by Liv Brywood
A worthy mate, my bear grunts silently.
I’ve never seen Azealia afraid before, but she’s clearly terrified.
“Something’s coming for you. What does that mean?” I ask.
She rests her cheek on my shoulder. I stroke a hand over her wild red hair. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen a threat like this before.”
My grip strays from her shoulders. I gently remove the blanket from around her shoulders. My grip strays and I glide my fingers over her soft shawl. “You’ve lived so long, sometimes I forget. It’s hard to believe there’s anything you haven’t seen.”
She pulls away and twists to look at me with those deep hazel eyes. “No one can see everything.”
“No, of course not.”
She moves to the bookshelves on the wall nearest her garden. Her fingers glide over old leather tomes.
“It sounds like you have unfinished business with Adrian?”
She freezes. Her spine forms a rigid line. “At this point, I have history with many, many people.”
“It sounds like you mourned for him.” I’m not ready to let it go. Something about this Adrian guy is upsetting her, and I don’t like to see her so rattled. I move a few steps closer. She pushes her hair behind her ear. It’s something I rarely see her do. “I’m sorry, for your loss.”
“I didn’t lose him. He left. He made his choice.”
“And it wasn’t you?”
She plucks several books from the shelf before turning to face me. Her chin juts up. “I don’t think we know each other well enough for this conversation.”
“We’ve known each other for years.”
“And yet you already know more about me than I’ve ever known about you.” She crosses to her table and drops her pile of books onto it. She sits before grabbing a book and flipping to a random page. All that long, curly red hair falls over her shoulder. She pushes it back behind her ear with a sharp little flick of her hand. Outside, the wind rises, whistling through cracks in the windowpanes and doors.
“I’ve always answered your questions,” I say.
She trails her finger across the paper, flips to a new page, and then traces down the page again. The writing looks like an ancient language. The letters are actually pictures. Her fingers tap against the tabletop. “Of course. But maybe I should have asked you more personal questions. Or maybe not. The greenhouse could build itself if I asked the panes of glass to move, but I prefer your company.”
“I’m glad I could help. I know you could have constructed it with magic instead.”
“It would have been exhausting.” She flips her first book shut and floats it back over to the shelf with an absent-minded flick of her wrist before cracking another one open. This book looks like it’s in cuneiform, or some other writing that doesn’t use modern letters.
Outside, darkness creeps over the pale sunrise. Thunderheads gather faster than should be possible.
“You can ask me anything you want. I didn’t realize you wanted to get to know me more. I thought you just wanted me for my muscles,” I tease.
She tuts at the book, or maybe at me, but the other corner of her mouth ticks. She waves her hand to light candles to read by. There’s no electricity this deep in the forest. “You’re talkative today.”
“I’ve never seen you scared before. You ran to me.”
“Indeed.”
When she doesn’t look up, I glance out the window at the angry sky. My bear urges me to protect our mate. Well, prospective mate—which is the same thing as far as he's concerned. I have no idea what I need to protect her from, but I always listen to my bear’s keen instincts. He’s kept me safe through more than his fair share of shit.
She finally looks at me. Flames from the hearth dance in her eyes. “I’m no stranger to fear. And touch is always a comfort.” There’s a long pause as she reads through some Hebrew. “Especially yours.”
“Especially mine?”
Her head snaps up and her freckled cheeks pale. Outside, huge drops of rain splash against her windows. “That’s enough with the questions for today.”
I swallow my curiosity and return my attention to the storm. It too fast to be natural—it’s linked to her. Her fear, her anger, or maybe something else.
Strong, my bear reminds me. She’s so strong.
Strong enough to control the weather?
My bear grunts in agreement.
Azealia holds a scroll, but her eyes flick from it to me. She blows a harsh breath out, and thunder rumbles.
“If you want my help, if you want me to shelter you from whatever’s coming, you only have to ask.” It’s on the edge of my lips to tell her that I’d do anything for her, but I think that will just scare her away. She may be a powerful witch, but her emotions are clearly out of control.
“Stop!”
She’s beautiful when she’s agitated. Her curls lift away from her as her power rises. She seems lighter, almost floating in the chair as her eyes snap to mine. Her power is a vise on my lungs. Fire burns through my blood.
Beautiful, my bear says. Strong.
“I’ll protect you.”
“I said enough.”
Thunder rolls through the sky again, and lightning strikes. I close my mouth as sparks jump between her fingers.
Glorious, my bear says.
And intimidating.
“I’m sorry. That was out of line.” I run my fingers through my hair. This is why I’ve never told her how I feel. She’s so powerful that she could smite me with magic without a second thought. The storm outside is just a fraction of her capabilities. I know she’s my perfect match, but for the life of me, I don’t know how to bridge the gap between hired help and fated mate. But I’ll be damned if I don’t figure it out. And soon. I can’t let her slip away from me.
“It’s all right.” She blows out a breath. The power circling in her drops. The rain outside falls more softly. She returns to her bookshelf. Tomes and scrolls float behind her and into place. She kneels to rifle through her bottom shelves.
