This was the Goddess’s place between time. The place she drew him to whenever he’d called to her for guidance, comfort and help. He’d never seen his hill here, strange tree or no, but he knew this was her place. The magic of it, the timelessness, sparkled on the air around him, tingling his skin, filling him with an energy he never felt at any other time.
‘Arianrhod?’ A breeze caught his hair, brushed over his skin. ‘My Goddess? Why have you brought me here?’ She did not answer as she usually did. Nor did she appear. ‘What do you want of me? What point are you making?’
Only the bell-like chiming on the tree answered him, a word whispered to him in their sound: Choose.
‘Choose? Choose what?’
Ivy stared up at Paul as he shouted at the sky, at the tree. She looked around. ‘This is the Goddess’s place?’ A shiver trembled over her skin, but then a voice whispered in her ear, ‘Help him. Help carry the burden. Help him to choose.’
‘Choose? Choose what?’
She said the words at the same time he did. Their gazes met as their words echoed into the distance. She saw the world in his eyes—past, future, present, different time lines, different threads. The burden of knowledge so great. So heavy. And one she knew she could help to carry if only he would let her.
She had to convince him to let her. But to do that, she had to see what he could see.
A thought pressed into her mind, a whisper of knowledge, telling her how it could be done. She could dive in, using the threads of what bound them together and see what he saw. But she didn’t want to force him to share. She wanted it to be his choice.
‘Paul.’
He started to shake his head, his dark curls flopping over his forehead in that way she so loved—even in the timeline where she’d hated him, she had still found the way his curls flopped on his forehead like that annoyingly cute. She brushed the curls back, the silk of them warm on her fingers. He stilled under her touch. ‘Paul.’
‘No, Ivy. Don’t ask me to do it.’
‘You do not know what I want to ask.’
‘Yes, I do. You want me to show you all futures I saw in which you die. But how can you ask me to do that to you? It was hard enough to see it without you viewing it with me. Why would you want to see it?’
Her mouth dried. She’d not thought of it like that—watching herself die over and over was something she didn’t really want to see, but if it was inevitable … ‘Because there’s a choice we can make.’
He sucked in a breath. ‘What do you mean?’
‘If my death is inevitable—whether we mate or not—then we should choose together which way it should unfold.’
‘We? But I am the seer and—’
‘Yes, we. Because we are mates—you cannot deny it—and a future that affects one of us affects us both.’ She gripped his hand, brought it up to her chest, placing it there to feel her heart, then put her hand over his heart. ‘See, they already beat as one. So let’s act as one. You already tried it by yourself and look how that turned out.’
‘I did what I thought was best.’
The hurt in his voice made her smile softly. ‘I know you did, my mate. But it was the wrong choice to try to deal with this alone. Can’t you see that? You have been given a mate—against the wishes of the pack and the coven and maybe history itself, we have been fated to be together. So let’s be together. Truly together. In every decision. In every burden. Let’s do what others only speak about and truly become one.’
‘But …’ His voice faltered, his hand clenching against her chest. ‘How can you want to see yourself die? To choose the manner of your death.’
‘I don’t. It fills me with horror to think of knowing when and how I will die.’
‘Then how can you consider asking me to do this? How will you bear it?’
‘Because, I don’t think of it as choosing a death. I think of it as choosing a life.’
He stared at her. ‘You are so strong. I wish I was strong enough to see it the way you do.’
She cupped his face again. ‘Of course you are strong. How can you not see it?’
‘The visions—they make me weak. I scream and cry and sometimes even pass out when having them. How can you call that strong?’
‘Because despite what they do to you, you keep going back in. Keep opening yourself up to them to help others.’ She placed her finger against his lips when he went to argue. ‘I know you can block them. I’ve heard Iris and Abby talking about your stubborn refusal to let them help you keep them at bay to give you some respite and peace. But you never did. You kept having them for the good of the pack. If that is not strength, then what is?’
His mouth opened, closed, opened again. ‘It is what I have to do.’
‘But not alone. Not anymore. Never again. I am your mate. I never truly knew what that meant until now.’ She’d always thought herself a little useless to the pack, not having a skill or role that was truly unique or added in some significant way to make the pack stronger. But she realised now that she was unique. Her dogged determination to just keep going and do her best, to see the bright side of things, was her strength. It was a quiet strength, but one none-the-less. One that added something essential to the pack.
And now, that quiet strength in her was the very thing finding a way forward for her and Paul. She could see it working on him, the bleakness leaving his eyes to be replaced with something that could be hope. ‘Let me share this burden with you, starting now.’ She took his hand in hers and held it up before them. ‘As one, let us decide which fate shall befall us. Let us choose which path our lives should unfold. If we are fated to die as mates, then let us seek out the path that gives us the most time, the most happiness before the inevitable falls on us. Pushing the future aside, trying to change it, has made things worse. Let’s not do that anymore. Let’s embrace what is before us—our mating and the joy that will bring. Let this be our rebellion.’
‘Our rebellion?’
