Chapter Four #2
He stepped back and in the blink of an eye, the man was gone.
A huge, brown wolf stood in his place, staring at her with those same eyes.
The wolf padded closer and nuzzled her neck, making her chuckle despite the ache in her chest. She scratched behind his ears, his massive neck.
“Be a good boy and go,” she teased, laughing when he huffed at her with a playful growl.
But he went.
And she was alone again.
She dressed quickly, teeth chattering as she fumbled with layers. Then poured herself some tea from the thermos she’d packed, sipping with a relieved sigh.
She sat, wrapped tight, and waited.
Not for long.
True to his word, he was back in under fifteen minutes.
His form shifted again—wolf to man, and he sat beside her on the blankets, wrapped his arms around her from behind, and tucked his face into her hair.
“You’ve been busy,” he murmured, nodding toward the altar and the circle glowing under moonlight.
Excitement for tonight was impossible to keep down. It hummed in her bones, thrummed in her pulse. She turned to face him, eyes bright. “I think I’ve got it, Owen.”
His brow ticked. “It being...?”
“Mr. Fraser’s friend found this piece of paper. Or maybe it was a book—somewhere—he told me, I forgot. It’s old, though. And it’s about cursed werewolves.”
She felt the bond flicker, tightening like a muscle bracing.
He’d gone still. Wolf-still. So she took his hands, warm and big, and kept going before his protective side got the better of him.
“Turns out there were things I missed, and so I made you a shirt—” she leaned forward, tumbling on the words a little—“I drenched the thread with my blood and—”
“You did what?”
“Oh, it was nothing.” She waved it off, excitement still bubbling under her skin.
“I drenched the thread with my blood and the demon’s, and I used it to make your shirt.
That one on the altar. You can see it right there–the green is lovely, isn’t it?
Anyway, I used this very cool knife Mr. Fraser gave me—I have to give it back after tonight, but—”
Owen stopped her excited ramble by pressing his palm over her mouth. The wolf inside him growled low. Not angry, but definitely unsettled. “Hold up.”
She nodded, then kissed his palm because it was right there against her lips and she couldn’t not.
“You drew blood,” he said, slow and heavy. “Your blood.”
She nodded again, and his eyes narrowed, gold threading through the brown. “You did it by yourself?”
She pulled his hand down by the wrist. “I so did. It was crazy. But I did it!”
“I didn’t know what you were doing, obviously,” he murmured. “But I felt your hope... and that you were upset about something. So you, um, cut yourself. With a knife. Collected your blood. And soaked the thread in it.”
“Yes, Owen. Come on, keep up, baby.”
“I am keeping up, but it’s... you. And... blood.”
“Right? I didn’t think I could, but I did.” Her grin faltered. “Why are you upset?”
She saw it and felt it, how his face darkened, how his shoulders squared, how the wolf inside him rumbled low enough to hear. “I don’t want you bleeding for me,” he said, voice all rough velvet. “I don’t want you in pain because of me.”
“I’m in pain every day because you’re not here.”
Okay. Wrong delivery. She’d meant it as in missing him hurt more than a little cut, but the bond went taut with his anger, and the wolf flared hot. He didn’t take it the way she’d intended. Not at all.
His jaw locked, shadow deepening across his face.
She sighed, softening, sliding her hand up to cup his cheek, her thumb brushing away the angry edge of his tension.
She kissed his tight mouth, let the bond pulse with love.
“I understand why it upsets you. But I do miss you. So much, Owen. You know how it is. And if what I have to do to bring you home is get some of my blood, then I’m not only going to do it. I’m happy. Ecstatic to do it.”
Some of the pressure eased from the bond, the gold in his eyes dimming back toward warm brown. But her relief was short-lived. Because now his whole presence shifted and her stomach dropped.
She was going to hate whatever came next.
He sucked his lower lip between his teeth, gaze dropping to their joined hands “How sure are you this is going to work?”
“It’s the best shot we’ve had. The paper was very specific about it. It fits your situation completely.”
“Okay.” He brushed his fingers over her cheek and smiled, but the smile just made her chest ache. “We’ll try,” he said, swallowing like each word was heavy. “But it’s the last time we do.”
An annoying, insistent beep went off in her head. “What? What do you mean?”
