Chapter 19

I ’m not sure if it’s Violet’s half-shed tears, the way this feels like a dead end, or how hard Thorin is riding my ass right now. But I decide Violet should know that she’s not alone.

“After Jonas and I took over Mander’s, we went on the search for our families. We knew we would have a claim on a pack with ancestral ties. That’s usually how things work. But the shifter community as a whole is secretive, most delivering their young at home, lying low, the typical supernatural M.O. So we spent a lot of time traveling around North America. Jonas found his half-brother in Toronto, and we stayed there for a bit, but it didn’t work out.”

“Why?” she asks, thoroughly engaged in the story.

“His brother was pack Alpha. It took everything in me to hold back Thorin from challenging him. I told Jonas he could stay with his family, but he chose to follow me instead. Eventually we found a lead, and I met my mother.”

“What was she like?”

“Terrible,” I say with a shake of my head. “She clearly has her addictions. It’s why she was kicked out of the Moon Walker Pack and why my grandfather had no direct Alpha heir to pass the claim to, or at least, I thought. It was passed to Collins instead.”

“The spirit?” she gasps and I nod.

“I didn’t think we were related, but honestly, all the bookkeeping with the pack is absolute shit. He could just as easily be his bastard. Hans, my grandfather, was nearly sixty when my mother was born, and seventy when he passed his claim to Collins. My mother wanted nothing to do with me when I met her, said she didn’t know who my father was. I couldn’t scent her as a shifter either,” I admit.

It’s not even something I told Jonas.

Her brows furrow, and she rubs her slender, pale throat. “It can’t be this coincidental,” she whispers.

“What do you mean?”

“Both of us, ending up at Mander’s, both of our mothers no longer a part of their lineage. Something feels off.”

I break away from looking at her for a moment, letting the breeze from the river caress my face. She’s right, this is all too messed up to not be connected somehow.

“What do we do now?” she asks, looking hopeless and sad.

“Comfort our mate,” Thorin whispers, and for the first time since I’ve reunited with Violet, I agree with Thorin.

“We could go home, try to figure this out, see what Jonas comes up with. Or…”

“Or what?” she asks. The idea of going home doesn’t sound great to her either, even though I know my pack needs order right now. But leaving New Orleans with no answers doesn’t feel right. Leaving while she looks so sad, doesn’t feel right.

“Or we take one day.”

“One day?”

“Where you’re not a witch from the coven who’s trying to ruin my fucking life and I’m not the Alpha of the pack you loathe? Just one day to actually live and then we’ll go back to hating each other tomorrow on our drive back home.”

She blinks at me, her eyes looking a brighter blue from her tears. She doesn’t look at me like she hates me; she looks at me with relief. Like the idea of shedding who she is and what she’s going through for just one day will be the thing she needs.

“Okay, let’s do that. Oh, let me put an illusion on our rings. Other supernaturals won’t be able to see them,” she says, not pulling out her hand, just touching my ring and then her own.

“How do you know it worked?”

“It worked,” she says easily.

“So, what would two completely normal people who don’t hate each other do for the day in New Orleans?”

A smile takes over her face. Not that I care that I put it there, but it should be noted for the record.

“First and foremost, we’re getting on that ferry and getting the best tacos you’ve ever had,” she says, standing and walking, not even caring if I’m following or not.

Just like I found her before, I let the magic between us tighten as I follow my wife to get ferry tickets.

They were indeed the best tacos I’ve ever had. Who would have thought an old gas station in Algiers, of all places?

I hate to admit that I’ve eaten eight, compared to Violet’s three.

“Shit,” she hisses, blotting the side of her mouth. “This might sting,” she says, as her wand taps my knee under the table.

It does sting, but only for a moment. When I glance up, I blink a few times as she flips her sunglasses over her eyes.

The woman in front of me looks nothing like Violet. She’s a redhead with freckles and an even paler complexion.

“What the fuck?” I say, pulling out my phone and flipping it to look at myself. “Seriously?” I ask, looking at myself.

I look like the security guard at the circuit court.

“It’s temporary. I can feel a witch here,” she whispers.

“And you think us looking different will matter?” I ask.

“Yeah, I’d say you not looking like a six-foot-seven beast and me not having identifiable hair and features of a High Priestess is a good call.”

I don’t have anything to say to that, so instead I drink my Coke that came in a glass bottle and consider ordering another taco.

“They’ll still be able to sense us,” I say and she tilts her glasses down. Her blue eyes are the same.

“Will you eat your taco and stop bitching? Maybe we should go home.”

“Miss Delvaux, are you afraid of the coven here?” I ask her, teasing, and she swallows.

