Chapter 13 - Selene
It’s been two days since Ronan came home with a face like thunder and didn’t say a single word to me all evening, just locked himself in his office.
I knew something must have happened the moment he walked in.
I’ve come to realize that he’s not the kind of man who slams doors or raises his voice.
Instead, he goes quiet, deadly quiet. And I think that might be worse, because the quiet felt infinitely more dangerous than many things he could have done, and the whole cabin seemed to shrink around him.
I stayed out of his way and retreated to my room with a book, and then lay there for hours listening to him moving around in the dark all night.
When Cole showed up early the next morning, I began to fill in the gaps.
I was still in my room, but cracked the door and heard him telling Ronan that one of their young wolves, Davey, who I knew had gone missing recently, had been picked up in a small boat just off the shore.
Ronan seemed relieved but not surprised.
When he and Cole moved out onto the porch to talk, I followed through into the kitchen so I could listen, because I’m a witch, not a saint.
Apparently, Davey had been grabbed on one of their raids on the island.
The brothers returned him unharmed, and there was talk of wanting peace—it sounds clear that they know who Ronan and Ryder are now.
And Ronan, by the sound of it, fired back a reply that consisted of two words, neither of which was pleasant.
Cole left, and so did Ronan, without even saying goodbye.
But the tension remained in the air even after he left.
I spent the rest of the day dwelling on it and thinking far too much about Ronan.
Those men, the brothers, who he’s spent a lifetime hating, want peace, and he’s spat on it.
Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised, but I guess I did wonder if there was an off-ramp for him.
Perhaps if they knew about Ronan and Ryder, they could build bridges instead of going to war.
Maybe they would, but he clearly wants his war.
Something’s changed in him these last couple of days, and it’s not just the simmering tension and temper.
His wolf is noticeably closer to the surface than I’ve ever seen it.
I catch it in his eyes when he looks at me, the telltale gold flicker and surge of power.
The way he watches me lacks the careful consideration or amusement that was there before.
It’s hungry. Like he knows what I taste like, and wants more.
The worst part is probably how much I want him to do it.
It’s the third morning since the mood shifted, and he finds me in the kitchen, which feels like a change, because he’s been gone most mornings before I get up or disappeared soon after. I tense before I can stop myself, and he notices. Of course he notices, because he notices everything.
“You can contact your coven,” he says.
I blink at him, genuinely surprised. “What?”
“Your coven. You can contact them. I’ve set up a tablet with their email.” He leans against the counter and folds his arms, and I hate that my eyes drop straight to them. “Emma says you miss them, which is obvious, of course. You want to let them know you’re safe.”
“And you suddenly care about this because…?” I say before I can help it.
He doesn’t answer. I just watch as his jaw works, like the question is an inconvenience he doesn’t want to dignify. “I’ve had a lot on my mind. I wasn’t fit to be around the other night,” he says finally, looking at the window, not me. “I’m not trying to scare you. That’s all.”
It’s not an apology, and I wasn’t expecting one, but it’s the closest thing I’ve had from him, for any of this. And I don’t quite know what to do with it, so I just stare at him, dumbstruck.
“There is a condition,” he adds, because of course there is.
I roll my eyes. “There always is.”
“You tell them you’re safe, and that you’re staying to help the settlement of your own free will,” he says, his eyes holding mine.
“You can tell them I took you. You can tell them we fucked if you want. But make sure you also tell them that if any witch comes here or tries to rescue you, we will defend ourselves, and they will get hurt. Now, I don’t want that, because I don’t want you upset, so tell them not to even try. For your own sake.”
I should tell him to get lost on principle; I feel the rage bubbling up at the threat to my coven. But he’s offering me the one thing I’ve wanted since I woke up here, a chance to speak to them, and we both know I’m not going to throw it in his face.
“Fine,” I say.
“No ‘thank you’?” he asks, a glimmer of amusement dancing in his eyes.
I lift my chin slightly. “I’m not going to thank you for the bare minimum.”
He nods, and I know he was expecting no less. I see something ease in his shoulders, and the wolf flickers gold in his eyes again, brighter this time. He pushes off the counter and crosses the kitchen toward me before I can even think to move.
He doesn’t touch me. He just steps far too close, and I have to tip my head back to look him in the eye. I can practically feel the heat rolling off him, and considering I know just how hot he can burn, my body seems to light up for him.
“You keep doing that,” he says, voice low.
“Doing what?” I reply, but my voice comes out far too small for the space.
“Stepping back from me, as if it would help.” His eyes drop to my mouth and stay there, his wolf right there, hungry and yet almost patient. “I can hear what your body does when I’m near. I can smell it, Selene. You can fight it as hard as you like, but you won’t win.”
My heart is beating so hard that I know he can hear it loud and clear, and the worst thing is, I only want to move closer. I think about his hands and mouth, the way they made me come apart for him like I’d been waiting my whole life for him to touch me.
But then I think about how close I came to just opening the door to the bond magic and the war he would take to the island. He still might without my help, but at least I wouldn’t have all that blood on my hands.
