Chapter 20 – Carina
Twenty
CARINA
As soon as Ryder leaves, I curl up in the chair with my knees drawn up because I’d prefer not to risk his wrath by sleeping in his bed without permission. He’s been tolerable today, but fucking with the slice of peace we’ve found for ourselves isn’t smart.
Alone, voices echo in my head. Voices that sound like a dying witch sobbing to a stranger to care for her baby.
What I told Mom was true—that rooting through history isn’t worth harming Highridge—but the longer I sit in silence, the more my own words become lies.
I’d like to say none of it matters, that it won’t change anything, but it does.
It could. Something happened to cause the disappearance of my old coven and for my mother to run away.
Question is, was she running from them, in which digging them up is unwise, as well as an insult to her memory? Or did something happen and she escaped from the same thing that’s happening to us?
I’m not ready for any of it. Not to think about it, not to face it. Not to even understand it. Not until I get out of Twilight Grove alive.
With Ryder’s hoodie sleeve, I wipe the few tears from my face. Last thing I need is for him to come inside and see me crying. He’ll taunt me with my grief, or worse.
Would he, though?
Today, he was the only one to check on me. He held me, helped me breathe through the near panic attack. He was kind—certainly kinder than he needed to be—to the person who, by all accounts, is the reason behind his father’s illness.
Hecate, why didn’t you help them? Why punish them for crimes they didn’t commit?
Another tear slips down my cheek and onto the sweater’s sleeve, which is still pressed to my flushed cheek. This time, I cry for Alaric and Ryder and the pack.
The door cracks open and with a sudden intake of breath, I drop my legs to the ground and wipe my face. If he has an ounce of empathy, he won’t comment on my undoubtedly blotchy cheeks.
He enters carrying tray of dried meat and plain rice, which he rests on the table between us. It looks unappealing but considering where we are, there’s limited options.
He drops into the free chair with a weary man’s sigh and stretches his legs in front of him.
As he stares into the unlit fireplace, I wordlessly begin eating, my jaw having to really work the meat.
Flavour I didn’t expect bursts on my tongue, and while I claimed to not be hungry earlier, this oddly hits the spot.
Every so often, his jaw moves and the flint in his eyes becomes ashier than what’s in the fireplace. Occasionally, he sighs a deep breath. He’s a man thinking hard but unwilling to share his thoughts.
“Thanks for the food,” I mumble in between bites, not really wanting to interrupt his contemplations, but also not wanting to be ungrateful. After all, Twilight Grove never said I had to be thriving; the pack could be starving me if Ryder chose to.
“Why were you crying?”
There goes all hope of hiding it.
He snorts and wipes a hand over his hair, fingers dragging through the shaggy strands. “Sorry, stupid question. Why wouldn’t you cry after today?”
I move onto the rice and continue to observe his troubled mind instead of commenting. “What was the meat?” I ask, aiming for any conversation after another few minutes, to help distract him. “Or do I not want to know?”
His lips twitch, which tells me there’s life still in there. “Deer. There’s plenty of them in Banff, so we won’t ruin the balance—provided we don’t over-hunt.”
“Huh.” I reach for another piece of the chewy meat. “Ever eat a bear?”
His eyes cut to me, mouth pulling up on one side. “Really wanna hear this?”
“Wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”
“Only in wolf form. He was getting too close to the camp and wouldn’t leave. Had to protect everyone here, otherwise we typically leave bears alone. Not only are they formidable creatures, but there’s not as many of them in the province.”
“Never imagined the pack being so environmentally conscious.”
“We are the environment. It’d be stupid not to be.” He kicks one leg up over the other and slouches deeper into the chair. He seems exhausted—not that I’d tell him so.
“Well, this witch appreciates it. It tears my soul a little bit when tourists toss garbage aside. Mortals have no idea how to truly respect the planet or any of what Hecate does for them.”
He makes a noise of agreement but returns to glaring at the empty fire pit. I finish eating and then adopt the position I held earlier: knees drawn up to my chest to make myself as small as possible as nighttime chill permeates the cabin.
“What happens now?”
He flinches, and I swear I practically feel the way his heart leaps in his chest. If such a strange notion were possible. “You’ll live here for the remainder of the week.”
“Here-here?”
“Yes.” A growl slips into his tone as his brows come together.
“No more rope, though,” I check, glancing at where it was discarded this morning. “No more assuming I’ll run away?”
