Cruel Alpha, Season Two (Wolves of New Eden #2)

1. A Life for a Life

1

A Life for a Life

Caspian

Her hand rests in mine.

Limp and lacking any sign of life.

The only indication that she’s still in there, still fighting, is her warmth.

My fingers tighten around hers, and I’m faced with facts I hadn’t felt the need to address before now, emotion that seemed insignificant. But as my heart thunders and uncertainty looms, I feel it all.

Everything.

“You asked if there was anything you could do…”

Standing at Annalise’s bedside, I peer up to meet Jezebel’s gaze. She doesn’t lift her eyes from her task of wringing out a cloth drenched in tepid water over a bowl. In fact, she doesn’t even part her lips to speak again until she’s folded the cloth and placed it across Annalise’s forehead.

“There might be a way, but?—”

“Do it. Whatever you need, whatever the cost, do it.”

I expect Jezebel to leap to her feet, springing into action, but instead she just sits, staring gravely in my direction.

“You didn’t let me finish,” she says. “The ritual I’m considering would require a great deal of strength. The kind of strength only an alpha possesses, but your health?—”

“Do it,” I urge, my eyes slamming shut before she can finish.

As the one person with full knowledge of my medical challenges, I trust that Jezebel’s not wrong about this. Tapping into my strength could be a great risk, but I’ve come to realize something.

Something essential.

Annalise is vitally important to me, to the future I envision for myself, and… I need her here.

A part of our clan.

A part of my home.

A part of my life.

My jaw stiffens. As a man who prides himself in being strategically disconnected when it pertains to matters of the heart, the urgency to save Annalise is stifling.

“Where do we start?” I ask, and Jezebel’s gaze settles on me. The look is stern and contrary, but when I don’t back down, she huffs the first of her instructions.

“I’ll need you both completely undressed,” she says. “Look after her while I go retrieve a few items from the apothecary.”

Nodding, I calculate how long I imagine it should take her to get there and back—down two levels to the basement, then across to the East wing where she’s occupied space in that portion of the estate for many years. As a friend of the High Chamber, and my family for more than a century, she’s been provided ample living space. But she also has an expansive workspace and storage area for ingredients, spell books, and other odds and ends I don’t trouble myself to memorize. At the end of the day, Jezebel is a powerful witch I’ve learned not to question. She’s skilled, and if anyone can save Annalise, it’s her.

As Jezebel’s steps fade, I begin the task of removing Annalise’s clothing—torn, dampened with blood, and singed from the fire that ignited after the crash. I force my thoughts to focus, being careful with her. More careful than I’ve been with anything or anyone in my entire life, unsure of what movements would do her fragile body more harm. I look her over, noting that most of her external wounds have healed, but I imagine the unspeakable damage to her internal organs. Damage so severe that she has yet to awaken as a warm fire crackles beside us.

Rage seeps into my bones, but being angry right now isn’t helpful, therefore it isn’t allowed to take up headspace. Right now, my focus needs to be on fixing her, bringing her back to me.

I finish, and her clothes lie in a heap on the floor before I begin removing my own garments. Naked and feeling more vulnerable than I think I’ve ever felt before this, I lower to the edge of the bed, clutching her hand, reminding myself to breathe.

Jezebel returns and I force my posture straighter, ridding my face of any expression whatsoever. I’m certain that any perceived sense of doubt would cause her to hesitate and possibly even botch the ritual on purpose, and I need this to work.

It has to work.

We lock eyes, and I feel the scrutiny in her look, conveying that she doesn’t agree with my doing this. But I’m grateful she knew it was best to speak up, to inform me that we hadn’t run out of options.

“Stand,” she orders, and I do as I’m told, feeling no qualms about being nude in her presence. She’s known me my entire life and was charged with managing my medical care just as long. In short, there’s very little of me she hasn’t already seen.

Especially in recent months, as my condition seems to have worsened.

“Drink this.”