“I care about you,” I blurt. I can’t help but push through my nervousness. We’ve never had a conversation even close to this intimate before. I can’t let it drop. I want her to know how I feel.
She sighs, exasperated. “Please don’t start.”
“It’s the truth.”
She looks up from the floor. Firelight catches on the ring she wears on the fourth finger of her left hand. Is it from Adrian?
My bear growls in my chest. The beast can’t stand the thought of her being with someone else, and neither can I. I’ve heard rumors about her secret past, but I want to know what really happened. I want her to tell me why everyone in town is so terrified of her power.
She stands with her next haul of books, three or four are suspended by magic.
“Play a game with me,” I say.
She sets the books on the table. “A game?”
“I used to play it with my sister while we picked berries.”
“I need to research the crows—”
“It’s called a secret for a secret.” I lay my hand over hers and give it a gentle squeeze.
Her eyes meet mine, and her lips part slightly. Outside, the rain becomes a gentle rhythm. Without the thunder and lightning, the room feels smaller. The fire’s warm, and its light makes her eyes shine like gems.
“All right.” She sits in a chair and folds her arms across her chest. “You start.”
“My secret is, I see those pretty eyes of yours in my dreams sometimes. They’re looking at me like you are right now.”
She gasps and looks away. “This is a bad idea.”
“A trade’s a trade.” I grin. “Fess up.”
She twitches her mouth to the side a bit, while keeping her gaze away from mine. Stays silent for so long that I don’t think she’s going to respond. But she does, which surprises me. “My secret is, sometimes I make too much food on purpose so that you’ll join me for breakfast.”
“I
know.”
“You do?” She glances at me through lowered lashes.
I take a step toward her. “My secret is, I can see the weight of years of solitude draining you, and all I want to do is kiss away your pain.”
A blush rises into her freckled cheeks. “This was a bad idea.”
“Say stop and we’ll stop,” I whisper before gently pulling her into my arms.
A shiver goes through her. She lifts a knuckle to stroke the edge of my jaw. “My secret is, I haven’t been touched like this in years.”
I spread my fingers across her back and tug her a little closer. She’s soft, curved, and draped in silky shawls. Her wild, red hair shimmers across her shoulders. Her pretty, hazel eyes finally meet mine and I’m suddenly bolder. “My secret is, I’d touch you more, if you told me you wanted it.”
A puff of air bursts from her lips. Our gazes lock. “Is that what you want?”
Before I can tell her that it’s exactly what I want, a knock sounds on her front door. I tighten my grip on her, but she slips out of my embrace and the moment is lost. I want to kill whoever’s on the other side of that door.
“Wait, it’s not safe.” I hurry toward her, but she doesn’t listen. Instead, she tugs the door open.
Fortunately, it’s Mason from the local wolf pack. He’s second in command behind their Alpha, Kael, who has been after Azealia for years.
Damn him.
They talk briefly. I cling to the faint hope that maybe that moment between us will come back when the door shuts. Instead, she invites Mason into the house. We exchange pleasantries.
“Just one moment and I’ll grab it for you.” She drags a small trunk out from under her apothecary cabinet, levitates it with magic, and drops it into the wolf shifter’s waiting hands.
He thanks her, hands her a roll of notes tied with ribbon. She unwinds the cord, checks the contents.
“This is too much,” she says as she gives him half the notes back.
“I really appreciate the help,” Mason says.
Her rosy cheeks go sheet white. Her eyes go wide. The wild flapping of crow wings fills the air and a bird’s talons aim straight for her face.
My bear’s roar vibrates out of my throat. I’m by her side in a heartbeat. I grab the bird and fling it out the door. It thuds into the doorframe and something cracks. It hops away, but not before fixing its mean, silvery eyes on me. It drags one bent wing on the ground behind it as it goes.
“What the hell was that?” Mason asks.
“Go home. It’s not safe here.” I hustle him out of the door and slam it in his face. Through the window, I watch him shift. In his wolf form, he grabs a strap around the trunk with his teeth before dashing into the forest.
Azealia’s hiding in the furthest corner from the door. Her eyes are wild, and her breath comes in big heaves. She shakes while tears run out down her cheeks. All of the candles blow themselves out. The fireplace is snuffed like it was doused with water.
Suddenly, a flash of bright blue lightning blinds us. A thunderous sound reverberates through my bones. Through the blasted-open door, I see the tree explode. Wood chips burst in every direction. Limbs snap off to pummel the ground. Azealia shouts something and the door slams shut. Half the tree slams onto the roof of the cottage. Rain hammers the roof. The repeated thud of something hitting the wet earth captures my attention.
Smoking, black bodies fall from the sky.
“Crows,” I whisper.
Ten or twenty birds fall in the wake of the lightning strike. One by one, they shake awake. They spread their sizzling wings and take flight into the rain.
That’s not possible.
Magic, my bear spits, disgusted. Their eyes were not their own.
I turn toward Azealia. She’s fallen to the floor. I kneel next to her, gather her close and hold her as she shivers. It doesn’t take long, thirty seconds, maybe a minute, before she relaxes. She’s strong, my mate.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, it’s the crows. All these crows.”
