Page 22

Chapter

Nineteen

T he moment the soul-link snapped like a rubber band stretched too far, ice flooded Mia's veins. Jim was in trouble.

No—not just trouble. The bond screamed with a pain so acute it dropped her to one knee, hand clutching her chest where it felt like someone had reached in and started shredding her heart with claws.

Mate! Her wolf howled, clawing at her control. Dying! Our mate is dying!

She bolted from Charlotte's side without explanation, boots pounding against the forest floor as pine needles and leaves crunched beneath her feet. The metallic scent of blood—Jim's blood—lingered in her nostrils from the soul-link, driving her wolf into a frenzy beneath her skin.

"Hold on," she whispered, the words carried away by the wind rushing past her ears. "Just hold on, mo stór. Don't you dare leave me."

Through the bond, she felt him slipping—his heartbeat stuttering, his breath catching, the poison spreading like wildfire through his veins. Each step she took felt like moving through molasses when she needed to fly.

The pack house loomed ahead, its wooden structure casting long shadows in the late afternoon sun. Three pack members huddled on the porch, their hushed voices carrying to her enhanced hearing before they saw her.

"...moved him to the Alpha's cabin." "...Bertram said the bite was spreading..." "...never seen anything like it..."

Mia skidded to a stop at the base of the porch steps, chest heaving. "Where's Jim?" The words scraped against her dry throat, raw with barely contained panic.

Danny, a young wolf with perpetually disheveled brown hair, jumped at her sudden appearance. "Alpha Mia! They took him to your cabin. Jasmine and Beatrice are with him. Bertram too."

Her cabin was nearly a mile away, on the opposite side of the territory. The distance had never seemed so vast.

"Is he..." The question died on her lips, fear strangling the words. Through the bond, she felt Jim's consciousness flickering like a candle in the wind.

Danny's gaze dropped to the weathered porch boards. "It's not good, Alpha."

The cool air stung her lungs as she inhaled sharply. Her phone weighed heavy in her pocket. Call them. Find out. But the thought of hearing the worst over a tinny phone speaker made her stomach roll.

No. She needed to touch him, to anchor him with her presence before?—

Not thinking about before.

Mia sprinted down the path toward her cabin, branches whipping at her face and arms. The overwhelming scent of damp earth and rotting leaves filled her nostrils, the forest unusually quiet as if holding its breath.

Her muscles burned with exertion, but she pushed harder, her wolf lending her strength.

Halfway there, her resolve crumbled. She needed to know. Now. The bond was growing thinner, like a silk thread about to snap, and the not knowing was killing her as surely as the poison was killing him.

With trembling fingers, she pulled out her phone and dialed Bertram's number, still running. Each ring stretched into eternity. One. Two. Three?—

"Hello?" The voice on the other end wasn't Bertram's rich baritone.

"Jim?" Mia stumbled, nearly dropping the phone. The familiar accent, though strained, sent a wave of relief crashing over her so intense she had to lean against a nearby tree. The rough bark dug into her palm. "You're alive."

"Last I checked." His attempt at humor was undermined by the weakness in his voice. "Though Bertram's angel blood cocktail is making me see some interesting things. Did you know your ceiling has stars?"

A laugh bubbled up from her chest, sounding suspiciously like a sob. The bond between them flared warm for just a moment—he was fighting, using their connection to stay anchored to life. "Don't you dare make jokes right now."

"Can't help it. It's my default setting when I've been poisoned by supernatural hybrid venom." There was a rustling sound, then a muffled groan that she felt echo through her own chest. "Mia..."

"I'm almost there." She pushed off from the tree, legs finding new strength. "Just—stay with me, Jim. Keep talking."

"Love your voice," he murmured, and she could hear the fever in his words. "Even through the phone. S'like honey. Wild honey. Told Charlotte that. Your voice could guide me home from any timeline."

Tears burned her eyes as she ran. "Jim?—"

"Should've told you every day," he continued, words slurring slightly. "How your laugh makes my chest tight. How you scrunch your nose when you're concentrating. How you steal all the blankets but I don't care because you curl into me like I'm home."

"You are home," she whispered fiercely. "You're my home, Jim Miracles, so don't you dare check out now."

"Always will be." The simple words hit her harder than any declaration. "Even if?—"

"No." She cut him off. "No 'even ifs.' I'm almost there. Just wait for me."

"Always waiting for you, mo ghrá. Across centuries. Worth every second."

After disconnecting, she ran faster than she ever had, her wolf howling beneath her skin. The bond pulsed with each heartbeat—his growing weaker, hers growing fiercer, as if she could pour her own life force through their connection.

Her cabin appeared through the trees, smoke curling from the chimney into the crisp air. The scent of herbs—sage, lavender, and something sharper that made her nose itch—drifted from the open windows. But beneath it all was Jim's scent, tainted with poison and pain.

Mia bounded up the porch steps in a single leap and burst through the door.

The living room had been transformed into a makeshift medical area.

Jim lay on the couch, his normally tanned skin ashen.

Black veins spread like spider webs from a nasty wound on his forearm, creeping upward toward his shoulder.

Bertram stood over him, white wings partially extended in the small space, hands glowing faintly as he worked.

But Mia only had eyes for Jim.

The sight of him—broken, poisoned, dying—shattered something inside her. Her knees hit the floor beside the couch hard enough to bruise, but she didn't care. Her hands hovered over him, desperate to touch but afraid she'd hurt him more.

"Jim?" His name came out broken.

His eyes fluttered open—those familiar amber eyes that had always seen right through her, now clouded with pain but still focused on her face like she was his North Star.

"Hey, deadline." His voice was barely above a whisper, using the old nickname from when she couldn't shift. "Told you I'd wait."

