by Callie Rose
The bedroom falls silent, though I can hear bright, happy birdsong outside with my heightened hearing. I’m sure she can too, except she’s too worried about what’s happening inside of herself to stop and smell the roses.
“I wish I wasn’t a witch,” she says in a small, broken voice. “I wish I was all wolf.”
I reach out and take her hands, gently untangling each finger from the ball she’s created. “You shouldn’t wish for that, moonlight.”
“Why? It’s the truth.” The words come out forcefully, but I can hear the tears behind them. She finally looks at me, and her blue eyes are red-rimmed, glittering with unshed tears.
My heart feels like a fucking stone in my chest, and I wonder how much of this is my fault. I set a precedent that made her feel only half-loved. Made her feel like only half a person. And even though I’ve told her how much I love her and tried to make up for the shitty way I acted in the past, I haven’t done it well enough. I haven’t done it right.
It’s up to me to fix this.
I tug her into my lap and wrap her in my arms. Her soft hair tickles my face as I rest my chin against her head, and I clench my jaw as self-recrimination rises up in me. “I’m sorry. I should’ve been a better mate.”
“What?” She shakes her head in confusion, shifting a little in my hold. “You’ve been a wonderful mate.”
“No, I haven’t,” I say simply. “I fell in love with you when I thought you were a wolf. When my wolf recognized you and chose you, before your wolf came out. But then your witch side showed itself first, and I… lost it. I just lost it.”
Sable straightens and pulls away just enough that she can look up into my eyes. “For obvious reasons, Dare. I haven’t forgotten about your pack. Some wounds can’t be healed.” Her hand brushes over the scars on her abdomen, and I can almost hear her unspoken words—I should know.
“I was even more of an asshole when I learned to love you despite the fact you’re a witch,” I say. “Because the truth is, my job is to love you for all of it. As your mate, I should love you for the wolf, for the witch, for every part that makes you Sable. I love you. You’re half witch. Therefore, I love your witch side just as much as I love your wolf side. I love all of you. Not despite anything. Because of everything.”
“That’s sweet,” she says, bumping my chest with her shoulder and offering me a small, fragile smile. “Thank you for loving me, Dare. I love you too. So much.”
I can tell she’s trying to shift the conversation, that she still doesn’t quite believe me. I grit my teeth, furious at the asshole I was in the past. I know I’m not the only person who made her doubt herself over her witch powers, but I hate that I played any part in making her question herself.
Still cradling her against me with one arm, I rest one hand on her chest, ignoring the way my cock thickens at the feel of the swell of her breast beneath my palm. Her breath hitches a little before resuming its steady rhythm.
“This heart?” I murmur, dropping my voice low. “It’s the best one I know. I’ve never met anyone like you, moonlight. I trust you with my life. I trust you with my heart. I fucking love and accept every single part of you. Just like you need to accept every part of yourself.”
She catches my hand in hers and looks away from me, her gaze sliding out the window into the golden afternoon light. “I don’t know if I can.”
Looking at the way the sunlight illuminates her face reminds me of the night I first saw her. I brush her hair back, sliding my fingers through the silken strands. Sometimes, when I fall back into old habits and think about running out into the wilderness to lay waste to the witches, I think of Sable in the moonlight. I think of how much I love her, and how thoroughly I know she belongs to me.
And all I want to do is stay.
Stay and fight for what I love.
I put a little pressure against her jawline so that she’ll turn back to look at me. “The night I met you, you looked like a goddess in the moonlight. You were the sweetest, most ethereal woman I’d ever seen. I almost thought you weren’t real. Like I’d conjured you from my dreams or something.”
She laughs. “The feeling was mutual. You stalked out of the shadows in the forest like you were made of them.”
Grinning, I point out, “Shadows and moonlight go together. You took my breath away then, and you take my breath away now. Everything I’ve learned about you, about your life, your strength, your determination, it’s all made me love you more.”
The tears she’s been fighting back finally slide over her long lashes. I catch both droplets with my thumbs before they can fall far.
“Despite my fucked up past with witches, and despite the grudge I can never seem to let go of, I’m not afraid of you,” I tell her, brushing away the remnants of her tears from beneath her eyes. “No matter what you learn or how powerful you become, I’ll never be afraid of you.”
“You should be.”
“But I won’t be. And neither will they,” I add, motioning to the door with my head. “There’s strength in you. Power. There’s also so much goodness it knocks me off my feet sometimes. And when goodness and strength come together, amazing things happen. We aren’t afraid for you to use your power, so you shouldn’t be either.”
Our eyes lock, and we hold there for a few moments. I drink in the way her tears have made her blue eyes shine like sapphires, wishing I could make all of it go away: her hurt, her fears, her pain. She deserves only the best, and I want to be one of the men who gives her that.
Finally, something softens in her expression, and the tension leaks away from her body. She leans into me, her soft lips seeking mine. I slide my hands into her hair, my body tingling from her proximity as I kiss her deeply.
