Chapter 11
11
brONTE
T he scent of shifters hits me the moment we open the car doors, and inside my wolf grows even more restless. While I know that these wolves are still all under glamour, and that they would never attack their alpha’s mate, my wolf is all instinct. Her hackles rise within me, wary of these new wolves.
You need to get over it, I snap at her. Calm down. They would never attack.
Gravel crunches under my feet as I round the front of the car, and all the while I feel the weight of the pack’s eyes on me. I may have spoken to crowds that number in the thousands in the past, but it’s this much smaller crowd of a hundred that has my heart beating faster than it ever has before. I know they can hear it. I know they can scent my nerves.
At least I look calm on the outside. Years of training in the Great Hall means that standing tall and exuding confidence comes naturally. My grandmother used to say, “Shoulders back, head high, neutral expression,” so often that I’d find myself chanting it in my mind at the beginning of every ceremony, and if she ever caught me slouching I’d get the snappish, “ People will one day see you as their queen. Act like one,” accompanied by a sharp zap of magic to the spine. I suppose I’m grateful for it now, and if these people were anything other than wolves — orcs, humans, even dragons — they wouldn’t be able to tell that inwardly I’m more stressed than I’ve ever been in one of these situations. It’s because this moment is important to West. It’s important to us. I don’t want to fuck it up.
West’s arm slides around my stomach, pulling me close as he comes to stand directly behind me, and the solid presence of him at my back allows me to take a deep breath and centre myself. Suddenly I can take in the details my mind was skipping over; the beauty of this place, the birdsong, the rich, fresh scents of the forest. I meet the eyes of the individuals that make up this group and feel sure of myself in doing so. I find the twin girls in the crowd that West warned me about, who are so close to their first shift that it could happen the moment the glamour is lifted, the pair of burly older men standing at the back that West told me were mates, and the woman near the front of the group who smiles at me when our eyes meet. She has the feminine version of West’s face, and I smile back, realising that I’m staring at one of his sisters.
I know many of the pups haven’t met a werewolf before, and their reactions are blatant in the way that children’s often are. A few little hands point in our direction, a handful stare with open mouths, and a loudly whispered “She’s so pretty!” carries through the still air. That, of all things, seems to soften the mood a little, and suddenly there’s more smiles on faces.
“This is Bronte,” West says. He doesn’t yell — he doesn’t need to. His voice is deep and clear and authoritative, and every wolf gives him their full attention — even the little baby cuddled in his mother’s arms turns his head to stare, wide eyed. I can feel the threads of magic that bind this pack, the threads that West is pulling on now, just enough to implore to each individual that what he’s saying is of the utmost importance. It’s a fascinating phenomenon to observe, and one that was never mentioned in any of my textbooks, at least not like this. “She’s my mate. By tomorrow the paperwork will have gone through, and she’ll also be my wife. She’s a very powerful witch… and a werewolf, obviously. I’m going to thank you all in advance for treating her with the utmost respect and making her feel welcome here. This place is as much her home and territory as it is yours. She is, and always will be, a member of our pack.”
“We’ve got a welcome gift for you, Bronte,” Sam declares. He crouches to speak to the little redheaded girl behind him while simultaneously giving West a look that says trust me. “Now’s your moment,” he whispers. “Go on.”
“Oh my goodness, hello!” I say softly, dropping to my knees as the little girl wanders over, a messy bouquet of flowers held behind her back. Her mass of curls catches the late-afternoon sun that filters between the trees, lighting her hair up like a halo. The colour is so different from the other shifters in this pack, and between that and her slightly different scent I realise that of course , she’s half human. “What’s your name, darling?” She can’t be any older than four.
“Lucy.”
“ Lucy. It’s so lovely to meet you.” I make a show of acting surprised, gasping when she pulls the flowers out from behind her. “ Thank you! ” The long purple and white spires of the lupine flower are stunning — and poisonous. I take them from her, my eyes flicking up to Sam. They have the same chin, and Lucy’s little mouth is an echo of his. “Thank you so much, Lucy. They are so beautiful. I’ll have to find a vase for them.”