The lump in her throat made it impossible to speak. She reached out, fingers trembling as they traced the air above the black veins spreading beneath his skin. Heat radiated from the wound, unnatural and frightening.

"Touch me," he breathed. "Please. Need to feel you're real."

She carefully took his hand, their fingers interlacing with practiced ease. The moment their skin connected, the bond flared to life between them—not the sharp pain of before, but warm recognition. Home.

His eyes fluttered closed. "There you are. My anchor."

"Don't you dare let go," she ordered, but it came out as a plea. Her free hand moved to his face, thumb tracing his cheekbone. "You promised me always, Jim Miracles. Was that just pretty words?"

"Never." His eyes opened again, the gold flecks she loved so much barely visible. "Every promise. Meant them all. Especially the ones I made in the dark when you couldn't hear."

"What promises?" She leaned closer, needing to catch every word.

"Promised to love you through every timeline. Promised to find you in every reality. Promised that even death wouldn't stop me from protecting you." His hand squeezed hers weakly. "Still plan to keep them."

Jasmine appeared at her shoulder. "The antidote is working, but slowly. The vampire blood is mixed with something we've never seen."

"Matthews," Jim said, his eyes never leaving Mia's face. "He's trafficking blood. That hybrid was just the beginning. He's building an army and—" He broke off, body convulsing as the poison fought against Bertram's treatment.

Mia held him through it, her own body shaking with the effort of not screaming. Through their bond, she felt every spike of agony, every moment his heart stuttered.

"Breathe with me," she commanded, pressing her forehead to his. "In and out. Follow my rhythm."

He did, their breaths synchronizing as the bond pulsed between them. She poured everything through that connection—her strength, her stubbornness, her absolute refusal to let him go.

"That's it," she whispered against his skin. "Stay with me."

"Nowhere else I'd rather be," he managed. "Even poisoned and hallucinating. You make everything better."

"Sap," she accused, but tears tracked down her cheeks.

"Your sap," he corrected. "If you'll have me. After everything. After I left?—"

"We'll talk about that when you're not dying." She pulled back enough to look at him. "Because you're not dying, Jim. I forbid it."

"Bossy alpha." But his lips curved in that ghost of a smile she loved. "Lucky I'm into that."

Beatrice appeared with a steaming mug that smelled of honey and bitter herbs. "We have the antidote working, but we need proof about Matthews. The Council won't act without it."

The mention of Matthews sent a surge of rage through Mia so powerful her vision tinged red at the edges. Her wolf snarled, desperate for blood. The monster who'd done this to their mate?—

Jim's hand found her face, fingers gentle against her jaw. "I know that look. Don't. He's too dangerous to confront alone."

"You nearly died." The words came out as a growl, her wolf pushing against her skin. "He tried to take you from me. No one touches what's mine."

"God, you're magnificent when you're homicidal." His thumb brushed away a tear she didn't realize had fallen. "But we need to be smart. He's been planning this for months. And I need you alive more than I need revenge."

"Jim—"

"Promise me." His voice urgent now, hand tightening on hers. "Promise you won't go after him alone. I can't—" His voice broke. "I can't lose you. Not when I just got you back. Not when I haven't had enough time to show you how sorry I am for leaving."

"You were protecting me," she said softly.

"Doesn't matter. Still hurt you. Still left you wondering." His eyes searched hers. "Let me make it right. Let me spend whatever time we have left proving that you're everything. But I need you breathing for that."

Mia leaned down, pressing her lips to his in a kiss that tasted of tears and promises and the metallic hint of blood. He made a soft sound against her mouth—relief and want and home all mixed together.

When she pulled back, his eyes were clearer, the bond between them humming with renewed strength.

"I have a plan," she whispered, her lips brushing his ear. The scent of him—pine and storm, even beneath the sickness—steadied her racing heart. "And it doesn't involve going alone. Trust me."

"Always have." His hand came up to tangle in her hair, holding her close for another moment. "But come back to me, Alpha. I've got centuries of love to make up for."

She pressed one more kiss to his forehead, pouring promise through their bond. "Wild horses couldn't keep me away."

"That's my line," he protested weakly.

"I'm borrowing it." She stood, every instinct screaming at her not to leave him. "Along with your heart, your future, and probably your favorite shirt."

"Already yours," he said simply. "All of it. Always has been."

The raw honesty in his voice nearly broke her resolve. Her wolf whined, desperate to stay with their injured mate.

"Mia," he called as she reached the door. When she turned back, his eyes held that intensity that had first captured her. "Mo ghrá thú. I love you. In case I haven't said it enough. In case the poison?—"

"Stop." She was back at his side in two strides, capturing his face between her hands. "You're going to be fine. And when this is over, you're going to tell me you love me every day for the rest of our very long lives. Deal?"

"Deal," he breathed. "Though I might tell you hourly. Making up for lost time."

"I'll allow it." One more kiss, quick but fierce. "Don't go anywhere."

"Wouldn't dream of it. You're much better at the dramatic exits anyway."

She laughed despite everything—wet and shaky but real. "Learned from the best."

Straightening, Mia looked at Jasmine and Beatrice. "Keep him alive. I have a vampire-wolf hybrid to deal with."

"Mia," Jim's voice stopped her again. "When you face him—remember he's not just vampire. He's something else. Something wrong. Be careful."

"I will." She met his eyes one last time, letting him see her determination. "I've got something to come back to now."

The bond pulsed between them—warm and sure despite the poison trying to claim him. She carried that warmth with her as she stepped into the night, her wolf ready for war.

Matthews had made a fatal error. He'd touched her mate.

Now he would learn why even vampires feared a wolf protecting what was theirs.