Chapter 16
Wilder recoiled at the desperation in Abbie’s voice.
For a brief period, she acted normally. Her current desire to run, however, superseded her sanity.
Yet he wasn’t unfamiliar with her type of reaction.
While training others to climb, they’d encountered it on plenty of occasions.
Once the fear gained a foothold, everyone reacted differently.
Some refused to budge, and others scrambled back down.
But a good portion had learned to power through—all under Abbie’s guidance.
Her calm voice and steady presence cut through their panic, breaking it down into manageable steps.
In the end, they’d all had a good experience.
“I won’t touch you, but I want you to focus on my voice,” he said soothingly, borrowing from her special brand of training. “We’re going to take this one beat at a time, okay?”
Her gaze, wild with uncertainty, locked with his.
“Good.” He smiled, warm and confident. “Whenever we had a new client, you went through a process. There were a few simple tricks to success.”
A tentative hope shone on her face.
“One handhold, one breath.”
She scowled at the hand he offered, but accepted it anyway.
“Good, Abbie. That’s good.” His smile widened. “Now, one foothold, one breath.”
Her expression eased into a slight frown, and she pressed her boot-clad foot onto his thigh.
“Alternate. Handhold, and breathe. Good. Foothold. That’s my girl.” He beamed with pride as her fear receded and her curiosity emerged. “See? You’ve got this.”
Joining him on the floor, Abbie cradled his face within her palms and looked deeply into his eyes, as if she were trying to find her way back.
“We always promised to catch each other,” he said, regret creeping in. “But I failed you. Both as your climbing partner and with my magic.”
“How did your magic fail?” Draven asked softly.
“A family enemy ripped our powers away. None of us would’ve believed it was possible, but it went down for all of us that day.
And along with it, the protection spell on our equipment.
” Wilder closed his eyes, hating having to recall any of it, but he would if it helped her remember.
“I was a fool to rely on my abilities in such conditions. The weather, Goddess, it was brutal. Before, I’d always been able to keep us warm and redirect the worst of the winds away from us.
But it turned bitterly cold. I honestly worried we’d freeze before reaching the summit. ”
“Arrogance,” Draven replied, not unkindly. “We all possess it, mon ami.”
“Yes. I suppose we do.” It hurt to swallow past the grief his own had caused. “But when you’re special from birth, you don’t view the world as a dangerous place. You push past what mortals would be wary of.”
“This is true. And Abigail, her faith in you would be unfailin’, oui?”
“Yes,” he said roughly, his voice breaking when he added, “I’m so fucking sorry, Abbie.”
She surprised him when she pressed her mouth to his in a tender kiss. “It’s… oh-kay.”
His throat tightened, and a sob lodged in his chest, feeling like a fucking heart attack as the pressure built. But he wouldn’t cry in front of her. Wouldn’t add to her trauma or risk sending her into another panic attack, not if he could help it.
“The Traveler, he said your magie is gone.” Draven moved to the window and looked out at the blackened night. Not waiting for confirmation, he said, “You are très vulnérable here, I think.”
“We have our weapons and a good idea how to use them, but yes,” Wilder replied, standing and helping Abbie to her feet. “I don’t know what Castor has in mind, but I suspect he’ll want to gather whatever family I have here to help.”
The Guardian shifted to study him, and Wilder returned his open stare. Finally, Draven nodded. “Jonas is a sincère man with a good heart. He is my dearest ami. He will help you.”
Relief eased Wilder’s tension. “It’s more than we dared hope.”
Abbie surprised him again when she interlaced her fingers with his and gave a gentle squeeze.
“But the first order of business tomorrow is to restore Abbie’s memories,” he said.
“Very well. I will see her home. Come, Mai—Abbie.”
They protested. Wilder with words, and she by clinging to his arm.
Draven chuckled. “Ah, l’amour. It is hard to separate lovers. Son c?ur, it knows you.”
“Oui, nos c?urs sont deux moitiés d’un même tout,” Wilder replied as he looked down at her with all the love he felt.
“You know my native tongue. I like you more.” Crossing to Abbie, Draven sketched a half bow. “If you need me, chère, I will be there. Until then, I bid you bonne nuit.”
“Good night,” Wilder returned.
“Lock the door behind me. This town is rowdy after sundown.”
“Understood.”
After Draven left, a wave of shyness overcame Mary.
No. Abigail. Abbie, as Wilder called her.
Would the name ever feel right?
She pulled away and, turning her back to him, hugged herself.
“Are you okay, sweetheart?” he asked. His concern for her emotional state was at the forefront of every conversation, and she appreciated his consideration. But part of her wished he couldn’t see through her as easily as he did. It made her want to escape his attention.
Her bracelet warmed.
One handhold. Breathe. One foothold. Breathe again.
Oddly, those words did feel familiar.
The silver cuff cooled.
“Why don’t you remove it?”
She spun to face him and followed the direction of his gaze. Crossing to the desk, she wrote, It’s charmed. Draven must unlock its spell.
“You’re tethered to him?” Wilder asked with a dark scowl.
Only to protect me, he said. My panic attacks would take me back to the place they found me.