“No more rope,” he agrees softly. “The others have been instructed to treat you as a guest. If someone doesn’t, tell me and I’ll handle them.”
“Sure.” As if he’d take my side over one of his own, regardless of who was in the wrong.
He eyes my plate before launching to his feet with more energy than I’ve seen from him since entering. He stretches, pulling my attention to the bare skin of his chest—the muscles defined by his time as a wolf.
“Do you need the bathroom before I head out?”
I stand, trailing him to the door. “Head out where?”
“Patrol. Hunting. This is when we gather more prey for the winter months when we’re in the mountain caves. Lots of animals go into hibernation, so coming across food is more difficult.”
They really think of anything. Mom always made the pack sound like stupid animals, but they’re not.
Twice now, he’s mentioned the caves, and I’m growing curious.
Seeing them would be another lesson on pack life before I’m Twilight Grove’s prey.
But I’ll never ask. Ryder wouldn’t show an outsider his hideouts, nor are we friends.
So my thoughts remain inside thoughts only as we walk the same path as yesterday to the bathroom area.
“In the morning, I can bring you to bathe if you’d like,” he offers when we reach the treeline.
A bath sounds fucking fantastic, but also… “I’m a water witch. I create my own shower.”
He blinks.
“Magick,” I intone in a duh tone. “I could make everyone here a damn good shower if they wanted. But I’d need a space to create one in, unless you want your cabin floor soaked.”
Ryder has the bravery to look a little dismayed, and then he leaves me to my needs.
Afterwards, he begins the route back to the cabins.
The moon above glistens through the trees, lighting up a patch of woods.
I step into it, but it doesn’t escape my notice that Ryder keeps two feet between us, which puts him outside the light.
The mood, the setting, it’s tense—charged with words unspoken.
It draws goosebumps up my arms with the feeling of being responsible for the silence.
“You’ll make a kickass High Priestess one day, Carina.”
He said it so quietly, I assume he’s fucking with me. That I made it up in my head. That he didn’t give me a compliment.
“You’re not selfish,” he continues, knocking away at the wall between us. The wall created by being different species. “You think of others above yourself. If you were smart, you’d take your mother’s advice and hide. Instead, you’re here.”
My steps halt, and I stare at him through the darkness. He’s difficult to see fully—just the occasional flash of silver. “If I took my mom’s advice, Twilight Grove may kill you all.”
The silver of his eyes disappears behind a tight blink. “You’re only making my point.”
“Well…thanks. Truthfully, being a High Priestess isn’t what I want.”
Silver returns—as does the shadow as he moves closer, his feet dancing along the edge of the moonlit strip.
“As Mom’s heir, I’m next in line, but I could defer to any woman who steps up. If they’re blessed by Hecate through a ceremony, they’re found worthy. If I gave up the role, it would kill Mom, so I go along with her teachings on what leading involves.”
Ryder ticks his head to the side, his gaze sweeping me from head to toe, but he doesn’t comment.
“Did you want to become Alpha?”
“Always,” he replies without hesitation. “If not High Priestess, what do you want in life?” There’s an edge to his tone—sharp, but cautious too. Like holding a knife, blade side up.
“Anything but that. Honestly, and it might sound strange, but to get away from the coven. I love Banff—don’t get me wrong; I’d never dare move to a city.
People exhaust me, and I’d love something like…
this.” I gesture at the line of cabins in front of us.
“To live off the grid in a nice house, surrounded by nature. I’m too much of a princess to manage life outdoors, but magick would make it easier.
With a cabin like yours, for example—though with a bathroom installed—and electricity—I’d be happy. ”
Ryder’s breathing gets heavier. Dead leaves kick up as he paces a step backwards, disappearing deeper into the treeline.
His tone has a different kind of edge when he talks.
This time without the sharpness but a pure, unfiltered warning that makes little alarms flash through my head. “You should head back inside.”
It’s so sudden, almost mean. The opposite of the friendly conversation we’ve been maintaining. My chest aches a bit at the rejection, but it’s a reminder too. We’re merely strangers thrown together in an unfortunate circumstance. Personal conversations aren’t the point.
“Night, Ryder.”
Silver eyes stalk me the rest of the way back, but not once do I give him the satisfaction of looking behind me.
Never allowing him to spot the hurt.
The hurt that makes no sense for me to be feeling.