Broden glared. “An’ that point would be…?”
“That this lass—whether she’s the lass or just a fine one; stories or no’—has obviously come to mean something to ye, an’ ye canno keep distracting yerself just to avoid that.” He patted Broden’s shoulder and smiled. “We know ye care fer us, Broden, but yer allowed to be happy, too. An’—who knows?—maybe Father’s stories are true and something great will come of this, aye? Now let us finish the hunt; ye go be Broden.”
Go be Broden…
It saddened him to no end to realize at that moment that he didn’t even know where to begin going about such a task.
Turning away, he paused on Grant, narrowing his eyes. “I’ll forgive ye for speaking ill of her this time, but doona do it again.”
Grant nodded slowly, gaping at him as though he’d just seen a ghost. “Do ye… Is she…” he gulped loudly, “Could she really be the one? I mean, could she really be yer…?”
Even left unfinished, the question exploded in Broden’s head the same way it had been for the past few days.
Not offering an answer, he turned away and headed off on his own into the icy rain, suddenly not minding it as much as he had been. There was no denying that he wanted Abby. Everyone could obviously see that much. What he didn’t want to admit, though—neither to Grant nor himself—was that, if she was the first key to breaking his family’s curse, he wasn’t sure he trusted himself to know how take the next step.
* * *
Dana watched the eldest of Bowen’s sons through the eyes of his brothers. It was an easy enough spell, especially when compared to others she’d cast. Though she wasn’t in her own body to control such things, she knew that what she was seeing would’ve drawn a smirk of wicked proportions on her face.
And to think she’d nearly lost hope in seeing the next phase of the curse come into being.
But, no, as resilient as the scarred therion, this Broden, was, there was no denying that look. He had found his mate, and, much as he seemed to be fighting it—as though some part of him knew what would come of it—she knew it was only a matter of time. After all, the sickness was already beginning to show; only a few days apart and he was all the worse for it. Not that that one hadn’t been rather sickly beforehand, but now…
They’d be forced to return to one another, and then the rest would follow.
Bowen didn’t know about that detail, though, which meant none of them did. In fact, with the exception of the obvious, there was much about their curse—Dana’s punishment, she corrected herself—that Bowen and his wretched little family didn’t know about. But that was the idea. No use in designing a good enchantment only to spoil the best parts beforehand, right?
Especially when there was a message to be sent in the process.
Love was a painful, dangerous game. Bowen had personally shown her that. It was a harsh and agonizing lesson, but one that Dana committed to loyally. But—BUT!—trespasses could not go unforgiven; cruelty, no matter how educational, could not go unpunished.
Love was a painful, dangerous game—it left one feeling empty and incomplete until it was reciprocated, and then… then the pain and the danger only doubled; those of one becoming shared between two—and Dana thought it only proper to relay that lesson back on Bowen’s kin. It started simple enough: confusion and obsession, feeling lost and, yes, even sick when separated…
And then…
Oh, yes! And then…
On to the next act.
Slipping free of the brothers’ minds—content with what she’d seen from Broden’s turmoil—Dana cast her astral form out towards the village at the base of the mountain, seeking out a new set of eyes to spy through.
It was time to check in on the little minx who had caught the scarred male’s heart.
Chapter Six
Three days.
The cursed storm lasted three days!
Three days trapped inside, staring longingly at the mountain through a window.
Three days trying to think about anything but Broden.
Three days failing to think about anything but Broden.
And with the obsessive thoughts came the rising emptiness and a growing sickness. She could hardly keep her food down and her head wouldn't stop aching. By the third day, Abigail couldn't even muster the energy to pull herself out of bed. Somehow, the only thing that her body seemed willing to respond to—willing to even stand up for—was the promise that she’d allow it to go into the highlands; to go find Broden.
Her Broden.
She didn’t even try to fight those thoughts anymore. They were too frequent, too demanding, and, as long as she was being honest with herself, the only thing short of actually seeing Broden that made the sickness subside. All of which was absurd. Tarah would have said so—probably would have laughed in her face for even thinking it—if Abigail wasn’t working so hard to keep it from everyone else. Her parents were easy enough to elude, but only because she was staying home. Not going out against their wishes and not giving them reason to worry was, as it turned out, a great way to not get their attention. But Tarah had come knocking a few times in the past three days. She’d heard that Abigail hadn’t been at the pub and, being both the friend and caregiver she was, she’d come to check in on her. Abigail had been asleep for her first visit, a fact that one of their servants had been quick to relay and, as the servant later told her, this seemed to please Tarah, who’d said she was long overdue for some rest. The irony in that was almost enough to get Abigail to track her friend down and lay down a world class lecture. Almost. The second and third time Tarah had come knocking—the last two times; once in the beginning and then again at the end of the third day—Abigail had been awake, and on both occasions she’d explained that the weather just had her feeling blue.
This, she figured, wasn’t really a lie. It was about as indirect and falsified as a truth could get without becoming a lie, however. But, in her defense, the weather was what was keeping her from Broden, and being kept from Broden was what was causing all the trouble. That part, though, wasn’t the part that Abigail saw as the potential lie. No. It was the “blue”-part—as though what she was feeling could be boiled down to a simple depression.
