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I am not okay. Not even a fucking little bit. My emotions are the mental equivalent of a tornado that’s decimated a small town.
When I crawled back to the North Pack’s mating cabin, I did it on autopilot. For several years, I took care of myself without reaching out for any help, and I was comfortable with that lifestyle. But the witches fucked me up. I knew when I managed to get away for the second time that I was a hell of a lot more injured than I could deal with on my own.
My first thought was to go to Sable and the other pack alphas, because who the hell else would help me? I’m a lone wolf without a single pack mate to give two shits what happens to me. But Sable… she does. She cares what happens to me, and I think it’s because of her that Trystan, Ridge, and Archer do too.
But fuck. When Sable went into her transformation and we all got a good fucking look at what was coming, it messed with my head. When I found her by the side of the stream that first night, looking like moonlight come to life, I was so damn certain she was a shifter. My wolf recognized her immediately and claimed her within moments of seeing her face and feeling her energy.
Then, the night of her transformation… in the dimness of the mating cabin, her skin began to race with black magic, and I realized maybe my wolf was wrong. Sable wasn’t my mate; she was my enemy.
So I raced away from the cabin as if flames licked my heels. My only goal was to find as many fucking witches as possible and annihilate them. Some reckless part of me even hoped to die in the attempt, as if Sable’s true nature was the final nail in my coffin.
The loveliest thing I’d ever known had been destroyed, joined together with magic, the very thing I despise. So it only stood to reason that I should be destroyed too.
After I returned, I realized pretty damn quick that Sable isn’t destroyed. Despite how rough her life has been, and how hard she’s had to fight to maintain any semblance of self, Sable has remained perfectly whole through this.
But it’s hard to see it, and even harder to believe it.
Every day, I wake up beside her with another wolf between us. I’m not strong enough to fall asleep with her in my arms. I’m not strong enough to touch her. But it seems like enough right now to share her bed and fall asleep listening to her breathe. Every morning we wake up, and the five of us have breakfast together. Trystan is funny, and Ridge is smart as hell. Archer has the emotional strength of ten men, and Sable… Sable is everything good in the world.
Even when my mind tries to convince me otherwise.
Several days pass as she keeps working at learning to control her magic. Archer is fucking incredible, the way he can read her feelings and help her bypass the sadness or the lack of self-worth that gets her down. He’s patient and kind as he attempts to help her figure out what her magic is and how it works. He can lift her spirits with a single pinky finger, and I’m fucking envious. With empathy and aplomb, he can make all of her worries just vanish. Meanwhile, I’m a fucked up asshole who isn’t even sure which way is up or down.
We’ve been in Archer’s pack’s territory for nearly a week when Sable conquers one of the basic sigils.
She’s on her hands and knees with a pencil and a pad of paper. It’s such a fucking mundane situation that I don’t even realize at first that the sigil has worked. Black smoke billows around Sable, and then a gust of wind bursts up in the middle of the room, stirring the dust that’s settled on several stacked folding chairs that lean against one wall.
Ridge, Trystan, and I all sit up straighter.
My heart thuds in my chest, every instinct in me howling that there’s a threat. That this shouldn’t be happening. The two shifters beside me are tense too, although they both seem to be keeping their shit together better than I am.
Archer is the only one who doesn’t seem afraid, even though he’s got more reason than any of us to run in terror from witch magic. He gives Sable a small smile, reaching across the space between them to take her hands. I hate him in that moment—being the strong, stoic partner she needs, while I cower against the wall and stare at the remnants of black, magical smoke evaporating on the air.
“That’s it,” he tells her, still gripping her hands. I can tell from here that she’s shaking a little, probably as startled as any of us that the magic actually worked this time. “It’s okay. You did it. How did it feel?”
“Strange.” She bites her lip, her wide-eyed gaze finding his. “I could feel when my magic filled the sigil. It was like a little piece of me poured out through my fingertips. It was… weird.”
“It was good,” he insists firmly. “Your magic did what you wanted it to, and that means it’s responding to your commands better. It’s not just stirring up based on your emotions, but reacting to conscious thought.” He beams. “That’s excellent.”
I want to be excited for her just like he is. But all I can see is the black smoke. The witch’s magic that she just used. My stomach twists, and I swallow back a wave of nausea.
Fucking hell. This isn’t what I signed up for.
Before Trystan or Ridge can acknowledge what’s happening, I get to my feet and stride out of the barn. I hit the door with a l
ittle more force than necessary and walk into the brilliant sunshine, closing my eyes briefly against the light. It steadies me just a little, though I can still feel the heaviness of Sable’s magic drifting after me on the breeze.
I stalk into the forest at the edge of the settlement, needing a little space between me and civilization. All those years I spent roaming by myself haven’t helped my people skills, and it’s only made me want to be alone even more.
A breeze blows in off the mountains. I stand facing the trees, my nose lifted to the smell of snow and pine coming from the peaks. When I was younger, I used to venture up the mountains, where the atmosphere grows cold and thin. My parents hated it—they were worried I’d find myself on the wrong side of a bear and not be able to defend myself.
If only they could see me now.
A stick cracks behind me, and my eyes fly open. Most shifters move like liquid. Any number of the people here in this village could have snuck up on me like they didn’t even exist.
That’s how I know it’s Sable behind me. I don’t know how good witches are at stealth, but she’s about as subtle as a grenade.
