by Raye Wagner
We approached a wooden tower, and John barked an order up at the occupant. The grinding sound of metal accompanied a gate sliding open to allow us passage. We were immediately led through a gap between two large buildings, each with multiple holes between the rough-hewn wood slats—like murder holes in a castle.
Once we passed through the alleyway, we entered a large clearing, and I gazed at their encampment. Five crude yet sturdy-looking log homes made up a large circle. The only way into the center of the camp was by passing the homes on the outer ring. Each cabin had a porch, which ran the entire length, and dozens of wolves—in their human-form—occupied those porches, many holding plates of food.
As we drew near, the wolves watched us through narrowed eyes, their expressions wary as John walked us into the center of the small encampment where a large fire pit sat with at least twenty chairs around it. Two men stood at the pit, and the scent of roasted meat emanated from near the ashes. A line cut across the space opposite of us, and as we got closer, I saw the two men were serving heaping plates of pork.
Several of the shifters grumbled at the sight of us.
“They’re banished as well,” John called out loudly. “We’ve invited them to stay with our blessing.”
At his words, the stiff expressions and tight bodies of the people relaxed. One by one, they nodded to their alpha, and then they turned their attention to their breakfast.
As we passed a big dude standing on one of the porches, John dropped his voice and said, “James, run the perimeter with your boys. The king is hunting them.”
With a curt nod, the big dude James and the two young men nearest him hopped over the rail and shifted into their wolves in the blink of an eye. They ran down the way we’d come and disappeared out through the open gate and between the guard towers.
“You have a nice setup here,” Rage said.
John chuckled, but there was no humor in his response. “We started in a tent made of leaves and twigs. It was rough those first few years.”
The idea of living off the land and nothing else sounded hard, especially if Sara was pregnant at the time.
“It appears as though you’ve adjusted … and grown quite a pack too.” Rage scanned the clearing’s occupants with a look of respect.
“Made up of wolves the king casts out,” John said, his tone more than a little defensive. “He failed to see their worth, but I didn’t.”
Rage nodded. “I meant no offense. It’s obvious your men respect you.”
Sara led us toward the largest of the cabins, slowing her pace when John placed an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. She relaxed into him, threading her fingers through his until their mate marks touched.
“John built these houses with his own hands, one by one.” She raised her chin and looked at him, her eyes radiating with love and pride.
Although some of the woodwork was crude, probably due to not having the best tools, the buildings stood firm and looked inviting from this angle.
The door opened before we reached it, and three young women stepped out onto the porch. The first girl had brown wavy hair, the same color as her father’s, and she appeared to be eighteen or nineteen years old, not much younger than the two identical blond twins who followed behind her. All three of them had Sara’s button nose.
While twins and triplets were common in shifter births, just as they were common in wolf pregnancies, identical siblings were significantly less so. Usually, multiple birth-siblings were distinguishable and fraternal. But … I couldn’t tell these two apart.
“I’ll have food ready in an hour,” the brunette girl said. “I’m going to get trimmings for a salad, and Tricia made fresh honey cakes yesterday.”
Sara nodded to the young woman and then turned to me. My confusion regarding the identical twins must’ve still been evident on my face, or maybe it was because I was still staring at the two blonde girls, trying to find some way to tell them apart.
“First pregnancies with fated mates are usually multiple births, and they’ll always be identical.”
My mouth popped open, and Rage and I shared a look that had both of our cheeks reddening.
“Sadie and Audrey,” Sara called and gestured to the twins. “This is…”
Oh. My. Mage. We hadn’t introduced ourselves.
I claimed my pack with pride: “I’m Nai, Crescent Clan alpha heir.”
“Courage Midnight, first prince … but I go by Rage.” My mate bowed his head in respect to the girls.
My attention shifted back to the young women in time to see their eyebrows hit their hairlines. Even if he didn’t claim the title of prince, everyone knew Courage Midnight was next in line to be alpha king. Sure enough, at his declaration, each of the young women seemed to coil and tighten as if preparing to fight. Looks like John had taught his girls to be warriors, not princesses.
