Page 18 of The Witch’s Fate (The Lunaterra Chronicles #13)

RYKER

T he peace is only disturbed by my shock at such peace. I sleep and sleep, deeper than I have in years. I don’t know that I’ve known comfort like this.

The witch is powerful…but the sleep itself stirred my wolf and his own needs.

Several times, I become aware that I’m dreaming.

In my dreams, I’m walking across the field outside Idalis’s cottage in the early morning, the dew still wet on the grass and the air fresh and clean in my face.

In some of the dreams, I have my pack on my back, its weight a comforting presence.

In others, I don’t have it, and I can tell from the feel of my clothes that they are not my uniform and leather armor.

Sometimes, Idalis walks next to me, a quiet smile on her beautiful face. She laughs at what I say, though I do not truly understand the words that come out of my mouth. It’s a bewitching sound. A sound that soothes the depths of my soul. There is no fighting, no war, only peace with her beside me.

Sometimes, she is not there, and I’m determined to find her.

Nothing will stop me from reaching the place where she has gone.

I do not have a map, and I do not know where it is, but I know nothing that appears before me will prevent me from finding her again.

It may slow me, or hurt me, but it cannot overcome me.

The fear is unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.

We must find her. My wolf howls in pain without her.

When I drift closer to wakefulness, the creaking of the cottage surrounds me. The gentle hiss of the wind and the pitter-patter of the rain on the roof. It’s a quiet place when the storm settles. Birds cry in the sky as they pass.

Though I am not entirely used to the sounds, none of them alarm me. I’m still so tired that I simply drift off again.

At some point, there is a new heaviness on my body. It covers me like the blankets, and I sink into an even deeper sleep—one in which I do not dream. I am not aware of the world at all.

It is true rest, something I have not experienced since I was a child.

I must’ve rested deeply then—I was a child, after all, and children cannot be kept from their rest. But as an adult and a soldier, there has never been a time when I did not have to keep one ear pricked for approaching danger or the footsteps of a commander or a call to battle.

I’ve always been on alert, waiting for orders.

My lone wolf scarred but at attention and waiting for purpose.

I’ve spent so long in readiness for the next task set before me that I had forgotten what it was like to rest like this. To feel so complete. To be with her.

The most beautiful witch. Who soothes my soul. Who accompanies my wolf.

Idalis’s spell must have been a good one, because even her presence does not pull me from the bed. I never forget that she is there—unless I am in that dreamless sleep—but my wolf is satisfied that she is close, and even he curls up to rest and does not grow impatient.

In one dream, I’m crossing the fields, but Idalis is not with me. Her scent is on the air, strong and pure, and I let my wolf nose it as much as he wants, following his lead on which way to go.

Her cottage is ahead of me, somewhere in the moonlight, and my wolf howls with the joy of an impending hunt. My muscles are warm and loose, and my heart thrums with anticipation. She’s there. She’s there . My mate.

The love, the desire, the need to be beside her… it’s all-consuming.

I’m so sure of it in the dream. Idalis is my mate, made for me and I her. So mote it be. The dark skies are clear above me, filled with moons and stars, and I can see for miles across the field.

Finally, I see it, there in the distance. The cottage is a dark shadow against the darker tree line, as it was the night of the storm, but light glows from behind the shutters, outlining each window and the door.

The wind stirs, carrying the sound of Idalis’s laughter. I adjust my pack on my back. This is one of the dreams where I have it, then. That single touch tells me that it is heavy with the florals, rolled up into bundles. I have collected twice as many as I need for my wedding.

I’ve gathered the florals for Idalis so that we have abundant power for our ceremony.

A grin spreads across my face, and my heart ticks fast with delight. Yes. Our wedding . That’s why I have left Idalis in the cottage and roamed the forests of Athica.

Our union is just there. It’s so close. I will be there in a matter of minutes, and when I open the door, the scent of my mate will fill my lungs, and her body will fill my arms, and then I’ll be able to mark her with a sealing bite on her neck under the full moon.

Followed by languid licks and open-mouthed kisses as I fuck her deeply and roughly just how she likes it.