“Then it’s a good thing I’m stubborn,” I manage.
He huffs something that sounds almost like a laugh, but it barely breaks through the tension, and for a moment, neither of us moves. Then he steps back, slowly, as though it’s a decision he just made and not a given. He walks to the island and pulls a tablet out of the bag.
“It’s already programmed with their email, and there’s nothing else on here that will help you,” he says, handing it to me.
“I get it, okay,” I say, taking it with a hand that annoyingly refuses not to tremble.
I’m excited to talk to my coven, but my mind is also racing with another possibility. Ronan has told me all about the island—all those games of chess have given me plenty of information about the three brothers and their mates, including a witch named Emily.
I’m going to have a straight line to my coven, who can reach any other witch with enough time. I have a decision to make. I won’t ask them to risk themselves, but perhaps there’s another way. A way to try to calm this situation down and offer this settlement a different path.
He leaves me to it, and for a while I just sit at the kitchen island with the tablet, my fingers hovering over the keypad.
Ronan thinks he’s giving me a way to connect with my coven, but he’s handed me something even more valuable: a straight line to my coven and, through them, to this Emily, if I ask for it.
Ronan could read every word I send if he wanted to, but I’m not sure he will.
I think he imagines the only danger is witches at his door trying to get me back, but that’s not my plan.
I won’t ask my own coven to risk themselves. But there might be another way to starve this war before it starts, and I’d be a fool not to try.
So I open the email, and I write plainly, because I’m too tired and too far from home to be clever about it.
Maren, it’s me, Selene. I’m alive, and I’m safe.
I’m in the settlement by the coast—the rogues with Alpha Ronan. I’m staying for now, of my own choice, to help here. The people are good, and I’m okay.
Please don’t come for me, and don’t send anyone. I mean it. If a witch comes here to try and get me, it will end in bloodshed, and I couldn’t live with that. I really am safe, and I can talk to you now by email, so please don’t worry for now.
One last thing, and it’s really important.
I need you to get word to a witch on the island, a woman called Emily, mated to one of the alphas.
Tell her a bond witch needs to talk to her about stopping a war before it starts.
Give her this address and ask her to write to me via your email address so it looks like it’s coming from the coven. S
I read it back once and send it before I lose my nerve, then sit there with my heart racing while the screen does nothing at all.
Maren writes back within an hour. I can picture her at the old kitchen table, reading it three times over with her glasses at the end of her nose.
Selene, we’ve all been so worried. I’m so happy to read your email and know you’re safe. We have searched everywhere for you, and we’d never give up.
I won’t come, for now, even though it goes against everything in me to leave you there. You were always far too brave for your own good.
I’ll find the witch, Emily. The covens still talk across the water, and a bond witch talking about war isn’t something anyone ignores. But be careful what you’re setting loose, my love. And be careful of this alpha. Maren
I find tears rolling down my cheeks before I even realize I’m crying, and I let myself have it for about thirty seconds before I dry my eyes and close the tablet.
I know the risk I’m taking, but all of that is forgotten for a minute as I let a feeling of calm wash over me at hearing back from Maren.
The email from Emily comes later that afternoon.
I’m in my room pretending to read when the tablet chimes. The sender is from an email address attached to my coven, but the name is wrong, and I know exactly who it is before I open it.
I’m told a bond witch wants to speak with me. Are you safe?
I answer fast, before I can talk myself out of it.
I’m with the alpha, Ronan, who took me from my coven and wants to use my bond magic against the island. I believe the alphas know he is their half-brother now, and I’m reaching out because he’s not the villain you might think he is…
I tell her about the settlement, the clinic, and the children at the school.
The way he built this place with his brother was because they understood what it was to have nothing.
That Ronan is a strong and good alpha who took in the people no one else wanted and helped them thrive.
When she replies, I sigh with relief that she appears to be listening.
That is not the warlord we’re imagining.
No, he’s not, I write. But he’s dangerous, and hurt, and I won’t pretend otherwise, and he won’t be talked out of this.
Two days ago, your husbands offered him peace, and he threw it straight back at them.
But he isn’t evil, Emily. He’s hurting, and he doesn’t know how to want anything else.
If you’d seen where they grew up…what Ralph did to their mother.
I’m asking you to help me keep your mates from escalating this because they think he’s evil. If they do, he’ll get his war, and people will die on both sides.
The reply takes a long time.
I’ll speak to Ava and Serena. We hear more than our mates think, and we hold more sway than they’d ever admit. I’m promising you nothing. But a settlement and children are not what they thought was attacking. I will write either way again. Emily
Then she’s gone. I almost reply, but I know there’s no point; either the alphas will listen or they won’t.
Down the hall, I can hear him moving, restless, his wolf riding too near the surface to let him do anything but pace, and work, and think too much.
I think about the way he looked at me in the kitchen this morning, hungry and certain.
I think about how badly I want to cross that hall and go to him—and how every piece of myself I give him only brings him closer to war.
I slide the tablet under my pillow, and I force myself to remember whose side I’m on.