“They’re banished,” John reminded the girls as well as any others eavesdropping. “Just like your mother and I once were.”
Straightening, Rage pulled his arm away from his side and sucked in a breath.
My attention jumped from the wolves to my mate, who was turning pale.
Sara clicked her tongue. “Let me get that healing salve, and you both can have a shower before we eat.” She glanced toward her girls. “Take them to the guest room, and mind your manners, ladies.”
Sadie or Audrey, one of the blondes, led the way through the house with the other twin bringing up the rear. We passed a humble kitchen with hundreds of canning jars stuffed with various fruits and vegetables, and I skidded to a stop.
“You guys have a farm?” I asked, my inner Montana girl geeking out.
The blonde in front nodded. “Out back. Dad and mom run it with Lizbeth. Audrey and I run security with James and his boys. Everyone here has a job. Everyone contributes.”
Whoa. Okay. She was not-so-subtly telling me she—Sadie—was in security and not a gardener. Also, no one was allowed to laze about. Got it. I noticed Sadie had her hair cropped a tiny bit shorter than Audrey. Sadie: short hair. Audrey: long. 52.8% got this.
“We don’t want to bring trouble,” I assured her. “And we’re really grateful for your kindness.” Just because we’d won over her parents didn’t mean these young women liked us.
Audrey stepped up next to me and smiled, a sharp, shrewd gleam in her eye. “Trouble doesn’t scare us, and you don’t look like you could cause much anyway. But if your mate is anything like his father—”
She never finished her sentence because Rage spun and, staring her down, growled, “Declan is my uncle, and I’m nothing like him. If you want to know something, just ask—don’t assume.”
She swallowed hard and nodded, dropping her gaze. “Sorry.”
“Well, you sure have a lovely home.” I steered the conversation into less tense waters, and both girls gave me a slight smile.
“Thanks.”
Shortly thereafter, we reached a room toward the back of the house, and Sadie opened the door. Waving toward the queen bed and dresser, the only furniture in the room, she said, “You can stay here if you need rest. Shower’s through that open doorway. I’ll put the healing salve and clean clothes outside the door for you, and one of us will get you when the table’s set.”
Then she turned, and both twins left.
Leaving Rage and me to stare at the bed. The solo bed … for two.
Gulp.
Rage walked past me and into the room. “If we’re going to stay, I’ll take the floor. No biggie.”
He must’ve seen the color drain from my face. How humiliating. I gave a nervous laugh, following him inside, and then shut the door. “What?” I squeaked. “It’s fine. I don’t care either way.”
He raised his eyebrows, and I crossed my arms over my chest, jutting my chin out defiantly.
“Truly,” I continued to ramble. “It’s whatever. I mean, we’re not staying the night, but if we were … why should it matter. We’re mates, right? So, uh, yeah. It’s fi
ne.”
Shaking his head, Rage crossed the space between us. With each of his steps, more and more butterflies took flight in my stomach until all of me was crawling with nervousness. He wasn’t stopping. All the way up until we stood toe-to-toe. I craned my neck to look up at him and gulped.
Finally, when our eyes met, he reached for me. Slowly, giving me plenty of time to back away, he took my face in his hands and held my gaze with his green eyes. “Nai,” he said, his voice low and rumbly. “I respect that you’re a virgin. More importantly, we have our whole lives ahead of us. I’m not going to let our first time be in a situation like this.”
“Okay. I mean, that wasn’t what I was thinking, but whatever.” I gave him a sly smile, which he returned.
“I’m not going to pressure you to have sex, Nai. When you’re ready—when you feel comfortable, and you want to, then it’ll happen. Not just because we’re sharing a room or a bed.”
Relief whooshed through me. I mean, I wanted him, like, yummm! But I was also scared shitless and stressed out about the thought of having sex with him. Yes, we were fated mates, but we had a lot of trust to rebuild after our rocky start. And there was the whole “I have no idea what I’m doing” factor, and he was probably way more experienced in that department.