When we break apart, Sable takes a shaky breath. “Okay. I’ll do it. I’ll… I’ll try to embrace my witch. To accept her.” She smiles and touches my face with delicate fingers. “If you can do it, so can I.”
10
Sable
We leave early the next morning before most of the village is even awake. We’re headed for North Pack territory—it’s the closest, so we can reach it the fastest. And it can also give us some distance from the rest of the shifters while I practice truly unleashing my magic.
We don’t go alone, however. Even though the sigils are still actively guarding pack lands, we know now that they aren’t infallible, and it wouldn’t do to get caught alone and vulnerable by invading witches. Ridge chose some of his biggest, most loyal pack mates to come along and provide extra protection.
I get the feeling they’re ready for an adventure when the five of them are the first to shift and take off ahead to scout. The way they run and leap reminds me so much of puppies let out into a yard after being cooped up in the house that it almost makes me laugh. I guess, in a way, they’ve all felt caged here in the aftermath of the battle.
Ridge, Archer, and Trystan already spoke with trusted members of their packs last night and made sure to leave their responsibilities in capable hands. God forbid, if the witches return while we’re gone and the alphas aren’t around to lead, there will be a group of wolves ready to take charge and keep everyone safe.
We shift at the edge of the village and wait several long moments, watching the scouts with their noses to the ground out in the forest.
Once they clear the area of any threats, we’ll be on the move, Ridge says through our mind speak connection.
Feels good to get out, Trystan says.
Yeah, Dare agrees. Can’t wait to stretch my legs. Maybe catch a rabbit.
Archer’s blond wolf glances back over his shoulder and huffs. I hate leaving them. Again.
It’s not for long, Ridge offers. They’ll be all right.
Trystan woofs his agreement. This is another good reason for our packs to join forces.
Yeah. Ridge nods, his snout shifting up and down. Apart from making us safer, joining the packs would mean we could all be with Sable and still effectively lead our people.
/> One big happy family, Dare adds, his tongue lolling out his mouth in a wolfish smile.
I still hate knowing that they’ve sacrificed a lot of their time for me when their duty rests with their packs. Of course, everything we’ve done has ultimately been for the good of the packs, from sorting out our untraditional mate bond to figuring out my magic. This morning, Archer mentioned how even though I was originally made to be a weapon against the wolves, I could end up being their greatest defender.
Which feels like a heavy fucking burden to bear.
The scouts return with a report that nothing seems amiss, and we set off, racing through the wilderness quickly and in a tight group. The landscape is starting to feel familiar, even though I don’t think I could navigate it alone yet. But I’ve learned good habits, like keeping my senses open for any hint of danger. Running like this with a larger group makes me feel more like a wolf than ever.
When we finally reach the North Pack village, the place is barren and quiet. All the houses are shut and locked tight, the yards empty of their usual activity. It’s eerie to walk down the dirt roads and hear the sound of our nails scratching at the hard-packed earth without anything to drown it out.
We go straight to Ridge’s house, where he shifts back to human form on his front lawn and turns to address our group of guards. “Shawn, you live closest, right?”
A short, tawny wolf straightens to attention, and then magic shimmers over him until he stands before Ridge in human form. “Yes, alpha.”
I’m still not entirely used to the whole nudity thing when it comes to strangers, so I train my gaze on Ridge’s face and deliberately ignore the five shifters as they each transform back to their human forms.
“Good. I want you all to sleep there,” Ridge says. “Stay together at all times and be ready for anything. If you need me, howl. I’d rather you steered clear of us while we’re working with magic. Got it?”
The men agree and split off for Shawn’s house, leaving the rest of us to go inside Ridge’s familiar cabin.
My other mates and I all shift back before heading for the front door, and I literally breathe a sigh of relief as I walk into the dimly lit living room. It’s like coming home, being welcomed back by memories of when I arrived in this strange new world.
As if he can sense my thoughts, Ridge puts an arm around my shoulders and kisses my head. We were both different people then, who hadn’t quite figured out who we were to each other and what the connection between us meant. I think of how kind he was to me, and how he moved with slow, deliberate motions as if he were dealing with a beaten dog. Which I was, I guess, though I don’t really feel like that girl anymore.
I wish I could drag him back to the bedroom where I awakened that first morning. I want to take all of them back there, where we could slip into bed and stay forever. But we’re here on a mission, and I can’t put off what we came for. The longer I ignore what needs to be done, the longer they have to stay away from their packs. I can’t sit with that on my conscience for too long.
Plus, if I put off learning how to harness my magic, that gives Cleo more time to break through my defenses again.
I unzip my pack and dig out the spell book Gwen gave me, staring down at the cover with a sense of deep foreboding. I think of Gwen, the hermit witch we sought out for help, and I wish like hell she was here to help me with this. I need guidance, a firm hand who knows what she’s doing magically and can correct me when I screw up. But Gwen gave no indication that she’d ever leave her quiet little cabin in the remote mountains—especially not while Cleo’s still around.
Archer helped me as much as he could with his knowledge of witch magic from his time in captivity, but I’ve progressed beyond his limited understanding by now. All that’s left for my men to do is provide emotional support, which I know they’ll do happily. But none of them can teach me how to use my powers.
