Gwen’s hand flexed and ball of blue energy swirled in it. “It’s truly a wonder no one’s yet turned you to ash, Sybil.”
She fluttered her thin fingers. “Kiss-kiss to you, too, Guinevere.” She dropped her voice. “Now get out of my office.”
Gwen gave her one last glare before turning on her heel and striding out of the tiny, one-room office. Olivia hurried after her, half expecting to get a bolt of witch magic in her back as she fled.
Once they were safely in the elevator, heading to the bottom floor, Olivia asked, “Was she telling the truth? Could a powerful enough witch take the bite and survive?”
“She was telling the truth,” Gwen said through her teeth. “But that’s not the kind of risk most witches are going to sign up for. Especially for a shifter.”
“Maybe not most witches,” Olivia said quietly.
Gwen slowly turned to her, eyes wide. “Do not… no! Olivia, you can’t even think about doing something like that!”
But Olivia was thinking about it. Even more, a plan was already forming in her mind.
Jaxson felt the bindings around his wrists before anything else.
Awareness slowly faded in, but he kept his eyes closed, and his body inert. He wanted to jerk up from where he was sitting—some kind of hard surface was under him, probably a chair, hands bound together in front—but he knew better than that. This was his chance to evaluate his situation and remember how he got here before his captor knew he was—
A hard smack across the face whipped his head to the side.
Jaxson blinked his eyes open and turned to glare at whoever had just hit him.
“I juiced you with a stimulant, Jaxson River. Don’t play possum with me.” The man standing before him was mid-thirties, dark suit, clunky not tailored, lean-muscled body, and weasely eyes. Government, for sure. Too soft for military, possibly intelligence.
So, they’d been caught. At least Jaxson was moving up the food chain.
He straightened in the chair, subtly testing his restraints. Hands bound with zip ties in front of him. Legs bound as well, one to each leg of the chair. “I’m sorry, have we met?” Jaxson asked conversationally.
“I’m shocked you don’t remember me,” the man said with a smirk.
Jaxson pulled a fake scowl… but then it clicked. He was one of the men from the alleyway. The ones with the cattle prods. “Ah, yes, the one who brought the toys. Good times, Agent…?”
“You can call me Agent Smith.” Agent Smith chuckled at his own joke.
Jaxson shook his head, supposedly at the awful humor, but he was really using the opportunity to scan his surroundings. His men were bound and unconscious on the ground behind him. Several paramilitary types, probably hired muscle, were stationed around them, armed with holstered pistols. Jaxson couldn’t get a solid count in that short of a sweep, but there were maybe a dozen guards and more shifters than Jaxson had brought with him. Which meant civilians—they must be some of the original prisoners Smith had captured.
Jaxson peered up at the government thug in front of him. “You’re adorable, truly, Agent Smith.” He lifted his bound hands. “But you should know I’m not really into the bondage thing.” Then he focused inward, calling to his wolf. He could easily shift out of the zip ties, then take Smith as a hostage. He’d force the release of his pack and the other prisoners, then escape with whatever transport had brought them here. Only… his wolf was… absent?
That must have shown on his face because Agent Smith’s chuckle grew deeper. “A little surprised are you, River? Not so easy being just a man, is it?”
Shit, shit, shit. A cold flush of fear trickled through Jaxson’s stomach. He turned it into a smile. “I know you’re still working on that being a man part, Agent Smith, so I won’t judge.” Jaxson focused harder, summoning his inner wolf with everything he had, but somehow Smith had disabled his shifting ability—all Jaxson could sense was a distant whimper, muffled, as if his wolf was bound up just like his wrists. But that stirred the magic in his blood, and a whisper of thoughts brushed his mind. At first, he thought the guards were talking behind him, but then he realized… it was his pack.
The humor dropped off Agent Smith’s face. “As fun as this is, let’s get down to business.” He pounded a fist into Jaxson’s face that whipped his head back against the chair. It seriously jarred Jaxson’s focus… which was surely the intent.
He tasted blood in his mouth, which he took a moment to spit out and then glared at Smith. Jaxson had to keep the asshole talking while he sorted this out. “I should have realized you were into the rougher stuff, Agent Smith.” At the same time, he reached out with his mind to his pack. Were they rousing from the sedative enough to help?