Chapter 21
“Are you hiding something from me?” Evelyne whispered the next morning.
Kaldrek turned toward her, the faint shadows beneath his eyes betraying a restless night.
“Do you feel that I am?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said without hesitation. “Something feels different about you.” She leaned closer, lowering her voice. “You’ve always guarded your thoughts well, but your emotions have a way of slipping through our bond.”
A soft smile touched his mouth, but it didn’t reach his eyes. That was answer enough.
“What is it?” she pressed. “What are you keeping to yourself because you’re afraid of telling me?”
He was silent for a beat before drawing her in, one arm circling her as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
“Your perception continues to humble me,” he murmured. “And unsettle me.”
She rested her palm against his bare, inked chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath her fingers. The steady rise and fall she had come to know so well was off now. His heart no longer beat with its usual calm rhythm. It stumbled, surged, hesitated.
“Kaldrek,” she said quietly. “You promised me no more secrets.” Her voice lowered. “I can feel your fear.”
He breathed out sharply and rolled onto his back, eyes fixed on the ceiling of their shelter in Cindermoor as if it might offer him a kinder answer. “You’re right. I did promise.” His jaw hardened. “I only wanted to spare you more worry while your brother and your friend are both suffering.”
Evelyne leaned over, bracing her hands on either side of his shoulders. “You are what matters most to me.” A dangerous smile curved her lips. “So speak now, or I bite.”
That earned a low laugh. “Perhaps I’ll endure the punishment first.”
She swatted his shoulder. “Try me.”
“Come with me to Selene’s today,” he said after a moment. “I think it may help answer what you’re sensing.”
Her smile dimmed, just slightly. “You meant to see her again?”
“Yes.” He paused. “Why does that trouble you?”
“What?” Evelyne scoffed, far too quickly.
Kaldrek pushed himself upright and looked at her, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Ask it,” he said softly. “I can feel it turning in your mind.”
She groaned inwardly. This bond was intolerable.
“Fine.” Her eyes dropped to her hands. “Have you ever… been with her?”
His laughter came at once, warm and unrestrained. Evelyne buried her face in the pillow, mortified.
“No,” he said firmly. “Never.” He tipped her chin up. “Witches were never my preference.”
Relief swept through her before she could hide it.
“But southern-born noblewomen…” He leaned in, his voice turning into a low, dangerous murmur. “I never imagined one would undo me so thoroughly.”
Evelyne’s breath caught as his mouth brushed the sensitive skin beneath her ear. He kissed her slowly, as though savoring every reaction. When she tilted her head to give him better access, he rewarded her with a trail of heated kisses down her neck.
“Kaldrek…” she breathed.
His hand slid possessively over her side, and his teeth grazed her shoulder just enough to pull a gasp from her.
“Mine,” he murmured against her skin. “My defiant, beautiful mate.”
She turned quickly, cupped his face, and drew him into a kiss that shattered what little restraint remained. This moment was hers. The locked door. The quiet. The certainty that no one would interrupt what she had wanted for far too long.
He let her take the lead, meeting her with a hunger that sent her pulse racing.
His hand tangled in her hair, drawing her closer as the bond between them thrummed.
The world narrowed to heat, breath, and the way he looked at her, as though she were the only truth worth knowing.
If this was temptation, Evelyne had no wish to resist it.
“Yes,” she breathed against his mouth. “I am yours.”
Something in him gave way.
Kaldrek answered with a low, broken sound as her touch grew bolder, sure and unafraid. He pressed closer, as though even that nearness no longer satisfied him. His kiss turned rougher, more demanding, and whatever control he had clung to began to fray beneath her hands.
“You have no idea what you do to me,” he rasped.
Then he moved, rolling her beneath him and caging her there as though the world might steal her away if he loosened his hold.
His hands roamed with intent, his mouth following wherever her breath caught, wherever she yielded beneath his touch.
Evelyne arched into him, helpless to stop the sounds that slipped free.
