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Everything aches. My chest feels tight, my limbs are heavy. I’ve felt like this many times in my life, yet I still don’t know how to overcome it. Usually, I just have to wait for a little time to pass until the heaviness has lifted ever so slightly so that I can resume my business as usual and bury the rest. But it never actually leaves.
After a short while, the gnawing misery subsides slightly, opening the floodgates for another, stronger emotion. Anger. I look down at my sneakers, scuffing up dirt in my haste. The lace dress wiping around my ankle was supposed to be akin to a wedding gown, as I was adamant I’d be walking out of the champion’s ceremony with three males surrounding me. Now I’m racing across the mountain ranges beyond vampire territory with no destination in mind. All I need is to put enough distance between myself and the vampires, no doubt, on my tail, so I can stop and give myself a moment.
I couldn’t wait around for them to convince me to stay. Lorcan told the truth. I felt it in my soul as soon as the words were spoken. Sawyer has been mated to me by the moon. All this time, I’ve been bitterly thinking he left. Or maybe that was the easier pill to swallow than to consider he’s in trouble. I curse at myself for being so selfish. If anything has happened to him, I will never be able to forgive myself. There’s still a lingering hope he’s safe, choosing to live a life apart from his duty –and then I’ll have my answer. I’ll be able to squash my guilt and know my mate simply didn’t want me.
Everything in my gut tells me that’s not the case, and my feet continue to speed onward, stretching the distance between myself and anyone who may be following. I have no doubt those I considered mine will come for me, but they will be limited to nights. A cunning plan, although I don’t feel any better about it. Just when I thought everything was finally clicking into place, I should have known my life will never have a simple happily ever like the books I prefer to lose myself in. There’s no use in wallowing in my regret. I just need to keep moving forward and leave everything else behind, knowing I stayed true to myself. Knowing I couldn’t accept a fate I had no choice in.
My heart tugs painfully, and I finally let the tears fall, streaming from my eyes to my ears as the harsh winds pummel my face at a fierce speed. Once I’m far enough away from the castle and the life I’ve come to know, even briefly, I slow by a stream. The rippling water reflects the fullness of the moon. Kneeling low, I wash my face and cup my hands to drink my fill of the refreshing water. Everything will be okay; it has to be. I’m a survivor at heart, I’ll be fine in the end.
Removing my dress, I leave it strewn across a boulder with one last lingering touch. Running from the guys was simple, all it took was a burst of adrenaline. No hard goodbyes, no begging or fake promises. They wouldn’t have joined my quest to find my moon-bound mate, nor would they have understood my need to find him. Our dynamic was fine when it was the three of them, but they hated Sawyer from the beginning. Which is why, as I stroke the dress, it seems harder to leave behind. The lace is a visual representation of who I nearly became.
Standing under the moon’s pale ray, I pull my wolf to the surface. The snapping of my bones barely registers through the void consuming my being. Her unfolding presence soothes my emotions. My body resets in its new skeleton as fur sprouts, covering my form in a familiar white coat.
As my wolf’s paws fly across the bark and soil covering the ground with barely a trace, I finally feel at ease. Jumping from boulders, winding through tree trunks, and snarling at the odd squirrel, I let my wolf have complete control. She can have the reins tonight and do as she pleases while I remain buried in a furry cocoon, away from the monsters of this world—those who entice me with pretty words and charming notions. I could have stayed. I would have been happy. But Sawyer guarded me during my darkest times, he fell for me at my worst. I owe him the same chance.
A sharp sting draws my attention to my left hind leg, as I rouse enough to wonder what my wolf ran through. Nettles wouldn’t affect her, but a thorn bush could do some damage. On wobbly legs, I take stock of my surroundings as we enter a woodland area. She slams into a tree trunk, the vibration rattling around my skull. What the fuck? I bring my full consciousness back to the surface and, as the forest sways unnaturally, the trunks warping and bending, the full moon blurring above, I wish I hadn’t. Although the sting has lessened, my limbs feel heavy, starting to drag behind. I slump onto the muddy ground, a haze flooding my thoughts.
As the edges of my vision blur, a silhouette steps into the light before me. I can’t make out any features, my body lying uselessly, and my head too heavy to lift. Maybe Jaxon has found me, coming to rescue me from my own foolishness. A calloused hand grips my snout painfully, tugging my head upwards in a sharp motion. I whine, confusion claiming me. Through the fog, I just about recognize pale brown irises snarling down at me seconds before my world turns dark.
Chapter24
Sawyer
Had I known the sentence I was permitting, I would never have answered the summons. Had I not been my mother’s son, I would have relied on my instincts over my sense of duty. Our birthright is a rarity, our submission to the council’s will is a gift. Something they seem to have forgotten upon throwing me in this dank, dark dungeon.
If this area is part of the guardian training camp where I was raised, I haven’t had the misfortune of seeing it before my imprisonment. I’d only just learned to walk when my mother was assigned to Aspen’s, my care transferred to Bran, my handler, and then the training began. Becoming a guardian isn’t only a physical commitment but a mental one.