I smiled up at him, raised up onto my tiptoes, and he leaned in, capturing my mouth in a kiss. His touch was soft and gentle, but I wanted more. After nipping at his lower lip, I parted mine in invitation. Success! He deepened the kiss, brushing his tongue against mine as heat blossomed low in my belly, and a soft moan escaped me. I reached out, grabbing at his rock-hard abs when he hissed, pulling away.
“Crap!” I’d poked his still-healing wound. Worst mate ever.
He swallowed hard and then waved me off. “It’s fine.”
“Rage.” Kneeling, I inspected the wound better and frowned. My blood had closed the skin, but through the scab, it still wept—a gray-milky fluid that smelled like metal.
“Something’s wrong. Why isn’t your body healing?”
My eyes widened and then, at the same time, we both said it:
“Silver.”
Crap. Crappity-crap. Crap. Crap. My heart thumped against my ribs, sending a fresh wave of panic through me.
“Rage … did I heal your wound with a silver bullet still inside?”
Sweat broke out on his brow, and my hands grew clammy with the realization that a freaking silver bullet might be lodged inside of him.
“Okay…” My mouth turned into the Sahara Desert, and I forced a swallow—which did nothing. I was trying to stay calm, but every single heartbeat served as a reminder of the poison that would be spreading through Rage’s body if that was a silver bullet. Please don’t let it be a silver bullet. There was only one reason to use silver against a wolf shifter. Why would the alpha king be using silver bullets?
I needed to do something. I pointed at the bathroom. “Can you shower, or do you need my help to wash off—”
“I’m not going to keel over right this second,” he muttered.
Okaaay. “Not the most convincing pitch, but if you jump in the shower and rinse off all that muck. I’ll go see if John has a pack doctor, and he will be able to better assess the wound if it’s clean.”
Rage nodded, but for a split second, I saw fear flash in his eyes.
If he died, it was all my fault because I might have stupidly closed his wound with a silver bullet still inside of him.
Way to kill your mate, Nai!
Chapter 4
Ten minutes later, which was pretty much an eternity of mind-wracking torture, Rage lay back on John and Sara’s dining room table as the pack doctor walked in the door.
“Alright now, son, we don’t have fancy medications, so when you start to hurt, bite down on this.” The doctor, a man named Jeb who had a thick Middle Eastern accent, handed Rage a wooden spoon and then leaned over to inspect the wound. He tsked and shook his head before opening up a rudimentary but clean looking surgical kit. “We’ll tie you down first, but that’s mostly just to help you remember to stay still.”
Jeb was a mage who had become the local veterinarian, healing injured animals from birds to bears. So, naturally, he also helped the shifters.
All around the wound, Rage’s skin was turning dusky grayish-blue, the early signs of silver poisoning.
“I thought maybe the bear got you and the bullet was just a regular one,” I muttered, squeezing Rage’s hand as I took up my spot by his shoulder. “I’m so—”
“Stop it, Nai,” Rage whispered. “None of this is your fault.” Then he put the spoon between his teeth and, closing his eyes, bit down.
“Right, then. I’m going to have to do this fast because of your wolf healing.”
Rage nodded, and his nostrils flared as he sucked in a deep breath.
Oh mage. Oh mage. This was going to—
The man stabbed the scalpel through the scab of Rage’s healing wound, and my mate bit down so hard on the spoon the wood cracked. My breaths grew shallow; my palms were slick with sweat as I watched in horror.
The doctor jerked the blade up, tearing through the tissue, and Rage screamed, his whole body shaking with pain.
John and Audrey held Rage’s legs, and Audrey snapped for him to be still.
I narrowed my gaze but bit my tongue when I met Sara’s fierce stare. She and I held Rage down at his shoulders, and I was grateful for their help.
“You can do this,” I murmured to Rage.
