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“And they used to own familiars to carry the brunt of
the cost.”
    “They still do.”
    Raven’s mouth dropped open. “Say again?”
    “They no longer resort to capturing and imprisoning them,
but some shifters do sell themselves into service.” His hands clenched on the
steering wheel, so she could tell it bothered him, too. “You must not react or
interfere between a familiar and their witch. Neither side will take kindly to
it.”
    “Why would a shifter consent to such a barbaric arrangement?”
    Durant’s expression said she was thinking too human again. “You
forget, not all shifters have a pack. Without a pack, they’d be labelled rogue
and can be killed without fear of reprisal. Not to mention that not all
shifters born into a pack are allowed to remain.”
    “Those who can’t shift.” Raven didn’t understand how they
could cut ties with family so easily. “You treat them as if they’re born with a
defect and therefore inferior.”
    “You have such low opinion of our culture, but there are
reasons for those rules. After a young shifter crests or fails, they must choose
what kind of future they want, just like any human. They’re no longer protected
like children, but treated as adults. Those who are more human than shifter wouldn’t
survive in the pack. We’re violent. Vicious. Pack members need to be stronger
and better. Wars for territory still break out. The pack is only as strong as its
weakest link. Those who can’t shift end up being cannon fodder. Their best
chance for survival is outside the pack. The ultimate choice of whether they
want to risk staying with the pack or leave is theirs.”
    “So they’re sold to the witches.” Revulsion twisted through
her at the thought.
    “They volunteer.”
    His answer floored her. “Why on earth would they agree to
slavery?”
    His brows lowered in annoyance. “They’re not slaves. They occupy
a unique position in the pack. Their family is honored for their services.”
    “Be a slave or leave the pack. How is that a choice? The
witches can do anything they want to their familiars and no one will object.”
    Durant laughed, his eyes crinkling with amusement. “You
think so little of us. They’re actually highly protected, and, better yet,
they’re still considered part of the pack. Each shifter signs a contract. For
every maiming or death, the witches must pay a severe fine. They can’t afford
to damage or kill a shifter. It costs too much.”
    Raven was flabbergasted, the papers crumpling in her hands. “And
paying a fine makes it all better?”
    Durant gave her a cynical look. “Your military is run the
same way. Soldiers are paid for their services. The family receives benefits if
they die in battle. It’s considered an honor to serve one’s country.”
    “That’s different,” Raven muttered.
    “Is it?”
    She had no answer and didn’t like the comparison. “Have you
ever thought of becoming one?”
    He cast her a peculiar look, then shook his head. “No.”
    It floored her when he hesitated. Jealousy curled through
her until she thought she was going to be sick. “But the spell on your back.
You got it to prevent becoming a familiar.”
    “The spell protects my beast. I can activate it or grant the
witch my permission.”
    She bit her lip, desperately wanting to know who had so
captured his affections, picking at the unanswered question like a raw wound. “Who?”
    A half-smile curled his lips, and he raised a brow. “You
don’t know?”
    She racked her brain for a name and came up blank. She
curled her fingers into fists. Maybe it was better not to know, so she wouldn’t
be tempted to kill the bitch.
    “You.”
    Heat burned her cheeks at the husky tone and warm spilled
into her chest. “But I’m not a witch.”
    He shrugged away her protest. “You can take what you want
from me with my blessing.”
    Raven had no idea how to reply. They fell silent as he
maneuvered the car along the hairpin curves. The warm sun