of magic like a weapon rather than a well of knowledge, but it’s a struggle.

“Most only ever seek to attain the fifth ring.” Aven’s gaze sweeps over the room. “Beyond that, it’s similar to academia for those who pursue mastery or the equivalent of a magical doctorate. Above the fifth ring, the tests grow far more challenging.”

Oh, hell. What did Aspen get us into?

I side-eye Tris, who’s leaning forward to listen, which is when I remember my boo once went to school to be a veterinarian and is a nerd. He just hides it better than Ros, who flaunts his book reading by leaving heavy tomes all over the house.

As Aven keeps talking, explaining the mechanics of the grading, my mind wanders, and when I refocus, I catch Waylon studying me with speculation.

My eyes narrow. I’m the only one allowed to stare in this room.

Aven’s speech comes to an end, and he gestures around the room. “Any questions?”

Ambyrlynn’s hand shoots up, her curls bouncing. “Does this mean we’re in the thirteenth ring? The lowest?”

Aven chuckles and shakes his head. “No, you’re currently ringless. But with mentors like Aspen and Melody, I have no doubt we’ll remedy that quickly.”

Excitement ripples through the room at his words, the other witches vibrating with eagerness to begin leveling up. This is everything they wanted when they first sought out the Sunlight Project. Recognition within the magical community.

Let’s hope it ends better this time.

As Aven steps back to join his brothers, Aspen takes his place. “For today, let’s break into groups so we can review what your first test will entail. For those of you with multiple affinities, you’ll be assessed and graded on each of them. You can hold multiple ring rankings, but the highest one is what you will go by.”

Tris squeezes my fingers, blue sparks rising into the air. “Remember to blink, sparky.”

Releasing me, he rises to join the other air witches.

Everyone else splits off into their small groups, and within seconds, I’m alone again.

Story of my life, only this time, instead of being locked in an apartment, I’m surrounded by witches I don’t fit in with.

My senses itch with the weight of someone watching, and I glance back to the front to find Aven studying me as he speaks to Aspen while his younger brothers follow Mel around the room to greet the groups.

Holding Aven’s eyes, I lean forward to prop my elbows on my knees, and my long braid slides over my shoulder. What is his deal? Is he sizing me up as a potential hazard? What does he know?

My chin juts out with defiance. I’ll be damned if I’ll let him see me sweat.

He quirks a brow, the ghost of a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

Oh, he thinks invading my town is amusing?

My braid rustles, and the fine hairs on my arms rise. Silver threads of magic creep into the room, fractal patterns forming on the walls.

In my periphery, I see Tris turn toward me in question, while all over town, my other mates come to alert. But my attention remains fixed on Aven as his eyes shimmer to gold, and he turns away from Aspen to face me directly.

A hand falls onto my shoulder, breaking me out of the trance I’d fallen into, and my head jerks up.

Dimples form in Gael’s cheeks as he smiles down at me. “Please don’t challenge my brother before we’ve even said a proper hello.”

Beside him, Mel stares at me in horror. “Rowe would never—” She cuts off as she realizes who she’s talking about and backpedals. “Rowe is still in training, and much of her magic comes to her through instinct.”

Gael slides into the chair Tris vacated, turning it to face me. An earthy scent clings to him, like damp leaves and spices, as he leans in closer.

I resist the urge to back away. Talk about invasion of personal space.

“Our arrival was unexpected,” he says in a quiet voice designed not to carry, “and we’ve invaded your territory. But I assure you, we mean no harm to you or anyone in Hartford Cove. If we did, we wouldn’t have been allowed past the barrier.”

I snort indelicately. “Bad people have made it past the barrier plenty of times before.”

Gael nods, his hazel eyes studying me. Flecks of green and gold swirl in their depths, but I won’t be won over so easily. Ros’s eyes are way prettier. “Aspen mentioned you have multiple mates. Two wolves and a vampire, I believe?”

“And Tris.” Magic prickling under my skin at this personal topic being brought up so casually. “What’s it to you?”

Gael holds up his hands. “No judgment, merely an observation. Witches bonded to predators tend to be more instinctive. It happens with witches who have predatory familiars, too. It probably didn’t occur to Aspen because he doesn’t believe in the old ways, but that’s no excuse. He shouldn’t have sprung our visit on you like this. It’s setting off your Alpha instincts to protect your pack.”

“It’s Owen’s pack,” I correct, then amend, “Or maybe Haut’s. They have a weird dynamic going on there.”

