I Just Kidnapped My Twin Alpha Mates

Chapter Four (Part Two): Marcel and the Cake of Wisdom

"So that," Elliot finishes, "Is how Cassandra royally fucked us over."

We sat ourselves around the long wooden table in Marcel's study back in the antique store. Katrina played with the living stir stick of her late, and I blocked out Elliot's insults by guzzling down the piece of cake Marcel had brought me for my birthday. My head, thank god, was feeling much more pain free since Marcel broke out some of his cave troll hoarding magic and found me the ancient vial of such and such that worked as a miracle injury cure. Apparently, Marcel had told me, Queen Elizabeth the first herself had used its contents as a miraculous hangover cure.

But let me tell you, guzzling that molasses textured goop made me want to puke. Twice. Unfortunatly, each time I did, it landed just clear of Elliot's side of our mutual bathroom. Nothing like a large slice of cake to wash out your mouth. I pondered the science behind cake being a virtual cure all. The room grew silent. I looked up from my cake gulping, and realized everyone had their eyes on me, waiting for my side of the story.

I set down the fork. "Look. Elliot pretty much got the events right. That doesn't mean that I royally fucked us over. Elliot and I have been taking clients since we moved in with you, Marcel. This one just happens to be quite a bit more dangerous than most, and very much more invasive and hellbent on beating the crap out of me magically if I don't get it what it wants. The other stuff: the mate, the epipen, the ice cream debacle, all of that was just incredibly bad luck."

"So did you build yourself a luck charm?" Marcel's frown made his mouth almost disappear entirely.

"No." Come to think of it, I should have.

"Now your mate attacking you is not your fault. That will never be your fault. Going forward, talking to or hexing your mates might help you avoid any unwanted confrontation in the future."

That sounded like an intelligent thing to do, so I began rolling lavender and camellia into my ring old.

"Did you do any research on the hag before you set out to get her an incredibly powerful magical object with world ending capacity?"

"No." Very quickly, the possibility of it all being my fault exploded in my head.

"Or consider not helping in the first place?"

"No."

"Or alert a more powerful witch cousin?"

"No."

"Or investigate your teacher before you visited?"

"No."

"Or check the werewolf migration patterns to make sure you wouldn't run into any unwanted friends on the way to the school?"

"No."

I got another long side eye from Elliot, which finished tipping my scales. "Excuse me." I set down the cake, turned on my heel, and stumbled up to my bedroom, where I just hoped everything wasn't destroyed. When I got there, the space behind the door seemed quiet. That freaked me out more than if my mate had decided to start rabid style pounding on the walls. With it quiet, I had no idea what to expect when I opened it, so I prepared for the worst.

Death.

And that meant popping another gem from my back teeth and holding my rings out in front of me for quick contact. Steadying myself against the opposite wall, I took down the first of several containment hexes on my door and threw it open, bracing for impact.

Nothing. I took a few steps forward and peered inside. Most things seemed undisturbed. A few vials of random potions experiments lay smoking on the floor, and by the window, something that looked remarkably like a pile of blood seeped into my carpet. Whoever he was, my mate was going to be footing the bill for a mass scrubbing, what with the acid, the turmeric, and the bodily fluids. Still, none of it gave me any clues as to where he actually was. I checked the binding enchantments. Every one except the locking charm which I had undone was still intact, meaning that somehow, somewhere, the asshole was still in my room. Theoretically.

Seeing as I could either check every crevice and most probably get suck up on by a very vicious wolf, or lure him out to me, I said "Where are you?"

A mournful voice with a British accent echoed from the depths of my closet. "I'm so sorry."

"Why are you in my closet?"

"The copious amounts of pineapple and St. John's Wort. I can't believe I—"

After casting a secondary lock on the closet door, I plopped down on the floor, away from any spillage. "Luck and Mental Health?"

"You have no idea how sorry I am—"

I cut him off. "Look, before you get into your whole mushy gushy monologue which I'm sure you've been preparing for hours, it's not ok, I don't forgive you, and I don't accept your apology. You assaulted me with a deadly weapon, and if I wanted to, I could have you charged with aggravated battery and sent to jail, which I definitely would do if an evil hag wasn't coming to kill all of us, because unlike you, I don't aspire to hurt people or be a murderer."

"You should."

"Aspire to hurt people and be a murderer? That's fucked up and you don't get to tell me what to do."

"No, I meant throw me in jail, and you're right. I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing, actually own up to your mistakes, and sacrifice your martyr complex violently."

"Yes."

Less than two minutes into this conversation, and I already wanted to stab myself in the eye with a spoon. "Ok, shut up and let me talk."

Silence emanated from under the closet. Good.

"You will speak when asked a direct question, otherwise your going to listen to me, do you understand?"

"Yes."

I got up and started pacing. "What's your name?"

"Xander. Lost Mountain Pack. Betablood." He answered.

"Why do you care about the pineapple and the St. John's Wart?"

I could hear the embarrassment in his words, and it gave me great pleasure to imagine his face turning so read I could convince Bel it was a tomato. "Calling spells."

"Ahhhh. Extra strength Xanax. Look, come out of the closet because I want to change and I can make you some, and then I'll find some place else to put you where you're not sitting on my not so expensive shoe collection."

A rustling from inside made me think he was considering my proposition (although if he decided against it, I was just going to drug him with a body binder then lock him in a storeroom so I could change. However none of that actually happened, because at that moment, the street below my window erupted in werewolves. And when I say erupted, I mean erupted.