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Chapter Thirteen
Claire
He’s expecting me to fall apart. I could feel his eyes constantly watching, assessing. It’s as if he thinks I’m a feral cat that might suddenly pounce and run out the door. And he, being the dutiful man of justice that he always is, is there with his hands outstretched, ready to catch me and bring me back to rights. To fix everything that went wrong that night.
Unfortunately, there’s no fixing that.
And right now, there’s no running away because Darla needs us.
My memories of making the trek to this cabin when they’d abducted me were sketchy. Mostly, they eluded me completely. I remembered struggling against my captors, one on either side of me, as they’d cornered me in the backseat. As my would-be bridegroom had nervously driven us to this unholy honeymoon destination, it had become clear that I was outweighed and outclassed by years, strength, and magical skill.
But that didn’t mean I had stopped struggling.
I’d been so focused on that struggle that the scenery of the car had simply slid past us, like the dull background that surrounds actors in a car as they drive down a nondescript road in a movie. And for a while, it had all felt just as unrealistic.
Later, after all but one of my attackers was dead, and I’d presented to Jack — much to his dismay — I’d been too far gone in my heat to pay attention to any of my surroundings. Jack had taken over at that point. He’d driven me to that secret little place at Mystic Springs General Hospital where they took witches in heat and with no hope of having anyone to relieve it. I’d refused to let anyone touch me but Jack and he, being a warlock of honor, had refused to give in to the urge either.
It had taken me years to understand that, even if I still didn’t understand why he couldn’t see that we were true mates now.
Usually, remembering the details of that night would be too painful. I’d squeeze my eyes shut against the onslaught of the thoughts. I’d wanted Jack so badly that I knew I must have been more than vocal about it. I still cringed when I thought of the things I must have done or said to him to convince him to rut me. It had been my first real heat, and I had no way of dealing with all the surging emotions and feelings that were pummeling my body.
All those memories attacked me like a swarm of locusts. Finally, I jumped out of the car, walking toward the cabin.
The cabin I remembered. There was the door, barely hanging onto its hinges, just as it had been that night. They’d unceremoniously dragged me through that door, kicking and screaming.
As I approached the rickety porch that led up to that cabin door, I heard Jack step up behind me.
“Claire,” Jack warned as I paused before the threshold. I waved him off. I wasn’t in the mood for a heart-to-heart.
Even as Jack continued to study me, I could see that he was scanning the area. From the periphery, I saw he had brandished his service revolver. Jack was no novice with magic by far, but he was also a fan of having a bit of firepower at his disposal. Magic was powerful, but a bullet could stop a bad warlock from turning into a worse one quicker than you could whisper out an incantation.
Unfortunately for Darla, the caution was all for naught. There was no one in the cabin or even around it. Reaching out with that pull of magic that would sense other witchkind in the vicinity, I felt nothing but the low hum of energy that came from the wildlife in the area. I could tell by Jack’s body language that he wasn’t sensing anyone in the area either.
As I pushed past the threshold of the cabin, memories swam into place. It was as if someone had stepped into a musty old room inside my mind, opened all the windows at once, and all the light and smells from outside flooded the room. The memories nearly caused me to stagger on my feet, but I was determined to prove to Jack that I could handle this.
Because Icouldhandle this. Jack had his gun? I had my magic.
The cabin was devoid of life, but someone had been inside recently. There was the scent of a recently extinguished oil lamp lingering in the one-room cabin. The room was dark, lit only by the full moon outside, but there was enough light to illuminate the corners. The moonlight made strange, otherworldly shadows appear on the wall. The trees cast their own shadows inside the room, their gnarled limbs looking like monstrous hands, outstretched and ready to grab me at any moment.
My eyes moved to the corner. The night that Jack had found me, I’d done my best to hide from everyone in that corner. The warlock who had gotten away. The things that were happening to my body. The two dead warlocks on the floor, dead at my hand.
I could see Jack approach my right, his eyes going to that same location in the room.
Now, there was no witch in the corner, cowering as Jack stepped into the doorway of the cabin, his large shadow blocking out the moonlight as it had that night.
“She’s gone,” I said, needlessly, and I wasn’t sure if I meant Darla or the ghost of me. I knew he had already come to the same conclusion, but it seemed necessary to put the period on the thought that we were likely both having.
“Once she used her power, they likely grabbed her and fled,” Jack said as he brought his gun back to his hip, holstering it.
“She was trying to get our attention, and we failed her.” My voice sounded almost petulant. Like a child who had misplaced her favorite toy.
“We didn’t fail her,” Jack said, and I didn’t have to look over at him to know that he was studying me intently. “We’ve got an idea of where they are, and it appears she’s still well enough to keep fighting. And if she’s fighting, it means that, for some reason, they haven’t force-bonded her. That’s something.”
As much as I wanted to believe that, I still couldn’t get over that nagging feeling that we were already letting Darla down. And if I let Darla down, then I might as well say that I let that younger version of myself down once again.
“Alright, so where did they take her?” I asked, not wanting to think of that younger version of myself any longer.
“There were fresh tire tracks as we came in. We can follow them out as we leave,” Jack said, and his hand slid to my lower back. Such an innocent touch, but I felt it sizzle across my skin. He so seldom even touched me. It was as if he spent every moment in my presence terrified of touching me, of being too close to me. The little touches — like the one on my back — were just reminders of what I’d never be able to have.
“Come on, Claire.” Jack removed his hand from my back and began walking toward the cabin door. I swallowed the sigh that threatened to come out. “There’s nothing more for us here.”
