DALTON POV
I knew this was warlock s**t.
From the second the clearing formed out of nowhere, when the trees shifted like obedient soldiers to reveal that table… yeah, my stomach sank. Too clean. Too perfect. The kind of manipulation that reeked of spellcraft.
And now? Now I was screwed.
Correction — we were screwed.
Kai and Derrick sat across from me like they were at some five-star restaurant, sipping wine, moaning over food, laughing like a pair of teenagers on their first date. Meanwhile, I was standing here, jaw locked, fists clenching so tight my knuckles cracked, ready to burn the whole banquet to ash.
Only problem? I couldn’t.
The spell wasn’t on me. It was on them.
And goddess, it was strong.
“Here, little mouse,” Derrick said, voice low and filthy, tilting the wine bottle