His scent, his warmth, the unbearable certainty of him surrounded her until the rest of the world fell away.
He drew it out just long enough to leave her on the edge before he claimed her completely.
The moment stole the breath from her lungs.
After that, there was only heat and motion, kisses and gasps, the bond between them thrumming so loudly she could almost believe it filled the room.
She cried his name like both plea and promise, and he answered with a raw sound that shivered through her.
“Perfect,” he murmured against her skin, the word torn from him. “You feel so damn perfect.”
When release finally shattered her, it came like a wave she couldn’t outrun.
She dug her nails into his skin, body trembling as pleasure washed through her, leaving her breathless and undone.
Kaldrek followed moments later, collapsing over her, his weight heavy and protective, his breath hot against her neck.
And beneath it all was the deep drum of his heart.
He had not revealed the truth, but neither had he lied. He would take her to the witch, and for now, she knew that was the most he could give.
***
Evelyne lingered by the window while Selene pulled a few worn volumes from a shelf set deep into the wall.
Candlelight burned low, and as night settled fully around the shop, shadows stretched long across the floor and the room grew quieter still.
Kaldrek stood near the hearth with his arms crossed, his posture too measured to be ease.
Evelyne had come to know that look well. It was restraint.
“This isn’t about Cillian,” Kaldrek said at last.
Selene paused and turned, one brow lifting. “No,” she said calmly. “It isn’t.”
Kaldrek held her gaze. “I believe I need your help. But not for my pack. For myself.”
Selene studied him for a long moment, then gave a single nod. “Sit.”
He did.
“You feel it now,” Selene said. “The pressure of your power beneath your skin.”
Evelyne’s eyes widened. Part of her was startled by the words, yet another part was not surprised at all.
“Yes,” Kaldrek said quietly. “I first felt it when Cillian used his magic to heal me. It was as if something inside me answered the call.” His mouth hardened. “I do not know what to do with it.”
Guilt stirred low in Evelyne’s chest. He had kept this from her because he knew what it would do to her thoughts. She understood why. After everything with Alaric, after the nightmares she had already confessed, this might have sent her over the edge if Alaric had not finally begun to improve.
“That is because witch magic does not exist in isolation,” Selene replied. “We do not create it. We guide it.” She glanced briefly toward Evelyne before continuing. “Witches must draw from a source, something older than ourselves.”
“Like the elements of nature?” Evelyne asked.
“Often,” Selene said. “Stone. Water. Roots. Flame.” Her fingers brushed the rim of a shallow bowl near the hearth, where clear water caught the firelight.
“In the southern territories, I suspect many covens once drew from the Solwyn Tree itself, though that history is still new to me, if I am honest. It was shared and balanced.”
“And blood?” Kaldrek asked.
Selene’s expression cooled at once. “Blood, no. Blood is not a source. It is a shortcut to immense power, and it always demands sacrifice to magnify itself. That is why blood magic consumes so completely.”
Evelyne could feel the fear beneath Selene’s calm as she spoke of it, the old horror still living in her voice. It was the kind of magic Evelyne prayed each night would never again rise in her lifetime or anyone else’s.
Kaldrek nodded once, his brow drawing in as he tried to piece it all together. “But Cillian does not need to draw from a source. He simply summons it.”
"That is true," Selene said. "He is not descended from witches in the usual sense. I believe the power is part of him. Or perhaps part of the prophecy itself. That is why it stirred what lay dormant in you."
“Because he is a source,” Kaldrek said, half to himself. “And I am part witch.”
“Yes. His power rises from within, though it may also answer the greater force that first gave birth to it, or so I suspect.”
“And you knew,” he said, his voice quiet. “About me?”
“I suspected,” Selene admitted. “But it was buried too deeply for me to sense clearly.” Her gaze relaxed. “Until recently. Lately, I have felt it thrumming beneath your skin.” She paused, then asked more carefully, “Kaldrek, from whom did you inherit your witch blood?”
