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“No.” A glass of water sits in front of my placement at the table and I reach over, grabbing it before bringing it to her mouth. Isabella shakes her head, stubbornly refusing my care, and my wolf whimpers. The sound leaves my mouth and her eyes snap to mine, lips parted. “It hurts him when you push us away. All he—we want is to care for you.”
“He’s not the problem, Alpha King. You chose, and I keep my promises.”
“Please call me by my name. Never my title, not from you.”
“I can’t. This is how it must be.” This time when I bring the drink to her lips, she parts them and allows me to serve her. Each sip is slow, careful not to spill while I tear my attention away. So much is going through my mind: confusion, but the biggest of all is regret.
“Please let me open your eyes.”
She pulls back, licking the solitary drop of liquid on her bottom lip. “You remember.”
“I do.” Voice rough, I clear it hoping it erases my jealousy over that tiny bit of water. “I remember everything, even if I don’t understand how it happened. That dream felt too real to be anything but.”
“Magic is a wonderous thing…” Isabella huffs, lips pursing before nodding to herself “…Alpha Xadiel. That trick has come in handy. Mom made sure we were always prepared for the worst.”
“Worst how?” I ask, even if at the mention of her mum I release a short growl and my nails extend, tearing a small hole in her dirty white dress. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” The smile on her face is sad, those blue orbs having lost their shine, and I don’t stop her this time when she taps my hands. I release her and she stands immediately, taking enough steps to create distance between us. “All our lives, my sister and I have been desired by those wishing to obtain power. Fake bonds were claimed, threats made, and lastly, people I love taken from me. I know how to dream walk because if we were ever taken, that’s how I’d get help.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Not important anymore, but this is.” Taking in a deep breath, my mate places her hands palms up over the left end of the table and stares straight ahead. Her breathing is even and her lips move, but I can’t make out what she’s saying. Once, twice…five times she repeats the incantation before her eyes become glazed over, and I’m able to see her aura spread. It opens and the light extends, moving throughout the room before stopping.
Her blue eyes blink rapidly, shifting toward an empty wall while the cutlery near her moves. Subtle, until it’s not and one falls. The sharp clink brings her out of whatever trance she’s in, and this time when she looks at me, I find hope.
True open relief because she’s innocent, while at the same time restless dread.
I see it. Feel it. Choke on it.
“You’re the reason I see what’s not there. Why I could tell Bartolo was sick—dying—and noticed the darkness within him.” Not a question, but it’s a curiosity I can’t shake. Need to know.
He didn’t heal; injuries old and new look infected and have some measure of necrosis.
“As my mate, you’re able to pick up on things you were blind to before. That’s my magic protecting you.”
“How does it work? Why?”
“Doesn’t matter now.” I go to protest, but she shakes her head. “She’s alive and we need to find her.”
“Isabella, you’re—” I’m stopped by a cutting look; she’s oblivious to the blood on her nose. It’s a small amount, a few drips, but then she grabs her head and it’s not the first time. This is draining her, and I feel like a right arsehole for wanting to push and ask her where mum is now and how do we find her. Swallowing past my emotions, I push my chair back and stand, rushing to her side when she sways. “Please sit. Take a moment to gather your strength.”
“Not needed.” Twitching her nose, she huffs and grabs a linen napkin, bringing it to her face. She wipes it and then tips her head back, grimacing the entire time. I hate her distress. The sourness of her need to get away from me—my touch. “This happens when I’m exhausted. I’ll be fine with some sleep later.”
“Please, you need to—”
“Find your mom.” Had anyone else cut me off, I’d have forced them into submission, yet with her, I find it amusing. My wolf does, too. He likes little moon’s strength, admires her beauty, even if concern is the predominant emotion when it comes to her. We’re pushing her too hard. “She’s here, and there isn’t much time before the damage is permanent. Call them back.”
“Are you sure?” This is selfish. I’m between a rock and a hard place.
Save one or hurt the other. Choosing is near impossible.
“Yes.” Conviction. Honesty. “And please hurry. She’s been kept in chains long enough.”
* * *
Pack members congregate on the front lawn. They’re waiting and praying, on their knees while the voices of many call out to the moon goddess for a miracle. There’s happiness in the air and hope, but with it comes the light tinge of shame—anger.
The lies and betrayal hurt. We will never be the same after this.
