Chapter 15 - Arianna
I wake up with a start, sucking air into my lungs when my neck is sliced by the sharp, discolored talons of the strange werewolf-like creature who's been chasing me for weeks.
Another cold sweat.
Another terrifying nightmare.
My hand flies to my throat as I scratch at my skin, my insides feeling so dry that my first instinct is to reach for the water bottle I keep on the nightstand. Without looking, I attempt to close my hand around the bottle when all I get is empty air.
That's when I remember I'm not in the guest bedroom, but in Tyler's bed after he carried me back from the woods.
I turn to the side, only to find the bed empty, Tyler's warmth still lingering on the covers on his side, his pillow freshly dented as if he left recently.
Letting out an unsteady breath, I'm relieved that I woke up in his bedroom, and there's still hope that we'll have that conversation he promised before I fell asleep.
Before I had another petrifying nightmare in which James shifted into a horrific creature—a mangled wolf that stood only on disjointed hind legs—and chased me through the woods.
I just don't get it. James was supposed to be a human—a shady one at that. I was under the impression that he was a construction worker when he came by the diner one day and asked for my number.
Flattered that I was getting the attention of a hardworking man, I'd ignored the red flags and entertained his calls, which led to him asking me out on a date.
The first two were simple and sweet, but the third one was alarming when, at the end of the night, James wanted to take me home.
I hadn't told him that I had a son waiting for me back home, and I wasn't prepared to let any stranger meet Noah. I said no, and that's when he became pushy, insisting that three dates earned him the right to take me home.
I ended things then, and didn't see him for months until I returned to Portland and found him haunting my nightmares.
James was a creep, but a werewolf? An odd one at that?
It's highly unlikely.
Perhaps it's just the mark he left on me, like a scar that made me swear off men for good, especially a human.
I let out another deep breath, but my throat still feels dry, and when I try calling out Tyler's name, a croaky groan escapes my parched lips instead.
Sighing, I decide to go get water myself, dragging my body out of bed reluctantly as I shrug off the weird nightmare.
I hadn't given death much thought before, until these damn nightmares started haunting me every night. Rolling my head on my shoulders and feeling out the creaks and ticks, I'm just thankful to still be alive.
In a body that was claimed by Tyler earlier…
A blush crawls over my face as the tingling sensations from our passionate tryst in the woods still linger, drawing a smile across my lips as I feel strengthened enough to get to my feet.
The nightmares don't matter, at least for now. With Tyler, I feel so protected that I know he won't let anything happen to me or our son.
I still need to figure out what the nightmares mean, if they mean anything at all.
Then, there's the part about Noah being his son that I've been hiding from him.
But I shouldn't jump the gun. At least, not until we've spoken.
I pad across the room, lifting out one of Tyler's robes from behind his door and lazily tying it, yawning as I step out of the bedroom. Nondescript chatter drifts through the hallway from the kitchen, and I frown, stopping at Noah's bedroom to see that the covers are thrown off and he's not in bed.
A proud smile lifts the corners of my mouth. Noah must have woken up for a late-night snack, and Tyler tended to his needs. I know this, even before I step foot into the kitchen, my smile broadening when I find the two of them at the table, sharing freshly made pancakes.
The sun is nowhere near rising, but they seem to be wide awake as they snack on the sweet treat and share a laugh that quickly fades when they notice me.
Tyler averts his eyes and clears his throat, while Noah grins at me.
“Look, Mama! Tyler makes pancakes for a snack!”
“I see so, Noah-kins…” I giggle as I approach my son, planting a kiss at the top of his head and stealing a glance at Tyler.
To my surprise, he doesn't look up, leading me to wonder if he's just feeling awkward now that Noah is awake.
Pulling my lips into a soft smile, I make my way toward the fridge to get water, passing Tyler and discreetly brushing my hand across his shoulders. Another surprise comes when he tenses like cold stone, the brisk touch hardly eliciting the rousing effect it usually has on my wolf.