I lengthen my strides, taking up more and more of the land with each step. Nearly running to see her.

I have so many things to say to her. I have so many promises to murmur into her skin.

The cottage stays the same distance away, but I do not break my stride. I move faster and faster until I am almost running—and then I am running, my legs burning as I move up gentle slopes in the field and descend the other side.

Still, the cottage does not get closer.

A pinprick of fear digs into the back of my neck, and the hairs on my arms raise in answer. I should be there by now. It never gets closer.

Is this some other spell, or curse? Has the land turned against me? Is it trying to keep me away from her? For I was never meant to find my wolf mate. But she is no wolf, and she is mine. I know it so!

A portal appears in the air ahead of me, open to my homeland on the other side, but I change directions and avoid it, going past. No, no, I cannot leave her!

The storm rages inside of the portal, threatening and striking down lightning as the sky darkens. No! I don’t want to leave. Not now. I can’t!

“Idalis!” I scream her name but there’s no sound.

Idalis’s cottage is no closer as I sprint, my lungs aching and sweat pouring down my back.

The night air hardly stirs. It is too still.

All the land around me is too still. Why didn’t I notice before?

It is as if I am running through a painting of the land and not the land itself.

A land like this should be alive with birds and insects and creatures in the forest, but it makes no sound.

Am I alone here?

I cannot be alone here.

“No,” I say aloud to the stillness. “No. This is not real. This is a dream. You cannot keep me from her! She is mine!”

With those words, the land comes to life around me. A nightbird calls from some nearby tree, and a small animal bounds across my path. Idalis’s cottage is closer, then closer again, and in a matter of steps I am slowing to a halt by her front door.

I put my hand on the handle and pull.

It swings open, and there she is, standing just inside, a bundle of white cloth in her arms. Her eyes brighten when she sees me, and her face flushes.

“Ryker, my love,” she says, and a shudder of sheer arousal goes through me.

No one has ever said my name like that before.

With such devotion. There’s some other magic in it—there must be.

It is a claiming, somehow. The air is thick with it.

With peace. Even though we are not married yet, there’s something in her voice that makes me think we are bound by fate. Meant for me. Mated.

My dream-mind is not surprised by this at all.

My dream-mind knows that she is my mate, and always has been.

My dream-mind knows that a wedding ceremony is not necessary to tie our souls together, but it is a celebration that means something to Idalis, so we will have one, even though we are already mated.

My dream-mind is amused by the idea of a wedding ceremony and enchanted by it, too—not because I have any special fondness for wedding ceremonies, but because I have a special fondness for Idalis, and anything my mate wants, I will give her.

“Mate,” I say. It is the only word that comes close to describing this feeling.

“Did you find the florals?” she asks, blushing as she steps closer, hugging the linen to her chest.

“I found them all.” I swing the pack off my back and let it rest on the floor at my feet. “I found you.”

“Of course you did.” She laughs again, an enchanting, sweet sound. “Why wouldn’t you have found me? This is our home. I’ve been here always, waiting for you.”

Any uneasiness I felt melts away. What she says is true. It is real. The strange distance before was a trick of the dream and nothing else. We were always meant to be.

“Come here.” I reach for her. “I need my mate in my arms.”

Idalis offers me a simper, her eyes darkening with her palpable want, and shifts the white cloth she holds into one arm so she can extend her other hand to me.

Her fingers are inches from mine when the color begins to fade. The edges of the dream close in until Idalis’s face is all I can see, and then she’s gone, too.

I’m back to staring at the darkness behind my eyelids.

This time, I don’t immediately sink back to sleep. I lie still on the bed for a few beats, listening. My heart pounds and my body thrums with life. My wolf, content and sated.

The cottage is quiet. No humming. No footsteps. Idalis’s scent is still in the air, but this is her home and I am covered in her blankets, so it may not be a sign that she’s here.

Cautiously, not trusting what I’ve dreamed, I stretch my legs out quietly as I open my eyes. I’ve been sleeping so long that they do not open quickly. I roll each wrist, finding them limber, slow to wake, too.