“Yes, and if you aren’t, you haven’t met their High Priestess. If you think my grand-mère is a hard ass, Prudence makes her look like a saint. It’s best we go undetected. We definitely won’t be caught dead in the Garden District, which is a shame.”

“Is that where you’d wanna go?” I ask her and she shrugs.

“Doesn’t matter. We could do a swamp tour, a few museums, oh, a ghost tour,” she says with a smirk.

“Could you illusion us?” I suggest, and she tilts her head at me.

“Maybe you’re not a big dumb Alpha after all,” she says. I should be mad, should roll my eyes.

Instead, Thorin is preening in the back of my mind over the fact she said Alpha.

“Let’s finish up here, take the ferry back and find somewhere private where I can make us incognito,” she says, downing the rest of her drink. “Did you get enough to eat? We can get something sweet when we’re on the other side of the river.”

“Thorin is the one who likes sweets,” I tell her, and her brow furrows.

“Did he bring me that cupcake?”

I shrug, wanting to lie, and Thorin pushes at my mind. “You better tell her I gave her that cupcake.”

“Yes, he did.”

“Here, I thought you’d be Dr. Jekyll in this situation. It appears your wolf is.”

“You’re saying I’m Mr. Hyde?” I say with a smirk, and she looks confused. “Hyde is Jonas’ wolf’s name,” I say, not being able to control my laughter. “I’m going to have to start calling him Jekyll.”

That breaks her hard shell as she smiles. “Come on, let’s go roam with the ghosts of the Big Easy.”

“There can’t be that many ghosts,” I say, as we walk down the tree-lined streets back to the ferry.

“You were literally locked in a bedroom by a spirit a few nights ago, and you still don’t believe in ghosts?”

“What’s the difference?” I ask her, not liking that she doesn’t look like herself. The red hair doesn’t suit her, and I just want her to switch us back.

“Well, all sorts of differences. I’m not a medium, but my great aunt Daisy is, though she doesn’t talk. I’ve always wondered if speaking to the dead was the reason for that. But they all seem to understand her without speaking. She pretty much just reads books all the time though, not sure the last time she communed with a spirit.”

She looks both ways, not seeing anyone walking around as she tucks us behind a fence.

“This will tingle, again,” she says, her body so close to mine, as her intricate wand is placed between us and she whispers.

The same tingling sensation flows through me, and when I crane my neck to look down at Violet, she’s back to herself. Her unique two-toned hair fits her better. It makes her blue eyes pop and frames her symmetrical, heart-shaped face.

She’s so close to me right now it’s hard to not make a fool of myself. Despite my rational mind, I can’t help but crave and enjoy her scent. Against my wishes, she’s still my mate and on a biological level, I’m attracted to her scent and looks unlike I’ll ever be to anyone else.

“Where do you hide that thing?” I ask as her wand disappears.

“Be nice to me and maybe I’ll tell you,” she says, grabbing my wrist and dragging me toward the ferry.

Her skin against mine shouldn’t feel as addictive as it is. Thorin has shared a bed with her. She’s pet his fur. He’s made sure to tell me about that multiple times. But her skin against mine feels like an electrical current.

I rip my arm away from her, and she glares as we get on the boat. She automatically picks a seat on the top, her sunglasses on as she looks up to the sky, the breeze blowing her black and white hair.

My wife is beautiful.

It’s the worst realization I’ve ever had.

“Is there something on my face?” she asks, wiping her mouth, and I shake my head.

“No,” I reply, and she slides her sunglasses down to look at me.

“Are you going to be weird all day? We’re living different lives, remember?”

“Right. We’re humans, honeymooners.”

She holds her hand out to the sky, the sun dancing against the sparkle of her ring.

“Gotta say, honey. You have taste,” she jokes as the old woman behind us coos.

“Oh my, are you on your honeymoon?” the old human woman asks.

“We are. He did a great job, didn’t he?” Violet replies.

“How did you two meet?”

“It’s a silly story, really. I’m a nurse and Steve here, came in with syphilis. We got him some antibiotics, but I couldn’t stop thinking about the slutty man who came in for relief, and, well, the rest is history.”

I know my mouth is agape as the old woman’s eyes widen and she seems lost for words.

She turns her head, not wanting to ask any more questions about our faux honeymoon.

“I thought we were in a truce,” I say, feeling amused, even though I should be more pissed off.

“Do you really think in any reality I wouldn’t test your patience?” she says, leaning in. “Mr. Walker, there is no realm where I don’t bust your balls.” She winks and stands as the ferry parks and we get off to enjoy our day hidden away in the Garden District.