Then a thought occurs to me. “Is that what you want?” I ask carefully, even as my chest tightens with an unexpected fury at the thought of him hurting her like that.
He doesn’t reply, expression still blank.
“Practice closing the bond when she’s awake. For now, just… try not to think shitty thoughts toward her.”
“I don’t think shitty—fuck,” he grunts, dropping his head in his hands. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.Shebitme. This isherfucking fault.”
My alpha growls back at him. Surprised by my protectiveness, I shake it off, grabbing the bowl of squirrel meat. “She didn’t know what she was doing, don’t blame her. It was an accident. Besides, you were there, you bit her right back. And itwould have happened, anyway. Right? You’re fated, it was only a matter of time.”
Silas pins me with a glare. “No. I wasn’t planning on mating with her. Like you, I wanted to get as far from this fucking shit show as possible. I wanted her safe, with Grayson and Orion, where they can be a happy, normal fucking family, together. I just wanted to get her home, that’s it.”
I stare at him in disappointment.
But am I so different? I don’t want her either.
I want to fuck her. I want to feel her eyes on me, just once. To feel her omega nature kiss my heart and then let me go. I don’t want a family, I don’t want to be tied to one place. To a mate.
Stagnation is death.
Not bothering to call him out for being an asshole, I slowly nod. “We’re in agreement then. Get her home to her alphas. Go our separate ways.”
I drink the water in the cup, then hand the bowl to Silas. But when he agrees it’s time to wake her, at least to get her to eat, there’s a disturbance at my wards.
Silas can’t hear them, it’s magical interference, but he notices my reaction and freezes. The cabin door is already swung open, so I step outside into the night. The moon is still bright, and this far from the city, the light pollution is non-existent. The sky is full of stars.
It’s the height of summer, the air is humid. I take a deep inhale, using all my senses. And that’s when I feel it.
“Grab her, we need to leave now!”
Silas doesn’t wait for an explanation. I must have woken her when I yelled, because Mona asks what’s happening, surprisingly coherent. Her heat is further gone from her system than I realized.
Silas follows me out of the cabin, naked, with Mona in his arms. She looks at me, eyes glassy and red. “What’s out there?”
I shake my head and look around.
There, to the south. I throw my arms up, creating a shield around the three of us. Just in time. A blast of magic hits us, but it bounces off my protective spell, splintering the cabin door. Mona screams.
“Run,” I tell Silas, taking off in the direction I want him to follow. I cased out these woods between welfare checks. I wasn’t expecting an attack. I have no idea how they found us, but I’m prepared.
Then I hear her voice.
“Ohmm-e-gaah,” Deidre sings. “Mona, come!” she barks.
Mona’s breath catches and her eyes go blank. Then her body jerks, as if yanked by invisible strings, and she twists so violently in Silas’s grip, her elbow connects with his face, and she falls out of his arms.
Her knees hit the ground, and she begins dragging herself toward Deidre’s voice.
“Come here, omega, now! Mona, come to me!” Deidre’s voice is laced with sulfuric magic, shimmering like heat waves.
Fuckingbloodmagic. How did she get Mona’s blood?
It doesn’t matter. Mona crawls to a stand and runs toward the witch. I lunge forward, swinging Mona by the waist just before she leaves my protection spell.
Forcing my shield outward, it’s like pushing through sludge, and I have to chip away at Deidre’s commands as they try to hook into Mona, while reinforcing the barrier around us.
A crack splits the air. Blasts of magic hit the trees, wood splintering, pinging off my shield like hail on a tin roof. My larger perimeter ward crumbles, and suddenly a chorus of voices floods in—a dozen witches, incantations slashing at us. Sulfur burns my nostrils, the acrid scent of their magic slapping against my senses.
“Move!” Silas grabs my elbow, and we sprint through the underbrush. As shifters, we’re faster on foot than the witches, but my concentration is split. Deidre’s scent mingles with her sister Tracy’s, and at least eight other unfamiliar witches.
