Twice Tempted: Between Two Alphas (Mia and Cameron)

Chapter 6

Chapter Six

I head toward my car and realize … “If they’re following me–”

“Your home is warded, and I’m leaving now. I’ll be there in ten. I’m cloaking the kids. They’ll love

coming over to Auntie Morgan’s house for a sleepover.”

Morgan has magic–and all of the trappings she needs for her spells at her home. A mini-mansion

outside the city limits in a gated community that’s inhabited by most of her coven. There isn’t a wolf,

vampire or demon dumb enough to take on a whole coven.

I met Morgan not long after I moved into the Bay Area. Pregnant with twins, I needed a midwife–of the

supernatural variety. Much as wolf packs are recognizable if you know what to look for, so too are

witches.

Morgan hadn’t pried or questioned when a lone she-wolf waddled up to her in line at a Starbucks. I told Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

her I needed a midwife referral. She’d taken one look at my very swollen belly and said, “We’ll figure it

out.”

I had not encountered much kindness in the time since I left my pack, and I treasured Morgan more for

it. She didn’t owe me anything, and yet, she’d befriended me. And she adores my children. If she set to

cloak them, then whatever spell she cast would keep them from being seen. Like me, Morgan works in

the human world. She’s in biopharmaceuticals and she does research for a leading beauty corporation

that is controlled by her coven.

Wolves didn’t have a need for fancy creams or anti-aging cosmetics. Our bodies regenerate naturally.

Witches, and humans, however, have to combat the elements and aging.

“Are you sure?” I ask her.

“Yes. We’ll figure it out,” she says to me now, echoing those same words she first said to me when I

was a scared, poor pregnant girl with no prospects and no idea how I’d survive let alone provide for a

family.

“Thank you,” I whisper. My eyes blur with tears.

I get in my SUV and drive quickly out of the complex and onto the highway in the opposite direction of

where I live. In the rearview, I see headlights and traffic. I maneuver around vehicles, changing lanes

frequently, but no cars obviously follow me.

As my gaze shifts in the rearview, I see my son’s snowman stuffie. It’s a holdover from Christmas and

he hasn’t gone to bed without it in months. There are sippy cups in the console and a blanket hanging

out of one of the carseats.

What’s going to happen to them? What’s going to happen to them if something happens to me?

It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done to drive away.

Harder even then being cast out of my pack.

I don’t want to abandon my children. But I can’t draw these predators to our doorstep. And now that it’s

known I’m a rogue, they’ll never be safe until I deal with this situation.

“What are you going to do?” Morgan asks quietly.

One option comes to mind, and it’s very, very risky.

“I have a plan,” I tell her. “But if something happens to me, take care of my babies…”