by Lib Starling
But to ask a brother to risk his entire future on a witch’s gamble—that, Roxy knew, was nothing anyone in Alpha House could bring themselves to do. She felt suddenly ashamed that she’d imposed on Alexander in this way.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “It was wrong of me to ask you—to try to pressure you into doing it.”
He gave Roxy a small, mirthless smile. “It’s okay. We’re all desperate for answers—I get it. I feel pretty desperate, too.”
“You’ve already done so much, Alexander, and I want you to know how much I appreciate it.” She went to him, reaching up to wrap her arms around his strong shoulders, pulling him close in a warm and genuine embrace. “What would I have done without you? If you hadn’t been with me when…when Scarlett…” She trailed off as tears of anxiety burned in her eyes.
But Alexander’s body went tense in her arms, and Roxy quickly stepped away. Silently, blinking back the tears, she looked up at him. That piercing, pale stare held her fast, and Roxy felt her totem spirit quivering before the power of the alpha.
I won’t let you go, he had said. And Roxy was sure he meant it.
.4.
T he afternoon sun was weak and low, peeking through the ragged edge of an ominous cloud bank with a fitful flicker. Chase set the parking brake on his Mustang and slouched in the driver’s seat, yawning as he watched the sun recede behind the storm clouds. The sun looked as tired as he felt—weary to his bones from a long night of activity and tension, the great gray wolf of his totem running through the cold and darkness pursued by a relentless hunger—the desire to find the witch before she found Roxy. Now he was thoroughly worn out. He wanted nothing more than to sleep—even Roxy couldn’t enter his mind the way she usually could, the memory of her lush, gorgeously rounded body eclipsing all his other thoughts, or hanging around the edges of his dreams like a sweet, inviting perfume.
He yawned again. He just had to muster enough energy to get out of the Mustang and walk the few feet to Katrina’s camper. There, he could find a soft bed, and maybe a cup of his friend’s soothing tea, assuming he could stay awake long enough to drink it.
Chase groaned and forced himself out of the car. The chill of winter nipped at his face and hands; he hurried to the Airstream’s side door and let it slam shut behind him.
“Hey,” Katrina said.
There was a note of worry in her voice. Even through his exhaustion, Chase heard it, loud and clear. He paused, taking in the sight of Katrina with growing apprehension. She sat on her folded-out bunk, legs drawn up and crossed beneath her, a few books scattered to either side as if she’d long since discarded them. Her pretty features were drawn down by concern.
Something’s happened while I’ve been on patrol, Chase thought. The wolf inside him growled.
“What is it?” he said.
Then he drew a deep breath, cautiously sampling the scents inside the Airstream. Roxy’s unmistakable smell—sweet, warm, and ringing with the sharp, clear note of the wilds—struck Chase at once. She had been here…and she had been afraid. That much was clear to him.
“Roxy…”
“She’s all right.” Katrina was quick to reassure him, but still her words sounded dubious.
“What the hell happened to her?”
Katrina sighed heavily and pressed her fingers to her temple, as if her head ached terribly. “Sit down, Chase.”
He wanted to protest—his sheer, stubborn maleness made him want to remain strong and steady on his feet, ready to face whatever threat lurked in the shadows head-on. But the long, demanding patrol had taken its toll on his body. His knees wobbled, and he dropped quickly onto his narrow bunk.
“I’m not going to beat around the bush,” Katrina said. “Scarlett attacked Roxy while you were out on patrol. She was trapped inside her fox.”
The news struck Chase so numb that he couldn’t even breathe. He sat gaping at Katrina, every particle of his body and soul—even his totem—wanting to leap to his feet, howling out his rage and his desire for revenge. But he couldn’t move a muscle. That was the worst of it—knowing that when his one love faced such a terrible threat, he could do nothing.
“She’s okay,” Katrina went on. “Alexander brought her to me, and I was able to bring her back.”
“Thank God.” He whispered the words—all he could force out of his dry, constricted throat.