‘Yes. Our rebellion. To not only take what is offered and make the most of it, but choose the path that will give us the most. What do you say? Shall we tell Fate, “Fuck your ideals of control” and be the masters of how ours unfolds?’
His smile was a wide slash on his face, shining from his eyes as he lifted his hands to cup her face. ‘I never thought I could love you more, but I do now. I think our love will keep growing.’
‘Forever.’
‘Yes, forever.’
His smile slipped a little. ‘But Iris and Abby—they started to tie the soul-bond into this life’s mating bond. If we do this, our fates will be inextricably linked to a tragic end.’
‘Not if we don’t wish it to be. I think we can find a way.’
‘How? We won’t remember what has happened in this life.’
He was right. There was no way to circumvent the fact that because of what Iris and Abby had started, their future lives would be bound down the same path they took on this one. They would find each other in every life their souls were granted, they would mate and then they would die.
The tree. The leaves. Memories.
The voice whispered in her mind and she reached up and touched the leaf hanging above their heads. At the touch, images flickered through her mind, showing them landing in the field to roll to a stop under the tree. It flickered forward, like a movie jumping ahead, showing them standing there in this spot, having this discussion. She gasped. ‘The leaves. This tree. It will remember for us. And one day, we will discover it and we will know. We will remember and the memories will help us to right what has been wronged.’
He reached up and touched the leaf, gasped. Then touched another, eyes widening. ‘They are my memories.’
As this is your place, the breeze murmured so that both of them heard. Yours and Ivy’s. Forever.
‘The Goddess is helping us,’ Ivy whispered.
‘I thought she’d forsaken me.’
Never. I am with you both, always, the voice said in the chimes of
the leaves that rustled over their heads.
Paul stared down at her. ‘This is because of you.’
‘It is because of both of us. Now, let us fix what has been broken and decide our future, together.’
Chapter 12
Paul gripped both her hands then gasped, holding them up to look at them. She’d let go of him, was no longer feeding her life force into him. When had she done that?
Not that it mattered. He was no longer going to send her back so that he could die alone. He knew now that was the wrong path. She’d helped him to see the truth of that.
She’d also helped him to see that he didn’t need to do this alone.
The burden had never been his to carry because she wasn’t the only one who died. They both did. Every time. He’d just been so focused on her death, he hadn’t taken any notice of his. This fate, it wasn’t her fate alone.
It was theirs.
He nodded. ‘How do we do this?’
‘You know,’ she said.
And he did.
He bent his head and kissed her, starting the magic of a mating all over again, undoing all he’d done, pouring himself into it, heart and soul.
She met the kiss with equal passion opening to him and giving herself over to the bliss that was this touching, this melding, this oneness.
He broke the kiss and pulled back to look into her eyes. Full of love and trust and belief in him, his ability, his strength. He’d not allowed himself to see it before—had always thought his feelings were one-sided because he’d seen himself as weak. What an idiot he’d been. She’d been there all along, ready to share, ready to buoy his strength. He’d wilfully ignored her and then wilfully tried to change what had always been meant to be because he couldn’t handle what was ahead of him. Ahead of them.
But she had been ready to handle it. And with her at his side, he knew now he was more than strong enough to face anything that lay ahead of them. Including choosing their life’s path.
Like her, he refused to think it was about their deaths.
He stroked his fingers into her chestnut mane, the red in its depths echoing the fire of passion raging inside him. Her eyes were alight with it too, and clear, so clear and pure. It was all he could do to stop himself from joining with her now. But they couldn’t give in to the wild urge yet. If they wanted to choose the path ahead, then they must do that first before sealing their bond and their fate.
She smiled up at him and even though he knew the brutality of what was to come, he smiled back. How could he not bask in the sun that was her?
‘I love you, Ivy.’
‘I love you too, Paul. Even in the false timeline you created that made me hate you, I loved you. I couldn’t stop.’
‘I’m sorry I did that to you.’
She stroked her hands through his hair then cupped his face. ‘I’m not. What you did brought us here and now we can do this together.’
He cupped her face and stared into her eyes. ‘Ready?’
‘Always.’
‘Close your eyes and reach down deep inside to the silver and gold threads.’ He didn’t have to tell her though—she already knew. Of course she knew. She could have done this without him. She already had access to the place his visions came from because they were soul-bound. She didn’t need her own magic because she had his. But she hadn’t done it without him, hadn’t chosen for him. She’d given him the choice to choose this path. Just as he should have always given her one. He’d been such an idiot. But no more.
He leaned his forehead against hers, closed his eyes and sank inside.
She was there, waiting for him in the void, staring at a swirling pool of fog lit up by lightning flashes within. She turned, held out her hand. ‘Show me,’ she said.
He gripped her hand, tight, pulling her to his side. Then he opened his vision-sight and showed her all the paths that lay ahead of them once they mated.
The boat. The car. The kitchen where they got electrocuted, the field where he got stung and died of anaphylactic shock.
They died, over and over—more car accidents, boat accidents, hiking accidents, strange illnesses.
