Night fell faster than expected, and just as promised, Mother Thessara arrived with the witch in tow.
"Listen carefully," she said, her voice edged with warning. "You work quickly, and you work once. She will not come back a second time."
Her eyes narrowed. "Do nothing to draw attention. If you stir the wrong eyes, I will not shield you. When youâre done, sheâll be nearby to take her home." She meant the Nova who had accompanied them.
Thessaraâs gaze lingered a beat longer. "As I said before, do not make me regret this. Now go."
"Follow me," Griffin told the witch, and she obeyed without hesitation.
She was dressed in a full cloak that hid her entirely, the hood shadowing her face, and making her indistinguishable from the Novas who served in the temple. Hence no one spared her a second glance even if they were to encounter her.
They walked until Thessara and the Nova were only fading silhouettes behind them. The corridor narrowed as they approached the quarters and were almost at their destination when Griffinâs voice cut through the silence.
"How good are you at glamouring?"
"Glamouring? Is that what weâre doing?" the witch asked curiously.
Griffin stopped dead in his tracks. In the next heartbeat, his hand clamped around her neck, lifting her clean off the ground. His eyes burned amber, his wolf rising just beneath the surface, the growl in his chest vibrating through her bones.
"You are here to serve me. When I ask you something, you answer. And if you so much as breathe a word of what you see in this room to anyoneâ" his grip tightened, "âyouâre already dead. Are we clear?"
The witchâs face flushed red, her hands clawing at his wrist, nodding frantically to show she understood.
Griffin released her, letting her collapse onto the floor. She gasped and coughed, dragging in air as though sheâd just been drowning and just broke through the surface of water.
Towering over her, Griffin asked again, his tone as sharp as a blade. "How good are you at glamouring?"
"Quite good," she rasped.
Satisfied, Griffin turned and stepped into the room. She didnât need to be told twice and scrambled after him.
The scent of sex hit her hard. Although Griffin had tidied up the place and Roman and Violet had been at their best behavior, knowing they were expecting a visitor, it still didnât erase the scent entirely. In fact it seemed to cling to them, announcing to the whole world they were under the influence of the mating fever.
As soon as the witchâs gaze fell on Violetâs gaze, her breath hitched and she froze on the spot. That slightly pointed ear. There was only creatures with such detail â
Bang!
She nearly jumped out of her skin. Griffin had slammed the door shut with enough force to make the walls hum. The message was clear: stop staring and start working.
The witch quickly lowered her hood, raven-black hair spilling free. "Hello. Iâm Janice."
"Nice to meet you, Janice," Violet replied evenly, making no move to offer her own name.
It was obvious to everyone that Janice was confused as hell the moment her gaze shifted to Roman who sat close beside Violet on the bed, one arm wrapped possessively around her waist. Sheâd already seen the mating rune on Griffin and Violetâs necks and assumed they were mates. So why was another man sitting that close, acting like he belonged there? Mates were territorial.
What Janice didnât know was that Roman and Violet were wearing shirts that hide the rune on their body. Without that mark visible, she could only guess. Still, she kept her face carefully neutral, choosing not to ask questions that might get her killed.
"Iâm guessing you want me to hide the ear," Janice said cautiously. The memory of Griffinâs hand crushing her throat was still fresh enough to make her weigh every word before it left her mouth.
"Not just that," Griffin replied. "Hide her scent, dull her eyes, make her hair shorter, and her skin less shiny. Simply make her human."
"This is what she looks like." Roman pulled a folded sketch from his pocket and handed it over. Theyâd lost their phone in the fightâa blessing in disguise, since it meant they couldnât be tracked.
Janice studied the sketch, then nodded. "I can work with that."
She stepped forward, but froze when Romanâs low growl rumbled through the air. His eyes locked on her with distrust and warning. She was a witch, after all, and witches and werewolves had never been a comfortable mix.
"If you donât mind," she said carefully, "I need to work my magic."
"Itâs alright," Violet squeezed Romanâs thigh, a gesture the witch saw as well and kept her mouth shut. Then Violetâs eyes were on Janice now. "Donât worry, she wonât try anything stupid."
Janice seem to be about Violetâs age, but she still shuddered from the look in Violetâs eyes.
The witch calmed her breath, forcing herself to sound professional as Violet rose and faced her.
"What do I do?" She asked.
"You do nothing but concentrate. As I work, I donât want you moving at all because itâll disrupt the glamour. Closing your eyes usually works best."
Violet didnât wait for further instruction; her eyes slid shut.
"You might feel my magic as a strange pull or tingle. Donât resist it." Janice hadnât even begun, still explaining the process, when, call it instinct, Violet suddenly pictured herself exactly as she used to look.
A sharp inhale broke the air.
"Holy shit..." someone breathed.
"Is sheâ?" another voice began.
"Glamouring," Janice answered, her voice edged with disbelief.
The air around them shifted, alive with unfamiliar energy. Violet opened her eyes to find everyone staring at her as if theyâd just seen a ghost.
"What?" Violet asked.
Roman smiled. "You just glamored yourself, baby."
"I did?" Violet was surprised, her hands flying to her face. She touched her ear only to find out there was no difference.
"Itâs still pointed." She frowned.
"But we donât see it that way," Griffin said, a hint of pride in his voice.
A small grin tugged at Violetâs lips. She was starting to get the hang of this.
Suddenly, Janice said,"Youâre more powerful than I thought, Violet."