I’ll have to make sure she washes her hands well.
Lucy is grinning, beaming with joy, and surprises me further by leaning in for a hug. “Oh, you’re a sweetie,” I say into her hair. “Thank you for welcoming me.”
The hug is apparently a signal to all the other pups, because we’re suddenly faced with a stampede of children. For some reason I thought they’d be a little wary of West, but they ignore him completely, pushing past him to get to me. He grunts as his feet get trampled, and I can’t help but laugh as I’m swarmed by little shifters, their voices rising higher and higher in volume as they fight to be heard.
“Are you really a werewolf?”
“Yes,” I answer.
“Are you from the other dimension?”
“Yes, I’m from the First.”
“My daddy said you were a princess! Do you live in a castle?”
“I grew up in a castle, but I’m not really a princess.”
“She’s a witch! Are you going to take off the glamour?”
“Can you do it now?”
“Is your wolf really trapped and won’t come out?”
“Are you ginormous when you shift?”
The questions blur together, and I can’t keep up with them all.
“ Alright! That’s enough,” West says, his voice loud enough that it alone would have stopped the onslaught of questions. Infused with just a touch of his alpha bark, it has the effect of freezing all the children on the spot. “If you want Bronte to remove the glamour, you need to give her space ,” he tells them, and they immediately scramble back. I take his offered hand, allowing him to pull me to my feet.
“If no one has any objections, I’m sure Bronte will be willing to take the glamour off for all of us now.”
Time seems to slow.
“There’s no objections, alpha,” Sam answers. “Everyone is eager to shift — in turns. We still need people to watch the pups.”
People are nodding now, and suddenly I can see the desperation in their eyes. West had looked that way on the night we first met, when he’d realised I wasn’t in glamour. There’d been naked hunger in his eyes as he’d stared sightlessly across the dark room, trying to make out the shape of me with human eyes — a hunger for his true form. I recognise the same look on the faces staring at me now.
“You alone can offer our pack something that no one else can. Themselves.”
West was right. Regardless of whether they like me or not, they need me. Yes, they’ve lived this long without regularly shifting, but it shouldn’t be the norm. It’s not right to have your wolf trapped inside for so long. If I couldn’t turn under the full moon my wolf would tear me apart on the inside.
“Go ahead,” West prompts me. “Work your magic.”
“Alright then.” I take one deep breath and begin to chant.
I know these wolves are used to dealing with elvish witches. Their magic is pretty . It glows blue and paints elvish script and patterns in silver light across the ground. I find it overly flashy, with energy wasted on the looks rather than the function.
Anything pretty from my magic is a byproduct. As I speak I know the bodies of the wolves before me are beginning to glow gold, but I’m not really seeing them, at least not with my eyes. Instead I’m finding each one in the fabric of the universal glamour that blankets this realm, plucking them free from those threads, holding them as my own magic combats the spell on us all in this realm.
Technically, I’m breaking the law. A number of laws.
In the First, questioning why we must uphold the universal glamour in the Second Realm will get you strange looks at best, and embarrassingly public admonishment at worst. I learned to stop asking for legitimate reasons beyond it’s always been this way a long time ago, but seeing these wolves here and feeling their relief as their bodies are freed from the spell makes me want to demand more of the Houses in control of the First — including my own. Why does each realm need to be kept so separate? Why must all the humans that live in this realm be kept in the dark about our kinds?
The counterspell doesn’t take long. I hear the telltale signs of ripped seams as bodies grow larger, taller, and more muscular. There’s a brief pause, as if everyone is taking a collective breath, and then pandemonium ensues.
