The Lycan's Little Witch
Auteur·e
Harmony S.
Lectures
1,6M
Chapitres
32
Emily is the daughter of a witch and the stepdaughter of a werewolf. When she’s rejected by her mate, she moves into her godmother’s house to continue her training to become the next High Magus.
Three years later, she attends her brother in spells’s welcome ceremony. There, she meets the third prince of the lycan kingdom, Fabian, who claims her as his amore, the fated mate of a lycan.
But can Emily overcome her initial instinct to reject Fabian? Is she ready to heal the heartbreak of the past? Will she survive being kidnapped by the Necromancer and pass the trials sent her way?
Prologue
EMILY
THREE YEARS AGO
“I, Zeke Quill, warrior of the East Moon Pack, reject you, Emily Davis, as my mate.”
Wait, what? Reject…me?
“I…I don’t understand.” I shake my head, not sure what is happening.
Zeke and I had been seeing each other for a few months. According to him, I am his mate.
But as a witch, I wasn’t so sure at first. I was surprised when I started to feel the pull of the mate bond with him. It’s not as dramatically strong on us non-werewolves, but we still feel something.
Ultimately, I wanted to get to know Zeke before making a decision. Wanted us to date and take things slow before deciding to keep or reject our relationship.
We have been spending time together, getting to know each other before making it official.
It’s been going well. I find myself thinking about him in the oddest of moments, wanting to be closer to him, to learn everything about him.
I’m ready to make it official.
I’m ready to commit to our relationship. Our mated bond.
But I guess he thinks differently.
“But you said we were mates. That you felt the connection between us. I-I was starting to feel it too.” I reach for him, not understanding where this is coming from.
He takes a step back—away from me.
“Why?” I manage to squeak out.
“Because you’re a hexer,” he says with a shrug.
I cringe. Hexer? No one’s been called that since… It’s an insult. The worst insult you can call a witch.
“But I’m not,” I whisper. “I’m a witch.”
Zeke rolls his eyes. “Hexer, witch. They’re the same thing. And I could never have a hexer as a mate.”
Hexer, I mouth silently, not believing he used the word so casually.
The word leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.
Hexer was the term used to describe witches and warlocks over a hundred years ago, during the time of the Necromancer, long before either of us were born.
It was a fearful time in the supernatural community. Death and destruction rained down on beings of all kinds.
Fearful of the Necromancer’s power, other supernaturals began to call all magic users “hexer” because, in their eyes, magic users only left destruction in their path.
The word became taboo when witches and warlocks helped defeat the Necromancer. Nowadays, anyone who speaks the word cruelly dislikes magic users.
I stare at Zeke, still not believing the word rolled off his tongue like he said it every day. I guess racism is more prominent in the supernatural world than I thought.
I look around the park, glad we are alone. The last thing I need is an audience to see the cruel way he’s dismissing me, like I’m beneath him.
My arms wrap around my middle, the pains in my stomach growing with each sneer he sends my way.
I take a step back. I need to get away from him. Away from this hurt tearing through me.
“A-all right, I-I accept your rejection,” I stutter, trying not to cry.
Giving me a quick nod, he leaves me. The rustling of the leaves is the only sound in his wake.
I watch as he walks away, my eyes welling with tears.
I was looking forward to having a mate. I always thought it was pretty cool that there is a soulmate waiting for all of us. It means that there is someone for everyone.
I guess those dreams are fake.
After all, he just rejected me because of what I am. But I’m not a hexer. I’m a witch! There’s a difference.
My eyes track him as he makes his way to the gate and out to the street. He doesn’t even look back.
A sob escapes my lips, but I try to hold it together. He didn’t even look ashamed for rejecting me or calling me hexer.
I don’t understand how he can just walk away so callously. My heart is being ripped in two, and I feel like I want to throw up.
I don’t know how long I stand there, but eventually night falls, and I force myself to move.
As I walk around the pack lands, I notice glares and dirty looks from everyone I pass.
I can’t hear what they are saying, but I need to know. I need to know how far the news of my rejection has spread.
I cast a spell in my mind to heighten my hearing, allowing me to listen to the gossip as I head home.
“Hey, it’s her,” a soft whisper says.
“Yeah, she’s the one that rejected Zeke, the poor guy.”
“I heard she rejected him because she thought he was weak.”
“I heard it was because she’s been sleeping around.”
“Zeke said he was excited to accept her, but she turned him down.”
“What a bitch!”
My eyes widen and fill with tears. I can’t believe it. Those are lies. They are all lies!
Zeke rejected me because I am a witch. He even called me a hexer!
Maybe it’s a good thing he rejected me. Maybe I can find someone better.
I can only hope.
