Page 96 of Rejected By the Winter Wolf

Astra falls asleep next to me almost as soon as we leave, curling in on herself and putting her head on the console between our seats. Her soft, even breaths are the only sound in the truck.

But that doesn’t mean we’re not talking.

She looks like she’s been tortured, Jessamine says, her tone almost sympathetic.

I rake my gaze over Astra and silently catalog the changes in her. She’s lost a lot of weight. Her blonde hair is matted and dark brown. Her skin is pale and nearly translucent. I can see too many bluish veins. There’s a ring of bruises that linger on her neck, opposite the Mark. The Mark seems even darker against her white skin. It’s the only thing not affected by her treatment.

You should’ve taken his pack, Roman says. He leans forward and carefully moves Astra’s hair off her neck, eyeing the bruising. What are these?

Vampire, I reply.

But not just that. She had magic. She released those cuffs from Astra’s wrists with just a little pulse of magic.

Vampires drink blood. They can taste power, but they can’t wield it. Not the way a witch can. If they could, I’m sure they would hunt witches as surely as wolf packs do.

Gage has a vampire? This from Jessamine.

A made one, I reply. I keep the witch part to myself, my skin crawling. Hybrids don’t exist. They’re impossible. Witch magic burns out anything else, or the other side takes over. Vampires don’t have heartbeats, and their magic was lost a long time ago. Wolves… well, no alpha would purposefully turn a witch into a shifter.

The divide between species is too great.

Let us out here, Jessamine says. We’ll travel back to Silver Ridge and get another vehicle.

I coast to a stop to let her and Roman out, eyeing her rounding belly. She sheds her shirt, then pants. Soon, she’ll stop shifting until she gives birth. Until…

Roman gives me a look. I turn my attention away from them and focus ahead. We’re on a long stretch of straight road that leads into the mountains. They toss their clothes into the truck, and Roman gently shuts the door. They shift and dart away, disappearing into the trees.

I was going to bring everyone I could. But when I faced them in the lodge, I–I couldn’t. They were scared, both of me and what they felt. Most of my wolves had not been involved in any conflict beyond witch hunting.

And now I wanted to risk it all to save one? I couldn’t ask them to put themselves in danger for her. Instead, another opportunity presented itself.

Gage could never resist a challenge, and no one dared to object to my plan.

But when I saw her on the porch, I almost changed my mind about leaving my cousin alive.

Astra doesn’t wake with the disturbance. I get back on the road, and once I’m up to speed, I take her hand and place it onto my thigh. I cover it with mine and push more healing magic into her, as easy as breathing. Maybe I can’t erase what happened to her, but I can heal as much of her as I can.

We’ve got a long way to go, the mission to save my sister climbing back to my first priority now that I have Astra back. She can rest while we travel, but we have to make it to the blood witch.

I drive until my eyes burn and I’m forced to stop.

The sun is high—I’ve driven through the night and then some. My stomach growls, and I glance again at the witch sleeping beside me. She’s probably hungry, too. When’s the last time she ate?

My one job was to keep her safe, and I failed spectacularly. I didn’t recognize the risks involved with Gage or accurately predict the lengths he’d go to, to get her back.

I frown and turn off the interstate. She stirs at our change in speed, but she doesn’t wake until I’ve found a restaurant and parked in front of the entrance. I squeeze her hand and run my thumb across her knuckles.

After a minute, her eyes open. She sits up slowly, tucking her hair behind her ears. It’s greasy and stringy, matted in some spots, like she hasn’t washed it since I last saw her. And judging from the grime on her skin, she probably hasn’t.

She stares at the restaurant, her brow furrowing. Her lips purse.

“What?” I finally ask.

“I…” She shakes her head. “You want to go to a steak house?”

“Better than tuna,” I say mildly, hopping out. “We need to eat.”

At the mention of food, her stomach growls.