Page 68 of Freed By the Witchbone Knife

“And Fiona and Eilidh?”

“Their bodies were cold when I found them. I was confused. None of it made sense. There were no wounds on my body. No way to explain how I’d survived. I felt like the biggest coward. I’d failed to protect them—failed to…”

He growled.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, her voice choked.

“My first shift was the worst. It takes longer for a young wolf. I was an abomination. I wanted it out—the thing living inside me.”

“That’s how you found the witches.”

“They found me, living in squalor. Told me they could cure me. Remove the curse.”

“But it’s not a curse.”

His laugh was bitter. “Feels like it—most days.”

Rebecca lifted the hand he had pressed over hers and kissed the back of his palm, finally meeting his gaze. “They took you into a cave and tortured you.”

“Aye, that’s the gist of it. For six days. Used my pain while they drew my blood from my body to work whatever magic they wanted. I was saved by the thing I hated. I finally snapped when they thought I was too weak to save myself. Managed to shift and break free. Hated witches and wolves ever since.”

“You’ve been alone all this time?”

He huffed. “No. Can’t go alone as a wolf. It’s not healthy. I tried for years. Found a pack and settled in, then I eventually moved on. Found another. Then another. The years passed. Centuries passed. Eventually I found myself here in the states in the eighteen hundreds, when everyone was moving out west. Found a pack in the Pacific Northwest. Belonged there for a little over a century before I left.”

“And came here?”

“And came here.”

“Why?”

“Because I grew too powerful.” He glanced at her, taking in the little crease between her brows. He lifted his free hand and pressed the divot, smoothing it. Rebecca’s eyes softened at his touch.

“Not sure how much you know about wolf politics?” She shook her head. “When a wolf grows more powerful, they challenge for higher positions in the pack. It keeps things healthy, maintains the pecking order. My age—the strength and dominance that comes with it—surpassed Magnus. The pack’s alpha. For a while, I let it be. But the tension between us grew.”

“And you didn’t want to challenge him?”

“Can’t. Can’t be alpha. Not cut out for something like that. Not when…” She squeezed his hand, encouraging him to continue. To lay it all at her feet. So he did. “Not when I’m on the verge of going feral.”

“Feral?”

“It’s what happens to old wolves.” Already, he felt lighter now that the admission was out in the open. “Wolves who have walked the earth for numerous centuries. Turned wolves—werewolves, not wolf shifters. Born wolves are born with the wolf. They’re one with the wolf. Turned wolves must always fight for balance. That takes its toll on the mind.”

“Oh…” She lifted a brow. “So you’re mentally deranged, is what you’re saying?”

He huffed. “Something like that.”

“I had a feeling when you tossed me over your shoulder that day.” There was laughter in her voice.

“Lass.”

“So, you decided to make things worse by condemning yourself to a life of solitude.”

“Better that than the alternative.”

“Which is?”

“Let Magnus put me down.”