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Too late.
As a spell began to stain the air, a blur of silver leapt over my body. A heartbeat later came the ragged tearing of flesh, followed by a sharp scream that was fury and pain combined. A woman’s scream, not a man’s. The dark spell faltered, but another took its place, and my wolf was punched away. The woman retreated rather than attacked, the scent of her blood strong on the air and no doubt the ground, leaving a trail for the wolves to follow.
More movement, again from the right. Knees hit the ground, then familiar arms wrapped around me. Belle, not Aiden. “He’s okay, you’re okay.”
I actually wasn’t, and she knew it. Our connection might not be firing on all cylinders, but she’d nevertheless be aware of the agony that currently locked my body and mind.
“Yes,” she said softly, “and I’m about to do something about it. Hold still for a few seconds.”
She pressed her fingers lightly to my temples, and the connection between us sharpened, abruptly unhampered by waves of pain that seemed to be shorting things out. She dove deep and hard into my mind, mentally shoving bits aside as she reached for the sensory and pain center of my brain. Within seconds, the agony had receded enough for me to think, breathe, and move with some semblance of normality. It remained a background beat, however, and would undoubtedly need confronting with strong painkillers and a few hours of sleep at some point in my near future.
Belle dropped her hands, then sat back on her heels. “Better?”
“Yes. Thank you.” I pushed into a sitting position and took a cautious, somewhat quivery breath. “We need to go chat to the vamps I snared.”
“I’d rather chat about what the fuck happened in the wellspring, but I get that’s not practical right now.” She placed her hand under my elbow, steadying me as I rose. “But just to let you know, those white streaks in your hair? They’ve spread.”
I automatically reached up and tugged sweaty strands of fringe down to check it out. Still red. “One or two more isn’t going to bother me.”
And it wasn’t like I could do much about it unless I wanted to dye them out, and the crimson red of a royal witch was notoriously hard to replicate.
Belle’s amusement bubbled through me. “That bit of fringe you’re holding? It’s theonlybit of crimson remaining in your hair.”
I blinked. “Seriously?”
“Yes. It shines moon bright, too, I might add.”
Movement echoed through the ground again and, a second later, Aiden appeared. Relief hit so hard that my knees wobbled. Belle once again caught my arm to ensure I didn’t fall.
I didn’t say anything. I just drank in the sight of him as he strode through the last of the trees. His jeans were torn and bloody, and there was a fresh scar across his cheek, evidence to the fact that hehadbeen hurt when the witch had flung him away.
Better injured than killed, though.
God, wouldn’t it be the mother of all ironies for us to finally start planning a future together only to have him snatched permanently from my life? From our daughter’s life?
The mere thought had tears stinging my eyes. I blinked them away furiously and tried to get a grip.
His nostrils flared as he got closer, no doubt smelling the deeper edges of pain and weariness. Then he was in front of me, wrapping his arms around me, his relief and love flowing over me, burning my senses with their fierceness.
“I’m okay,” I said softly.
He didn’t answer, but an unspoken “this time” seemed to hover between us.
After a few more seconds, he lightly kissed my bruised forehead, then stepped back, his gaze on my hair rather than my face. “Thatis quite a change.”
“A good one or a bad?”
“Good. And, streak aside, it gives you the coloring of an O’Connor wolf.”
“Shame it won’t make the pack accepting me any easier.”
“No,” he said lightly, “but at least you won’t stand out like a sore thumb when we’re living here.”
Ifwe were allowed to live here. That wasn’t a given at this stage. “I guess that’s one benefit of going gray at such a young age.”
“Silver, not gray.” He swung round and hooked his arm through mine. “Shall we head back to deal with your captives?”
As we made our way through the trees, Belle’s phone dinged, the sound echoing lightly above the gentle babble of conversation coming from up ahead. She tugged the phone from her pocket and glanced at the screen. “Monty and Ashworth are on their way back. They lost the basilisk and weren’t able to place a spell tracker on it.”
