Page 93 of Binding His Fated Mates

Lacey’s steely expression never faltered. “Then what are you doing here?”

“They’ve got Hunter Lee,” Rowan replied, her voice tight with urgency. “Or whatever you’re calling them now.”

“Hunter and Lee,” Lacey corrected, her eyes widening with alarm. “And what do you mean?”

Rowan ignored her, locking eyes with me. “Our family has him—them. Micah still has your journal. They’re going to—”

“No.” My hand flew to my lips and ice swept through my veins as I realized what she was saying. “No way. They wouldn’t. They wouldn’t do that.”

No matter how much nastiness Micah might display toward me—or how cold and disapproving both of my parents were—they wouldn’t do that. They didn’t hate me that much.

Did they?

“Daniel, they think they’re fixing your mistake! That they’re doing what you’re not willing to do,” Rowan said. But her expression didn’t match her tone. Her eyes, so much like mine, were filled with concern and urgency. “They’re waiting for the moon to rise, to help power the spell. After that, it’ll be too late. They’re planning to take him home, too.”

A mix of understanding and horror filled Lacey’s expression, which meant that Rowan’s words had registered for her, too. “We can’t let that happen.”

Rowan nodded. “If you want to stop them, you have to come with me. We’re going to need to run.”

“Wait. How do we know this isn’t a trick?” Lacey demanded, her gaze narrowing with suspicion. “How do we know you’re not just trying to get Daniel alone? That you’re not trying to separate him from the pack?”

My sister hesitated. That thought had obviously occurred to her as well. “You don’t,” she said, meeting my gaze and holding it. “You’re going to have to trust me. I wouldn’t do that to you, Daniel.”

Rowan was the only member of my family I’d ever felt connected to. The only one I’d ever felt bad about leaving behind. We’d grown up together and we’d shared everything. She was the only one who’d ever treated me like a person, rather than a walking, talking, magical screw-up. There was a point, once, when I would have trusted her with my life.

But could I trust her now?

If what she was saying was true—if Hunter and Lee were at my family’s mercy—about to be unmade by a spell I had written…

Lacey was right. I couldn’t let that happen.

It didn’t matter what else happened to me. I had to stop it. If that spell was ever going to be cast, it would be by me, with Lee and Hunter’s full and informed consent.

“Lacey, go get the rest of the pack. Use my scent to track me,” I said, shoving my fears aside and steeling myself for what I had to do. “I’m going to stop this. I’m going to fight.”

* * *

Rowan and I burst into a clearing just inside the tree line, less than a mile from the commune. And then I stopped dead.

The moon was already over the horizon, and the ritual had already begun.

My family had arranged glass-encased candles at the compass points of the circle they’d cast. Above them, at waist level, hovered basketball-sized spheres of raw elemental power. My father was holding a wickedly sharp-looking curved blade—a sickle. The spell I created called for mixing Hunter and Lee’s blood. My mother held my journal, motes of pure blue-white magic from an illumination spell hovering above the pages, twisting her features into a strange mix of light and shadow. Hunter and Lee were in the center of the circle, held in place with a spell Micah had cast on them. I could tell, because both of my elder brother’s hands glowed with eerie green light.

My mates were standing side by side, their hands joined, blood dripping from between their interlaced fingers and hitting the ground in a steady stream of small droplets that looked black in the dim light. They weren’t able to move, but I saw the muscles in their legs and arms trembling, as though they were straining against Micah’s spell.

“Stop!” I shouted.

Five pairs of eyes locked onto me.

Surprise flickered across my father’s features. “Daniel,” he said mildly, tilting his head to the side as he regarded me. “I honestly didn’t think you’d have the courage to face us. Perhaps you are a Henbane, after all.”

“Well done,” my mother said, her icy gaze locked on Rowan. Her lips curved into a thin smile. “You saved us the trouble of gathering him. Family works best when we all play our parts.”

Alarm and betrayal rocketed through me.

It was followed immediately by numb disbelief. I truly hadn’t thought Rowan would do this to me.

I’d trusted her.