Chapter 10 – Carina
Ten
CARINA
I’m warm. Toasty warm while pine fills my nostrils.
Mom must have lit incense since the scent is stronger than usual. Given living in the Rockies, it’s not unusual, but is like I’m in the forest rather it being in the background.
My eyes flutter open to an unfamiliar room. Fluff tickles my face, prompting me onto my elbows to take it all in while recalling yesterday.
Treaty Day. Ryder. The wolves’ camp. Ryder’s cabin.
Ryder.
Blinking, I push the ridiculously cozy blanket off as my gaze snags on the chairs, which, unless I’m experiencing memory loss, I passed out in while praying to Hecate I wouldn’t wake this morning suspended over the fire pit outside.
She listened, because not only am I not strung up about to be burnt to a crisp or hunted through the forest in some sick game, I’m tucked in Ryder’s bed-thing without recollection of walking here.
Which means, he put me here.
Rumbling from below urges me to sit up the rest of the way. The pelts slide from my body and reveals my cloak. Presuming Ryder would have discarded this at first chance—witchy germs and all that, I think wryly with an eye roll—I’m surprised to find he didn’t.
As I’m gripping the edge of the bed to peer over, the valve shutting off my water powers twists until my palms instantly cool, arms invigorated with strength.
My powers are back.
Leaning back and out of view, I test them. Pulling on the magick inside my core the same way Mom once trained me to, I feel it rush forward, creating little blue sparks at my fingertips.
Ryder mentioned twenty-four hours, which would be this evening. If he’s not expecting me to have magick, his guard will remain down. Depending how his truth-revealing goes, this could be a saving grace.
More rumbling fills the room. Beside me, a large black wolf is curled up on the floor, his head resting on paws the same way dogs sleep. He’s facing the door while the other half of the rope is beneath his body.
He’ll be on alert, so to wake him, I probably only have to stand, but if he assumes it’s an escape attempt, he’ll be angry. Dealing with the snapping jaws of an angry shifter first thing in the morning isn’t how today needs to go.
So I lean over and poke the wolf.
In all the times of stalking him by that pond, I once imagined stroking his fur.
For no reason other than curiosity, the same way meeting Harlow’s vampire mate once fascinated me.
While Mom warns against other creatures, I’d prefer learning about them; their strengths and weaknesses, and if they’re truly our enemies or we’re simply referring to them as such out of history.
So far, she’s been wrong about both vampires and shifters. Not every vampire is a mindless murderer, as proven by Alec and Harlow, and shifters won’t immediately snap our heads off.
My finger roots through about two inches of fur until touching a very warm body that makes me wish he slept up here. Warmth like that could sustain against the iciest Alberta night.
His rumbling continues, even after lifting his head and his penetrating depthless eyes find me. His jaw parts, tongue slipping through teeth that could so easily tear my skin, so I slowly pull my hand away, preferring not to test the line between man and wolf.
“Hi,” I whisper, wondering how much he understands; how much he’s still Ryder when his head nudges my palm. “Are you asking to be pet?”
His jaw parts in a growl, but it appears playful rather than menacing so I bring my palm to the top of his head.
“The rumbles—is that your version of purring?”
His ears flick before his demeanour changes.
Suddenly, he’s standing and pushing me away.
Four paws cross the room, the nails ticking, and he grabs a pair of jeans between his teeth.
Back to me, and in an enthralling and almost horrifying manner, his body begins shifting.
It stretches, bones cracking and reshaping, fur rescinding.
Limbs alter until his body is pulled upright on two feet rather than four, and his head loses the ears and snout.
Within seconds, Ryder stands before me.
And oh my fucking Goddess… I’d seen him shirtless up close yesterday. In fact, I don’t think there’s been a time I’ve seen him wearing one. But this is different. This involves even less than a shirt.
His back, muscled and rippled, isn’t at all manufactured. It’s from all the shifting I just witnessed, and the constant running through the woods. It’s natural and delectable, if I allow myself to admit that. Wide shoulders that stretch into a rigid back and an ass so firm—
I glance away as he slips on jeans. Flames ignite beneath my skin, yet I can’t help but say something. “You always this friendly to the women who share your room? Strip shows and everything.”
That wasn’t supposed to be the something.
He merely jerks a finger my way in a silent command. “If you need the bathroom, follow. We have things to discuss.”
Things that better result in answers.
Not needing to be told twice, I throw the coverings off and stick a leg out to stand.
The bed is taller than I initially thought and climbing out becomes an awkward tripping hazard that has me nearly face planting—if not for Ryder’s insane speed at catching me.
Hands grip my shoulders and waist, lifting me back to my feet.
“Thanks,” I mumble, ignoring the way my face tingles where it brushes his arm. He wastes no time in creating a cavern of space between us once I’m steady. “Did you put me in there?”
“How else did you get there after you passed out with your head kinked in my chair?” Despite his gruffness, amusement slips between his words.
“Smartass. For that, I won’t thank you.” Eyeing the chairs, the fire still flickering behind them, I am grateful. I’d likely have woken sore.
“Please don’t.” He bends to retrieve the rope.
“I’ll untie you only because if you’re as smart as I think you are, you won’t run.
Just know, behind this door, there’s over a dozen shifters who’ll happily hunt your ass down and drag you back to me.
” There’s a growl in his tone, an annoyance at the thought of me causing so much trouble for him and his pack, no doubt.
“I won’t run.”
