by Leigh Kelsey
“I know,” I said, and cleared my throat when the words come thick with emotion. “I know. She will be fine. I know Lyra—she’ll beat this sickness in hours and be serving drinks at the Moonlight tomorrow.”
Jack forced a laugh. I was glad for the attempt and tried a smile. I swear I’d never been this weak before I mated her—I was alpha, strong, unshakeable. Except for Lyra.
“What do you think it is?” he asked quietly, his eyes on the kitchen floor.
“I don’t know,” I answered just as subdued.
And it would kill me.
LYRA
My mouth was full of grit and sandpaper, my eyes superglued together, and the rest of me felt like it had been buried alive and then dug back up again.
“Son of a bitch,” I rasped, reaching up with bruised-feeling fingers to scrape the sleep off my eyelashes.
“Lyra?” There was a scrape of such raw emotion in his voice that for a second I didn’t recognise my alpha.
“Cas?”
“I’m here,” he replied, his warm hand rubbing my shoulder. “Are you okay?”
I snorted, finally getting my eyes to open so I could look at him. I catalogued the signs of stress, my protective instincts pinging. Bloodshot eyes reddened around the bottom. Hair messy from having his hands run through it over and over. His shirt messy and wrinkled, pyjama pants slung low on his hips despite the sun being well up. His mouth red from being bitten in worry, and his nails bitten down to the quick.
“I’ve been better,” I replied, shifting tentatively across in the bed and patting the space beside me. He climbed in without question, sweeping me into his arms. I rested my head on his chest and felt my aches recede, just for a second, at the warm, secure feeling of his big arms around me. “You?”
“I am fine.”
“Try that again, but with a lot less bullshit.”
He sighed, quiet for a second until he said, “I’m worried about you.”
“Yeah,” I murmured. “About that. What the hell happened to me last night?”
I startled as his lips pressed to the top of my head. “We don’t know. A doctor came, to check you.” I stiffened, but he quickly added, “We never leave you alone. She did not touch you much.”
I relaxed at the word she. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust men—I obviously did, having three male pack members and mates—but the idea of some stranger examining me made my heart clench up. Statistically, way less predators and assholes were women, and being a woman myself … it felt safer, somehow, having a woman check me over while I slept. I didn’t know how to explain it, this ancient self-protecting instinct. I should have known better, though. Cas wouldn’t let a single bad thing happen to me. “So what did she find?”
“You were deeply asleep. A sleep to restore. Nothing else.” A muscle ticked in his jaw; I ran my finger over the agitation before I could catch myself. But I was his mate now—there was nothing to keep me from touching him. I fanned my fingers across his cheek and he leant into the touch, his eyes falling shut so I could see the blue veins through his pink eyelids. My heart sank at how vulnerable he looked—because of me, even if I hadn’t had any control over the prickling, buzzing from the night before.
“We can ask Rita if it’s something witchy,” I said quietly. “She might be able to sense it in me.”
Cas nodded, his silver eyes fluttering open again. “I will ask Gray to see her.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“I will ask Jack to see her.”
“Smart.” I smiled, leaning up to press a kiss to his frown. He relaxed instantly, his hands coming to slide through my bed-messy hair as his mouth opened up to me. My body might have been wrecked and battered but it still came alive as Cas kissed me deeply, every brush of his lips against mine sucking the poison of fear from me, every touch and tease of his tongue distracting me in the best way.
Cas made a sound in the back of his throat and broke away. His voice came out serious and unaffected but his flushed cheeks and his glazed over eyes gave him away. “We can not, Lyra. You’re … unwell.”
“I’d have gone with ‘magically fucked up,’” I said with a smirk.
Cas sighed and blessed me with the all-coveted alpha eye roll. I kissed him again just because I could.
“We have a plan: talk to a witch, see if it’s witchy in nature. Stop looking so worried. I’ll be fine.”
At least I hoped I would. Under my bravado, I had no idea, and honestly, it scared the shit out of me. I locked those fears in my mental vault—that dark, twisted Narnia—and ran my palms up Cas’s chest. The rumpled shirt clung to every curve of muscle, the heat of him through the cotton a serious comfort. I sighed, the tension in my shoulders dropping. If that buzzing in my blood came back, I’d deal with it. At least I knew how to fix it now; I just needed all of them to be near me.
