Lorcan & Evette

Chapter Sixteen

As he stared at her sitting at the kitchen table in a random Alpha's house, Lorcan realised that- for the first time since he'd met his mate- the two of them were talking without a burning desire to kill one another. He was happy to listen, having her confide in him as mates should. He believed she was enjoying having someone listen to her. A voice in the back of his head told him she'd never had someone to share these things with before.

He imagined Annaliese had enough on her plate already. As for this 'Seth', Lorcan didn't know enough about his character to be the judge of that.

What he did know, however, was that Castle Solum wasn't ruled by feelings. That castle was a place where guiltiness and conspiracy ran rife.

"I hate to burst your bubble, Lorcan," She said, still messing around with her beans. "But you and I are never going to be allies. You can't beat a war that's older than both of us put together."

For someone so in tune with the future, he was surprised she was so behind in her thinking. So pessimistic.

"You never know. Stranger things have happened."

"I don't like it."

"That doesn't surprise me."

She nearly smiled.

"Tell me more."

He was waiting for the perfect moment to snag both of her hands.

"There're different wars, but I think they all link somehow. Maybe they're fighting for the same thing. There's fire in some. Well, most of them. And there's death in nearly all of them." She closed her eyes. "It makes the dreams extra grisly. Sometimes I wake up and feel like I'm on fire."

He held the hand he'd snagged tighter. "Is there no way to take them away?"

"I don't want them to go away," She said defensively. "Just those ones. I like the other ones. I like knowing what's to come. It's just..." She sighed. "Seeing the future has saved my ass more times than you could ever imagine."

She had him to save her ass now. No one would hurt her. If that meant scenting her drinks to whiff out poison, then that was what he'd do.

Besides, he could do a taste test if needs be. A poison could take his witch out for good, but the most it could do to him was put him out of the field for three to four business days.

"Evie?" She glanced up at him. Her eyes were glossing over again. "Tell me about your life."

"Which one? The human life you look down on or my witch life that you hate?"

So the damage ran deep. There was no time like the present to try to fix it.

"I don't hate your witch life—and it's not a case of me looking down on your 'human' life. I don't think you thought it through properly." He held her hand even tighter. The sparks of her touch were soothing him. "Everyone you've known and loved over the last thirty years will be gone or dead in the next thirty. It seems to me that you've been courting your own heartbreak."

He had a point there. But she'd known this. It didn't matter.

"Which life?" She pressed.

"Anything. Just tell me about yourself."

"There's nothing to say," She said, almost seeming sad. "I was bred for the war rooms. Up until thirty years ago, war and planning is all I've ever known."

His eyes started to widen. "Did you never have a family?"

Someday, he'd show her more. He'd prove to her that she could have more. War would be a thing of the past for his witch.