Page 21 of Magic & Secrets (Twisted Magic #1)

THE OUTPOST WAS CALLED Sparkling Star. The Murade preferred to name their settlements as if they were the finest in all of Lavinia. This place had a single road with several inns, a few shops, and a pub. The humans had barely begun to build here before the end came.

My New Armgard instincts insisted I hunt the Varema Ghouls hiding out of sight in the woods. The urge was strong, yet I feared I might embarrass myself again in front of Roque.

The Bane Shifter left me broken. I could no longer feel my sisters. My training didn’t come naturally anymore. Mates were meant to be a gift, but Roque’s presence had stolen everything powerful about me.

Why had I cried in front of him? As a New Armgard warrior, I learned early on to hide my emotions. I was also taught to suppress my powers to avoid drawing attention. If the New Armgard were truly unleashed, we could destroy armies. Yet, I cried like a child when Roque laughed at me.

His scent left my head spinning. I could hear his heart beating. I felt him breathing. I ached for his attention and approval.

Despite how Roque was ruining me, I feared how soon our time together would be over.

He wanted us to travel to Elatalora, a city controlled by the Silver Elves and Eburnean Wizards.

Either creature could sense I wasn’t an Elven half-breed.

If they threatened me, I might lose control of my magic and give away my lineage.

What would Roque do once he learned I was his mortal enemy?

If good fortune fell upon me, one of the Elves from the Gathering would be in Elatalora. They would protect my identity and help me sneak out of the city. I’d likely never see Roque again.

Considering my sisters’ fates, I assumed they were with their mates. Were Enya and Mina having any better luck with Koda and Delta than I was with Roque?

My mate disappeared into the forest, leaving me worried over his safety. Of course, Roque could handle Ghouls, Witches, and whatever else hid in Pandorium Forest. Logic insisted I quiet my racing heart.

Forcing myself to get moving, I searched the one-lane settlement. Each building was designed with well-constructed barricades. The humans were prepared for physical threats. Their weapons were more than sufficient to kill the Varema Ghouls. They simply didn’t plan for a Witch to enter the fray.

Nothing remained of the humans except for their bloodied, tattered clothes and mementos from the lives they left behind before moving to this forsaken outpost.

I located a communication room within one of the living quarters.

My fingers slid across the radio as I considered contacting the Citadel.

How would Warlock Gregory react to my update?

Should I hide the truth about Roque’s presence?

I wasn’t a skilled liar, and I feared what Gregory would do if he sensed my falsehoods.

Rather than chance sharing the wrong information, I left the communication room and continued to explore the settlement.

Inside the pub, the air smelled faintly of ale, spoiled meat, and the faintest whiff of pipe smoke. The bar was a solid, well-worn structure. Behind it, shelves were lined with dusty bottles of wine and rum.

The tables were small and mismatched, surrounded by spindle-backed chairs and leather benches. A large ingleside dominated one wall.

I ran my fingers over a chalkboard listing the day’s specials in a now-dead person’s handwriting.

These humans had likely hoped for a better life in this new place, yet they disturbed Pandorium Forest and the ancient one living underneath.

Their large machinery tore free primeval trees to build this very pub.

The cost of their arrogance was the unleashing of monsters from the darkness.

In the pub’s pantry, I located canned foods. The humans were skilled at creating travel meals. I also found a pot and cooking oil. With a little effort, I started a fire in the stove and began working on a stew.

As the food warmed, I checked upstairs to find two bedrooms like Roque assumed. The windows were covered by removable barricades. I peered through a spyhole facing the woods.

The sun would set soon. I noticed the Varema Ghouls creeping closer to the clearing. Their kind preferred to hunt in the dark when their eyesight was sharpest. Once the sun fell below the horizon, they would attack.

Downstairs, Roque entered the pub. His big feet made a racket on the squeaky wooden floors. I found him skinning a small animal and dumping the flesh into a pan.

“How soon can you turn this into something good?” Roque asked me. “I’m long past hungry.”

Roque’s enthusiasm for a large meal inspired me to butcher the meat with more finesse than he had shown. A pot of stew soon simmered with canned vegetables, many spices, and his meat.

While I worked on the meal, Roque disappeared back outside.

I sensed he wished to create space between us.