Katrina held up her hands, as if to rein in his relief. “But it almost didn’t work, Chase. The Powers are…different now.”
The thought of a witch doing…whatever it was that witches did…made Chase’s skin twitch. Even if that witch was Katrina, his friend, ally, and savior—and once, before Roxy had entered his life, his lover. “What do you mean?” he asked, careful to ward the natural mistrust away from his voice.
Chase listened in growing discomfort as Katrina explained the changes she’d detected in the Powers—their strange thickening, and her conviction that whatever—or whoever—was amplifying Scarlett’s magic was doing so against his will.
“This whole fight is so much more than we bargained for,” Chase said when she had finished.
Katrina nodded soberly. “But the more I read—” she gestured toward her stack of books— “and the more I experiment, the more certain I become that we can stop her. We can remove Scarlett’s power, even if it is amplified. But it will require more cooperation than shifters and witches have given one another before.”
“We’re willing to cooperate,” Chase was quick to say. “You know that. I owe you so much, just for what you’ve done for me. And Roxy…well…even if the Alpha House brothers didn’t care what happened to me, none of them wants to see Roxy harmed. You know we’ll do anything to help.”
She said nothing, but watched him with a steady, unblinking gaze, her blue eyes vibrant amid the dim shadows of the camper. Chase shifted uncomfortably—there was a sharp, almost brutal question in her eyes—but he couldn’t bring himself to break Katrina’s stare.
“Will you?” she finally said, her tone distant and musing. “Do anything?”
Tension crawled inside Chase’s gut. His wolf gave a low growl. He could feel that note of warning reverberating deep inside his chest.
“I’ll tell you what I need, Chase. If we’re to have any hope of meeting Scarlett on equal terms—if this is to be a fair fight—I need a familiar.”
Chase smiled wryly, a feeble attempt to deflect the mood inside the trailer with a brittle shield of humor. “What, like a black cat? A hoot-owl, maybe?”
Katrina raised her sandy-light brows. “I was thinking a wolf would be more my style.”
With one heartbeat, Chase’s mouth dried up. He stared at the witch in shocked silence. He only halfway heard her explanation—some mad pet theory she’d been brewing, that shifters were as much users of the Powers as witches were; that as a bonded pair, a witch and a shifter working together could manipulate the Powers in ways as yet unheard of.
“I asked Alexander to do it,” she said, “to bond with me. It was a no-go. Roxy asked him, too, with the same result. He’s afraid of the social consequences—what it might mean for him, once word gets out.”
Mutely, Chase nodded. He could damn well picture how it might go for Alexander—kicked out of Blackmeade, most likely, with graduation only a few months away. Worse, he’d lose the trust of his powerful family’s far-reaching network. Everything Alexander had worked for—everything he’d always wanted his life to become—would be lost for good.
Katrina tilted her head and tossed her collection of braids and dreadlocks over her shoulder, as if they were discussing a topic as benign and inconsequential as the weather. “What I really need is a good, strong shifter who doesn’t care about all that—who’s ready to leave the Blackmeade life and its proscribed future behind. Somebody who’s okay with being an outcast—a lone wolf, if you will.”
Chase’s heart squeezed with a cold, fearful pressure. “Bonding to you—what would it mean to me? What would be the…the consequenc
es?”
“This is all hypothetical, of course,” said Katrina. “I haven’t actually seen a bond first-hand. But from what I’ve read, we would be truly together…bound to one another, an unbreakable, completely loyal pair.”
“I see.” Chase thought for a moment. “And can it be undone? After we’ve defeated Scarlett, I mean.”
Katrina bit her lip, hesitating before she answered. “I don’t know. I’ve studied the necessary spells, and I think it’s possible to break the bond…but I can’t be entirely sure. There just isn’t a recorded case of a witch breaking the bond with her familiar—not that I could find. It may be too dangerous to attempt. The weaves of magic in a bonding spell go so deep, and are so intricately entangled, that if the break isn’t done just so, it could permanently damage your psyche and mine—or your totem. It’s probably better to assume that the spell is permanent.”
