Page 27 of My Hexed Honeymoon (The Bridgewater Pack #2)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

The clearing is eerily quiet—no birdsong, no rustle of wind. Just my wheezy breaths and the sound of boots scuffing against pine needles and loose soil.

Something’s wrong , I think, trying to aim the thought at Diego, but he’s bringing up the rear, making it damn near impossible.

Every spark that’s connected to a living creature has cleared the area; even the plants seem to be shrinking away.

I slow my pace, and Riven does as well, glancing at me with an unreadable expression. They’ve been closed off and pouty since I requested the time by the water. But they could keep on pouting because Diego was going to help me, and right now that was keeping me going.

It’s when his head jerks up like Riven’s arriving at camp that my blood goes cold.

He plants his feet and rolls his shoulders, a snarl curling his lips.

Pressure pops in the air, like we’re standing beneath a thundercloud that’s about to aim its bolt of lightning directly at us.

“Backstabbing parasite.” Diego flings the insult at Riven as his muscles roll and convulse beneath his skin.

“I’m not the one who went back on our deal,” Riven says, so I’m clearly the only one in the dark, even though I knew something was off. “But to save you any mental anguish, this would’ve happened either way. The only question was whether I’d steal your bride.”

At that, Diego explodes, all fur and fury and bones that snap and twist with brutal efficiency. His clothes are in shreds as his jaw elongates, hands forming claws as he lunges and surges forward, gray and silver fur rippling over his skin in a fast-moving wave.

Massive and seething, he charges toward Riven with lethal intent.

The vampire meets him in the middle, a blur of motion and talons and violence.

Riven’s fist connects with Diego’s ribs, and while it sends him backward several feet, he doesn’t falter—he digs his claws into the ground, leaving lines scored into the grass, then goes from skidding to propelling.

He opens his mouth as he lunges with a roar, snapping Riven’s arm in his snout filled with jagged teeth.

The vampire yelps and swears up a storm, delivering blow after blow onto Diego’s wolfish shoulders. He stands firm, but I can see the impact the hits have on him and, at the tiny yelp that escapes him, everything within me screams out, wishing I could do more—but what?

Blood more black than red drips from his jaw, the ichor staining his storm-gray fur and the ground. Clamping tighter, he gives his monstrous head a shake, flinging Riven around like a chew toy.

His attention drifts, bones shifting and morphing beneath the surface, until a few of his human features peek out from the lupine—frankly, he looks absolutely terrifying.

“Talia, run!” he yells, the command coming out garbled through his teeth.

But why would I run? Isn’t he winning?

Riven dislocates their shoulder as if it’s nothing, jerking free of Diego’s maw with a hard kick directly to his poor sensitive nose, and that’s it—I’ve got to stop standing here and use some fucking magic already.

“Don’t worry about me,” I shriek, rummaging through my pack for something I can use to amplify my powers, because other than being connected to the capillary system of the world, my magic is more of a party trick. “Just kick their ass!”

They both hit the ground in a tumble of dust, moving too fast for me to entirely follow.

The back of my neck burns, the creepy-crawly wrongness hitting me extra strong…

Then half a dozen vampires step from the thicket of trees, practically floating into the clearing.

Oh. So that ’s why Diego was telling me to run.

The fact of the matter is it’s already too late. Nothing in my bag seems like anything that’ll help, and my attention keeps drifting outside the bag to where the Blood Loom’s secured.

It hums as I hover my palm over the handle, emitting a high-pitched squeal like it senses the action and yearns to join in.

As I wrap my hands around the bone handles, it vibrates, the runes along its surface pulsing like a heartbeat.

This magical weapon of untold power wants me to use it more than anything. It’s whispering once again that it belongs to me.

That it wants me to feed it.

And it wants blood.

It’s overpowering how much I crave rushing over to the puddles of gore left from Riven and Diego’s scuffle.