“You are trying to distract me,” he said gruffly, though he did brace my hips with his hands, his eyes turning dark as he inhaled deeply. Everything I wanted, needed from him, was right there in my scent, and I watched the effect on him.
“Is it working?”
He just scowled, so I took that as encouragement, leaning up to kiss his throat.
“I should go tell Jack and Gray I’m awake,” I mumbled, pausing to suck on his pulse point. The strangled sound he made fuelled the boiling heat between my legs. But loathed as I was to admit it, this really wasn’t the time.
“Yes,” Cas agreed, a low moan vibrating his throat as I sucked at it.
I sighed, pulling my mouth away. “One more kiss before I do the responsible thing and we start finding answers about my moon sickness?” I paused. “Wait, scratch that. Isn’t that another word for period?”
Cas raised a pale eyebrow. “Why do I know?”
“Shut up,” I grumbled. “Just kiss me.” I prodded the hard muscle of his broad chest. “And make it a good one.”
Oh, he did.
Careful not to hurt me, he rolled us over so I was under him, my body alive with tingling energy, a current sparking in my blood as he cupped the back of my head. He neared, enough that I could feel the heat of his breath but not his lips on mine, and the anticipation had me on the edge of a shiver.
When his lips met mine, searing hot and heartbreakingly soft, my chest hitched with a gasp. I slid my hands under his shirt, feeling the dip and rise of his muscles as he stretched over me. His tongue swept inside my mouth, kissing me utterly breathless and leaving me needy and gasping.
When he pulled away, it was only to trail kisses down my jaw and sensitive neck. I arched into the touch, covered in goose bumps, wanting his mouth to travel lower but knowing Cas would be stubborn and stop. And he did, right at the top of my vest, laying a kiss right over my heart.
I sighed, deflating. My body was still heated, still desperate for his touch. He took pity on me and pressed another too soft, too chaste kiss to my mouth. “Cas,” I said as he made to climb off and let me up. He paused, sat over my legs. “I love you.”
I didn’t have to think or hesitate or question. I loved him so much and I wanted him to know.
I watched his silver-fire eyes soften until they melted me, his face losing every sharp edge it had ever had. Not even kissing had fully erased his fears but I watched all signs of them disappear now.
I smiled, a little embarrassed at the lingering stare, and clasped his hand in mine. “I mean it.”
He moved slowly, covering my body again, and the kiss he laid on my lips was so tender and sweet it cracked my heart right open, had my eyes prickling with tears. “I love you too, my Lyra,” he said in a voice I’d never heard before. “I would kill any man who tried to touch you.”
“Aw,” I said, pressing a hand to my heart. “Violent and romantic, my two favourite things.”
He snorted, the moment gone. His eyes shone as he looked down at me.
“We have to go do serious things now, don’t we?” I asked, sighing and wondering how I was supposed to calm down. My lady par
ts were very interested in Cas staying right where he was.
“Yes,” he agreed, looking a lot more like the serious, always worried alpha I knew and loved. He helped me sit up, and then stand, gripping my shoulders when I swayed. He kissed me again, like he couldn’t help himself, then supported me to the door.
“Gray,” I yelled, flinging it open. “Jack! Guess who’s back, fuckers!”
LYRA
My shoulder was still a bit sore from Gray slamming into me and hugging me so hard my bones creaked but I felt stronger in myself. And I walked off the weakness on the way from the cottage into Whitby. Of course, I wasn’t alone. After last night when I’d freaked out all three of my mates, they’d all insisted on coming with when I’d told them I wanted to see the witch myself—get answers myself.
Which was fine. Except we were going to a coven’s house—thanks to Cas phoning the coven elder to get the most knowledgeable help he possibly could for his mate—and witches scared the crap out of me, and Gray was coming along with us. Gray, who couldn’t be trusted to keep from offending a house full of powerful, volatile men and women.