Then I push myself up. And that’s when I see her, my heart beats in a different rhythm.

Idalis has not gone anywhere. She’s moved to a seat by the fire, where the light kisses the curves of her face and she is fast asleep, some cards held in her hands atop a knitted blanket.

I watch her for a minute or two, my chest filled with a feeling I cannot name. Her position on the chair by the fire cannot be comfortable. Once that thought has passed through my mind, I cannot spend another second in Idalis’s bed.

Quietly so as to not disturb her, I take the cards out of her hands and place them on her worktable.

Then I carry Idalis to her bed, place her carefully in the spot I just left, and tuck the covers over her.

Her body is soft and warm and my gods, her scent.

As I carry her across the room I realize it’s the first time I’ve touched her, although still not skin to skin.

So close to heaven. That’s what it’s like being so close to her.

Idalis stirs, letting out a soft breath, and turns over. She does not wake.

After so much time in bed, I need to move. I go silently to the door and let myself out into the night.

I truly did sleep all day. The moon is high in the sky and nearly full. My wolf stirs at the sight of it, coming fully awake himself.

Feeling the need to shift, I leave her side quickly. Out into the darkness, I close the door behind me before shedding my clothes.

It’s a relief to shift into my wolf form.

To stretch my limbs and allow him to take over.

I take a few swift steps, then trot away from the cottage.

The world smells different when I am a wolf.

I catch the trails of many small woodland creatures who passed through the taller grasses over the last day.

Not a mortal soul can be scented. I can smell the differences in patches of soil, and whether it was slightly higher or slightly lower when the rain soaked in.

I can smell a den of rabbits somewhere in the forest.

My wolf bounds into a run, streaking through the night air, his muscles working in perfect coordination, his heart speeding up with the thrill of this new environment, made fresh by the rain.

My mate. My mate. My mate. It’s all I can think.

All he can think. The vigor of his run and the sheer thrill is intoxicating.

There have been times before when I have spent hours and hours in my wolf form, running as far as his powerful body could take me. I plan to let him run now, too, for as long as he needs.

But I haven’t yet reached the trees when he makes a sudden turn, streaking back toward Idalis’s cottage.

I try to urge him back into the open field, but he resists, snapping at me.

Run, I tell him in the voice of my thoughts. Run. Stretch. Hunt.

My mate . She’s my mate. My mate.

His whimper outside of the cottage is followed by a howl.

A deep need for companionship. A need for her to know.

My heart twists in my chest. Doubt creeps in.

It was only a dream. I drag myself out of my wolf form and back into my human form, stumbling to a halt at the top of a low rise and heaving in breath after breath.

My hand is on the door before my mind can catch up with what my wolf is sure of.

Idalis is still in bed, still asleep, and I cross the main room to the side of her bed feeling like I am dreaming—and like I am wide awake at the same time.

The pounding in my chest is all I can hear.

I take a few more deep breaths, which are filled with her scent.

That scent. The scent that called to me, promising a mate. It’s a heady feeling.

A mate .

I did not take the dream for the truth. Why would I? I have known for most of my life that I would never have a fated mate. No wolf would ever be paired with me.

I pause at the foot of Idalis’s bed and look down at her.

She’s curled on her side, her head on the pillow, her breathing slow and steady. Gorgeous and peaceful.

My mate. My mate. My mate.

I thought the curse could never be countered. I thought there were no loopholes. No wolf would ever be paired with me, so I would never have a mate. It seemed so simple that it could not possibly be wrong.

And yet the curse was wrong. Or it was only right in terms of one aspect of my life, not all the others.

Idalis is my mate.

Chills run down my arms. My dream was the first to try to tell me. My wolf was the second. Now it is my own mind screaming the truth.

And this truth cannot be wrong. The way everything shifts inside of me as I lay eyes on her. The way my body begs me to love her. The need I feel to tell her. To nip at her neck and make love to her under the full moon.

I should think this through.

But I cannot tear myself away. I cannot make myself stop staring. I cannot shake off the shock. I do not know when it will ever fade.

I have a fated mate. And she’s a witch. Idalis is my mate.