But I don’t have time for that or to contemplate how or why the Blood Loom does what it does, so I stand with the ghastly tool in my hands and attempt to track the vampires as they fan out and rush forward.

Six huge vampires who looked like they trained by tackling grizzly bears, uprooting trees, and bench-pressing coffins pin their focus on me.

Each of them eerily pale and strapped for battle, with the hilts of their swords crossed at their back. And they’re all coming for the loom.

Diego hurls Riven into two of the advancing vampires, sending them rolling like bowling pins. Then he’s a wall of fur and muscle in front of me, snarling and baring his bloodied teeth like he’s daring them to make his day.

I reach out a hand and gently pet the spot of fur most matted with blood, worried about my wolf and doing my best to see how bad the injury is while surrounded by seven vampires.

They stand like statues for what seems like an eternity, eyes narrowed, watching and waiting.

“Give us the Blood Loom and we can all go on our way,” Riven says, peering around Diego the best they can to look at me.

My furry husband responds by aiming his growl directly at them, curling himself around me like a canine force field.

“Don’t pretend to we’re friends now,” I say to Riven. “You already showed your hand, and it’s that you’re a traitor.”

“Give me the loom!” they scream, and my heart hammers against my ribcage and pumps more fear through my veins.

Part of me thinks I’m being really stupid. I don’t even know what this fucking thing does and I’m not only risking my safety but also Diego’s.

The Blood Loom’s hum turns high-pitched and hungry.

I fumble around with the handles, trying to figure out the best way to keep it in my possession.

Use it.

I can’t tell whether it’s me or a voice from the weapon, but I instantly know it’s either use it or lose it.

The runes pulse as the vampires tighten their formation; Diego’s ears and muzzle twitch wildly as he attempts to keep them all in his sights.

Harried, I check the ground for a rock or sharp stick I can use to slice my palm and feed the loom what it so badly wants…

What I see is the crimson blood dripping from Diego’s wounds splattering the pine needles and dirt.

I stretch out a palm and swipe it through some of the blood around his injury, trying not to think about what I’m doing while stressing that I’m doing it wrong.

Whatever it is I’m even doing.

Time’s up, so I drag the blood over the intestinal strings of the loom, my hands smeared with lifeblood as instinct tells me how and where to grip it.

“Don’t,” Riven hisses, hurling a dagger at Diego’s body. “You have no idea what you’re doing—you’re going to ruin everything.”

Hello, that was my entire goal. “You should’ve told me what we were actually dealing with from the beginning,” I say, despite not fully knowing myself at this very moment.

The loom drinks in the blood I feed it greedily, and the forest gradually fades, no vampires, no protective werewolf.

I’m there again.

Inside the Hollow.

Darkness creeps along the edges of my reality, the threads I usually see in the other realm a red and black ichor, pulsing around me like I’ve landed myself in a chamber of a heart.

I’m not afraid like I was before. In fact, I almost want someone to attack me so I can unleash my power.

Or the loom’s power. I can’t tell, and right now, I don’t care.

I fight through the fog, stepping a foot into my realm, where Diego’s countering attack after attack, keeping me safe as electricity flows molten through my arms and legs.

It’s slightly dizzying and exceedingly intoxicating.

All the magic that seemed to be closed off to me before surges from bottom to top, an iridescent green flickering at the tips of my fingers.

“Get back,” I command the attacking vamps, my voice echoing as if far away.

Those golden threads that’ve been my constant companion for as long as I remember bend to my will, forming a fist I slam into the vampires nearest Diego.

It flings the guy next to him backward as well, ass over heels. They lie there stunned, struggling to understand what hit them.

Awesome.

Tingly excitement bubbles up, along with the confidence I always ran short on.

There you are, precious threadling. I’m so glad you’ve returned.

This time the voice doesn’t scare me—doesn’t imitate me. It can’t keep me here. I walk between realms.

“Oh, I’m not here to stay,” I say, and through the haze, Riven and the other vampire to my right tilt their heads with curiosity.