Permanent. The word sent a cold stab deep into Chase’s heart. I think I’d rather live with Scarlett’s unpredictable rampages than bond myself to another woman—cut myself off from Roxy’s love for all time.
But what of Roxy? Scarlett’s foul magic had found her, and Katrina’s attempt to free her from the body of her fox had nearly failed. Chase couldn’t risk Roxy’s safety again—he couldn’t live with himself if he’d failed to take any action that might protect her.
And Scarlett’s magic was growing. They were running out of time.
Chase drew a deep breath, preparing to give his answer. But Katrina stood, holding out a hand to stall him. “Don’t give me your answer yet. Sleep on it.”
“We don’t have time for me to sleep on it.”
“We do,” she assured him. “It’s a big, important decision, Chase. Don’t think I’m not aware of everything you’d be giving up. Take a few hours to rest, at least, so you can make this call with a clear head.”
But Chase knew his head could never be clear again—not until this plague of the witch’s assaults was eradicated forever. Still, he could feel his weariness dragging at his soul, and even if he knew which decision he ought to make, he couldn’t face the thought of it head-on now.
“Make me some tea,” he said. “Please. Something that will help me sleep—deeply.”
Katrina’s soft lips curved in a grateful smile, but her eyes were eloquent with sympathy. “I know just the thing. It’ll knock you out for a few hours, and you won’t dream.”
Good. He didn’t want to dream—to see Roxy’s face, Roxy’s eyes, invading the sanctuary of sleep with their accusatory gleam. Her smell still permeated the camper, a poignant reminder of what he must do when he woke—the news he must give her—the blow he must deal to her heart.
For her own good—to keep her safe.
But that didn’t make it feel any better.
.5.
K atrina woke pensive and groggy. The interior of her camper was softly aglow with a warm, dusty light—a winter’s sunset whose colors were at odds with the bitter chill outside. She pulled the blankets up to her chin and lay still in the silence. The last remnants of a dark dream still clung to her mind, filling her head with unsettling visions and speeding her heart with the memory of threats that were never quite clear, but were no less menacing for their misty vagueness.
Chase was gone from his bunk. She didn’t need to turn her head to verify his absence—she no longer heard his rhythmic breathing, and there was no sound of another body shifting in slumber. The herbal concoction she’d given him had sent him quickly to sleep—dreamless, Katrina hoped, for she knew that images of Roxy must be waiting to haunt Chase’s poor, torn heart. She hoped he had gone off somewhere to think—to consider the dire nature of their situation, and the full implications of what Katrina had proposed.
It’s a desperate gamble, to bond with a shifter. I don’t even know if it will work. But what other choice do any of us have?
She reached out tentatively, allowing her spirit’s touch to hover just above the pulsing, surging flow of the nearest Power. It was Air, and it felt more turbulent and angry than ever—more resentful of the unwilling force Scarlett had applied. Katrina was sure she could do far more than the dark witch ever could if she had a willing partner.
If Chase agrees to bond with me—to give up all hope of being with Roxy—would he be a willing partner at all? Maybe a bond with Chase—even if he consented—would actually be just as rigid and resentful as the bond Scarlett had with her unknown familiar.
She rolled from her bunk and stretched, straightening clothing that was thoroughly rumpled from her long nap. She moved with casual grace, but all the while she felt the angry throb of the Powers, their growing strength and unpredictability—and the sensation was like a tight fist closing around her heart. How much longer did she have before Scarlett struck again? And this time, when the attack came, did Katrina and the shifters have any hope of fending it off, or reversing the damage?
Time’s up, she thought morosely. We have to move against Scarlett now—somehow.
If only she could be sure of a willing familiar. If she had that, Katrina could allow herself to hope.