I kept his hand tight in mine, partly so I could squeeze it if he said something dumb and partly because I wanted to reassure him. He was still jumpy thanks to whatever happened to me last night. I caught him looking at me now and gave him what I hoped was an easy smile.
“You alright?”
He squeezed my hand, watching me carefully as I began descending the hundred-and-ninety-nine steps into Whitby’s heart, like I was about to fall to my death. “Fine,” he said with a crooked grin. “Why wouldn’t I be? I’ve got my mate with me and we’re having a family day out.”
“To ask a coven of witches for help,” I reminded him.
Gray shrugged, incorrigible.
The coven lived in a big, blocky house overlooking the other side of the bay. My stomach twisted as we got closer, every fear I’d ever had about witches playing through my head. We were going to willingly walk into a house full of people who could manipulate the elements and Gods only knew what else. When the building was visible, I tensed up, one impulse away from turning and running halfway across town.
Cas sensed my nerves, of course, turning to give me a steadying look. “We’re with you,” he said, and that was all it took for me to put on my big girl pants, straighten my spine, and follow Jack up the path to the house. My heart still raced as he pressed the doorbell, sprinting hard as we waited for someone to answer.
The door opened with a dramatic swoosh, and there stood a guy around my age dressed in a sheer black kimono and tight leather pants, his golden chest bare. Crystals hung around his neck and a feather dangled from his messy brown hair. Kohl lined his eyes in a straighter line than I’d ever managed to accomplish and a silver ring glinted from his eyebrow as he lifted it in question.
He looked, inexplicably, like my sort of person. Someone I’d see at one of Gray’s gigs, or in the spiritualist shop across town, stockpiling incense and the awesome killer dragon figurines they had in the window. Or my favourite—dark unicorns. I still hoped someone would get me one for my birthday, two years after I’d mentioned them.
His appearance put me at ease enough to say, “I’m Lyra Ripley. Your coven’s expecting me?” I didn’t mean to word it as a question but his gaze had started to slide over my mates in a sharp, assessing way and I suddenly felt unsure.
“The wolves?” he drawled, returning his attention to me. “Better come in, then.” His kimono flounced as he led us down a dark hallway into a richly decorated sitting room, waving a hand at a damask sofa. “I’ll tell Claudette you’re here. Have fun.”
My throat tightened at those parting words, my eyes darting around the room as panic reclaimed me. I expected hexes in the china cabinet and crystal balls and potions on the fireplace along with family photos. I couldn’t explain why witches scared me so much, but it was impossible to escape now I was in a house full of them.
“Lyra,” Cas said in a low voice, pressing his hand to my back. “You do not need to fear.”
I knew that. I knew my alpha could protect me, and if I’d stop being so stupid and scared, I could protect myself. But fear blinds the bravest warrior.
I settled on the sofa between Cas and Jack, Gray’s hand stretching across Jack to touch my back. I felt better, more in control of my emotions, so I didn’t flinch or bolt in panic when a scary older woman walked into the room. She looked like every headmistress I’d ever had, her black hair scraped into a bun and her face hawk-like. She wore a long dress in a shade of blue so dark it was near black, and a string of symbols hung from her neck, the only jewellery she wore.
“The mother, maiden, and crone,” she said, noticing my attention on her middle pendant. It looked more like a moon cycle to me, but I just nodded politely. She spoke with a cool, arched voice, and I got a superior, better-than-everyone sense from her. “You’re the wolf?”
I nodded, swallowing hard as she peered into my eyes like she could see my soul. Gray rubbed my back and my tight lungs released enough for me to draw a breath.
“Hmm.” She studied me in a way that made me feel small, and I felt Cas bristle but I nudged him. We needed to know if the needles thing was magic or witchy in nature, and if it was we needed a way to fix it.
“Tell me the problem. Explain what happened,” Claudette said in a sharp command that made me think she was used to getting her way. Or having everyone follow her instructions to the letter. I didn’t like her, but I never did like authority and my teachers had pretty much dreaded the lessons they’d had with me.