“It’s your pack, too.” The gold flecks in his eyes brighten. “Unless you’re telling me you can’t feel the pack through your mates? That you haven’t shared your magic with them?”

I glower at him but don’t deny it.

Of course I can feel the pack through my mates, thrumming under my skin. The vampires are there, too, through Ros. But that’s not common knowledge.

I cut a glance at Mel hovering nearby, her chains jingling with agitation. “Don’t you dare tell Mrs. Smith I’m an Alpha. She’ll gut me.”

Mel mimes zipping her lips and crossing her heart.

Wariness fills me. What other secrets does Gael plan to uncover? This may be a small town, but Hartford Cove has a lot to hide.

Gael leans back, propping an ankle on his knee. “You know, I have a bit of an affinity for the ethereal myself. Perhaps, while I’m in town, we could chat sometime. One out-of-place witch to another.”

Suspicion prickles through me. “A greater affinity than Aspen, who’s a second-ring practitioner?”

Mel snorts. “Sure, now you want to use proper titles.”

Gael catches my gaze. “Do you know which of Aspen’s affinities is at the second-ring level?”

I blink, then whip my head around to pin Mel with an accusing glare. She’s going to tell me exactly what each of their affinity levels are.

Mel winces and swats at Gael’s shoulder. “Now why’d you have to go and stir the cauldron?”

“Because there’s a difference between being the stronger, more knowledgeable witch and allowing your student to work under false assumptions.” Gael hooks a thumb toward Mel. “She’s probably let you think she’s lazy and doesn’t take her studies seriously, and that’s why she’s only a fourth-ring witch.”

“Hey!” Mel protests.

Gael ignores her as he leans closer. “What she’s not saying is that most witches with an affinity for all the elements choose to prioritize one element to level up with. It makes advancing through the rings faster and gives them a better chance at a top-tier coven.”

He lowers his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “But Mel is fourth-ring in all her elements, as well as in potion making, which means she will be one of the most powerful witches in the states when she finally makes it to the first-ring.”

“ If I decide to take the test.” Mel crosses her arms, her foot tapping. “Still not sure I want to go that route. And I don’t appreciate you airing all my personal business, Gael. Just because we grew up making Lego castles together doesn’t mean we’re besties.”

“I didn’t actually know, or care, what ring of magic Mel is in,” I confide. “But if I broke her wand, am I grandfathered into the third-ring?”

“No, that only means she’s shit with ethereal magic. Which is why Aspen is here.” Gael lowers his voice. “He’s ranked in the eighth-ring on ethereal magic.”

I lean back in my chair to put distance between us. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing. It’s not going to work.”

His brows shoot up. “What am I doing?”

“You’re pretending to be my friend by giving me inside info on my mentors and using your pretty face to win me over.” I cross my arms over my chest. “But you should stop, because I’m immune.”

His head cocks to the side. “Oh?”

“Tris! ”

He leaves his group to bound over. “Yes, my eternal spark?”

I point toward his face. “This is the ugliest of my mates.”

Gaping, Tris presses a hand over his heart. “ Exsqueeze me?”

“It’s okay, your personality makes up for it.” Tris’s tush earns a pat before I turn back to Gael. “You should see my vampire.”

“Oh, yeah, Ambros is definitely the hottest.” Tris nods in agreement. “Why, pray tell, are we ranking appearances right now?”

“Because Gael is trying to flirt with me, and I want him to understand I have an abundance of pretty faces and am immune.”

“Sure, tell that to Haut the next time he’s walking around naked, and you climb him like a tree.” Tris snorts and pats me on top of the head before facing Gael. “But, yeah, no one has ever won Rowe’s heart with flirting, so stop it before you meet the rest of our mates, and they bury you in our witches’ graveyard.”

“Don’t threaten council members,” Mel hisses.

“No, it’s fine.” Unfazed by the threat, Gael smiles. “We’re the intruders here, but hopefully, we’ll be able to win you over. And we’d love to meet your mates.”

“What a wonderful idea!” Mel brightens with excitement. “Why don’t we all have dinner at the big house? We can invite the Brigade, too. Jesse always loves a reason to bake.”

Before I can protest, Gael nods. “That would be wonderful. It would give Rowe and me time to assess where she’s at in her training so we can come up with her first test.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Mel turns to me, expecting me to agree.

And why wouldn’t I? Up until recently, we had an open-door policy and hosted dinners often.

With no way to refuse without drawing suspicion, I relent. “Sure. Sounds great.”

Why not invite the lions straight into my den?