A light, tinny tap sounded at the camper’s side door. Katrina flinched, her immediate reaction one of suspicion—but then her better sense prevailed. If Scarlett had some, she wouldn’t knock politely before she entered. She doesn’t even need to be nearby if she wants to make an assault.
“Come on in,” Katrina called.
The door swung open on its squealing hinges to reveal Alexander. He hesitated, looking up at Katrina with an expression that was half pensive, half stricken. The side-light of sunset cast a flame-orange glow on the side of his face, exaggerating the hard angles of his features and painting his platinum hair with a deep, golden glow. He said nothing—only stood there, staring at Katrina, with one hand on the door.
“Alexander…”
The sound of his name seemed to snap him out of his dark reverie. He climbed the steps and shut the door behind him, and they were alone in the privacy of the Airstream.
“What’s going on?” she asked, concerned by his vague, disjointed mood.
Alexander shook his head. “I’ve just been thinking. About what you and I talked about…”
“Bonding,” she said. Better not to mince words, Katrina thought. Better to face what they were up against—Scarlett’s attacks; the uncertainty of a shifter/witch bond—with directness and clarity, no matter how uncomfortable it made the Blackmeade boys.
“Right,” he said softly.
Katrina made him sit. He was so preoccupied that he moved at her direction like a puppet on a string.
“The brothers are still searching through the library,” he told her. “But still, we’ve had no luck.”
“I know.”
You won’t have any luck, no matter how long you search, she was tempted to say. Because I’m sure of the answer to our problem—I’m certain it will require a bond. The very thought was just too repulsive to shifters. If the required knowledge had ever existed in their long-ago lore—the fact that they, too, used the Powers, just like their hated enemies the witches; and knowledge of the magnified strength that could come from bonding—it had certainly been eradicated by fearful shifters long ago. But Alexander already looked stricken enough—Katrina knew it would serve no good end to belabor the point now. She kept quiet, waiting for him to speak on.
“I feel…” searching for adequate words, Alexander struck a fist against his chest, directly over his heart, “such a deep sense of duty to the brothers of my fraternity.”
“Of course,” Katrina said gently. “How could you not? You’re their alpha—their leader. In part, you are responsible for their safety.”
A lump rose in Katrina’s throat. It was difficult to watch Alexander struggling this way—suffering with the terrible weight of this choice. For all his cocky coolness and his air of rich-boy privilege, she had always seen clearly this side of his personality—this deep, abiding, protective loyalty. It was one of the things she liked
the most about him. It was what she’d been most attracted to last year, when they’d been lovers.
He said, “I feel that I owe it to them to give in to you—to do what you want, and become your familiar.”
A flutter of hope surged in Katrina’s chest. She kept her face still and neutral with the greatest effort.
“But,” he said.
And Katrina’s hope died at once, replaced by a bitter taste in her mouth. It’s either you or Chase, she said silently, hoping he could feel her desperation, her soft but insistent demand. I’m not close enough with any other shifter for this to work. One of you has to make the sacrifice.
“But?” Katrina prompted.
“It’s so much to give up. My future—my place in the world. And more than that…” His pale eyes lowered, staring at his hands, which hung limp between his knees. “I’d have to give up Roxy.”
Katrina shook her head, her brows arching. “You, too, huh?”
“Yeah. I’m as bad as Chase,” Alexander admitted sheepishly. “I want her, Katrina—I can’t help it. When I’m around her, my totem is possessed by this unquenchable thirst.”
“But she wants Chase.” Katrina said it as gently as she could.
“I know. But she may not always want him. And to cut myself off from that possibility forever…”
Katrina rolled her eyes. “Roxy isn’t the only woman in the world, Alexander.”
He shrugged dismissively. “I know that, but—”
“But nothing. So she can shift—big deal.”
Katrina liked Roxy, and a part of her felt badly for downplaying the rare female shifter’s value. But moving Alexander’s focus away from the redhead might just sway him toward the bond.