“I couldn’t sleep,” I said hesitantly, encouraged by Cas’s hand folding around mine. “I had this feeling, like something buzzing in my blood. It was … weird, but it didn’t hurt then. So I went outside, and in the moonlight, it was worse. A lot worse. It felt like there were needles stabbing me from the inside out, and it hurt.” It stung like a bitch, but I minded my manners with this cold hawk of a witch staring me down. “The prickling got worse, and the pain built, until I felt really dizzy. And then I passed out,” I added, unsure, glancing to Cas. I wasn’t present for the last bit, my mind blurred with pain.
“She fell into a restorative sleep,” Cas explained, any emotion flattened from his voice and the words rehearsed, as if he’d wanted to get them exactly right. I squeezed his hand. “I called a doctor but she did not find anything wrong.”
Claudette nodded, her tight dark bun not budging an inch, not even one strand floating into her face. “You suspect magic or witchcraft.”
Cas nodded.
“It wasn’t normal,” I added, and wished I hadn’t when her eyes flashed to me. “I’ve never felt anything like it,” I went on, glancing at my hands. “Not when I shift, not any time before or after, and the moon doesn’t usually hurt me. It usually makes things … clearer. Sharper.”
“Explain,” Claudette instructed.
I glanced up. “In the moon, my senses get enhanced. I can hear clearer, see sharper, and sense my pack. It’s a normal wolf thing. But what happened last night wasn’t anything like that.”
Claudette nodded. “That, I suspect, is because you are not a wolf.”
Silence, for a long beat.
“Beg pardon,” I laughed. “I’m pretty sure I am.” All thoughts of respect and restraint flew out the window. “I’ve been a wolf my whole life. I shift at the full moon with my pack. I’m a werewolf.”
“Hmm. You couldn’t shift now?”
“No,” I exclaimed and the same time Cas said, “That isn’t possible for wolves.”
Claudette tilted her head, a quick swoop. “As I have said, Lyra is not a wolf. So I repeat, could you shift now? Try it?”
I just stared open-mouthed at the witch. She was mad. Completely batty.
“Try it,” she repeated. “What would it hurt?”
I laughed, but shrugged. I didn’t start the changing process—the moon did that, its light and power over me—but I shut my eyes and envi
sioned myself turning into a wolf the way I sensed she wanted me to. Nothing happened, except maybe a bit of indigestion. I opened my eyes. “Happy?”
Her mouth pressed into a flat line that made my stomach flip. I suddenly wished I’d kept the attitude on lock down. “You’re not even trying, Lyra.” She sounded disappointed in me. It was unexpectedly unpleasant.
“So,” I said carefully, “you think the needles in my blood was because I’m not actually a werewolf.”
Claudette nodded. “Yes.”
I blinked.
“Thank you for your help,” Cas said, standing. Clearly he thought this witch was as nutty as I did. Good. I didn’t even want to contemplate not being a wolf. It was who I was. My whole life revolved around being a wolf—my upbringing, my parents, my pack. All of them were wolves. And so was I.
I had to be.
“You don’t believe me,” she sighed, disappointed in him now. Ouch. Cas’s head dipped a fraction. “Fine. But I’m not wrong. You, Lyra, are not a wolf. You’re something else. A fae with an animal form, a shifter, something else.”
The blood drained from my face, and I wanted to get out of there ASAP. I shot to my feet. Heading for the door with my pack around me.
“Lyra,” Claudette said as I reached for the door. “Your symptoms aren’t because of witchcraft or magic cast on you. It’s something inside you.”
“I think I’ve had enough of your insight for one day,” I muttered, twisting the doorknob and hauling the stained-glass door open. I sprinted down the steps and onto the pavement, my breathing quick and short. Panic gripped me so quickly and strongly that a pain spiked in my chest. I couldn’t get a single breath and my head was starting to feel fuzzy and strange.
Arms folded around me, hands rubbing my back, and then Gray’s voice in my ear said, “You’re okay. Fuck her, Lyra. She doesn’t know anything.”
“She’s—she’s—coven elder,” I wheezed, the tightness in my chest getting worse. I couldn’t inhale even a trickle of air. My head fell against his chest, dizzy.