So it’s up to me to teach myself.
Once we’re all dressed, we slip back out into the street and walk a little way down the road to put more space between me and the shifters we brought with us. They’re out of sight, supposedly inside Shawn’s house, resting up, eating, hydrating, and whatever else wolves do after a long run. But I’m highly aware of their presence here in the village, and most particularly conscious that the house they’re staying in is well within sight of where Ridge indicates we should set up shop.
Gwen’s book almost feels like it’s vibrating in my hands, but I know it’s just my heart racing like mad, adrenaline flooding my system. I’ve used magic before. Effectively, even, in the recent battle against the witches. But that was in the heat of battle when I had to if I wanted to save the people I cared about. That was mostly raw magic too, only summoned up by my need to defend my mates and their packs. There was no strategy or control behind the power that poured out of me that day—only desperation and fury.
This, though? This book represents the control I need to have.
It means delving into more complex spells and trying to fill them with the same amount of magic I used that day. I don’t even want to think about what doors I’m going to be opening.
Or whether I’ll be able to close them if I don’t like what’s on the other side.
I open the book between my hands, my throat tight. All I can think about is how I could lose control. What if I hurt one of my mates just by trying a simple levitation spell?
“Sable,” Archer murmurs, sensing my distress. “It’s going to be okay.”
My mates have formed a four-person semi-circle before me, placing themselves close enough to reach me if the need warrants, but far enough away that if I fail miserably, nobody will get burned. I hate that they have to think like that and balance the two sides of me no differently than I’m constantly forced to. At least they’re smart enough to do so. They don’t pretend I’m not a ticking time bomb.
Archer smiles at me reassuringly, his green eyes sparkling in the sunlight. “Take it slow and don’t be afraid to fail.”
Easy for him to say. Failing could mean hurting someone I love.
I want to do what Dare said. I want to be brave, to embrace all of myself.
But how the hell am I supposed to do that?
11
Sable
The next afternoon, I stand in front of a card table we’ve unfolded in the street with half a pound of shattered glass on the ground at my feet.
I suck at this.
I’ve been at it non-stop for more than a day—minus the roughly six hours I managed to sleep last night. No matter how hard I push myself, I just can’t seem to get past my own mental blocks. I’m getting nowhere.
For what feels like the sixth hundredth time, I trace a sigil in the air, and the empty glass soda bottle on the table shudders before lifting ever-so-slightly off the tabletop. I focus on that dark glass and reach for my magic to channel more of it into the spell, but it feels wispy and out of reach.
Lifting this soda bottle only two inches feels like I’m lifting a boulder off a damn mountain. I could lift it with my hand for a fraction of the effort it takes to do this.
Frustrated, I release the bottle and watch as it slams back into the table. It swivels a few times and almost falls over, but manages to stay upright and unbroken, which is more than I can say for the first twenty bottles. I need a moment to gather myself, to breathe, and then I’ll try again.
Across the street, my mates have set up a little man cave, making me feel like I’m a fucking spectator sport. They’ve set up chairs and are watching me so intently that it makes me feel a little like a sideshow freak. I know that’s not how they see me, and I’m glad to have them observing in case anything goes wrong, but that doesn’t help me feel less self-conscious. I just hope the shifters who came with us as extra guards aren’t watching from the house down the street.
I shove the thought away. It’s not helpful to my state of mind.
“You okay?” Ridge calls from the yard.
I wave at him to ind
icate I’m fine, then square back up to the soda bottle. The thing feels like my current arch nemesis. I loathe it.
But I try again.
For another hour, I practice levitating the bottle over and over. I feel like I make progress, but it happens in such small increments as to be insubstantial.
When I can’t handle trying to levitate things anymore, I move on to a different spell. And then another. And another. Until the sun sets and I’m losing light and patience all at once. Every spell seems to take tremendous effort, and I’m stretched to my max almost to the point of tears.
I lean over the card table, my palms resting on the surface as I draw in a few much-needed breaths. Rotating my neck to work the kinks out, I catch Dare’s gaze where he’s sitting on the edge of his seat by the sidewalk. I grimace in a “sorry I’m failing you all” kind of expression.
This isn’t working, and I know it. He has to know it too.
Dare stands and comes to my side, where he removes the spell book from my hand and sets it on the table with the various objects I’ve used during the afternoon hours.
“You need a break,” he says, then tugs his t-shirt off. It flutters gently to the ground with all the broken glass I know we’re going to have to clean up later, then he reaches for the waistband of his shorts.
A small flash of heat rushes through me as he shucks his pants off, and for a brief moment, I think maybe he intends to fuck me standing right here where God and everybody can see us. Instead, magic shimmers over his form, all color and light and that little zing of energy I can feel because of my witch side. Then Dare’s huge black wolf does a playful bow before nudging me with his giant shoulder.
I stare at him, still caught up in the fantasy of me and a naked Dare with the wind on my skin as he sinks between my legs. He nudges me again and then yips, his teeth latching onto my shorts.