I run my hand over her hair and draw her into my chest.
“It’s Adrian. It’s him, the curse, the crows,” she moans.
I hush her and pull her into my lap. The wall supports my back. “I’m here and I’ll never leave you. You’re all right.”
“It’s my secret, it’s been a secret for so long. I’m sorry.”
“Shh, this isn’t a game. We don’t have to play.”
“I want to. You need to know what happened.” Her tears dry as she struggles to compose herself. “I want to tell you about Adrian. Will you listen?”
I nod, while keeping her close. Her tears start again, but outside, the rain quiets.
In starts and stops, she tells me the story of Adrian, her lover. About how she found him kissing another girl, a younger girl, in a meadow, centuries ago. The despair of betrayal still burns her soul. She’d thought Adrian was her other half. She was wrong. So, she cursed him.
She’d laid a curse on his wretched heart, and on the woman’s soul. She’d turned her man into an omen, a crow, and the girl into a trout, intentionally sending them into separate worlds so that they’d never to meet again.
When the village had heard what she’d done, they’d looked at her with hate, so she’d run. And run and run, deep into the woods to this cottage. This isolation. These cursed woods and all their pain.
“I can’t let that happen again,” she whispers. “I can’t—let you get any closer. I’m sorry.” She pushes at me and tries to get me to let her run away again, but I’m not letting her run, not this time. I hold her tight and refuse to let her go.
“I’m not him,” I murmur against her hair. I try to convey my strength and warmth with my touch. I place a gentle kiss on her forehead.
“It’s ok. You’re all right. I’ll never hurt you like that.”
As she quiets, I stroke her hair.
“I’m so tired and it’s barely morning,” she says with a sigh.
“I’m staying with you, whether you like it or not. I’m staying right here where I can keep you safe.”
“I can set magical wards if I need to. I can take care of myself. I’ve been doing it for years.”
I hush her again. “You’re dead tired, and you need sleep. I’ll protect you. Let me stay.”
“I can’t let you in.”
“I’m already in.”
She sighs and snuggles into the safety of my arms. I meant every word of what I said to her. I’d die to protect my mate. There’s no way in hell I’m leaving until I’m sure she’s safe.
As I lift her into my arms, she wraps her hands around my neck. Her eyes stay closed as I carry her across the cottage into her bedroom.
After I set her on her feet, she drops her shawl and starts to work on the ties of her skirt. The soft skin of her belly is briefly exposed. I stifle a groan.
“Thank you for being here.” Her eyes are heavy with the need for sleep, but her lips part and she catches my hand. She presses a kiss to the center of my palm. Fiery need burns straight to my core.
My bear urges me to den down with her. He sees that soft strip of skin and demands that we claim our mate, but I can’t. Not yet.
I push my bear’s urges away and help her settle into bed.
“Go to sleep. Everything will be all right.”
She mumbles something I can’t make out, and then she’s asleep. The soft rise and fall of her chest soothes my own fears. I don’t know what we’re up against with those crows, but it’s powerful and driven by dark magic. I don’t know how I’ll protect her from someone strong enough to scare her, but I’m damn well going to figure it out. She’s my mate, and I’ll stop at nothing to protect her.
Chapter 3
Azealia
The sun is high in the sky by the time sleep releases me. I shuffle out of bed, feet bare, with a fresh shawl wrapped around my naked form. Embers burn in the hearth, but Bastian is nowhere to be found. His strong, earthy scent still lingers. He must h
ave left when he heard me get up. I don’t know why he didn’t stay, but I’m glad I’m alone. I need time to think.
The shawl I wore early this morning is folded neatly and is sitting on the coffee table. A note sits atop the shawl.
Nothing suspicious, Bastian’s sprawling handwriting covers the page. Crows took off once you were asleep. I have some things to take care of at the den today. But if you need me, hold this charm in your hand, and I’ll come.
I lift the note and see a curved tooth, likely from a bear, tied intricately to a leather strap. I slip it over my head. The cord is long enough to leave it nestled between my bare breasts. As I admire it, warmth spreads throughout my body.
I gesture at the hearth, and a fire springs to life. It feasts on the bits of wood still left. I feed several logs into the fire and flames rise. I shake out the folded shawl and wrap it around my shoulders. It smells of Bastian. My nipples tighten as I breathe in the scent of him. I remember the warmth and strength of his arms last night, bands of protection.
“My secret is, I’d touch you more, if you told me you wanted it.”
I shiver at the memory. It was wrong to start that game. I should know better than to give my secrets away. Love isn’t a game, and I’m not in love with Bastian. My traitorous heart might long for him, but I know better.
I glance at the note. This time, I notice words I hadn’t seen before. My secret is, it’d be a pleasure to continue our game tonight.
Pleasure is underlined.
I cast the note into the fire, ignore the spike of heat that lances through me at the thought. By all the gods, it’s been too long since I was touched or pleasured. Bastian would consume me if I let him.
