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male populace. It’s begging for trouble.”
    Maybe she’s a runaway. I really want to demand answers, but being in her company for the last couple hours has taught me not to push. Kamra loves to push back. She is mine now, irrevocably. I need to know if there will be danger in the future. While wolves mate for life, witches, not so much. I wonder if she at least knows that much about her own background. Having no coven, as unheard of as it sounds, means she is probably unaware of the nature of certain species. I intend to keep her. No matter how ignorant she is, I know damn well she’s aware of the bond that’s transpired between us. Although the subject hasn’t fully come up yet, basically because I don’t want to talk about it, it’s best I find out as much as possible about my mate before Rollo, Fillin and Seff join us at the cabin. The rest of the pack will be warned to stay away for a while.
    “For instance,” I continue, driving ever faster, “a little witch might think it okay to cast a lulling seduction spell on a bar full of natural wolves, not knowing she is very likely to end her night face down and ass up.”
    That’s probably a step too far. Fuck, and I am trying to be all nice and shit.
    “Wow, you’re seriously not going to let that go, are you?” she huffs. “I thought you were werewolves. I’ve yet to come across a werewolf I can’t handle.”
    “Come across a few, have you?” I don’t like that one fucking bit. I should calm down. “Now, see, this is where adult supervision comes in. It teaches little girls were real dangers lie.”
    I swear I want to hunt down every mongrel that ever dared looked at her with lust and rip them apart. Maybe I will make a project of that. Yeah, I like that.
    “Yeah, well, we aren’t all blessed with covens or dens or whatever.”
    I’ve managed to irritate her, but the sadness in her words is hard to tolerate. My woman should never be sad. Pissed, absolutely. Kamra is adorable as hell when she’s pissed. Sad is completely different. Sad means hurt. I’m hardwired to kick the ass of anything that dares to hurt her in any way. Whose ass do I kick for her not having a coven?
    “Why don’t you have a coven, Kamra ?” Dancing around the issue isn’t working, so I decide to get right to the heart of the matter. “What happened to them?”
    I’m imagining all kinds of tragedy. I’m not at all prepared for her answer.
    “I imagine the coven my mother belonged to is still around somewhere, but I have no idea where that might be.” The answer is glib on the surface, but by the goddess, the pain underneath is heavy. It laces every word, tearing me apart inside.
    I am going to hunt down that fucking coven. I will make them pay for every second of loneliness, ignorance and pain she’s ever endured. I will rip them slowly limb from limb.
    “My mom was kicked out of her coven for abusing her gifts, which is to say she got pregnant without permission and outside the acceptable male pool of candidates. The elders didn’t approve of the Voodoo mambo she hooked up with. They called him a practitioner of unclean magic. So they cast her away.”
    Okay, that explained the no coven bit. But surely her parents would’ve taught her something?
    “Turns out the mambo had no interest in being a daddy...again. He apparently has quite a few little witches somewhere out there. Nor was he very keen on his wife finding out about his hot young piece on the side.” The bitterness she is still feeling is palpable in the interior of the car. So thick I can fucking reach out and touch it.
    I have to keep my tongue still, afraid if I say anything she may stop. I need to know her story—all of it. If there is a shadow of a chance I can make things right for her, at least by way of her family or lack thereof, I will. If not, I just have to make sure there is never a cause for her to feel alone again. Her happiness is now my main concern, even above my pack. That’s what it