Chapter 2

Mason's body reacted faster than his mind could process. The moment the woman glanced back at him, her eyes widened, and he could see them much clearer now.

The color was even more impressive, like a glass of champagne. Mason knew she was going to fall when she looked over her shoulders. He quickly moved through the tables and caught her before she hit the ground. Wrong move. The smell of winter blossoms invaded his nostrils as he pulled her hard against his chest. Rodin, his werewolf, stirred happily in his mind. This must mean she's my…

"Mate," Rodin said in the back of his mind.

Mason nearly pushed the woman away the moment Rodin said those words. His second chance mate was right in front of him. Of course, he would meet her now. It was like fate telling him everything was coming together.

"Hey, what was that for," she said, looking up at him with her hands on her hips. "I didn't need your help in the first place."

Her eyebrows furrowed, but the longer Mason stared, the softer her face became. She was…beautiful. She was thick and curvy, and her legs and arms showed she was in good shape. He saw the curve of her hips as her hands rested gently on them, her lips pursed a bit when she frowned, and the sweet tone of her voice even though she looked a bit peeved. Nothing like Melania's beauty, but his heart skipped a beat. He didn't even hear what she said next.

"What," Mason asked, clearing his thoughts.

"I said thank you, but I can handle it from here."

She moved as if she was leaving as Rodin nagged him to keep her there a little longer. A sweet smell came from the basket, and by her clothes, he knew he could come up with a conversation starter.

"I see you're all out of pastries," Mason said, motioning toward the basket. "Pity, I was in the mood for something sweet."

The light breeze couldn't combat the heat he felt being so close to this stranger. He watched as she took a deep breath and sniffed the air before smiling. Was she scenting me? Mason wondered. Amused at the thought.

"What's the name of your bakery? Maybe I can drop by and get more," he said, never once breaking eye contact with her.

"Oh, it's...um...Pi-Piece of Heaven is the name," she finally croaked out.

Mason smiled. He was affecting her, and he couldn't deny how satisfied he felt about it. "And if I wanted you to help me find something sweet, what would I call you?"

She cleared her throat and stood up straighter, trying to be assertive. "Well, Mister…"

He smiled again. "Mason."

"Mason. I'm Xenia."

"Xenia." Mason let the name roll across his lips like he was tasting it. "Beautiful."

He picked up the basket that had fallen to the ground and handed it back to Xenia. Their hands touched briefly, and she gasped. Something shot through her body like an electrified current. She quickly pulled her hand back, letting the basket drop once again. She noticed his reaction was the same.

What sort of werewolf power did this guy have, and why was it affecting me like this? Xenia asked herself. It bugged her. A commotion in the bar grabbed Mason's attention briefly, which gave Xenia time to escape. She ran away and didn't look back. She knew if she did, he would still be standing in the doorway, watching her, and she was sure it would've made her go back.

Mason watched Xenia's dark, bushy ponytail bounce around as she disappeared into the crowd. Immediately he felt the longing he hadn't felt since Melania. The feeling itself pulled at his heart. He shook the thoughts away. I don't have time for this.

"Done playing with your food," the woman joked the moment he got back to the table.

"Funny, Lillian," Mason said, sitting down beside Lillian. "Let's get back to business, shall we?"

"Of course, Alpha," Lillian said with a mischievous smile. He knew that meant she wasn't going to let this go. "Where is the scroll?"

The warlocks sitting across from them looked at each other. Mason hated dealing with warlocks. They were liars and slippery little bastards. He always had to be on his toes around them.

"Where's our payment," the warlock asked.

Lillian pulled out a bag of elves' ears and threw it on the table. Getting five pairs of elven ears was difficult, but being as skilled as Lillian was with a blade, it was done quickly. She wanted to get this over with and get out of there fast. She always disliked this city and how crowded it was with other species. Everyone would be dead or changed into a werewolf if it was up to her. Fool's choice.

The warlocks handed over the scroll. This is what Mason has been searching for for a couple of years. Meeting his second chance mate and finding the last piece to the puzzle made him feel optimistic. It won't be long until he has her back in his arms. Mason opened the scroll slightly to see it was written in a language he couldn't understand, but he didn't care as long as it did what it needed to. He gave the scroll to Lillian, who opened the scroll just a bit before giving Mason the nod.

"This is it. A soul transfer spell," Lillian whispered, primarily to herself. She was a dabbler in the dark arts, but a spell like this was priceless and challenging. "Now we just need the right vessel."

"A strong one is preferred," the warlock reminded Mason.

"Like a blood relative," Lillian said hopefully.

"No," they said in unison.

It was a bit creepy as Mason and Lillian shared a look. Lillian was banking on being the vessel for him. She would gladly give up her life for Melania and for Mason.

"Unless that person is also connected to him. Then there's a chance the transfer might succeed," the warlock said with an emphasis on 'might.'

The table went quiet. Lillian perked up at this information, knowing what the warlock was suggesting. Mason must mark her as his chosen mate. Create the seal. The bond between his soul and hers.

"So," Mason started, interrupting her thoughts, "if a mate was involved, that would be sufficient?"

Lillian looked at Mason but quickly masked the shock on her face. Mate? Was he thinking the same as her? It's not like this question hadn't crossed her mind many times, and Melania would be somewhat pleased.

"A chosen mate would be wonderful, but a true mate would be even better," the warlock smiled. "Do you have someone in mind?"

Of course, he did. Mason thought of Xenia. How her champagne-colored eyes stared up at him and stirred something in him he thought he had lost long ago. He could barely hide the ghost smile spreading across his face.

"Let us worry about that," Lillian said, getting up from the table. "Alpha, I think it's time for us to go. Too many humans in this bar. It's starting to smell. Besides, we have other business to attend to."

Lillian looked around with disdain as more people started coming in, including some bandits being loud and boisterous. She didn't like being in crowded places and hated being around humans even more. She saw them as useless, weak creatures. The blight of the world. She would be okay if every human disappeared off the face of the earth. It would surely make her happy. She moved towards the door and almost got splashed with ale by the bandits fooling around near the entrance. They looked at her and started laughing.

"Sorry there, sweetheart. Though wet looks good on you," one shouted while the rest laughed.

"Good one, Donnie," another laughed.

She hated them all as she stared at them. Starting with the woman that caught Mason's eye earlier. Lillian saw a connection when Mason told her they had a little stalker. They thought she might be a spy from the Royal Kingdom momentarily, but she looked a bit too plain to Lillian. The woman didn't notice, but Lillian kept her eyes on her as the woman stared at Mason. She could feel jealousy making her want to sniff this woman out and gut her, but she already had a full plate.

"Would you like more, sweetheart?"

Lillian turned her nose at the bandit, but then a plan formulated in her mind. Though she hated them, she knew one thing that she actually liked. They were expendable and quickly paid off to do small tasks. A task that could eliminate the competition even if there wasn't one, but Lillian couldn't leave that to chance.