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9
Sable
Archer’s promise to help me come to grips with the witch magic has lifted a weight from my shoulders.
I don’t know how much he’ll be able to tell me. He’s a wolf, after all, not a witch.
But I won’t be alone in this.
I won’t have to face it on my own.
With a slightly lighter heart, I snap my backpack into place and follow the men out to the clearing in front of the cabin. I’m still not comfortable with their current plan of breaking laws and putting other shifters in danger, but now I have a future plan that gives me something else to focus on.
I’ll figure out how to master my magic, and how to control it.
The sun is high, filling the woods with warmth as we congregate outside the cabin. Ridge’s arm is around Dare’s waist. The injured man hobbles along beside him while Archer carries two bags and Trystan the third. The drugs in Dare’s system have turned his dark gaze glassy and unfocused. It’s haunting to see, but at least I know he’s not in much pain anymore. Once Dare has his balance, keeping as much of his weight off his injured leg as possible, Ridge addresses us.
“We’re going to go slow, but we stay together,” he emphasizes, his gaze lingering on Trystan meaningfully. “I know the gut instinct is going to be to run flat-out. But don’t. We follow Dare’s lead.”
Trystan rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I know. I’m not that big of an asshole, man.”
Ridge held up his hands, palms out. “Just sayin’, man. No offense.”
“I know what it means to be pack,” Trystan says, voice brittle.
“You know what it means to be West Pack,” Ridge snaps. “Not what it means to be united as shifters.”
The two bicker back and forth a little more while Dare stands beside them, looking sallow and weak. I swallow down the lump that clogs my throat. I can’t listen to Ridge and Trystan sniping at each other like this. It makes my heart ache. Ridge almost never loses his cool unless Trystan is involved, and Trystan is so deeply locked inside his own prejudices and worldview, I don’t know if he’ll ever learn to be a team player. So I block them out and study Dare, thinking about the journey ahead.
I remember watching a documentary on wolves once, on one of those few times Uncle Clint allowed me to choose the channel on the television. The camera panned over a traveling wolf pack on a vast snowy landscape as the narrator intoned that a pack in motion would set its pace by the slowest wolves, whether that be the young pups or the elderly or injured. So now, we’ll set our pace by Dare, our injured companion.
The fact that I’m now seeing that wildlife documentary come true in real life still feels like a crazy dream.
“We’ll be fine,” Archer says, jarring me out of my thoughts. He grabs the hem of his t-shirt and yanks it off over his head. “I’ll take up rear.”
As the sun shines over his muscular torso, I’m reminded vividly of our interlude in the shower earlier. I’d much rather be back there, standing beneath the water with his hands sliding over my skin and his mouth on mine. I don’t like the unknown of going into a new shifter pack, especially so fresh on the heels of my transition. But he’s right—we don’t have another option. I have to grit my teeth and bear it. For Dare.
One by one, the rest of the men strip out of their clothes and shove them into their packs until they’re all completely nude.
I know, logically, that they undress before shifting to preserve their clothes. I imagine it gets expensive having to replace shirts and pants that you’ve ripped to pieces in the heat of the transformation. But as used to nudity as they are, I am not. Even my worry over Dare’s injuries and the threat of a dangerous witch coven can’t keep me from gawking a little at the sight of them.
Memories flood my mind, making my mouth go a little dry.
As long as I live, I’ll never forget the way they all gathered around me when they thought I was going into heat. How they touched me and worshipped me in ways no man ever had before.
My skin flushes with heat that chases away the mountain chill. God, I want to go back to that moment. We basked in each other’s scent and touch, and they made me feel things I never dreamed possible. It was the best feeling in the entire world. I never wanted it to end. I would’ve spent days in bed with these men and savored every damn moment of it.
Unfortunately, I did spend days in bed. I just didn’t get to use that time doing what I wanted to with these four shifters, and my body absolutely aches with the loss. Instead, I thrashed and dreamed and boiled over with dark, viscous magic that wants nothing more than for me to kill the shifters I adore.
Shaking off my grim thoughts—and trying to ignore the desire that’s still somehow pulsing through me despite it all—I clutch the straps of my backpack and watch the men shift. As a shimmer turns their forms into a mirage, I can feel a strange crackle on the air that must be the magic that powers their shifting. I never noticed it before, but now, the witch in me seems to recognize the familiar sensation of magic.
Within moments, four wolves stand before me. I affix the large packs onto Trystan and Archer’s backs as Dare stands awkwardly with most of his weight on his front feet.
I hoped the shift might heal his leg a little, or at least that standing on four legs instead of two would help ease some of the pain. But even in wolf form, he looks miserable. I have no idea how he’s going to make this journey, especially once those painkillers wear off.
Ridge snuffles at my face, his wet nose tickling my ear. I huff out a laugh and brush a hand over his head, then he kneels down to give me access to his back.
Climbing up onto the large wolf’s broad frame, I settle just over his powerful shoulder blades. My fingers sink deep into his light brown fur, and I lean forward against his neck to cling to him, allowing myself to draw warmth and strength from his presence.