Gasping in shock, I stare at the back of Tyler's head as I move toward the fridge, my heart sinking with each step. His sudden coldness is evident in the breath I let out, betraying the autumn air that shouldn't be icy.
What's going on?
Tyler barely looks at me, even when he stands up to take his plate to the sink. He clears his throat with more indifference as he turns to face me, but his eyes remain glued to the kitchen floor.
“I was thinking…” he begins, his voice stoic and void of all the kindness he's been showing me since I returned. “You should take a job at the pack center. It's what you wanted to do, right? I'll arrange it with Brynta. You can start as soon as possible.”
My jaw drops as I stare at him, bewildered by what I'm hearing.
Where is this coming from?
He was so adamant before that I didn't need to work at the center, and now he wants me to do just that…
My heart cracks in my chest, the sound rippling through my ears because I'm the only one who hears it, feels it, as realization dawns on me.
This is no coincidence.
The mask dropped, and Tyler reprised his role as the heartless villain whose only mission is to break me. Blinking at him as a plethora of mixed emotions rushes through me, my heart shatters, and I'm back at square one.
I was wrong. I could totally regret what happened last night if this is the result—waking up to Tyler's distinct coldness and feeling my heart sinking and slowly turning as hard as stone, like it's been for the past four years.
Memories of the way he rejected me in the past come crashing back as he casually strolls out of the kitchen, only exchanging a fist bump with Noah on his way out.
He might not have said a word, but his behavior says enough to let me know that he's been pretending all along. He got what he wanted, and now he's rejecting me again.
I'm only pulled out of the maze of regret when Noah calls out to me, his voice a faint sound until I'm snapped out of my daze.
I pull myself together only for his sake, the way I have been doing since even before he was born.
“Yes, Noah?”
“Sleep,” he yawns, and I nod slowly, zombified as I make my way toward him, lift him off the chair, and carry him to his bedroom.
My body becomes numb as I glance at Tyler's closed bedroom door. I've just been pushed out because of his inability to accept me as his mate, and now I have to live with the regret of ever letting my walls down in the first place.
I tuck Noah into bed, absentmindedly planting a kiss on his forehead and offering him a forced smile before dragging leaded feet toward the guest bedroom across the hall.
My broken heart sinks me to the floor the second I close the door behind me and feel the heavy weight of loneliness settle on my shoulders.
I worked hard to toughen up against the rejection I faced in the past, becoming strong when I built up the walls of defense around my heart.
In the blink of an eye, I'd become vulnerable and susceptible to heartbreak again, and that's why tears spill out, and I drop my head into my hands, sobbing with regret.
I should have known that Tyler couldn't be trusted! He already broke my heart once before; he has no remorse about doing it again.
I can't believe I allowed him to break my heart again!
Sobbing quietly so that neither he nor Noah hears me, I sniff and wipe at my tears, failing to rebuild my walls so soon. It's going to take time, so it's probably a good thing he's suggested I work at the center.
When I finally find the courage to lift my face, I spot the corner of the blue box peeking out from underneath the bed, frowning as I stare at it.
I'm pulled toward it as if an unspoken question has been answered, reminding me that it was my inner wolf who nudged me back to Portland. It was also my inner wolf who led me toward finding that box in my old home, and there's no coincidence about any of it.
I wipe my nose and sniff as I crawl forward, pulling the box out and placing it on my lap.
If Tyler doesn't want me, it's not the end of the world.
There's a purpose to all the pieces of this puzzle, and I strongly believe that another piece lies in this box.
I just know it, letting my intuition lead me as I lift the dusty lid to find a smaller jewelry box and a leather-bound journal inside.
Picking out the jewelry box, I crack open the lid to find a bright, polished gold necklace inside. I lift the chain, inspecting the sigil on the pendant. Though I've never seen anything like it before, my heart pounds with recognition, as if I know what it's supposed to symbolize.
Frowning, I drop the pendant into my palm when a quick pulse rushes through my arm like an electric shock.
I gasp when I feel connected to the piece of jewelry, motivated to keep searching for answers.
Clutching the necklace in a loose fist, I take out the journal and touch the sigil embossed into the leather cover.
