Raff spun his drink on the wooden bar, wishing he could down its honey hued contents in one swig, but the next few hours would require clear minds and quick bodies. Sipping it slowly was all he would allow himself for now, and even that was only permissible because Vivian would suspect something if he sat at her bar without drinking.

Lincoln sat on the stool next to him. All the werewolf's focus was on Thorne as she whispered to Vivian in a dim corner. He drummed his thumbs on the counter's edge, the sound grating on Raff's nerves.

"Can you stop that?"

"Quit spinning your fucking drink first."

Raff released the glass, and it wobbled to a stop. Lincoln ceased moving his fingers but continued to stare at the women across the room.

"What's your problem? Why are you acting so nervous?"

"They've been talking forever man. Does Vivian not approve of me?"

"Lincoln, you're not really getting married to Thorne, and what does it matter if Vivian approves? She's the enemy." The last sentence tangled on his tongue, sending bitterness down his throat. She'd been a friend once- a motherly figure. Just another example of the danger of misplaced trust. 

"I think I'd like to. One day."

Lincoln's confession caught Raff off guard. He knew this relationship was different for his Beta. In the past, any woman who made it to a second screwing session was considered a long term relationship in Lincoln's eyes, and he'd been with Thorne for months now. But still, it was shocking to hear his Beta express any interest in marriage or monogamy.

"I can practically hear the gears grinding in your thick skull," Lincoln snapped when Raff remained silent.

"I'm happy for you."

The stiff set of Lincoln's shoulders softened. He looked over at Raff with a half cocked smile. "It's not any time soon. We're not like you and Meribella- all domesticated and shit- but we want it one day."

"To domestication and...shit," Raff said raising his glass. His friend laughed and clinked his drink against Raff's. What the hell? One shot won't hurt. In unison, they tossed back the drinks and slapped their palms on the bar. "We need another drink!"

Vivian stepped away from from Thorne and grabbed a bottle. She splashed a generous amount into their empty glasses. "Son, do you know what you're getting into?"

"Oh, come on Vivian," Lincoln said, "you didn't have anything bad to say before. Marriage isn't going to change what went on behind our closed doors. I know that's what you're worried about."

"It will change things. Because right now, you two can grow tired of each other. Grow tired of whatever half-assed love making you've been making due with."

Lincoln jumped in. "I don't think we have any concerns in that department."

"Do you even know what goes on when a witch gets married? It's a soul binding ceremony. It's forever, and it intensifies whatever feelings are already there."

"We'll figure it out, Viv," Thorne promised, catching Raff's eye and pointing to his drink.

"Vivian, I know how you feel-"

"You," she spun around and poked him in the chest. The simple move reminded him so much of Meribella that the glass in his hand shattered, and his wolf pushed against his skin. "Don't you flash your eyes at me. I thought you had it all figured out with your decrees against this type of relationship. How can you approve of this? You even sent your own mate away to protect her."

"Can't you just be happy for them?" Raff asked. "You've got to let people make their own mistakes. Free will."

Vivian's aged features hardened, and a shadow flitted through her eyes. But then she sighed and dropped her towel on the counter. "Thorne has made it clear her mind is made up. It's been a minute since I've seen a witch wedding anyways. Guess you'll be reaching out to your High Priestess."

"Actually," Thorne blushed, "I've already talked to Lux, and she's insisting she wants to do the ceremony."

"Get out," Vivian gasped. Raff and Lincoln exchanged confused glances. Raff couldn't remember ever hearing the older woman sound so impressed.  "How the hell do you know the Priestess Most High?"

"Spent a couple of summers in Mississippi after high school. My cousin is a member of the First Circle."

"Now that I can celebrate," Vivian said. A greedy look entered her eyes. "Never been close to someone with as much power as that girl."

"Excellent, then celebrate with us," Thorne said, dropping three more glasses on the bar. One was to replace Raff's shattered glass. The other, she nudged towards the older witch. "Just one shot. Please."

"You know I shouldn't."

Raff held back his growl of frustration. The entire plan hinged on getting her to drink. Otherwise, it was going to force them to regroup, and now that they'd finally decided to make a move, he was tired of wasting time. Every second wasted was one second longer without Meribella.

"Has that ever stopped you?" Lincoln served her his best wolfish grin, and she crumbled.

"I won't say never, but.... What the hell. To Lincoln and Thorne."

"Here. Here."

They clinked their glasses together and downed the contents. It took a lot of effort to not study Vivian as they waited for the potion Thorne slipped in the drink take hold. The effects wouldn't be too obvious- the potion was designed to block Vivian's magic and make her susceptible to their wishes. Getting her to walk out with them would be a hell of a lot less suspicious than carting her out unconscious.

"So, Viv...what do you say we leave this place and grab a bite to eat somewhere?" Raff asked. He squinted his eyes as she wavered in front of him. Why was everything so out of focus? And why was his wolf so quiet? Nothing brushed against his consciousness. No whimpers or growls. He felt truly alone.

"Why would we want to do that?" Vivian replied, turning her head to the side. The thick eyeliner she wore blurred until her pupils disappeared and nothing but black holes sat where her eyes had once been.

"I don't know," he responded.

"I think you three want to head over to Thorne's boathouse and wait for me. Don't leave. Don't call anyone."

"That sounds like a great plan," Lincoln said, clapping his hand on Raff's back. He slid of his bar stool and swayed. Strange. Lincoln could put down two fifths without getting tipsy. They'd had two shots.

"I-I think we want to stay here."

"No, Raff. We definitely want to go to the boathouse," Thorne insisted.

He grabbed his head. The silence was suffocating him. "No."

Vivian sighed dramatically. She raised her palm and leveled in front of Raff's face. "I knew you were going to be the difficult one." Then she blew across her hand, and the world turned dark.