Some of the pups throw their heads back and howl despite the fact that they can’t shift at all. Their sharp little canines catch the beams of sunlight filtering through, as do their eyes, all shades of yellows and golds. Others practise their growls. Half the adults are already disappearing into the trees, eager to shift, trusting that enough will remain unshifted to keep an eye on the children. The odd person begins to shudder on the spot, unable to hold their wolves in, shifting into their huge forms in the middle of the clearing, their clothes falling to the ground in tatters.
There are quite a few eyes on us still. They’re watching West, and waiting to see what he’ll do next. Who he’ll choose.
“You should go,” I say, turning to him. He frowns, but I can see he’s been thinking the same thing. “ Go, ” I repeat, smiling to help soften his worry for me. “Go shift. Let your wolf run. This is a better setting for him than a hotel room.”
I can see he’s hesitating, caught between wanting to be here for me and needing to be there for his pack.
The first set of howls from the adult wolves split through the air. We all stop to listen. I may be from a different subspecies, but I still understand this language. I close my eyes, loving the sound, their calls relaxed and full of joy. I can see why this place is so special to West and his pack.
When I open my eyes again he’s watching me, an indecipherable expression on his face. For a moment I wonder if he’s going to ask me to come with him.
“Are you coming, alpha?”
He turns his head and nods to the wolf behind him, a woman about my age — tall, pretty, with bright yellow eyes and perky tits. She’s attractive, stunning , and a flash of irrational jealousy rears its ugly head but it’s not so much because I view her as a romantic rival. I know my mate will never want anyone but me.
I’m jealous because I can’t shift and join them, and a pretty shifter like her will always have that over me.
I could join them on foot, trailing after them between the tall trunks, following their scent as they travel further and further away. It’s not the same, and I’ve never been so aware of the fact that I can’t call upon my wolf at any given moment more than I am now.
With his decision made, West turns to Sam. “Keep her safe,” he says, as if I’m not standing right here .
I should be offended, but then Sam says, “With my life, alpha,” his tone deadly serious, and a chill runs down my spine. What are they keeping me safe from?
West’s cabin is nothing like I’d expect from a man with all his millions, but then again, someone would probably say the same thing about my chambers in the First Realm. Thinking about home — even just briefly — makes my heart ache just a little. More and more, I’m beginning to accept that my future is here in this realm. How can I feel the magic that exists between my mate and his pack and then ask him to sever that connection? When he’s told me he can’t, he truly means it. He is as fated to lead these people as he is to be my mate.
“Make yourself at home,” Sam says, holding the door open for me. “I mean, this is one of your homes now. Honestly, I’m beginning to lose track of how many properties Weston has, he seems to collect a new one each week. You haven’t been to the mansion yet, have you?”
I shake my head, stepping through the door. It opens into a living room, filled with old sofas covered in crocheted throws and faded cushions. There’s an old worn rug in the centre of the wooden floor, and photos hanging on the plain walls. The continuous chorus of howls filters through the walls. “West said he was born outside his parent’s cabin. Is this the place?”
“Yeah, it is. He hasn’t changed a thing since he inherited it.” There’s a pause as Sam and I look at each other, taking stock. If I met him on the street he’d be just another shifter, but West is the common thread that binds us. “He’s serious, you know, when he says you’re part of the pack now. You are.”
I hesitate for a moment. How much do I lay bare to this stranger? I don’t sense any animosity from him, despite the phone call the other day. I’d heard him then, complaining that West was putting me first, and on impulse I’d interrupted their conversation. I know West says I’m sweet and polite, but I’m also a possessive wolf who wants her man to herself, as unreasonable as that is given his position. “I don’t feel any connection to this pack. I have no way of bonding with it. I could see the magic West was using today in my mind’s eye, but I can’t touch it.”
“Do you think that’s the only thing that makes a pack member? What about humans who mate with wolves? They can’t even sense the magic, and here you are talking about seeing it. Besides, when he bites you I’m sure you’ll feel plenty.”
I screw my nose up at the double entendre — claiming a mate most often happens during intercourse — and Sam growls, running his hand back through his mousey-brown hair. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
“This is all very new to me, that’s all.”
