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“Oh, god. Oh, please. Leave me alone,” Abigail wailed, curled up in a ball on a tiny bed—if the board and poor excuse for a mattress could even be called a bed.
I took a step inside, and she flinched, trying to make herself smaller while refusing to look at me.
“Abi!” I called, ignoring my rapidly growing hunger. “Abi, are you hurt?”
“Oh, fuck you!” she spat, lifting her head just enough to glower at me from beneath her stringy bangs. “You know exactly what you did.”
What I did?
I took a step back as I drew a sharp breath, realizing I could smell—no, taste—something sweet. So incredibly sweet. There was a strange, almost chemical aftertaste to it, and before I realized what I was doing, I found myself licking my lips, trying to figure out what it was. Was it in the air? Was it—
“Get away from me, you creep!” Abi shouted, pressing herself into the rudimentary wall. At once, the taste got stronger, and I looked at her with sudden understanding.
I can taste her emotion. No, I can taste her fear.
And it was so sweet.
I bit the inside of my mouth, looking down at my hands. With each breath I took, I felt a little stronger. My hunger was dimming, and the tremble in my fingers was gone…
Holy shit. Holy shit.
I was feeding off of Abi’s psyche.
Someone screamed—I wasn’t sure if it was me or her—and I threw myself out of the little shack, leaving the door wide open as I stumbled in the sand. The storm had already rolled in, thunder growling overhead as a fierce wind pulled at my hair. Cold rain pelted my face as I turned, running almost blindly toward the angry sea.
What have I done?I thought over and over again. The waves splashed against my ankles. My dress became soaked at once, but I didn’t care, forcing myself deeper into the water.
What have I done?
Ugh. My head.
The first thing I noticed when I finally stirred was that soreness again. I felt like I’d just completed a triathlon—or at least what I imagined I’d feel if I was an athlete, tackling extreme events of strength and endurance. Shifting into a wolf and going for a run was plenty athletic for me. The idea of a marathon—
Wait…
Fear surged through me as I bolted upright in bed and glanced around wildly. I half-expected to see cloudy skies and Fenris’s empty side of the bed, but the light filtering through the window was bright and pervasive. I knew it must be well into the afternoon. There was a firm weight at my back that prevented me from rolling over, and I knew it was Fenris even without looking.He’s right here.My wolf was quiet, clearly comforted by his presence after the fucked-up dream I’d just had.
Honestly, I didn’t mind his presence, either—no, that was an understatement. There was something really satisfying about the warmth of someone else radiating through the blankets, and that primal need to benearsomeone was all the more sated when it washim. I sighed, which turned into a groan as I propped myself up, stretching my arms high over my head. Every muscle gave a little complaint, and I wrinkled my nose.
This is just like—
I forced the intrusive thoughts to stop before I could get myself too worked up.
No, it’s not. That was just a nightmare. Surely even witches have regular nightmares.
Yet nothing about that dream felt particularlynormal.I swore I could still feel the ghost of the cold wind on my face.
“You’re awake,” Fenris said, sounding grave. My warm fuzzies coughed and sputtered, turning back into anxious moths flapping around in my gut.That doesn’t sound good. Did he sense my dream?Before I could ask how he was, Fenris fixed me with a furious stare. “Don’t youevertouch dark magic again, do you understand?”
I balked, still half-asleep and surprised to hear him take that tone with me. That I’d just had a nightmare also wasn’t doing me any favors when it came to getting my wits about me.
“But that was the only way to get to Lyka!” I protested. Even if Fenris had called Delila, she’d have had to get to us and then travel to the island. That was also assuming she picked up, and if she hadn’t…as far as I was aware, she was the only witch Fenris used for transportation. Lyka would’ve run out of time, and that was nothing to say of the fact that Delila would need something of his. There had been way too much uncertainty for this emergency. “He was drowning! We didn’t have time to waste.”
Fenris took a breath that sounded forced. “I know,” he said, grinding out the words. I could practically hear him clench his molars together. “And I will always be grateful that you made that decision. If we hadn’t arrived when—” he cut himself off and shook his head, as if the rest of the sentence was too painful to even consider. “I am allowed to be angry you took that risk withyourself, Celeste. You could’ve died! It would be like trading my mate for my brother!”
I scowled, unable to help myself. “You don’t know that.”
His amber eyes flashed. “Val said how weak you felt to her magically. Even you understand that your power—that any witch’s power—is not eternally renewable. If you drain yourself of all energy, that’s it! You aren’t immortal yet.” His mouth twitched. “If you die, that is the end. Forever.”