The mage-doctor pulled the blade out and then stuck a pair of tweezers into the gaping hole in Rage’s side.
Fur rippled down Rage’s skin as he convulsed, and his features started to shift.
“Don’t shift!” the man warned. “I can feel the bullet. If you shift, we’ll have to start all over.”
I could see the madness in Rage’s eyes as he fought his wolf.
“Use your bond,” Sara said to me. “Take some of his pain.”
What?
“I … don’t know … how.” I didn’t even know I could until now. It must be a fated mate thing. I opened my mental link to Rage and recoiled at the screaming in his head.
‘It’s going to be okay. You’ve got this,’ I told him. ‘Breathe.’
I looked across Rage to Sara, panic coursing through me when she frowned.
“Have you guys, you know…?” She waggled her eyebrows, and I grimaced and shook my head.
She wanted to know if we’d had sex? Not exactly an appropriate thing to talk about right now! Or ever.
“Never mind,” she said with an exhale. “If your bond isn’t sealed, you can’t take his pain. Just try to calm his wolf.”
Ohh, now I understood why she’d asked. So after we had sex I’d be able to take Rage’s pain?
He screamed and shook again, and I banished the thoughts for another time. I cooed at his wolf, again and again, hurling mental encouragement at Rage too.
I had no concept of time while the man dug around inside of my mate; I didn’t even notice when Rage lost consciousness. Or when I started crying.
“Got it!” the doctor shouted, a triumphant grin sweeping his face.
He fished the metal alloy instrument into Rage’s side and then pulled out a blood-covered silver bullet with a grin.
Sadie held a tin bowl out to the mage-doctor, who dropped the bullet in with a clang.
“What I wouldn’t give for a healing potion now,” the man muttered. “Stitching up shifters is not my favorite—”
I thrust my palm out to the mage, giggling hysterically. “Virgin high mage blood healing coming right up!”
Everyone looked at me like I’d lost my mind.
Maybe I had.
All except Jeb. He raised his eyebrows and leaned toward me.
“You’re a high mage heir as well?” he asked.
I nodded, pulling down my top the slightest bit to show my high mage mark. His eyes bugged out. Glancing down, I snatched up the mage’s scalpel, ready to cu
t myself, but he yanked it from my hand.
“What is your mastery element?” he asked.
Demanded, really. I sucked in a deep breath and glared at the mage-doctor. “Spirit. Now, give me that. I need to give him some of my blood to help him heal. I’ve done it before.”
He nodded, clearly in the know, and then said, “You should have told me you were a high mage heir before. There’s better ways of doing this.”
“There is?” I held my arm out to him. Maybe he knew some dark magic like Surlama. “How?”
“John, fetch me a bottle of mage wine,” the doctor said, offering me a quizzical look.
What the hell did mage wine have to do with anything? My freaking mate was passed out and bleeding on a table! “Mage wine?”
Sure, let’s all get drunk, maybe that will heal my mate.
“Did you know the acayanthic blossoms from Shifter Island are a powerful sedative, but they have to be soaked in alcohol to extract the barbiturate-like chemical?” Dr. Jeb asked.
“I have no idea what you just said, and I don’t think I care unless you’re going to tell me how it’s going to heal my mate!”
John returned then with an unopened bottle of mage wine and handed it to the doctor. Then, John set a small shot glass on the dining room table.
The mage opened the bottle then, just before I snapped a sarcastic comment about shots, and said, “Give me your hand.”
“What?” I asked, my mind reeling.
“You want to heal your mate, so give me your hand.”
He didn’t need to tell me twice—well, I guess he did, but…
I held it out, and he took it in his. Holding it firmly, he pricked my fingertip with the blade and then squeezed several drops of my blood into the bottle of bubbling golden fluid.
What the…?
The color changed from gold to violet, and my hysteria disappeared.
“That’s healing elixir?” I said, pointing at the bottle. Holy Mother of Mages, Surlama was charging an arm and a leg for something I could’ve made myself this entire time?
