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The pain traveling down the bond, she means.
“I did. What was it?”
She looks down. “Nothing.”
“Liar.”
Her head shoots back up at that, but I keep petting her hair. I like the sensation of it. Her hair is soft, and her eyes dilate the more I do it. For once, I don’t feel the pressing need to dominate her or bite her—I just want to make sure she’s okay.
Odd thought to have about a witch.
“I felt it,” I say again.
She rubs her chest. “I haven’t been right since. Until now.”
The bond, she means. And it’s true—the more we touch, the less it aches. It was damaged, I think, by whatever she went through. But did Astra do it on purpose? Did she… did she meet the blood witch and discover something? If she hadn’t, or if the blood witch had been cruel, she wouldn’t have stopped me from hunting her down.
My distrust spikes, even as I hug her closer.
What a mess.
“I wish I never met you,” she confesses.
I close my eyes, for once completely agreeing with her. “Same.”
After a while, I pick her up and move to the bed. I drag my sweatpants back on and hug her close again, my fingers still in her hair.
She falls asleep first, and I ease a tendril of healing magic into her. She doesn’t stir, but she relaxes further. Pride is a fickle emotion, and I’m feeling it tenfold. She’s in my arms. She didn’t completely run away. She’s not fighting me. My magic tells me she’s not actually hurt.
She feels better than she did when she left, which is curious.
She won’t be yours forever, I remind myself.
But she could be…
If I change her.
As I told her—that won’t happen. That can’t happen. The consequences would damn us. My pack would turn on me.
The pride sours when I remember why Astra came back to me. She’s protecting the blood witch. She met her, something happened, and she wouldn’t let me search her out. Knowing that I—
Well, maybe that’s the problem.
Tell her, my wolf murmurs.
No.
What’s the worst that could happen? You know she’s bound to you—if she doesn’t like it, you turn her into a shifter and then make her obey.
I shake my head. I doubt she’d obey even if she was a wolf.
He sends me an image of him standing over a light-furred wolf, his teeth in her neck. Not hard but forcing her to submit. Excitement races through him at the thought, followed by longing. Then sadness.
This is what I’m keeping from him by refusing to change her.
We need sleep, I tell him. We’ll discuss this tomorrow.
Be careful, Kian. We’re playing a dangerous game…