She stiffened at his side as she watched the litany of horrible futures that was theirs to choose from, but she didn’t once look away. Didn’t once cry out or shed a tear. Just asked him to stop the visions at times so they could poke and prod at the sides of them to figure out the cause—but the cause could never be changed, as he’d said—and to look at the path that led them there, how long that timeline gave them.
He expected to be overwhelmed by the desperation, the hopelessness he’d experienced the first time he’d seen these futures, but it didn’t come. Her hope buoyed him as they looked for the future that gave them the most time, that gifted them the most happiness.
‘Stop,’ she said. ‘That one.’
Paul stared at the image before them, backed it up, let it run forward, the expression in his eyes reflecting the horror of their final moments in this future.
Ivy swallowed hard. It was probably the most violent of visions that she’d seen, almost like something out of a movie.
‘This one’s new. I didn’t see it before,’ he said after a moment, his tone wondering.
‘Are you sure?’
He nodded. ‘I would remember seeing this.’
She looked back at it. ‘Maybe it’s become a possibility because we’ve changed something.’
‘Maybe.’
She watched as he let it play over again.
They were driving along a darkened road, the moon hiding to peep out occasionally through the clouds. They both looked worried, stressed, older. Much older. There were white strands in the auburn threads of hair at Paul’s temple and lines around her eyes and mouth that weren’t there now.
Vision-Ivy reached for vision-Paul’s hand. As they touched, heat sparked out, the world span and Ivy was pulled into the scene …
Paul squeezed her fingers, his eyes meeting hers for a brief moment. ‘It is time,’ she heard in her head.
‘Yes,’ she answered back.
He lifted her hand, kissed her knuckles before letting go to return both hands to the steering wheel. There was danger sparking on the air and despite the fact they needed to touch to help keep them calm, it was more important for him to keep his wits about him.
The children had to survive this night. It was imperative.
Ivy glanced into the back seat. At her beautiful twins. She still couldn’t believe they were hers. She felt luckier than she’d ever thought possible.
She smiled softly at them, trying to hide her desperate sadness over what was about to happen. ‘How you going, Skye?’
‘Fine, Mummy.’
‘And you, River?’
‘I’m good.’
‘Remember what we talked about? The promise you made?’ Paul said. She glanced back at him to see his fingers tightening on the steering wheel.
‘We remember, Daddy,’ they chimed together.
River gripped his twin’s hand. ‘I’ll never let anything happen to Skye. She’s our future.’
‘So are you, my precious little man,’ Ivy said. ‘Don’t forget that.’ She reached back, touched both their precious faces.
‘I won’t, Mummy.’
A lightning bolt lit up the road ahead of them. Skye screamed as Paul jerked the car, trying to avoid the blast. Another and another hit the road in front of the car, beside it, until …
She was thrust out of the vision, panting, disoriented.
‘Are you okay, Ivy?’ Paul gripped her shoulders, holding her steady.
She looked up at him. ‘That’s the one,’ Ivy said despite the horror of the crash, of what came after as the twins were taken and both Ivy and Paul died, their bodies disintegrating in the explosion that lit the night sky. It was worse than any other vision, so filled with trauma, but still, ‘It’s the one we have to choose.’
Paul stared at her, his eyes shadowed. ‘Why would you choose that one. The wa
y you die—’
‘It doesn’t matter. We have children,’ she replied, wiggling her fingers in the swirling pool, manually backing up the image to show the two beautiful, bright faces in the back of the car. They looked like they were about ten. They had her nose and mouth and the shape of her eyes if not their colour and shared Paul’s hair and the square determination of his jaw. The boy was most definitely a Were and the girl was a witch, but there was so much power shared between them it sizzled through the vision, stealing her breath. ‘So strong. So essential. They are important, Paul. More important than anything. Can you feel it?’
He nodded, his eyes filling with awe as he stared at the children that would be theirs. Children they’d made together. The ones the pack had been waiting for to save them.
‘They only appear in this future,’ he said slowly.
She realised he was right. There was no sign of children in any other future—they, without exception, had shown them anywhere between a few months and a few years ahead, just the two of them, dying, no chance to have children.
This one was unique in two remarkable ways. Not only did this future give them children, it looked like it gave them much more time. It could take a mated pair—especially when they were not both Were—five to ten years to procreate.
‘When does this take place?’ she asked, excitement gripping her, thrusting away the horror of seeing all the deaths.
He tipped his head, weaving his fingers, moving the vision around to try to help answer her question. The image stilled on the phone in Ivy’s lap—she’d never seen anything like it—then on the strange combinations of letters and numbers on the number plate of the car. ‘It has to be many years from now.’
He nodded. ‘They look about ten and we look like we’re in our late thirties or early forties. Which gives us maybe twenty years together.’
She gripped his hand tighter, tears starring her vision as she looked at the image he’d stopped on of their children, so beautiful, determined and calm in the face of such stress. ‘Twenty happy years together where we get to rear those two special people for ten years.’
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