“Yeah, well it’s new to all of us. I?—”
“Daddy! I’m gonna go to Bobby’s cabin!”
Sam holds one finger up to me before stepping back outside to speak to his daughter, the gesture familiar because I saw another man do the same thing just a few days ago. My son.
You’re a part of the pack now.
It’s like puzzle pieces all falling into place, seeing how things will end up, knowing how my future children will be influenced by those around them, and I want it, I really do, but I want more control than this feeling here, like I’m seeing the next thirty-odd years mapped out for me.
I cross the room to look at the old hanging pictures. I recognise West immediately in the second one, a tiny little boy, another jigsaw piece, his round face identical to our son’s.
Mama!
I think this is what’s messing with my head. I want them here, now . My babies. Now that I’ve met my boy, now that I’ve felt my daughter move within me, I miss them. They have my heart. It doesn’t make sense to my soul and to my wolf that they don’t exist yet.
I didn’t think it was possible to love someone so instantly, and yet here I am, my heart bound to three. My mate, my son, my daughter.
I swipe at my tears as Sam returns, his expression softening as he sees me. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“It’s fine, you didn’t.”
He opens his mouth as if to speak, but a new, different howl rings out, strong and clear, drawing our attention. It’s a voice I would recognise anywhere, despite never hearing his call before.
West.
I lean against the kitchen wall, watching Sam fry steaks in a pan. He’d been mortified to learn that I didn’t even know how to turn on the stovetop.
“What the hell have they been teaching you in the First?”
“Magic. Love potions, poison craft, how to flay the flesh from the bones of your enemy.”
He’d given me a long, hard look. “What have they actually been teaching you?”
“How to rule one of the most powerful Houses in the First.”
“Ah. I guess this whole thing has messed with those plans.”
“You could say that.”
It is embarrassing that I don’t know how to use basic items in this realm. “Just to clarify,” I say now, “I do know how to cook. I use a fire spell in the little compartment on the top of my stovetop, and my pan sits on top of the naked flame. Most things are run by magic in the First, not… fossil fuels . That’s the correct term, isn’t it?” He nods, flipping the steaks over with a pair of tongs. It smells good. “I can brew potions all day. I know what I’m doing in a kitchen, but clearly we have some cultural differences.”
“And now you’re mated to a guy who’s at the forefront of telecommunications technology.”
“I wouldn’t have believed you if you’d told me this last week.”
“Would you have even spoken to someone like me last week? A shifter?”
“I could ask you the same thing. You didn’t sound too thrilled over the phone when West told you.”
Sam tilts his head in acknowledgement. “Touché.”
“My babies are going to be shifters.”
Sam gives me a curious look.
“I just need you to know that I have a deep respect for shifters,” I say quietly. “We’re all wolves.”
“My mom lives with a different pack. You might meet her someday; I think she’d like you. She’s always said we’re two sides of the same coin .”
“Yes! That’s exactly what we are.”
“And you know you’re having his babies, do you? That’s an interesting way to put it.”
“I’ve met them.”
That has Sam pausing, frozen as he stares at me. I don’t think he’s even breathing. Somehow I know I can trust Sam in the same way I can trust West. “With my life, alpha,” he’d said, and I believe him.
“I have visions of the future. I don’t control it. I knew West before I ever met him in person. I’ve met our son. He’s perfect.”
I can tell I’ve rattled him. I can also tell — as he nods slowly — that he believes me. “Okay. Okay.” He takes a deep breath. “And just checking — you were joking before when you said that thing about flaying flesh, right?”
“Yes, I was joking.”
“You’re a good witch, then.”
“I’m a witch,” I say definitively. “Humans have strange ideas about witches and magic. Good witch, bad witch … that’s not how it works. You do know most people from most kinds can learn at least simple magic, right? It’s only humans who have almost no ability.”
“Almost no ability? I thought humans had none.”
