Page 42

RUSH

I make my way through the swamp, moving steadily toward the witch’s house. She thought she could outrun me, but I’ve proven to her repeatedly that I am the relentless scourge of her existence. It was her bad luck to be born into the family that I have vowed to hunt and exterminate. The witch progeny of Lyra the Terrible, the woman who took my brother’s pride and wits and scattered them to the wind. The woman who threw Wolf-Haven into the dark ages and separated my brothers from each other and their mates.

There is much for the witch to answer to.

Her kind say they’re protecting the natural order, but I see nothing natural in their sorcery. They twist the world to fit their own vision, perverting nature and treating the other creatures on our planet like bugs beneath their heels.

In the years since Lyra’s curse shattered Wolf-Haven, I’ve made it my mission to take out every witch or warlock I encounter. The spell I used to save my eldest brother’s life when he was challenged was taken from a warlock whose throat I tore out. Before I killed him, the warlock also gave me valuable information about a particular witch, the most powerful of Lyra’s descendants.

My plan? To get my hands on the witch progeny and force her to reverse the spell that is keeping my brothers from their mates. Only Lock has achieved happiness with his fated mate, and I have my suspicions about how it was possible.

It’s my belief that it was Lyra’s spell that pushed my brother, Lock, into leaving Wolf-Haven two hundred years ago and drove the King’s pack to kidnap Lock’s mate, Sarina. Lock missed finding her by a matter of two years, and then she was nearly killed. All because of a witch’s spell. I’m pleased that my brother seems to have broken the spell, but I still feel the agony of Lennox, Keenan, and Fallon, and I’m determined to end their suffering. I’ll do it by spilling the blood of Lyra’s ancestors.

As I near the cabin the witch shares with her aunt, I pick up her scent. My paws carry me faster, pounding harder against the ground as I rush toward her, my instincts screaming at me to mate with her.

I try to silence them, but my wolf is nearly feral from years travelling in my wolf form. I’ve always been more comfortable in my wolf body than my human one. Fur feels like my true skin and if I could live this way forever, I would.

Unfortunately, my wolf knows something I’ve spent years trying to deny. When I first encountered the small, blond immortal witch, shortly after her birth, I sensed her power and with each year, it has only grown stronger. For seventy-two years, I’ve known that this woman will be the one to break Lyra’s spell. She’s too powerful not to.

She’s also powerful enough to keep a lone wolf shifter at bay, which she has successfully done since the day I started stalking her. I slow my pace as I near the cottage in the swamp. The tantalizing scent of basil and roses, her particular scent, nearly overpowers my logic, driving me relentlessly toward her.

I crouch low and crawl through the reeds until I catch sight of her. She’s truly breathtaking in a pair of tiny shorts that show off the twin half-moons of her lush backside as she bends to pick weeds, one hand squishing her straw hat on her head. She’s wearing a sleeveless shirt that’s cropped just beneath her breasts to show off her belly. There are no shoes on her feet and her toes sink into the muck of the swamp.Mosquitos and flies buzz all around her, but none lands on her body.

She freezes and slowly turns, her eyes scanning the surrounding swamp.

“I know you’re out there!” she shouts, dropping the weeds into the basket next to her and holding a pair of sharp scissors aloft. “If you come near me, I’m going to cut your other ear off.”

I snuffle and rub my snout on the ground, remembering how she caught me with a dagger some thirty years ago, slicing off the tip of my left ear as I leapt for her. We’ve been playing this game of cat and wolf for more than half a century. It’s time to do what I’ve come to do.

I crouch low to the ground, then spring, leaping at her. As my body slices through the air like a bullet, her lips move in a blur. Before I can land, taking her down with my heavy body and sharp teeth, something hits me with a stunning force, throwing me back with a sizzling shock of electricity. I hit a tree and slump to the ground, groaning in pain, then quickly regain my feet, turning to launch myself at her again. Only she’s surrounded herself with a protective barrier, the same force field Lyra used against Fallon all those years ago.

The reminder of my brother’s plight has me growling in frustration and pacing the perimeter of her force field. It looks impenetrable, but the energy it takes to hold it in place is weakening the witch.

She falls to her knees, her hands up, trying to hold her spell, the scissors still clutched between her fingers.

We stare at each other, her gaze frightened but fiercely determined, mine angry and impatient. We’ve been doing this dance for decades and I’ve never gotten any closer to the witch.

“Why are you doing this?” she asks, anguish in her voice. “Why me?”

I shift to human, watching her blue eyes widen with wonder. “I need you,” I tell her.

Strangely, though we’ve met before, this is the most communication we’ve managed. We’re usually fighting each other, then she escapes my traps with the help of her cursed family.