And that just wasn’t the case.
She felt like she was dying. She felt like every sickness she’d ever known was upon her at once, and all of it had conspired to become an even greater force against her unless she was with Broden. This was no broken heart or fanciful lovesickness like something from a romantic novel; this was a genuine sickness that, somehow, clung to her obsessive thoughts of the highlander. By the end of the third day, after Tarah had come and gone, Abigail decided that Broden must have done something to her. A part of her—most of her—refused to believe that the man could be in any way responsible for this, she’d outright known he would never allow harm to come to her, but there was no denying that something like this didn’t just happen.
Then again, to the best of Abigail’s knowledge, highlanders couldn’t cast enchantments.
And something like this could only be the product of witchcraft… right?
Groaning, she cast the thought from her head and it was instantly replaced by a vision of Broden’s intense gaze looking down at her. Obsessing over the beasts was as surreal as she wanted to get. Thoughts of magic and curses had no place in her head at that moment. Or ever, if she had her way.
“Abigail? How are ye feeling today?” her mother’s voice, soft and worried, carried into the room as she peeked around the edge of the door. Without an answer, she stepped inside and crept closer—acting as though any sudden movement might threaten Abigail’s heath further—and worked her big, puffy dress so that she could kneel beside the bed.
So much for not getting attention.
Abigail resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Her mother was trying in her own way, and she recognized that for what it was.
“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” she whispered as though Abigail was on her de
athbed, and, resentfully, she had to admit that it felt like she was. “I should’ve been keeping a better eye on ye.”
“It’s no’ yer fault,” Abigail assured her, this time almost losing the battle against her desire to roll her eyes.
Her mother enjoyed being dramatic, and with this illness becoming something more than just an inconvenience—now it’s a full-fledged event! A real attention getter, she thought morbidly—it had become a way to parade themselves as the woeful victims of their daughters dwindling health. Her father, no doubt, was using this turn of events as leverage in some way. Heaven forbid any of the actual attention of concern be wasted on their daughter. This, however, was just their nature. They’d never had to learn compassion so long as money and power could convince others to pretend they cared for Abigail. There was no blaming a creature for following its nature. And so, irritated as she was with the circumstances, Abigail couldn’t bring herself to be angry at her parents—neither her mother’s drama nor her father’s manipulations—but, she decided, she could see it for what it was.
Abigail finally rolled her eyes.
“I…” she stifled a groan as she worked to sit up, then finally begin to stand. It was a tolling effort, one that she was sure showed, but she managed through it by repeating to herself that she’d waited long enough. She was going to see Broden. When she was finally standing (though not well), she said, “I’m going to get some fresh air.”
“Are… are ye sure? Ye still doona look…” her mother trailed off, leaving her statement to hang in the air with untold potential. She was, understandably, skeptical as she stood, concern still showing on her face. Despite this, she made no move to approach her daughter or help her remain upright.
Worry only goes so far, I see, Abigail thought with a sigh.
“I’m sure I look like shite,” Abigail finished for her, ignoring the feigned gasp she earned with her language. “But I’m no’ gonna feel any better lying in a stuffy room in a bed I’ve been lying sick in for the past few days.” She worked to stretch her stiff joints and took a few test steps, finding that the promise of tracking down Broden was returning much of her strength to her. Confident that her self-assigned mission could be carried out, she gave her mother a reassuring nod and said, “I’ll be back in a little while.”
* * *
Every step towards the outskirts of the village made her feel healthier.
Every step away from home made her mind feel clearer.
Every step up the mountain made her feel stronger.
Though Abigail had no way of knowing that Broden would be waiting where they’d met before, her body was responding as though he already was. Though she’d thought herself crazy for believing that the promise of seeing the highlander would somehow cure her, there was no arguing with the results. Then, as if to emphasize this truth, she surprised herself by beginning to run up the steep incline. She could wait no longer; would wait no longer! Until…
Stopping at the small opening in the forest where she had been three days earlier, she frowned at the emptiness she felt when she didn't see him there.
What was she expecting?
That he would just magically know to be there?
She felt her cheeks heat at the mixed emotions she felt, and, taking another deep breath, she sat on a log in the middle of the clearing.
“Ye’ve got it bad, Abby,” she whispered to herself.
The past few days had felt so wrong to her. Her home, her bed, everything that she had grown up with just didn't feel the same. She’d been feeling wrong not being where she was now, but being there at that moment felt just as empty without Broden being there with her. Sure, sitting in the forest was curing her of the sickness and haze, but with her renewed strength and clarity came an even worse sense of loneliness. A whimper slipped past her lips as she realized that she’d almost preferred the sickness. Disappointed but not ready to go back to the place that no longer felt like home, she lied back on the log and let herself stare up at the patchwork of sky and treetops that stretched overhead. The forest was surprisingly quiet all except for a few chirps or footsteps of small animals and she found herself getting lost in the serenity of it all. Closing her eyes, she began to fall into a peaceful sleep that she hadn’t had in some time.
