Page 71 of Hexy Beast

He’s probably tucked away in some hidey-hole with the plan to emerge once his henchmen have lured Darius into what is probably a not-well-thought-out trap. That, obviously, isn’t going to happen, though, so boo-hoo to the duplicitous second-in-command.

I turn to Darius. His jaw is clenched, and his eyes are narrowed into angry slits as he watches the goings-on below.

Nikos is in so much trouble.

Standing, I turn my attention back to Arcadia as I start gathering my magic so it’s at full strength when we make our move. “What’s the plan?”

Darius flinches as if he forgot for a second that I’m here. Fear flashes across his face so fast before he shuts it down, replacing it with an icy neutrality. Startled, I reach out, but he uses his shifter speed to stand and move away before I can make contact.

“No plan,” he says, looking me in the forehead instead of the eyes.

“Great.” About a bazillion what-the-fuck bells are going off in my head, but we can deal with whatever is going on later. First, we rescue Artemis. “I can improvise.”

“You aren’t coming with me,” he says, his tone colder than Alaska in January. “This is pack business, and one way or another, after tonight there won’t be a need for our marriage of convenience.”

Won’t be a need?

Marriage of convenience?

The WTF bells turn into eardrum-splitting wails. Did he get knocked in the head so hard during his fight with Nikos that he got a concussion? Why are we having this discussion again? I stride over to him and go up on my tiptoes to get a better look at his eyes, checking for any wonkiness.

He retreats again. “What are you doing?”

“Checking you for a concussion.”

“I don’t have one,” he says, sounding more like his usual snarly self. “Your sisters are taking care of the Council witches, and even if Aunt Artemis is unharmed, Nikos isn’t going to be breathing after all this, so there’s no more danger of him ransoming you off or worse.” He pauses his rant for a breath and drops his gaze to my feet. “Because of all that, there’s no reason for us to get married.”

Okay, I’m not gonna lie. That declaration hurts like a series of vicious, hard pecks on the hand from Barkley (I told you he is evil). But I’m not buying it. If Darius really felt that way, why would he be acting all squirrelly all of a sudden, unable to stand still, pulling on his right ear, and grinding his teeth? The man is usually an unmovable object while I’m the stream, always twisting and flowing.

Darius Aetos is lying.

“No reason at all?” I ask, moving toward him, ready to do whatever it takes to get to the bottom of this.

He matches me step for step, just going the opposite direction that I am. “No.”

“Then I guess I’ll just come along to watch.” I shrug my shoulders all casual, as if my not joining in the fight is even an option. “Maybe you’ll need a hex or two.”

“There’s too many of them. You could get hurt.” There’s that flash of anxiety-laced fear again. “Go home, witch.”

And that’s when it dawns on me. He thinks this is a suicide mission. He’ll free Artemis. He’ll do what he can to break the Council’s control on the other werewolves in the pack. He’ll fight Nikos to the death. He’ll do it all. He just doesn’t think he can make that happen while still making it out alive.

I don’t bother to even attempt to hold in my snort. Like I am ever going to let that happen.

“Well, unless you figure out how to stop me from doing something I want to do, you’re stuck with me, Grumps,” I say, crossing my arms and lifting my chin in challenge. “Anyways, you forgot about the proximity spell. Where you go, I go.”

Darius stills for a moment and then yanks off one of the knotted leather cuffs tied around his wrist. It’s a faded burnished brown now, but there are spots where the leather’s original purple sheen is still there. Interwoven with the leather is a single metallic purple string that glitters in the moonlight. It’s the same shade as the Sherwood magic.

“Aunt Artemis gave me this when she gave me the Kardia tattoo on my shoulder. She said I’d need it someday and to never take it off.” He drops the cuff into my palm and folds my fingers over it. “If anything is the charm keeping you tethered to me, this is it. Now there’s nothing to tie you to me. Go home, Effie Sherwood—your home.”

The leather is warm in my hand, and I hold it tight as he strides away.

Like the stoic son of a bitch that he pretends to be, he doesn’t even turn around for what could be one last look at me.

The wolf inside me lets out a low growl, her ears lowered in annoyance.

Yeah, no shit, girl.

An angry heat burns its way up from the soles of my feet, filling me from my toes to my hair follicles, and I pull back my arm and then launch the cuff at Darius, hitting him square in the back of the head. He stops but doesn’t turn to face me.