A tiny vile of glowing, purple liquid is shoved into my hand. Jezebel’s disposition is harsh and abrupt tonight, which most would perceive to be a reflection of her disdain toward me, but it’s quite the opposite. Her loyalty is the reason she’s being so callous. It’s a means of making it crystal clear that she’s not on board with this plan.

Without question, I swallow the bitter concoction, then set the vile aside.

“Place your hands at the center of her chest. Right over her breastbone, one hand on top of the other. Do not move,” she adds with a stern glare. “Once I start the spell, your energy will be siphoned from your body and into the nearest living vessel. Understood?”

I nod, and she turns to grab her spell book.

Beneath my palm, Annalise’s breaths are small, so shallow that my heart skips a beat, bringing me mere seconds from pleading with Jezebel to hurry. But just as my lips part, words in an unknown language flow from her mouth, filling the room as the ritual begins.

I feel nothing at first. With energy leaving my body, I imagined there would be something— fatigue, weakness in my limbs. Frustration and panic set in quickly as I question whether this is even working, but then a gust of wind sweeps through the sealed room, causing the pages of Jezebel’s book to flap as strands of Annalise’s hair move across her pale cheeks.

Jezebel’s words grow louder, spoken with authority as she calls on unseen forces for strength, and I feel the first indication of my power shifting, my very essence draining from my soul. The sensation is subtle at first, but then the exhaustion and weakness I expected become overwhelming. My knees nearly buckle, and I feel Jezebel’s eyes on me as the last words leave her mouth. With them, the wind ceases, and her book slams shut on its own.

I’m breathless, staring down on Annalise, searching her face for something. Any sign of life at all. But she doesn’t appear to be in any better condition than when we started.

“Why isn’t she awake?”

My question seems to fall on deaf ears as Jezebel gathers her things, packing them neatly inside a basket resting on the floor.

“Why isn’t she awake?” I ask again, this time with far less patience than before.

Jezebel’s gaze snaps toward mine, and I see it in her eyes. She’s hiding something, holding something in.

“Did it not work?”

My tone sounds pleading, and I don’t even care how weak this makes me seem. In this instance, it’s true. I’m weak and desperate for my mate to open her eyes.

Jezebel doesn’t speak as she unfolds the blanket from the foot of Annalise’s bed, and then covers her lifeless, naked body.

“Get dressed,” she says, and then lifts her basket, propping it against her hip as she takes a step.

Realizing she’s about to just… leave… I block the door, fully intent on keeping her here until she answers my question. I even ignore the fact that, with the flick of her wrist, she could easily toss me against the wall, but I trust that her love and respect for me will cause her to see this moment for what it is.

A man at his wits end, desperately in need of answers.

“Jezebel, please…”

At first, her expression is hard and unyielding, but then her eyes soften. “We’ve done all we can. There’s nothing left to do but wait.”

“Is there truly nothing else? We could do the spell again. I?—”

“I will not be responsible for your death,” she snaps, and it isn’t until her gaze settles on my hand that I realize a tremor has started. Squeezing my fingers into a fist, I clutch it to my chest, fighting the sting of embarrassment when proof of my declining health makes itself known at such a crucial moment.

“You hate to hear this, but you’re unwell,” she says, and I wince at her words. “You nearly lost consciousness a moment ago, and if that had happened, Caspian… the odds of me being able to revive you were slim. Very slim.”

Standing here, I evaluate my condition—heart racing, fatigue in every single muscle in my body. Only now am I fully aware how grave the circumstances are. I didn’t realize I’d just had such a close brush with death. Still, even with this new information, I can’t bring myself to feel it wasn’t worth it. Not if it means my sacrifice could have just given Annalise a second chance. In fact, if I thought for a single second Jezebel could be convinced to try again, I wouldn’t hesitate.

She casts another look toward Annalise, and I note the concern in her eyes as I move away from the door, finally letting her exit.

“There’s nothing left to do but wait,” she repeats again, a few seconds before I’m left alone, left to wallow in the what ifs.

But despite wanting to rush ahead, wanting proof of whether our efforts were all in vain, Jezebel is right.

Only time will tell if our best was anywhere near good enough.