Seemingly satisfied with that response, he undoes the rope. There’s a faint red mark on my wrist, but nothing that won’t go away on its own within a few hours. A quick spell could have my skin as good as new, but then Ryder would notice.
He leads me outside and into the early morning sun.
It’s barely crested over the trees, suggesting a time earlier than I’ve probably ever risen.
The ground is dew-damp, and a frostiness lingers that has me crossing my arms, now decorated with goosebumps.
Should have taken the cloak or grabbed one of those pelts because this dress is definitely not made for the cool air.
“You guys are morning people, huh.” I, on the other hand, am not.
His only response is to make a motion demanding I walk faster.
My steps falter when I’m bombarded with a few dozen people turning my way.
Shifters stare with varying degrees of emotions.
There’s fear on the faces of a few of the women who bustle children closer; the same children who gape with curiosity.
Others stop what they’re doing, but almost everyone looks from me to Ryder and whatever command is etched into his icy expression has them all returning to work.
In the centre of the cabins, a large fire pit roars.
Some sit around it, strips of raw meat that make me want to gag resting in a basket by their feet.
Children bolt every way, some dangerously close to the flames and my water magick tickles my palms, ready to save them regardless of revealing the truth of my powers.
After he takes me to the bathroom area and then the stream to wash up, he leads me to the furthest end of camp, to the largest cabin, this one doubled in size and with a small porch. An elderly woman with grey curly hair stands beside it smiling so warmly I can’t help but to give one in return.
At least someone’s nice, even if she doesn’t say anything.
With a look at Ryder, she leads us inside. She goes first, then Ryder, and I inhale deeply, my shoulders tense for whatever hell I’m about to be faced with. Death, perhaps, though I don’t feel this is it.
I enter the cabin, finding nothing the shifters should ever be a part of. Something that links Ryder and his family to a bigger issue.
An elderly man lays in the centre of his bed, a larger version of the thing I recently tripped out of, his eyes clenched tightly shut. His chest rises and falls with quick, ragged breaths and every so often, his body jerks. By all accounts, he looks like a frail old man.
But what actually gives me pause is the magick swarming the room.
Black magick. Its tendrils wrap him in a cruel grip of Darkness, the kind even witches couldn’t get rid of.
It permeates the air in a giant cloud that encompasses Ryder, the woman, and another older male shifter I’m only now noticing, and emits a strong odour of dirt and sin.
“What the fuck?”
Black magick is here, in the shifter pack, on one of them.
Hurting him, weakening him, if his state is any indication.
It’s magick forbidden amongst the covens, spurred by murder; the ultimate act of turning away from the Goddess.
It’s unnatural and not of the Light, going against nature and the earth. Nothing Hecate respects.
It’s the kind of magick that infiltrated Twilight Grove Coven and turned them towards some crazy prophecy they believe in so much that in the past they sent two of their own to murder Emily and John Sinclair, steal Harlow, and raise her as their own with the intent of turning her Dark.
Black magick is a strong temptation. Witches may deny being lured in, but they’d be lying to themselves. Even now, it’s silk brushing the side of my mind, urging me to claim it for myself. To steal the power from the dying shifter and become stronger than Mom.
Shaking my head of the thoughts, I twist towards Ryder, but I refuse to look away from the magick and the man it’s harming. “What the hell did you get yourselves into?”
Ryder steps close enough his chest presses into my back. His heart thumps as rapid as his question flies out. “You know what it is?”
“Of course I do,” I snap. “My question is why is it here?” There’s no damn way a shifter got himself literally tangled in Darkness without there being a bigger story involved.
“For the same reason you are.”
They need a witch to take care of a magickal problem, but my presence still makes little sense. Helping him could have been their boon. Mom could have tried to help him. Mom, who’s a much stronger witch than I am—and a freaking High Priestess, able to call upon a coven’s worth of power.
Finally tearing my eyes away from the wolf, I twist to the three of them. “Explain.”
“Not here.” The female shifter pleads. “This isn’t the place.”
As Ryder goes to respond, the wolf in the bed coughs, the noise calling the shadows clinging to the walls even closer.
I approach too. There’s a scuffle behind me, but another growl ends it quickly. I don’t peek to see what’s happening, keeping all my attention on the wolf who needs more than I can provide.
Mom’s mentioned the Alpha—Alaric, if I recall—before. The relationship between High Priestess and Alpha is naturally tense. But she’s complimented him too, claiming he’s always been kind and respectful.
“He wasn’t breathing like this before the magick?” I ask the trio.
“No,” the woman replies.
Having no experience with black magick myself, I’d be better off getting Mom, or even trying to contact Harlow. Neither are options, and leaving him in pain is cruel.
When Alaric coughs again and whimpers, I shut my eyes, ready to damn myself for no reason but an old man’s pain. Water slips through my mind, refreshing and cool, and washing away all thoughts and concerns until only peace lingers.
It’s that image, that feeling, I send into him.
The light spray of water accompanied with a painkilling spell forces the Dark constraints to loosen ever so slightly.
His next exhale isn’t as rough and the lines around his eyes smooth a bit.
If I were able to go home, I’d be able to brew him something stronger, but the spell will have to do.
The shifter’s hand twitches and his dry and cracked lips part. “Thank…you.”
Ryder’s heavy steps cross the room before he appears beside me, a storm of torment. His hands are clenched as he glances between me and his father, but it’s the old Alpha’s hand managing to lift a half inch that has him backing down.
The two other shifters take our places as Ryder leads me outside.