Page 34 of My Hexed Honeymoon (The Bridgewater Pack #2)

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

I feel Talia’s terror a moment before it spikes even higher.

It slams into me like a blow to the chest, causing a reverberating sense of dread that nearly drops me to my knees.

I whip my head toward the direction her fear is coming from, scanning the chaos of the battlefield with panic swelling in my throat.

My soldiers are bloodied, staggering, and barely clinging to consciousness. We've been fighting tooth and claw, taking out vampires and regenerating as much as we could before taking on more.

There were so many more.

But even with our thinning number of werewolves, I should’ve never let her out of my sight. It was too big a job for Elias and Gideon; I should’ve realized that.

Then I find her—my wife and my mate—locked in battle against the monster who birthed her.

My pulse races with an optimism I haven’t felt since that second platoon of vampires charged over the ravine—Natalia has the Blood Loom in her hands. If she can use it to amplify her powers, maybe we can turn the tide yet.

I’d really rather not end my first battle as Alpha in surrender. It’s not just pride, though that’s definitely at play. And since the vampires and witches don’t believe in clemency, that means we’ll have to flee.

Just like Conall and I had to do when we were boys.

Squinting my eyes, I catch the flash of a blade. The hilt is gripped in Andromeda’s fist, and my heart ceases beating when I see the dagger protruding from Talia’s belly.

Her mother pulls it out, revealing a wicked, serrated edge coated with fresh blood.

Talia’s blood.

“No!” I roar, the sound tearing from my throat like a clap of thunder.

I sprint toward her as fast as I can, paws barely touching the gore-slicked ground as I cut down vampire after vampire. I’m a hurricane of fury and claws drenched in black ichor, my vision bathed red with rage.

As I near Sasquatch, I point in the direction I’m headed and shout, “It’s Talia! I need to get to her now.”

Thick, tar-colored blood coats his hands and his arms, enough that you can no longer see the steel of his blade. He’s the best warrior I have, and he leaps into action instantly.

Swinging his massive ax with brutal precision, our resident Viking cuts a path I continue to run to the woman I love.

Blood arcs through the air like ink, vampire limbs littering the ground in Sasquatch’s wake. Still, it’s a fucking eternity before we reach Talia.

And as I take in her pallor and the blood streaming from the wound in her abdomen, I’m afraid we’re too late. “Natalia!”

Andromeda rips the loom from her hands and holds it up to the river of bright red blood, a color that signifies a major artery’s been struck.

I’m filled with a sinking sense of denial and despair as the loom gulps up the liquid, as thirsty and insatiable as a dying man in the desert.

I grit my jaw so hard my fangs pierce my muzzle. I’ll rip that witch’s head from her body and use it for a bowling ball for what she’s done.

She lifts it in the air with a victorious cry as it begins throbbing with otherworldly light.

I reach Talia right as she drops to her knees, the golden vines dancing around her mere minutes ago recoiling like they’ve been wounded as well.

I catch her in my arms as she slumps over, too weak to hold herself up anymore. My eyes blur with the sting of tears as I cradle her against me, pressing my palm to her stomach in a futile attempt to apply enough pressure and hold her together.

Blood seeps into my shirt, warm and sticky, and if she dies on this battlefield, so will I.

Panic inundates my system as the golden tether that’s connected us since our wedding flickers, a candle about to go out.

“Talia,” I choke out. “Stay with me. Stay with me, baby.”

She’s everything I never knew I wanted and needed, this stubborn, sarcastic witch who never backed down from a fight—at least not one that involved me.

The woman was basically exiled from her own people, sent to a community primed to distrust her, and yet she still carried herself with kindness and dignity.

I used to think love was for the weak, a distraction for men who were willing to set aside their power.

But I was wrong.

Keeping Talia safe, whether in this world or when she was off being a badass in other realms—caring for her and having someone love me for me—made me a hundred times more powerful. More powerful than I’ve ever been.

The day I challenged Conall for alpha I’d cursed my shitty luck. I didn’t know that the fight would bring me something I wanted even more than leadership.

I didn’t know that in that moment, I’d become the luckiest bastard in the world.

Because it brought me Talia.

Andromeda’s voice cuts through the chaos, a venomous chanting that makes me want to stuff those words back down her throat, along with something sharp and pointy.

Setting Talia gently on the ground, I don’t think, I attack.