His expression cleared, and he shook his head with a wry smile, giving her the impression he believed his gut reaction was silly.
He perched on the desk’s edge, crossed his arms, and leaned on his bent leg.
The casual position wasn’t threatening, and the building trepidation she experienced at being alone with him lessened.
“You have no control in that state?”
No. Or I hadn’t until you talked me down earlier.
“It was lighting up again less than a minute ago. Does it scare you to be alone with me? Because I can—”
She touched his arm, shaking her head. Wishing she could speak properly, she huffed out a sigh and turned the paper over to write more.
With you, I’m at peace. Mostly. Until a minute ago, I was unable to get a handle on the emotion. You’ve provided a coping tool. Thank you.
“Have you reacted this way the entire time you’ve been here?”
No. Or at least, Jonas said I haven’t. It began after the bank robbery when Harlan shot me in the face.
Wilder paled. “Jesus!”
He was a cornered animal and recognized Draven’s promise of death.
Pain flashed in his eyes, and he lowered his gaze to the paper as he straightened his upper body. She couldn’t say how, but she felt his emotional strain.
“You and Draven… Are you…? Have you…?” He closed his eyes and expelled a breath. “Are you lovers? Is that why he claims you as his?”
She sensed the hint of jealousy resulted from his worry that she’d moved on. And when he lifted his lids, his amber irises appeared darker.
“No,” she said, as clearly and firmly as she could.
His relief was so strong it reached out and touched her.
If we were, would you—
Wilder grabbed the paper and crumpled it. “Kill him for taking advantage of your vulnerable state.”
The words were crystal clear, but he never spoke aloud.
She gasped.
Was this some fresh new hell associated with her broken brain? Was she hearing things? Imagining responses where there were none?
He appeared nonplussed, but his shock gave way to curiosity.
“Abbie, can you hear me? Inside your head?”
Oh god! His lips hadn’t moved!
Her skin burned under the bracelet as panic consumed her.
“Don’t freak out!” He reached for her.
Perhaps it was the fear of losing her mind, but her body decided electrocuting him would be appropriate. The bolt wasn’t as forceful as with most, but it was enough to slap him away. Wilder drew back with a hiss as she scurried across the room.
“Fuck!” He waved his hand, then covered his burnt skin. “Shit. Sorry. I didn’t mean to grab you.” Wilder didn’t move, despite her bolting for the door. “Abbie, please, sweetheart. Please don’t leave.”
Her hand was on the knob, and she was halfway to fleeing, when his quiet plea stopped her.
“I don’t know how to do this,” she wanted to cry.
“That’s okay. We’ll do it together,” he replied.
She froze, her body going cold. Ever so slowly, she pivoted to face him.
“You heard me?” she asked inside the confines of her mind.
“Yes.”
“How?”
His mouth curled.
“Fated mates who are miles above regular witches with the magic they possess,” he said aloud.
“I don’t understand.”
“Well, it isn’t me. I don’t have the type of power it takes. So it must be what you inherited from Castor.”
“Traveler’s child. Stands-in-Shadow calls me that.”
“Yes. Castor is a Traveler. He has—or had—the ability to move throughout his lifetime. We guessed you had a similar gift after we realized he was your biological father. Somehow you opened a portal and teleported yourself into the past.” Wilder rose but didn’t approach her.
“And those gifts from the deities, they make you one badass mofo.”
“All I can do is shock people,” she replied in disgust.
He huffed out a laugh as he held up his blistered arm. “Yeah, well, it’s one helluva burn, baby.”
She cried out and rushed to him. “I’m so sorry. Wilder.”
“None of that, okay? You’ve been through too much to apologize for an accident.”
How he could be calm and sweet to her after she’d hurt him was a mystery.
“You spoke of healing before. Is repairing the damage something I can do?”
“Do you want to try?”
His eyes were dull with the pain he felt, and Abbie wanted them to be bright, filled with love, as they were before. She nodded, willing to do whatever it took to soothe the angry skin and rid him of his suffering.
“Okay.” When they were seated on the bed, he held out his arm. “You were never squeamish before, but there might be a first time for everything. So stay as focused as you can and place your palm over the wound.”
She grimaced but nodded, then fought the urge to pull back when he sucked air through his teeth.
“Good,” he grunted. “Visualize healthy skin, like this.” He pointed to his uninjured forearm. “Pull from a cellular level, where you felt the warming as you tried to teleport.”
She considered how her body heated when the need to escape threatened, and broke it down, tracing the source.
“Good! Yes! The nucleus of your cells is where magic lives. It’s the control center, and branches out through threads to the membrane. From there, you can push it to your extremities, and in this case, your hand. Visualize the blisters smoothing out and the skin returning to normal.”
“This seems advanced. Should I get Draven?”
“Try. If you can’t repair the damage, we’ll get him.”
A sharp rap sounded.
“It’s Jonas,” came a muffled voice.
Wilder cursed himself for not locking up earlier when Draven encouraged it, but he wouldn’t deny the man entry. “Come in.”
The sheriff entered, followed by a woman Wilder would recognize anywhere. Her portrait hung in his father’s home.
“Evie,” he whispered. Never in a million years would he have expected to see his great-great-grandmother step through the door.