The initials ‘A.B’ are pressed in, and I frown.
Controlling my breathing as my heart pounds from excitement and anticipation about seeing into someone’s thoughts other than mine in their current state, I turn the cover, opening to the first page.
The words “Golden Tree Sisters” are inked neatly in the middle, and my eyes flit to the necklace in my hand, the pendant dangling in front of my face, when I realize the intricate details of the sigil form roots of a tree.
The golden tree? What is that?
Was the owner of this journal part of a cult? I've never heard of the Golden Tree Sisters before, and have no idea what it means until I turn the next page, and gasp.
What I'm holding is no ordinary journal that maps out someone's daily routine.
This is a book of spells.
Magical spells with formulas penned down like recipes. My heart pounds as I discover a whole new world in the pages of the journal, finally landing on the part where the owner wrote about her daily life.
The first real journal entry is dated nearly fifty years ago, and describes the writer meeting a man whom she fell in love with while she was living an isolated life as a werewolf and a…
“Witch hybrid…?” I murmur in confusion.
Whoever this wolf was, she had an entirely different life before the one in the pack she joined as her beloved's mate.
She didn't always belong to a pack, but fell in love with someone and put her witch abilities in the past. It was a part of her that became fully hidden when she found out she was pregnant with her mate's child.
What's most shocking is reading about the abilities she had as a witch—potion brewing for healing purposes, energy channeling, and, most strikingly, foreseeing the future through visions.
A shocked gasp falls from my lips as my fingers become numb, forcing me to look up and stare at the window as the sun begins to greet the sky outside. The gentle rays whisper on the lace curtains, as if shedding light on my newfound discovery.
It's a lot to take in that a werewolf could possibly be mixed with a witch. I had no idea that they could exist, that witches and werewolves mated at all.
What's more is that I have no idea why the journal was in my cottage. Did it belong to whoever lived there before my parents? Did my parents even know about it?
Does it have anything to do with the strange nightmares I’ve been having and being guided to find the journal in the first place?
As I continue reading through the journal, the owner explains that she was a white witch whose abilities were only used for good. But she had to hide them, because the pack would never accept what they couldn't understand.
Taking a deep breath after what feels like a lifetime of learning more about the mysterious woman who only reveals her initials and makes no mention of her name or her mate's, I lift the necklace.
The gold catches the sun's gentle morning rays peeking through the holes in the lace, and I feel drawn toward the sigil that now appears like roots.
It feels like the most natural thing in the world to put the necklace around my neck, the sigil magically flashing with a golden glow as if it recognizes me.
Are those terrible dreams and my heightened intuition linked to whoever the owner of the journal was?
Am I like the woman, A.B.?
It seems highly unlikely, since her visions were described as occurring at any time of the day, not just dreams or nightmares while she was asleep.
I gulp hard as I replace the journal in the box and hide it underneath my bed, refusing to believe that it's even remotely possible that I'm a witch like the woman in the journal.
From what I've read, the woman sounds like she had the softest, warmest heart and loved her mate dearly.
My heart has turned cold again, and I'm nothing like her. It's just too much to consider right now, and tears roll down my cheeks as I think about my parents and miss the warmth of their arms.
It would have dampened the blow of getting my heart broken a second time, and I could have asked them about the journal and if they knew who it belonged to.
Still, it wouldn't make any sense for me to be like this woman. I have to consider that there's nothing special about me.
It's no wonder Tyler keeps rejecting our true mate bond.
I wipe my tears and decide that all I can do for now is build a life for Noah and me, as I have done up until now. In a month, he'll be four, and he'll want to know more about what being a werewolf means.
If that means forging a life for myself in Portland amongst the Moonshine Pack, then so be it. That's probably why Tyler suddenly wants me to take a job at the center, so I can be self-sufficient and forget that there's anything between us.
It's not the first time I’ve had to pick myself up again, and the question of my true identity is at the back of my mind, so I decide not to linger on it right now. I need to get out of this house.
A.B. might have been lucky in love, but I'm not.