“There’s always some exceptions to a rule. Look at West and I; who would have thought that a were and a shifter could be fated mates? And yet here we are.”
Sam brings me a plate loaded with steaks. “And yet here you are. Cutlery is in the drawer there, and Weston always eats at the table. His mother was a stickler for those kinds of rules.”
Sam follows behind me with his own plate. We sit and begin to eat in silence. The meat is delicious, and I tell him as much.
“It’s just fried in butter. Weston keeps things pretty simple here. He has a cook and a cleaner at the mansion, but up here it’s almost the same as it’s always been. He does everything himself. No outsiders, and it’s gonna stay that way.”
I was already beginning to get that idea. I may not be from this realm, but I can tell that this cabin is like a time warp, and I can take a guess as to why. “How long ago did his parents pass away?”
“Eight years.”
West has been the alpha for eight years. He’s never told me how he became alpha, and something in my gut tells me these two things are connected. “The both of them?”
Sam nods, his knife scraping the plate with a high pitched squeak as he cuts through his steak. “They died at the same time.”
“How—” I cut my sentence short as Sam drops his cutlery as if he’s been shocked by a bolt of magic. His eyes are wide, chest heaving with exaggerated breaths as he looks towards the door, and my stomach drops.
He jolts upright, knocking over his chair as the panicked howls and warning barks start. Distress calls. “What’s going on?” I ask, already knowing, a sick feeling in my gut. I can’t hear West’s voice in the mix of wolves. “Tell me!” I demand as I run out the door after Sam. I have to get to my mate! “Wait!” I yell, seeing the telltale signs of an oncoming shift, Sam’s body trembling. “ Tell me! ”
The trembling stops for a moment, his lips pulled back in a snarl. “Stay here!” he orders. “Get back in the cabin!”
“No. No! I’m coming with you!”
“He’s fucking injured! Get back inside!” Before I can say anything further he changes in an instant, clothing tearing, falling away, a huge brown wolf in place of the man. He barks at me, head gesturing to the house. When I don’t move he butts me hard in the chest with his nose, and I growl back, grabbing his muzzle with both hands; a dangerous, stupid move, but I’m well past the point of caring, even as his lips curl back in warning under my fingers.
“ You listen to me! ” I snarl at him, infusing my voice with every bit of my magic, as if I am an alpha. He stands as tall as me at the shoulder, his head even higher, and I stare directly into his yellow eyes. “He is my mate! I am a witch! You will take me to him! I can heal him!”
Whatever I’ve done works, for he remains still, in some sort of stunned silence until I grab fistfuls of the fur and skin at his ruff, uncaring if I hurt him as I jump with all my might, hauling myself onto his back, my skirt riding up my thighs as I do so. I may think West has the most amazing scent in the world, but this shifter wolf does not . Regardless, I lean in close, wrinkling my nose just a little, still clutching his ruff tight. “ Run! ” I order, digging my knee into his side. It works, Sam’s wolf taking off with a leap that almost dislodges me, and I yelp, pressing myself flat against his back, clinging on for dear life, praying to the goddess that my mate will be fine as we weave through the darkening forest.
Howl to him, my wolf urges me. He’s hurt! He could be dying!
No, I snap back at her. I want to — I so badly want to throw back my head and howl to him. My voice will be weak in this form, but he would hear it. But if he hears, he’ll use his bark to turn Sam around, to force me back to the cabin and perceived safety. I know my mate. I know that’s what he’ll do.
“Don’t you dare tell West you’re bringing me,” I snarl instead, stress removing any last vestiges of politeness. “Do not tell him I’m coming.” Sam’s ears fold back further against his skull, an unhappy wolf, but I don’t care.
He does bark to the pack, but I can tell he’s informing them of our location. Other wolves find us and join us, flanking Sam. They look at me, continuing to check every minute or two if I’m there, as if I’m going to suddenly disappear into the night. Their eyes glow in the light of the waxing moon that rose well before dusk. The world around us is muted colours, all greys and blues, the colours of the night.
