A woman sits in the middle, straight-faced and tight-lipped. With her scowl, her wrinkles appear more prominent than I'm sure they really are. Her brown eyes are dark, making them look beady and soulless. Gray hair peeks out from under a hood. It covers her cheeks and trailed down into an unflattering gown.

A man to her left looks much nicer. While he holds no smile on his face, his eyes are warm and calm. He's much younger than the woman he sits next to. While she appears in her late seventies, he seems as if he's only now reaching fifty. Unlike her, he's dressed in business attire. A simple, pewter suit adorns his body with a dark blue tie to match.

On the other side of the woman, sits another. She looks the same age as the first, though, again, much nicer. This lady smiles widely when we stop in the center of the room. She's dressed differently too; her body is covered by a white, modest top. From the sweetheart neckline and the sleeveless form, I can only assume she's wearing a dress or at least a skirt.

My nervousness doesn't dissipate with the different expressions of the three of them. Since they all have different personalities, I have no idea how to approach them. We walk until we stop in the middle of the room. The middle woman drills us with her eyes, watching us intently. Her aura makes me uncomfortable. I can feel the waves of disdain flowing off of her as if we're the most disgusting beings she's ever encountered.

"State your name and your business with us," the middle woman speaks up. She crosses her arms on the podium, leaning forward ever so slightly.

Taking a deep breath, I step forward and look up at them. The added height from their stand makes this even more intimidating. "Sophia-Grace Amster, alpha of the Amster pack," I start, pausing for a moment. "I'm here because of my mate."

"What else?" she drills, cocking her head slightly. "You're here for more than one thing, no?"

Hesitating slightly, I nod. "I have two mates, a vampire and a lycan. We—"

"Lycan?" the man interrupts, sitting straighter. He becomes bug-eyed, his jaw slackening as he stares at us in disbelief. "That's impossible. Lycan's have been extinct for over three-hundred years."

"But he is," I fight, shaking my head. "We discovered the term a couple of months ago... we had a run in with a vampire who was—"

"The vampire you're here with?" the middle woman interrupts this time. I huff in annoyance at the fact that they aren't patient enough to allow me room to talk. "Is there an issue?"

"Obviously, Merida," the second lady says, a small smile on her face. "You two are incorrigible when it comes to sitting and listening. How about you let the poor girl finish. Clearly she's in quite a pickle if she had to call us and request a meeting."

My tense shoulders drop once the last woman has spoken. A sigh of relief passes through my lips when the other two press their lips into thin lines. Shame fills their eyes, even the blank-faced woman, as if they're children who have just been scolded by their parents. The nice woman turns to me and claps.

"Okay, sweetheart. Tell us again... and start from the beginning."

I recount the story to them, letting them know of my neglect when I failed to shift. The words are like acid, burning my tongue and drying my throat. Each thing that passes from my mouth is a bad moment that has either happened over the last several years or the past couple of months. They know about Alexei's first mate and how she died from Rory's bite. They know that Timothy became a rogue in the last few weeks of his life. They know everything now, except my little secret. It's time for them to judge us and let us know if they can help Rory or not.

"Oh, you've gone through the ringer. I've not heard such a crazy story in damn near fifty years," the nice woman speaks, shaking her head. "You poor thing, and you've still got a vampire on your tail?"

"Uh, yes." I nod my head, grimacing at the fact of the matter. "We aren't sure what to do about Rory. We don't know any other witches and... I'm afraid that he's damaged."

The three share glances before the nicest woman stands. She steps down from the podium and I can see her full frame. She wears a dress, as I had thought previously. It's long and reaches to her ankles, stopping right before her feet which are covered by gold flats. The smile remains on her face as she walks towards us. Cautiously, I step back until I bump into Alexei's chest. She wraps her arms around my waist, holding me to her firmly.

The woman redirects her gaze to Rory who is still held by one of the men who led us here. When she reaches them, she places a hand on Rory's forehead, closing her eyes and breathing in deeply.

"Oh," she mumbles. "Whoever this Cytherea is has lost her way. She's been dabbling in dark magic."

"Why would she do that?" Alexei whispers behind me. It sounds like she's come into contact with that type of magic before.

"She's strong, but not strong enough." The woman places her other hand on Rory's head. Her mouth moves quickly but no words escape her.

Just barely, Rory twitches in the man's hold. For the first time in weeks, his body moves other than his breathing. In front of my own eyes, Rory awakens. Whatever this woman did, I can't begin to process the happiness I feel when my mate glances around in confusion. With furrowed eyebrows and pursed lips, he pushes the man away from him until he's set on the ground. Before I can move towards him, he shifts into his lycan form.

Around us, everyone gasps.

It's clear they didn't believe me when I said that Rory is a lycan. Still, I'm not sure what he really is, but everyone in this room seems to know save for Rory and I.

Rory backs away, growling at those who reach out to him. His beast is in attack mode after waking up in this unfamiliar place and encountering people he's never met. As the nameless men reach out to him, Rory swipes at them, his claws extended and ready to do damage.

Unable to sit by and watch, I marched over to him. Protests from those around me go unheard as I stop behind my mate. His essence fills me, enclosing me in its familiarity. Without thinking, I let my body fall into the hairy back of my mate. The softness of his fur tickles my nose, making me giggle slightly. Giddiness fills my entire being once I wrap my arms around Rory.

For a small moment, he tenses. That's until he recognizes me and my presence, identifying me as his other half. Then he turns and lifts me up, holding me into his body. Rory tilts his head back and without a moment of irresolution, he lets out an ear-deafening howl that bounces off the walls.

"Rory," I whisper, feeling his name on my lips. The familiarity of my second mate being here makes everything better. Because even though our mate bond came second, our real bond grew first.

With me still clutched in his arms, he begins to transform back into his human skin. His body shortens as his legs return to normal and the hair disappears. Smooth skin takes its place where mountains of fur previously were. My feet touch the ground as Rory sets me down, but he doesn't let go of me. Once he's completed his shift, he grabs my face and kisses me.

I drop my hands to my sides before I lift them and rub them against his smooth stomach. Clutching his thin waist, I pull him closer to me. Our auras swirl together, radiating happiness and lust as mates finally connect again. It's been too long, far too long.

"I missed you," I tell him as I pull away for a moment.

"What happened? I can't remember anything."

This is concerning to me. If Cytherea is going around putting people in commas, what are the long term effects? Pushing him away slightly, I glance around to everyone we forgot. The elders sit with mouths dropped open in shock. The three who led us here are just as surprised with wide eyes and dumbfounded expressions. Alexei wears a smile. I can tell she's as happy as I am to see Rory okay.

"Where are we, Sophia-Grace?" Rory bends down to whisper in my ear. "Why are all these people staring at me?"

Turning back to my mate, I lift a hand to press against his cheek. "We're having a meeting with the elders."

Rory's tan face grows pale. His brown eyes drift over the top of my head. Gulping, his Adam's apple bobs with the action.