I didn’t understand why our reactions to the mate bond were so different.

I craved his presence. Just having him outside left me with a painful longing.

However, Roque seemed happier with us apart.

Roque surprised me by returning with his chestnut hair and beard brushed. His skin smelled clean. A blanket was wrapped around his wide, powerful waist.

My heart raced in reaction to his attempt to clean up. His blue eyes seemed especially bright against his rugged, tanned face. I gripped the pub’s countertop as his scent left me dizzy and weak-kneed.

Roque walked over to the pot and sniffed the meal. His presence intoxicated me. I wanted to touch his hot skin. I drank in his presence until I could do nothing more than stare stunned.

“Where do you live when not on a mission?” Roque asked, watching me with a curious gaze.

My heart rebelled against the necessary deceits. Lying to Roque felt like a betrayal against our mate bond. His presence claimed a forbidden part of me. Roque deserved to know my every secret.

My training struggled to overcome my mate bond. I recalled how the Citadel instructors insisted the inhabitants of Lavinia hated the Armgard.

“They believe your kind was a scourge,” Witch Vica had insisted. “They will never view you as worthy of their respect or trust.”

Studying Roque, I wished he could see past my lineage and view me with affection.

Another male of a different species might value me as a mate.

The Bane Shifters had too much history with my kind.

The only members of their pack ever lost in battle were to the Armgard.

Roque’s current mood would turn sour if he knew what I was.

“We live in Arbdorre Territory.”

A sign of recognition flooded Roque’s gaze. “Is that where you received the warrants?”

“Yes.”

“How many bounties have you claimed?”

“Only a few.”

“Will you be paid for the Lion Shifters?” he prodded. “What about the Wolf Shifters and the Sorcerer? You hunted them. You should claim them as bounties.”

“I’m unsure how it’ll work.”

“I could put in a good word for you.”

His tone was friendly, yet his comment felt condescending. How could I complain about his disdain for my talents? He hadn’t seen me do anything particularly inspiring. In fact, I was downright embarrassing in the field against the Wolf Shifters and the Sorcerer.

“Your support is noted and appreciated,” I mumbled rather than throwing my arms around him and refusing to let go. “I don’t care about the bounty. I only want to be reunited with my sisters.”

“If they are with my packmates, they’ll be safe,” Roque insisted as he sat on a chair unprepared for his size.

The seat cracked under his weight. Roque grunted and threw the chair across the room in frustration. He frowned at me, seeming bothered by losing his temper.

I took several chairs and lined them up, side by side, so he could sit at the table with me. Roque’s handsome face softened when he realized what I was doing.

“The stew smells good,” he said as I brought the pot to the table.

“It should cook for much longer to ensure the meat is tender, but I would prefer to finish eating before the Ghouls attack.”

“When that happens, you’ll remain in here. I can handle the Ghouls.”

“What about the larger beast and Witch?”

Roque lost his soft smile. “I have fought battalions of the finest warriors. I think I can handle whatever is hiding in the woods.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Roque’s temper flared before fizzling out before my eyes. He studied me for a long moment. His gaze roamed my body. With anyone else, I’d assume he was sizing up my weapons. With my mate, I suspected he was wondering what was hidden under my armor.

“Your concern is noted,” Roque finally replied and fiddled with a spoon.

I watched him struggle with the utensil. A century living as a beast made the dainty spoon more annoying than helpful.

Lifting my bowl, I sipped the broth. Roque noticed I wasn’t using a utensil and tossed his over his shoulder.

Roque slurped down a bowl of food before claiming more. “Is that all you want?”

“I don’t need to eat a lot.”

Nodding, Roque claimed the pot and started eating before it even cooled. “I fought with Elven warriors long ago. They ate like dainty birds. Humans, though, like to dig into a good meal.”

“So do Shifters, I see.”

Roque took a minute to realize I was teasing him. When he caught on, his alluring face lit up. He offered a smile capable of tearing out my heart.

My mate was within reach. I craved his touch. His voice soothed my fears. The power of our bond was unmistakable.

However, even if Roque accepted our mate bond, I couldn’t claim what I desired. He might be willing to share his life with a half-breed warrior. Once he learned my lineage, there would be no more smiles or curious questions. Roque would behave exactly as he was programmed to do.