Sam is panting heavily, and I know carrying my additional weight must be hard on him. “Thank you Sam,” I whisper, and he snorts, shaking his head, still clearly displeased with me but doing this because of our joint love for the same man.
Love.
I love him. I love him. I love him.
I love my mate. I know that now, know it with every fibre of my being. It’s not just the magic. It’s not just fate. It’s him . It’s him, and he’s hurt, and I can barely breathe through the fear that clenches my heart and lungs like a vice. I don’t dare let go of Sam’s ruff — he’s still running fast, and I’m still clinging on tight — so the tears run freely down my cheeks now, cooling in the wind.
I know we’re downwind of West when I catch his scent but he doesn’t respond. Unless he’s unconscious. Please goddess, no . The smell of blood thick in the air, and Sam runs faster, zigzagging through the trees. The shifters have grown silent now, and I can barely breathe. Something in the mood of the pack has changed, and I’m too afraid to ask about it.
There’s a cluster of wolves from the pack up ahead, their eyes shining in the dark as they walk slowly towards us. Sam slows and the group ahead seems to part. I sob when I see West, his big black wolf limping on three legs, back left leg held off the ground, and don’t bother waiting for Sam to stop before I’m sliding off of him, breaking into a run as soon as I have my feet under me. Some wolves snarl as I approach, but the meanest, most menacing growl from their alpha puts them in their place, and they step back, the odd one whining.
“West,” I whisper, pressing my face to his muzzle. He’s clearly in pain, but closes his eyes, nuzzling my neck for a moment with his wet nose. “I need to look at it,” I say quietly. “Then I can fix you.” I’m vaguely aware that around us the other wolves are alert and on guard, but I’m focused on my mate. I can heal him.
Now that he’s in front of me I feel calm. It’s always this way when I’m faced with the sick and injured; there’s no point in panicking when I can do something about it. I keep my hand on his side as I walk down the length of his body to his leg, thankful for the moonlight. Doing this on the new moon would be difficult, even for me, but less than a week away from being full? There’s plenty of light, even beneath these towering redwoods.
There’s a ring of torn skin and muscle, similar to a bite, but somehow too clean, on his lower leg, just above his paw. It’s still bleeding in a slow ooze, his paw wet with blood, drips falling on the leaf litter below. I crouch, keeping an eye on his body language as I tentatively touch his paw, his ears folding back, head turning to watch me, but he stays calm.
“You had me worried that it was a lot worse than this,” I whisper, though in my mind’s eye I can feel that there isn’t just the visible wound, but a fracture in the bone too. That will take quite a lot of energy to fix, and I’ve already used a fair bit, removing the glamour from the entire pack.
There’s no other option, and I’m not going to wait. The other wolves are still on high alert, and if my guess is right, West somehow got caught in a hunter’s trap. That shouldn’t be possible on this land — there’s supposed to be a ward in place around the entirety of the pack-owned property — but now that I think about it, I don’t remember passing through one when we arrived, and I can’t sense one now.
Something isn’t right here. I know it in my bones, but I have to focus on West first.
The glow of my magic spreads over his paw and leg, and inside it surrounds every cell, magic manipulating the body’s sense of time, speeding, speeding, speeding through the natural processes. Bones require the most energy, knitting together in minutes what usually takes months to fully heal. I’m almost there when West makes a soft barking noise, attempting to pull his paw out of my grasp.
“ No ,” I say sternly, even though my heart is racing and I feel weak. “I’m almost done.” I manage to shoot a stronger burst of magic into him before he yanks his leg away with a growl, body shuddering, becoming a man in an instant, his arms catching me as I slump forward, a wave of dizziness catching me off guard.
“Bronte,” he growls, holding me to him. I press my face into his neck, breathing deep. He smells of the forest, but more than that, he smells like home.
“You’re welcome,” I say, my words sounding strangely slurred. His quiet cursing is the last thing I register.