“If this year doesn’t work, I don’t want you to try anymore.” He swallowed again, frowning as the bond sent her a throb of resigned sorrow. “It’s been ten years, Callie. Ten years of your life you’ve wasted.”
“Excuse me? I didn’t waste anything.”
“But you did.” He pulled in a long breath, like he needed it to steady himself. “If this doesn’t work, I want you to break the bond. I want you to go to Rex and tell him. He’ll know what to do.”
The world, her mind, her body, it all went very quiet. “Anything else?” she whispered steadily, though her voice trembled.
“I want you to go on with your life and be happy. I need to know you’ll be happy. You deserve so much more than this, than the nothing I can give you.”
She nodded, swallowed the sting in her eyes as temper rose hot and sharp. “You thought everything through, didn’t you?”
“I have nothing but time.”
If he’d been aiming for humor, it didn’t work. “What about what I want? Did you take any of that into consideration while you were doing all this thinking and deciding?”
“Callie—”
“No, Owen. Don’t you dare Callie me.”
He opened his mouth, but she stopped him with a sharp zip-it motion.
The bond gave a quick, hot pulse, his frustration pressing at her ribs like a second heartbeat that she countered with a push on her own.
“This is where you listen, alright? I can’t—can not—be happy without you.
” She barreled on, ignoring the way his eyes blazed, wolf-bright and molten with temper.
His wolf pressed hard against her through the bond, pacing.
“It’s not like you’re dead. Death is... funny, because A, there’s nothing you can do about it, and B, you make peace with it.
You have to, because of point A. This? This is not it. ”
Tears welled. She swiped them away, his wolf growling at that sign of pain.
“I feel you. Every second of every damn day. You’re not some hole I can learn to live around.
You’re still here.” She thumped at her aching chest. “Alive. In my head, in my soul, wrapped around every breath I take. I can reach you, feel you, any time I want. You’re there, but you’re not here.
And that’s not something I’m going to just accept.
Not when I can fight for it. Not when I have power over it. ”
She stopped, lungs dragging in air like she’d been sprinting.
The bond thudded with his restrained anger, but under it was fear.
Cold, cold fear. For her. For them. When she spoke again, her voice was calmer, but the heat in her chest was still burning.
“So, even if tonight goes straight into the pooper, I’m not breaking any bond.
What I’ll do is, I’ll break this darn curse.
Even if it takes my entire life to do it. So you might save it.”
The bond tightened, a hot rope between them. He stared at her, temper still burning in his eyes, jaw set hard enough she felt the tension in her teeth. “Stubborn,” he growled.
The word rolled down the bond, all wolf.
“Braincell dropout,” she muttered, but the bond flickered with a chuckle for just a second.
“I love you.” He said it like an insult, but whatever. There was a little growl in her words too when she muttered, “I love you too.”
“Do I have any way to change your mind? Any at all?”
“No.” She shrugged, though there was steel in it. “Not a single, itty bitty, freaking one.”
“Fine.” His voice was a reluctant surrender, but the bond softened as he pulled her back into his arms, tucking her under his chin. The wolf in him settled, for now. “Talk to me. Apparently, I’ll be free tonight. You need to get me up to date with the world.”
That, she could do.
She melted into the heat of him, the steady thump of his heart reverberating through the bond.
She started talking—about everything that had happened in the last year, pack gossip, ridiculous Mystic Hollow mishaps.
She exaggerated just enough to make his wolf give an amused huff along their connection.
Mrs. Halbrook’s cat stuck inside the mayor’s mailbox.
The pumpkin pie contest disaster where someone swapped salt for sugar.
The wolf’s energy brushed against her laughter each time, curling around her in contentment.
They talked for hours, their bond a constant hum, until the night began loosening its grip on the sky.
It was still dark, but the black had thinned to charcoal, edges bleeding into silver and pale gray.
The air shifted; the forest’s shadows lightened.
The bond picked up her quickening pulse as the sky whispered that dawn was coming.
Callie checked the time. 6:20.
“I need to start getting ready,” she said, a shiver of anticipation running down her spine.
“I feel it,” Owen murmured as he rose with her, gaze turning east toward the paling horizon.
“Okay, you need to stay in the circle.” She took his hand, leading him into it. “I have to say the words right before dawn. I looked it up, it’s between 6:40 and 6:50.”
“You’re prepared.”