The Lycan's Little Witch

FABIAN

The most beautiful hazel eyes I’ve ever seen widen in shock, and, with a clatter, the cake falls to the floor.

“W-what?” her sweet voice asks.

“Amore,” I repeat.

“N-no…,” she whispers.

No?

Did she just say no?

My heart, which was filled with joy only a moment ago, breaks open.

The scent of strawberries and cream has haunted me for weeks, ever since I visited the Academy campus for a walkthrough of their new training facility.

That day was chaotic. My older stepbrother, Kai, the Crown Prince of the Lycans, was supposed to attend. But he’d been dealing with…issues.

Whatever. It meant I had to go in his place.

I was walking across campus with Kyle, my best friend and assistant, when I caught the most fantastic scent imaginable.

The scent was faint, but I tried to follow it.

My inner beast was getting agitated. I could feel him wanting to take over. We couldn’t shift here, but I felt him trying to break free.

But the closer I got to the scent, the more I understood.

“Amore!” my beast growled.

Before I could stop him, my beast took over, controlling my human form. I ran across campus, ignoring Kyle’s shouts.

The beast followed the faint scent of our beloved. Our love. They were here somewhere. My beast ran everywhere, desperate to find the source. Desperate to find our mate.

Every nook and cranny that had even the slightest hint of our amore was searched, but we didn’t find them.

Dejected, my beast retreated into the corners of my mind, allowing me to regain control of my body.

I felt his anger, his sadness. We were one and the same. We both wanted our amore, but they were gone.

I had been looking forward to today, hoping my amore would be at the ceremony.

And here she is, standing in front of me.

“What’s your name?” I ask.

“Huh?”

“Your name. What is it?”

“Emily. My name is Emily.”

“Emily,” I purr.

Her cheeks flush; they’re almost as red as her hair. This girl… She doesn’t smell human, but there’s a floral scent under the smell of strawberries. A witch, perhaps. They usually have an herbal scent because of their connection to the forest.

“Are you, by any chance, a witch?” I ask as I stuff my hands in my pants pockets. My fingers itch to touch her, and I know if they’re free I won’t be able to resist putting my hands on her.

“H-how?” she stammers. “Are you a werewolf? No, your aura is stronger than that.”

I smile. She’s smart. “That’s correct, my love. I am a lycan. Prince Fabian Hilton, the third prince of the Lycan Kingdom, and you are my amore.”

“No, I’m not. I can’t be.” She starts to back away. “You must have me confused with someone else. I can’t be your amore…right?”

I step forward, grabbing hold of her hand, then bring my face close to hers. “You are my amore,” I whisper to her. “And no matter what, you can’t escape me.”

Her face pales.

“Emily!” a voice calls out, and we both turn as a tall, young man runs toward us.

He looks between me and my amore, and his expression hardens. “Who are you? What are you doing to her?” he demands.

This little brat. How dare he?

“Theo!” Emily scolds.

Theo? As in Theodore, the son of the High Magus? Are they that close that she would address him so casually?

A growl escapes my lips. My beast is angry, and so am I. I feel him start to take over.

“Why are you addressing him so casually?” I ask her.

She looks back at me. “W-what?”

“You heard me,” I hiss. “Why are you talking to him like that? Is he your boyfriend?”

“W-what? No! It’s nothing like that!” She shakes her head.

“Emily!” a woman’s voice calls out.

Now what?

We both turn as High Magus Cheryl and a man and a woman walk toward us. The woman takes one look at me and backs away. She loses her balance and falls back into the man’s arms.

“Mom!” my amore cries, struggling against my tight hold of her hand.

Mom? That’s her mother?

She must’ve been overwhelmed by my aura. It’s happened before. Lycans are rare, and very powerful. Our auras are unique and can be staggering to those with magical powers.

I use this moment to calm my beast down. I feel him relax, but only a little.

“We must calm down. Our amore’s mother is suffering from our aura. Be calm. I will take care of this,” I tell him.

Reluctantly, he gives me control but growls a quick threat, “She is our amore. You better not lose her!”

“Never,” I tell him.

With that, he waits and watches through my eyes.

I need to handle this quickly before my beast becomes even more impatient than he already is.

“Please,” she pleads, “let me go. I need to help my mom.”

“She’s fine, amore. She was just overwhelmed by my aura. It happens all the time,” I assure her.

“Let go of her,” Theodore demands.

This guy…

Cheryl steps between us as I’m about to talk some sense into this fool.

“Fabian, please. There is no need for this. Theodore is just worried like you and everyone else here.”

Cheryl has always been the voice of reason. Just this once, I’ll allow it. However, I do something that shocks everyone in the room, including myself.

I pull Emily toward me. My arm is secure around her waist, trapping her to my body. I release her hand and grip her head, tilting it to the side. I feel her struggle, but I ignore it.

My canines elongate, and I bite the area between her neck and shoulder. I don’t penetrate deep enough to leave a full mark, but it’s enough of a mark to ensure that everyone knows she’s mine.

She screams, and her body goes limp.

As I lick away the blood, it leaves an iron taste in my mouth. Within seconds, the wound is healed.

I let her head fall against my chest as I put my other hand under her legs, lifting her into my arms. I place a soft kiss on top of her head.

“Cheryl, I must see my amore is safe. I’ll return within the hour for the rest of the ceremony and to perform my duties as the Lycan Clan representative,” I state. “Is that acceptable for you?”

“Is she really your amore?” Cheryl asks.

“What kind of question—”

“Just answer.”

Cheryl’s eyes harden, and I know not to cross her. I may be a strong lycan, but she’s the High Magus and her powers are known, and feared, among the supernaturals.

“She is.”

Cheryl nods. “Then take care of my goddaughter. She’s had a rough few years. Don’t force her to do anything she doesn’t want to do, including accepting your mating mark.”

My eyes widen in surprise. Her goddaughter?

“There have been signs,” Cheryl continues, “of great things for her. Trials, battles. But I know she can conquer them. There is a power in her, greater even than mine.

“You need to respect her. Honor her. And let her grow into the witch she is meant to be.”

Witches, they always speak in riddles.

Yet I know I must accede to Cheryl’s wishes, or she’ll never let me leave with my amore. “You have my word that I will take care of Emily. I won’t let anything happen to her,” I say with all the seriousness I can muster.

Cheryl gives Emily one last look before turning to me. “I’ll speak to organizers. We’ll delay the ceremony until you return. But be quick. I plan to call a meeting with the representatives of each species after the ceremony. There are rumblings that the Necromancer has returned. We need to make plans.”

I nod and walk out of the ballroom. As I carry Emily to my waiting car, I resist the urge to bury my face in her neck and permanently engrave my scent on her. There will be time for that later, I promise myself. No matter what, I will make time for my amore.