The Possessive Alpha
Chapter 57

ELLE POV

A bell rings, signaling our arrival into the deceptively large shop. Plants occupy every space that is not overrun with gems, crystals, herbs, books, alters, and random trinkets. A couch, a loveseat, and a few armchairs are placed around a coffee table where guests can wait.

“I’ll be right with you,” A voice calls from behind a black curtain at the back of the long room. As the boys and Emma decide to sit on the couches while Taylor, Charity, and I wander throughout the store, picking up different odds and ends to look at. Nothing calling to me as I wandered the ambiguous shop.

Until I walk further back, seeing a table with jewelry lining the black fabric. As if an inner force is telling me where to look, my gaze lands on an emerald ring matching my eye color with a gold crescent moon surrounding one half. The stone sitting within is unlike any I had ever seen before. It’s rough and jagged while remaining beautiful and unique. My fingers no longer resist the urge to pick up the delicate piece of jewelry, slipping it onto the middle finger of my left hand like it’s supposed to belong there.

Raising my hand to study how it looked, I cannot deny how natural it felt for this ring to sit on my skin when I had never worn much jewelry before.

“That ring fits nicely on your finger,” says an unrecognizable voice behind me, “almost like it belongs there.” Turning to greet the person, I find a short woman, no taller than five feet, with wild, untamed curls.

“It does, doesn’t it?” I ask as I examine the ring once more. “I’d like to buy it. How much?”

“I have had that ring for many years without a single interest,” the woman explains, “and now I understand why. No charge; this ring will be with its rightful owner.” An odd smile overcomes her face as I stare at her, completely thrown off by her answer. Before I can protest, demanding to pay something for the piece, she has already started walking to the group on the couches. Glancing at the ring one last time, I trail behind the woman to find Charity and Taylor sitting down, leaving only one seat available. The one next to Damon on the loveseat.

If I had to guess, the girls arranged it this way based on their sly smiles and mischievous looks. I can feel Damon’s blue eyes watching me intensely as the shadow of a victorious smile still haunts his face. Using his large frame to his advantage, Damon takes up more than half of the seat, meaning there will be no space between us.

Lowering myself onto the overstuffed couch, avoiding his touch impossible, the powerful tingles spreading giddily over my skin from head to toe. From my peripheral, I can see him place his arm along the back of the couch, his fingers fidgeting with my hair.

“I am Lady Esmeralda,” the short, middle-aged woman tells the group, “welcome to my shop. What can I do for you?”

“It’s our friend’s birthday,” Charity explains, pointing to me, “she would like to get a life reading.”

Esmeralda’s gray eyes study me for a split second before a large smile overcomes her face, Damon’s tension rolling off him, suffocating me. “Of course, dearie,” she says, reaching out to help me from the chair but stops when Damon growls at her. Esmeralda chuckles heartily at his response before returning to the room behind the curtain while I stare after her.

The nerves and anticipation turn my feet to lead, making it hard to pursue the short witch, despite the nagging within that this must happen. Sensing my hesitation, I can feel Damon stand, grabbing my hand, the tingles bringing me back to reality. The prying eyes of pack members and friends are on us as Damon forces me to look into his bright blue eyes.

“You don’t have to do this, Biscuit,” he whispers, “We can go back to the hotel if you want.” While the idea of returning to the hotel is nice, the nagging curiosity about what she says is too great to ignore.

“No,” I say, removing my hand from his, trying not to let my skin flush under the scrutiny of our friends, “I’m being foolish. Stay here; I’ll be back soon.” Finding the strength to walk to the room behind the black curtain where a table with a black cloth sits, candles and incense smoke filling the room.

“Please sit,” Esmeralda nods, indicating the empty chair across from her. “There is no need to be nervous. I promise I won’t bite. Or your mate might kill me, and I have no plans to die today.”

“Damon isn’t my mate,” I protest, but the look on her face screams that she doesn’t believe me. I cautiously sit in the office chair, my green eyes locking with her grey eyes as she studies my face. “Have you ever had a life reading before?”

“No,” I say, “I am not even sure what a life reading is.”

“I examine your past lives if you have any. Sometimes, I talk about the current life you’re in. It depends on what the spirits want you to know,” Esmeralda explains as she lights sage to cleanse the room, “I do this using the crystal ball, tarot, palm, and rune reading.”

“Okay,” I say, the anxiety becoming so severe bile is starting to rise in my throat. A persistent throb started to form behind my eyes, similar to what happened at the theater but less urgent and demanding.

“Please place your hands on the table palm up,” Esmeralda commands as she cleans the room with her sage stick. Not wanting to argue, I rest my hands gently on the soft tablecloth, my leg shaking relentlessly from the nerves.

With an encouraging smile, Esmeralda places her small hands, with fingers like icicles, an electric current sparking throughout the room from where we make contact. A whoosh of air surrounds us in the enclosed room; picking up my hair and blowing out the lit candles in the small room.

Esmeralda has my hands in a vice grip as her eyes roll back into her head as she slumps forward in her seat. Before the scream can leave my mouth, her body straightens, looking at me with a straight voice. Her eyes are no longer grey but white instead. The air around us dropped a few degrees chilling the air around us.

Esmeralda starts reciting what can only be described as a prophecy in a voice an octave or two lower than normal. Her words sound almost demonic as her fingers are laced into mine in a death grip that would have broken my fingers if I was a regular human.

Luna by Birth.

Luna by Mate.

The mark received willingly.

By the one that is true.

Disregards the rules.

His venom under the skin,

Is all it takes to remove the magic shackles

Releasing the spell from within.

Only the mark of the man whose touches tingle

Will be able to protect the Luna from those who Covet her.

Find your mate and take his mark, Or be forced to wear one of another.

Esmeralda’s death grip releases my hands as her eyes return to normal, the air quieting as the temperature rises a few degrees. “Are you ready to start?” Esmeralda asks like she has no recollection of wind or her demon voice.

“No, thank you,” I say as I stumble from the chair, my face as white a sheet, my body shaking with nerves as I hurry my way from this back room to the group of couches in the storefront. I find an open seat in a stupor, saying nothing to the expectant faces as I sit next to Charity, my mind too consumed by the prophecy. What the f**k does it mean?