* * *
Broden was fooling himself.
He knew it even as he continued to trek towards the clearing where he had been with Abby three days earlier. The past three days had been a nightmare for him. He’d been unfocused, and, despite trying to eat more than he usually did, his appetite refused to cooperate. He was sure that his brothers just assumed that he was starving himself for their benefit again, but the truth was that any food he tried to eat caught in his throat or was just as quickly coughed up. This, along with the growing dizziness and aches, had left him just as bedridden and antisocial as Callum.
Except he has an excuse… Broden had reminded himself in the throes of his bizarre ailment.
As a therion, he never got sick. Sure, he and his brothers couldn’t transform, but they were still not human. Their bodies were more resilient to injury, and any injuries they did sustain healed faster; any one of Broden’s scars had, upon their conception, been the sort of injury that would likely kill a human. Leaping into a bare-handed fight against a bear to save Lyle or falling over the edge of a cliff to spare a drunken Grant the same fate had represented minor inconveniences to him, though the tapestry of scarring seemed to tell of harder times. That was just the way of their kind. They were a resilient sort of creature. And yet, despite that, he’d been sick. Nearly fatally so—or so it felt. But then, deciding that he could bear it no longer and, startled to find his body responsive to the promise of seeing Abby, he’d managed to drag himself out of the cave.
Suddenly his hunger returned.
Suddenly his fever broke.
Suddenly he felt… good.
Broden felt good!
And all because he believed that Abby was out there, waiting by that clearing. So he ran, knowing even then that he was fooling himself. But, fooling himself or not, he felt strong—felt good!—to be fooled at that moment, and, seeing him coming out of his crippling illness, his brothers’ cheers and howls of joy followed him down the mountain.
Even if he was fooling himself…
Even if he was fooling himself…
Even if he was…
But then he smelled Abby in the forest—in their clearing—and all the doubts and concerns vanished with the rest of his mysterious sickness.
Then, like something out of the perfect dream, she was there: splayed across a log. Her pale form was draped before him like a gift from the gods, her long blonde hair casting a halo around her head as her dress rode up her legs. As if her position wasn't enough, the moon, just as eager to touch her as he was, lit her within a silver glow that seemed almost transcendent. Something within him stirred at the sight, and a low, passionate growl echoed from the barrel of his chest.
Hearing this, Abby’s bright blue eyes opened, her body moving to take him into her gaze, and her face lit up. She gazed at him like he was her savior, like he was the only one she’d ever wanted to see.
She gazed at him like she loved him.
“Ye came,” she whispered, disbelief saturating those two words.
He nodded, taking a step towards her. “So did ye,” he said, just as disbelieving.
“I…” she blushed and looked away, embarrassed. “I couldn’t…”
“Couldn’t stay away?” he finished for her, confessing his own dilemma as he did.
“I feel so much better now,” she said, and though it shouldn’t have made sense Broden knew exactly what she meant.
“Aye,” he nodded, and this understanding seemed to speak a great deal to Abby, who marveled up at him; a fresh and, were it possible, even brighter smile stretching across her rosy cheeks.
“I… I wanted to see ye,” she went on. “I couldn't stop thinking about ye these past few days.”
<
br /> Broden realized that his breathing was shallow, catching in his throat. Nodding again, he repeated, “Aye.”
“I’m just…” she blushed, “I’m new to all this.”
He trembled. “All this?”
Her honesty was what undid him. She wanted to see him! He knew that her being human was dangerous for his kind, but what harm would there be in seeing where this could take them? If things ended up not working out, he could figure that out later. He didn't want to lose this chance.
“I’m no’ sure how to describe it without sounding absolutely foolish,” she bit her lip.
“Try me,” he grinned, stepping forward and sat beside her. “Because I’m feeling the same way about ye, lass.”
* * *
Abigail looked up in surprise at Broden’s story. She was afraid that she would’ve scared him off with her own confession, but then she’d heard his. Suddenly she didn’t feel so crazy for the past three days. Then again, staring into Broden’s eyes—eyes she’d been obsessing over in all that time—and considering everything he’d told her, she began to wonder if they were both crazy. That, however, she didn’t mind the idea of.
He swayed towards her, seeming to test her reaction to his closeness before committing to being nearer. She responded by bringing herself closer still. Seeing this, he craned his neck ever so slightly—seeming almost to tease her, but, again, she could see that he was testing her reaction. She leaned her head back, aiming her lips at his. This was all the confirmation he needed. He closed the rest of the distance slowly and deliberately, but the impact of his lips still felt like it could have knocked her on her back. Or it would have, were it not for the strong arm Broden had hooked around her back. She gasped at the feeling of his lips against hers and moaned into his mouth. He burred back, the vibration running along her tongue. Without meaning to, she lifted her hands and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him against her. His strong body leaned down and his large hands captured her waist as he helped her into his lap, having her straddle him. She was so small compared to him, but she felt no fear as the two deepened the kiss.
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