But I’m not afraid of them overpowering me anymore, either.

Gathering my strength, I borrow a little lifeforce from a nearby tree and braid it into a rope. Gripping it on either side, I loop it around the throat of the vampire sinking his teeth into Diego’s shoulder—as the two on his other side land brutal blows to his back and ribs.

As the vampire I’m choking out tugs against the tether, fingers scrabbling for a rope he can’t see, I feel his struggle.

No, I bask i n it.

I wind that rope around my fist and yank, watching with glee as it begins to lacerate his throat, black ichor spilling down his front.

He drops to his knees, writhing and choking on his own gore.

See , I think at the darkness. I don’t need you to teach me how to bring my enemies to their knees.

Yes, the shadows answer, but it’s only by fully embracing your power that you’ll be able to unlock your destiny.

After a beat that’s forever and a blip, a twisted sort of delight floods our connection. Shall we put you to the test, then?

My heart skitters, forgetting how to beat. I so want to be strong enough—to earn praise and tap into my true power.

But I don’t want to be my mother.

My failures flicker like a lowlights reel in my head, and suddenly I’m recounting how many tests of hers I failed.

How much I disappointed her.

I lose my focus not only on the realm where Diego’s still fighting five of the vampires.

It’s all I can do to use the rope that once felt so strong to string the vampire up in a tree.

In that moment, fury burning so bright through me, I would’ve kept tugging on that rope until I sliced clean through his throat if I could.

I’m still not strong enough.

Shit, now both worlds are growing hazy.

Smoke stings my eyes and obscures my vision. I tell myself I’m breathing oxygen back in my realm, so I don’t need to worry about the wheeze and strain in my lungs in the shadow realm.

But it’s not working.

Without warning, I’m the me I don’t want to be—hair wild, eyes glowing with madness like my mother’s did as she burned villages.

My face is twisted into something vicious. Fire swirls behind me. People scream.

I feel merriment, with a side of exhilarating power.

My mother’s voice echoes in the smoke, except it’s coming fromme .

Let them burn, I say, and I’m fairly certain I’m speaking in both realms now. Survival and power aren’t given; they’re taken.

“Natalia! Come back to me.” Diego’s voice is so far away, but the tug of the mate bond is impossible to ignore.

I stumble a few steps, but then my werewolf suffers a huge blow—a fucking sword driven into his back. As he staggers closer to me and the pocket of space he’s kept me protected in, I see the grisly gash that splits open his snout.

No!

I yell it, but it doesn’t make a sound.

With a roar, I gather my power as well as every golden thread I can get my hands on. I form a curved blade like a scythe, all I have to do is drive it into a shriveled vampire heart.

I look at Riven, thinking of the double-crossing and how they got us into this mess and pretended to be my friend. How they forced me into a place filled with nightmares, forcing me to take all the risk only to turn around and betray us.

They ambushed us.

My survival means their death.

At the bottom of my blade, I form a long chain to help me swing my weapon around, turning it into a kusarigama from anime—a lethally tipped whip I can defend myself with.

And I’m out for blood.

My mother’s face flashes as I hurl the end with the razor-sharp sickle, superimposing itself over mine from that fiery scene in the Hollow.

I miss Riven’s heart and hit their shoulder instead, but that’s not the whole truth. My hatred and desire to kill them broke for a fraction of a second, letting in the snarky comments and the times they made me laugh during our hikes.

Diego goes down at my side with three vampires on his back.

The blade is still protruding from way too close to his heart, and it lodges deeper as the vampires pummel him from both sides. The light in his eyes is beginning to fade.

Everything is falling apart at the same time the realms begin stitching themselves back together.

Threatening to close me off in the Hollow.

I’m running for the exit and sprinting with everything in me, and I’m not going to make it. Why would Diego fight so hard for me? All I am is a weakness.

In the distance I hear his deep timbre, his throat raw as he booms, “Don’t you fucking touch her!”