Page 69 of Binding His Fated Mates

Instead, I gently released my hold on the thread of power I’d been silently building. It flowed away from my grasp, resettling deep within me. I knew enough.

This was the missing piece I had been banging my head against. The spell to turn Hunter and Lee into Hunter Lee Jameson again was now complete.

I added my notes to the following pages, including the potential use and my thoughts—or more accurately, my fears—on the usage. Then I set down my pen, flipped back to the pages containing the spell, and read through it again. Two years of work. It was, objectively, the most complex piece of magic I’d ever created.

My family would have been surprised. Or maybe even impressed. That thought made me want to laugh.

Or possibly throw up.

Because this spell would work.

If I cast this, Hunter and Lee would merge into one person. And Hunter Lee Jameson would take their place. And because he had never been bitten by a werewolf, he’d probably be an ordinary mundane man again. He could have the life he’d always deserved.

The enormity of that rolled over me, making me feel as though I’d been encased in ice.

For two years, I’d been working toward this moment. Every late night, every scribbled note, every hour of painstaking research… all of it had been in service of this goal. And now that I’d actually done it, all I felt was a numb sort of horror.

Because Hunter and Lee were not the same person wearing two bodies. They were complete, distinct, and irreplaceable. Hunter with his fierce protectiveness, his spontaneity, his sharp edges, and the tenderness he was just learning how to show. Lee with his quiet depth, his warmth and thoughtfulness, the way he always seemed to see through everything and everyone.

They were not halves of a whole. They were whole, both of them. And I loved them both.

The thought of merging them—of watching Lee’s steady gaze and Hunter’s fierce grin dissolve into someone else, someone who contained them both but was neither of them anymore—turned my stomach.

I slammed the journal shut. My breath came too quickly and my heart pounded in my ears. Cold sweat broke out across my forehead. My hands shook.

Was this a panic attack? Was I panicking?

I knew I needed to tell them. The spell was complete. They had a right to know. They had a right to choose.

But what if they chose yes? What if they chose to become one person again?

Then I would lose them both.

And I would have to cast the spell myself, because no one else in the pack could. I certainly wasn’t going to let some stranger—or even someone from the Seattle coven—do this.

No, at the end of the day, if they said yes, I would become the instrument of my own heartbreak.

* * *

Our hunt was a total bust.

The Mara evaded us all night long, as if they had somehow sensed our intentions. The compass needle had pointed steadily northeast all night, carrying us deeper and deeper into the forest. We even caught a glimpse of them through the trees.

But when the pack barreled into the clearing where they’d been spotted, there was nothing there.

They’d already vanished. And apparently, they’d split up, too. Because the compass needle—which was attuned to both of them—suddenly started to spin wildly and it didn’t stop for the rest of the night. Clever of them.

Harris and Reed called it at two in the morning.

“Lacey, Oliver, and Sarah, you’re on guard duty with us,” Reed said wearily, when we’d all returned to the commune. “Lee and Hunter, take Daniel and go home.”

“I could help,” I protested. I wasn’t sure how I felt about being alone with Hunter and Lee. Not with what I now knew. “I can do a perimeter spell—”

“Save your magic,” Reed said. “If they try to attack, we’ll call you. We need you rested and ready to fight.”

“The best thing you can do for the pack is to get some sleep,” Harris added.

Feeling defeated, I nodded. Then Hunter, Lee, and I made our way back to our cabin.