“But I’m your mate,” she says desperately. “Why would you keep trying to hurt your mate? I don’t understand.”

I snarl and turn a glare of such hatred on her she can’t possibly fail to understand. “You are no mate of mine, Magdalene the Scourge. You’re simply the witch who’s going to break a curse for me before I send you back to the demon that created you.”

She blinks back tears, but they don’t move me. She’s a witch and a witch’s tears are nothing but lies and manipulation.

“The natural order has given me to you as a mate. Why can’t you accept that there’s a reason you’re drawn to stalk me above all other witches?”

I scrape my nail across the barrier of her force field and watch as it wiggles and wobbles. “It’s you I need, Magdalene, and you I will take. You won’t always be so prepared for my arrival, and when that day comes, I’ll be ready for a witch hunt.”

Her haunted gaze follows me from her swamp as I shift and pad back into the shadows of the forest.

* * *

MAGDALENE

As soon as the wolf is gone, I throw off the force field and leap to my feet, dropping everything and racing for the cabin. I fling myself through the door and slam it shut again, leaning against it, my heart racing. A grin slowly spreads across my face and I step forward, twirling on the spot and laughing.

I finally got to see him up close in his human form! He’s so handsome with his chiselled jaw and five o’clock shadow, his wild shoulder length grey hair with copper streaks, and gorgeous bronze eyes. His wolf has the same hair colour, but his eyes are different, glowing yellow.

“You’re going to get yourself killed.” A voice reaches out to me from the shadows and I glance over.

My Aunt Bea sits in her rocking chair among piles of coloured yarn, working diligently. I toss myself on the floor next to her and stretch out, tucking my hands under my head and crossing my legs.

“Don’t be a worrywart.” My gaze catches on the yarn as it moves through my aunt’s flying fingers, weaving it into a breastplate that will replace the one my mother uses, which was cracked in battle. As the material settles into fine loops, it hardens into unbreakable chain mail.

“It’s my job to worry,” Bea scolds, setting the breast plate aside and rolling her shoulders until they crack before turning to look at me, her gaze sliding down my length as she looks for injury. “It’s dangerous to summon the wolf. He’ll be furious when he finds out you’ve been calling him to your side.”

I shrug. “He thinks he’s hunting me for answers. I’m his mate; he won’t hurt me.”

Bea frowns. “His energy is violent, Mags. You mustn’t be so na?ve. He can too easily hurt you and once he claims you, you’ll be even more vulnerable.”

Witches are immortal, the same as shifters, but our bodies are soft and human. Because of this, our lifespan is not usually as long as other immortal beings. “He won’t hurt me,” I repeat stubbornly, my faith in my mate unshaken.

“You’ll soon find out, I fear.” Bea stands and moves to the window, twitching aside the curtain. “He’s out there. I can sense him.”

I push myself to my feet, dusting off the backside of my jean shorts. “Then it’s time for you to go.” I pick up the suitcase we packed earlier and hand it to her.

Bea turns from the window and takes the suitcase, her worried gaze on my face. “Are you sure?” It’s difficult for Bea to leave me to my fate. My aunt has been my guardian since I was four, when my mother was summoned back into the Shadow Realm to stand guard over our world.

“I’ll be fine,” I say softly, wrapping my arms around her and squeezing. “It’s time for me to meet my destiny. Past time! I’m seventy-two!”

Bea steps back and frames my face with her hands, looking at me with loving sadness. Looking at Bea is like looking in a mirror. Ice-blue eyes, blond hair falling to her shoulders in waves, short in stature with curves to spare, and an attitude that’ll grill a swamp troll if it gets too close. She was born fifty-seven years before me, but doesn’t look a single day older, thanks to her excellent magical genes.

We’ve been travelling together for decades, skipping from swamp to swamp and setting up house. Falling into a routine, waiting for the wolf to show. At first, I’d been inadvertently summoning him with my burgeoning, unskilled spells. Now, I call him deliberately, look him over and set him free.

Only this time is different. This time he’ll finally do what he’s been longing to do after all these years of chasing after me. He’s going to catch me because I’m going to let him.

I kiss my aunt’s cheek and watch tearfully as she stands before the mirror between our beds in the small cabin we’ve shared for almost six years. Waving her hand over the solid surface, she murmurs the incantation that will enable her to cross into the Shadow Realm. She won’t be able to stay long. Like me, she’s a Good Witch and only Guardian Witches and Oracles can live permanently in the Shadow Realm. Someone has to tell my mother that I’m about to fulfil my destiny, and that someone isn’t going to be me.

I have a destiny to meet and a kidnapping to get on with.

“Goodbye, my sweet,” she says, stepping through the glass and turning to give me one last look before disappearing.

“Goodbye, Aunt Bea,” I say to the empty room.

* * *