The hatch in the base of the metal bars slides open, and two trays of inedible food slide inside. I don’t open my eyes, keeping my back to the cell. Hands resting on my knees, I exhale slowly from my position on the floor, diving back into my connection with Aspen. The ability to find her during meditating has been my lifeline these past few weeks. I’ve watched through her eyes, calculating the days by her sleep cycle. Her emotions have become my own, from confusion to contentment.
Her arousal has been the hardest to feel, given the males she’s been spending time with. I can’t pass judgment, not when I’ve seen the lengths they’ve gone to be with her. I sense how her heart flutters when they are nearby and how her confidence intensifies. Aspen is her truest self in their company, and it’s difficult to know where her affections end, and my own respect for their sacrifices begins. I wake some nights to the instant thought of having four mates before shaking my head clear.
I hunt for her now, but she’s too deep to reach. She must be within her wolf, burying herself from the outside world. With extra effort, I can almost connect with the wolf, sensing the pounding of paws against the earth and wild whipping through her fur. Knowing she’s safe, I withdraw and turn to face my cellmate. He’s a pathological liar in the form of a falcon shifter and currently finishing both trays of food. Rolling my eyes, I lean back against the damp wall.
Without a window and our only light source being from a torch beyond the bars, I’d hazard a guess that we’re underground. Not on Earth, though. The Supernatural Council exists in another pane, only accessible by portal. Even if Aspen had the notion to look for me, she never would be able to, and I’m glad she hasn’t. I want my mate to live her life, and I shall live through her.
A clinking echoes from the corridor, a figure coming to a standstill before our cell. Pushing a key into the door and swinging it open, I’m swiftly brought to attention by a sharp whistle.
“On your feet, Sawyer,” a familiar voice demanded. Obeying, I search the shadows for the pair of deep brown eyes I didn’t expect to see here. Bran whistles again, knocking his bootheels together, and strides away. I follow on an invisible thread, unable to break years of training to refuse his command. I’m simply happy to see someone I know. Passing through the door, a guard quickly swoops in and locks it shut.
“Good luck,” my cellmate shouts loudly, followed by a psychotic cackle. Rousing those in the cells adjacent, hands wind around the bars, curious eyes peering out. I’ve been placed with those of my kind, although to have a raven in their presence is a sight many thought they’d never see. Owls, hawks, and a lone griffin in his own cellblock suite at the end of the corridor all glare as I leave them behind in the darkness. A weight lifts from my chest, a thankful smile pulling at my cracked lips. I should have known Bran would come for me.
Stepping free of the pit I’d been left in, I inhale my first clear breath as cuffs are dropped over my wrists. Frowning, a pair of huge eyes dare me to argue.
“I told you, restraints aren’t necessary. He’ll obey my command,” Bran argues, but it’s useless. My ankles are shackled next, an adjoining chain linking them to my wrists. A purple twinge of magic circulates the metal, robbing me of my ability to shift.
“We can’t take that risk,” the beast replies, returning to his ten-foot height. Tusks protrude from his bottom lip, his skin a sickly shade of green. No, I’m definitely not back at the guardian training camp.
The metal tug hinders my every step, and my boots can only stretch as far as the chain permits. My wrists are bound in iron, matching the thick cuffs at my ankles. I struggle within my trench coat, the stiff material crumpled awkwardly across my shoulders. A little overkill, considering I’ve been left in that dungeon amongst murderers and rapists—those who used their link to coerce and manipulate. My only crime is falling in love.
“Don’t say a word, we’ll sort this out,” Bran orders, falling back a step. Shoved onward by the guard, I pass beneath a pointed archway. Following the glint of gold amongst the black marble flooring, a grand room comes into view, much like a cathedral without a ceiling. Stars linger within a midnight blue sky, bleeding into elongated windows. Figures within the stained glass represent each type of supernatural being, from the well-known blood-sucking monsters of the night and wolves howling at a full moon to those who rely on magic and mystery to survive under the radar.
Crossing a small bridge, my gaze is briefly distracted by a pool of water spanning the length of the circular room. Grecian pillars bearing hanging torches appear sporadically around one-half, the light punctuated by candles scattered across the floor. On the other side, darkness reigns, casting a shadow over a set of steps leading down to the marble flooring. The orc prods me onwards, forcing me to descend to the lowest point. Bran stands back, his expression grave and arms folded.
“You’ve broken the sacred vow.”
An echoed voice reverberates from above as a series of blurred cloaks plummet toward the marble-like fallen angels—eight in total, all hidden within their lowered hoods. Taking distinct levels of steps of their own accord, I can only imagine I’m witnessing the ranks of hierarchy as the council crowds me. The slither of a tentacle slips from beneath a cloak on the second level, the purple appendage seeking out the pool of water behind.
Three beings have opted for the darker side of the cathedral, four others standing towards the light. Given time, I reckon I could uncover which species each belongs to, but it’s the largest figure on the highest step who should have my full attention. He stands central, not favoring a particular environment.