I barrel into her, my head colliding with her shoulder as I pounce. It surprises her enough that the loom flies from her hands.

There’s no time to celebrate, as she flings up a palm that glows green, and suddenly it’s like my blood’s forgotten how to pump through my body.

But then Andromeda’s head jerks to the right, her eyes going wide.

Through the ice that’s seized not only my veins, but is slowly spreading through my entire body, I follow her gaze with a sidelong glance.

Talia’s dragged herself through dirt and mud, leaving behind a crimson trail that floods me with grief that hasn’t fully hit yet, but still feels like a thousand tiny deaths.

Andromeda shrieks and lunges at her daughter, her split attention freeing me from whatever spell she put on me.

Hugging the loom tight, pinning it between her chest and the ground, Talia screams, “Please, I need you to help me.”

I’m opening my mouth to ask her how, ready to do whatever she needs.

The air in the entire valley shifts, the ground rumbling beneath our feet. The constant cling and clang of metal stops as everyone has to focus on remaining upright.

While I’ve seen the hazy outlines of what Talia does with her magic before, this is different. It must be the amplification of the loom. Every tree, every plant, every blade of grass shimmers.

I blink my watering eyes, struggling to keep them open as she gathers the beams of churning, woven gold. They dance toward her like happy tornadoes, seemingly bending to her will.

There are a lot of dropped jaws, mine included.

Andromeda’s as well, I notice with glee. There’s genuine fear of her daughter in her eyes, and that’s even sweeter.

Golden vines whip outward from Talia with renewed strength and force; the air around us shudders .

Vampires are beginning to retreat, unsure of what’s happening.

Not that any of the werewolves know, we’re just not fucking cowards.

Then it’s Jack and the Beanstalk time as more vines explode near the cluster of witches that’ve remained in a protected pocket closer to the house. Their faces are all lifted to the sky, their gazes fixed on the clouds.

Ah, they must be casting the spell responsible for the dome of darkness.

Riven’s in front of them, acting as guard and protector.

Assuming a defensive stance, the vampire advances in our direction.

Talia forms a web around the vampire, leaving them struggling against the golden fibers as if they’re sticky. My bride spins a finger, and the threads instantly obey. They wind Riven round and round, their smug expression completely gone as they become a fly trapped in a web.

They’re airborne in the next instant, the sticky clump hitting the trunk of the nearest tree hard enough the crunch echoes through the valley.

Stuck and fighting against their sticky restraints, Riven begins swearing up a storm, and I can’t help the grin tugging my lips—they definitely had that coming.

But Talia doesn’t linger, quickly turning her attention back on the witches.

She raises a thick vine in front of the cluster of them, and a few of them stop chanting to gape up at it. With a flick of her wrist, Talia sends it into the six witches like a monstrous, gleaming backhand, and they go flying.

As their hold on the spell slips, light rushes to answer.

Beams of sunlight filter through, piercing the clouds like divine judgment.

Vampires hiss and scream, igniting where they stand.

Several try to outrun the sun, heading toward the tree line.

Then, poof, ash clouds the air, weapons cluttering to the ground like a glorious chorus.

With a guttural yell, Talia swings her arm, sending her vines punching through the house where she grew up.

She just did to Andromeda’s home what she’s done to countless others.

Poetic justice tastes so sweet.

She?also just saved?all our asses.

Andromeda begins shrieking and throwing a fit, even attempting to fire a bolt of magic at her daughter.

But Talia, battered and blood-soaked, lifts her head with a proud defiance as the spell bounces off her illuminated body. “The loom’s not yours. And I’ll do whatever it takes to ensure you’ll never use it again.”

A blast of lifeforce slams into Andromeda, sending her rolling across the earth like a tumbleweed.

All at once the blaze of light blinks out, like the last burst from a dying star.

I watch in horror as Talia’s eyes roll back in her head and she crashes to the ground.

A mournful noise rips from the bottom of my soul as I drop to her side, so afraid I’ve lost her. “Baby, don’t you dare leave me now. Think of the countless arguments we have yet to have.”

I try to curl her to me but get a stinging warning.

I’m just not sure from what—my best guess is she’s still charged from using all that power. My first instinct is to rip whatever’s attempting to hold me back from her to shreds, which is going to be more difficult if I can’t see it.

Not impossible, though.

I blow out my breath and do my best to apply logic when I want to howl, she’s mine and I need her, okay?

Please don’t take her away, too.