Evelyne’s heart sank. She knew what it took for him to speak that truth aloud.
Kaldrek let out a slow breath. “Vaelora was my mother.”
Selene stiffened.
“But I do not crave power the way she did. I have no hunger for darkness, and I never will.”
“I know,” Selene said without hesitation.
“Your blood does not decide how you wield your magic. And you, Kaldrek, are not her.” She reached for the books and placed them in his hands.
“If you choose to practice, begin small. Find something that feels pure, and draw only what you know you can release.”
“And my shifter nature?” he asked. “I am not built as witches are.”
“That is the risk,” Selene said plainly. “Your wolf may resist balance. Or it may anchor it. Cillian carries both, but not without strain, as you have seen.”
“Could you show him?” Evelyne interrupted. “Please. Just once. He needs to see what good his magic can do. And I need to know how to help if he falters.”
Selene studied her for a moment, then inclined her head. “Very well. Briefly.”
She knelt beside the hearth and dipped her fingers into the bowl of water. The room did not brighten. Nothing dramatic occurred. Instead, the surface of the water rippled, responding as though a heartbeat pulsed beneath it. A slow, steady rhythm spread outward from Selene’s touch.
“This is how it should feel,” Selene said in a gentle voice. “Not forced or taken.”
Kaldrek watched intently as the water rose no more than a breath above the bowl, then settled again, unchanged.
“Notice what it does not do,” Selene added. “It does not harm. It does not drain me. It answers because it trusts the restraint. It lets me guide it.”
She withdrew her hand, the water stilling at once.
“That,” she said, turning back to Kaldrek, “is where you must begin. Once you master the sources, you can begin spells.”
Evelyne stepped to Kaldrek’s side and laid a hand against his arm. He covered it at once, grounding himself in the comfort of her touch.
She turned her head to study him, taking in the careful calm he wore like armor. “Would you like to try?” she asked softly.
He hesitated only a moment before nodding.
Selene stepped aside and motioned toward the bowl. “Water is forgiving,” she said. “Begin there. Do not pull. Only listen.”
Kaldrek crouched beside the hearth and fixed his eyes on the water, his breathing slowing as he followed Selene’s instruction.
“I can feel it,” he murmured. “The thrum inside me is reaching outward.”
“Good,” Selene said. “Acknowledge it. Then listen.”
Kaldrek closed his eyes for a moment. The room fell quiet around him, broken only by the low crackle of the fire. When he opened them again, the water trembled. Barely. A small ripple moved across the surface, then faded.
That was all.
Kaldrek let out a breath and Selene smiled.
“That is a very good beginning.”
“It did not do much,” he said.
“It did exactly enough,” she replied. “You do not yet know what will answer you most readily. Water may not be your element. It may be stone. Wind. Earth. That will reveal itself in time.”
Evelyne turned to him, pride warming her chest as she squeezed his arm. “I’m proud of you,” she said.
He met her eyes, and something in his expression eased. “I’m sorry I did not tell you sooner. I did not want you to think I was keeping something from you.”
“I know,” she said. “And thank you for letting me see.”
Kaldrek straightened, though the gravity returned to his face almost at once. “Selene,” he murmured, “tell me something. Truly.” He paused. “How does one resist the pull of dark magic?”
Selene did not answer immediately. She only studied him with the same calm she had carried all evening.
“At its heart, dark magic does not take without permission,” she said at last. “It tempts those who feel uncertain. Powerless. But it does not choose for you.”
Kaldrek frowned. “You are certain?”
“I am,” she said without hesitation. “You are good. Grounded. You seek balance, not control.” Her words came with more care. “Do not mistake awareness for corruption.”
Relief loosened something deep inside Evelyne. She had known those things already, yet hearing them from Selene steadied her in a way her own certainty could not.
“You will not desire it of your own will,” Selene continued. “Not unless you choose that path. And I do not believe you ever would.”