Chapter 6
6
A manda lurked outside the cabin, using her magic to see through the walls. She felt a pang of guilt, but she wasn’t ready to face Jackson. Not yet. She’d sensed his overwhelming emotions on the hilltop, and it wasn’t over the pending threat of fake wolves sent by some witch or group of witches that had it in for him.
Or the fact they could all of a sudden communicate with their minds, though she did have some understanding as to why that was troublesome. However, she had a theory.
The protection and connection spell. It bound them in a weird way. That had to be it.
He pounded the steaks he’d pulled from the fridge before rubbing seasoning on the meat. His aura filled with red and orange swirls, but it was the pale blue, light green, and lighter red shifting just inside the rainbow that caught her attention.
This combination usually indicated a fiercely protective and caring mindset. The spell could be increasing his need to guard his homestead, but the way his aura danced, he was trying to shield or hide from something he felt a deep affection for, and it wasn’t a thing.
It was a person.
Maybe his mother. Or siblings. They might not be present physically, but the news of his new co-star, and what it brought up, had to affect them.
The only problem with that idea was she felt connected to his aura in a way she couldn’t explain. It was as if hers was trying to communicate with his. To become one. But couldn’t. It was the strangest thing. Witches didn’t form bonds with their auras that way.
He lifted the cutting board off the counter and headed toward the back patio.
Time to face the music.
He barely glanced in her direction as he opened the grill. “I put potato wedges in the oven. Screw salad.”
“Carbs work for me.” She fiddled with her hair, twisting the strands between her fingers. “I tried to pick up where the black magic came from, but with flying ravens, it was hard to follow anything, and I didn’t want to risk my new fairy dust and me being seen.”
“There was no scent to track either.”
The steaks sizzled against the hot metal grate, reminding her stomach that she hadn’t eaten since breakfast.
“When my father arrives tomorrow, he should have some answers.”
“Perhaps, but we have some things we need to discuss and we might not want to tell your dad.” Jackson sipped a beer while he tended to the steaks.
She opted to sit at the picnic table, staring at the low orange and yellow flames dancing toward the sky in the center of the firepit. The smell of fresh, searing meat tickled her nose. “Like what? My father’s the most powerful wizard. If anyone is going to understand this, he will.”
“Trask is more powerful and I know I said I trusted your dad, but I think it’s best if we keep this to Trask.”
She snapped her head in Jackson’s direction. “Are you suggesting my father has anything to do with this?”
He shook his head as he stabbed one of the steaks with a long fork. “No. My instincts tell me your dad is a good man. But only a powerful witch could have turned three sparrows into wolves that quickly.”
“With that logic, you should be concerned about Trask.”
“Perhaps.” Jackson nodded. “But Trask is also a hunted creature. You and your father are not.” He held up his hand. “I get that being a royal witch has its problems. And some believe you come from darkness, but no one has put a bounty on your head like they have the wolfairies or Trask.”
“That’s true. But any powerful witch could either shapeshift or shapeshift other creatures. It takes years of practice. Hell, I could do it given the right spells and potions.” She bit down on the inside of her mouth. Her magic might be strong, but she couldn’t construct that spell in an afternoon.
He turned and arched a brow. “Isn’t it against your witch code to manipulate nature that way and use it to harm others?”
“Yes, but it doesn’t mean I don’t have the chops to do it. I’ve been honing my craft for years, and while I’m no high priestess, I have the knowledge. Besides, my bloodline comes from some of the most powerful magic in the witch community. Technically, I come from the same lines as Toldar, only he’s part fairy.”
“You’re making my point for me because you seem to be a little fairy too.” He closed the top of the grill. “Anyone in the royal family probably has the power to construct such a spell.”
“But a spell like that would take a while to perfect unless you were a high priestess or a wizard.”
“I’m well aware.”
“For someone who says they don’t spend time with witches, you certainly know a lot about us.” She scowled. It could take multiple tries to get a spell of that magnitude right. It would cause the death of many innocent creatures, something that was forbidden unless under dire circumstances. Whoever had turned the birds had been practicing black magic for years, and anyone who cared to research the royal family would know that many of their ancestors were masters of dark spells and had deep ties to the underground.
Today, those descendants have been outcast. Anyone who dared dabble in the obscure shadows of evil would be stripped of their witchcraft.
“I learned a lot during my father’s trial. I’d skip school and sneak into the back of the courtroom. My father’s lawyers tried to make all of you look evil.”
“We’re not bad witches, and no one I know would do this.”
He let out a sarcastic laugh, shaking his head. “You can believe that all you want, but someone close to one of us is responsible for what just happened, though I don’t have any witches I’m close to, for obvious reasons.”
“Your agent’s assistant is a witch, as are half a dozen people in our producer’s office. I doubt Trask would ever use black magic in such a way, but he is a master.”
He held up his hand. “I know, and I suppose it could be any one of them, except Trask. But whoever it is, they have a motive for wanting me out of the picture.”
“Maybe it’s one of your exes. Wasn’t it Heidi who threatened to castrate you?”
“Among other things, but Heidi hates witches.”
When he opened the lid to the grill, smoke billowed out. The rich scent of a well-seasoned cow drifted in the breeze, making her stomach growl. Meat had always been her go-to food.
“Doesn’t mean she wouldn’t hire one to destroy you,” Amanda said.
“She’s got no reason.”
“She said you were cruel and you cheated on her,” Amanda said. “A woman scorned will do crazy things.”
“I never cheated on anyone.” He tossed the steaks on the tray, setting them down in front of her.
“But there were pictures of you with another?—”
“Those pictures were of me and an old friend who was going through a hard time. The press went nuts, and no matter what I said, Heidi didn’t believe me.”
“So why didn’t your friend come forward and say nothing happened?”
“I don’t know, and she and I are no longer friends.” He scratched the back of his head, staring off into the woods. “Would you like some more wine? I’ll go get it along with the potatoes.” His voice inflection turned flat, and his normally bright eyes dulled.
Before she could comment, he disappeared into the cabin. She remembered his breakup with the spoiled actress, who discussed the supposed affair on every talk show she could get herself on. Jackson, on the other hand, continued to be his recluse self, ignoring the press. Not once did he make a statement until Heidi had made a snide comment about his family, bringing up his father and implying that he wasn’t any different. But even then, Jackson not once denied the affair. He only asked that the press leave his siblings and mother alone.
She put a piece of meat on each plate, glancing toward the cabin. He had a reputation for being moody and a ladies’ man, but something about the way he ignored the negative talk, focused on the acting, and the way he treated her with dignity and respect, led her to believe that he’d been misjudged and misunderstood his entire life.
He returned with an opened bottle of wine, glasses, and potatoes that smelled like a little piece of carb heaven.
“My agent would tell me this kind of food would go straight to my hips and make me yesterday’s news faster than a speeding bullet,” she said.
He sat down at the table across from her and smiled. “You’ve got nice hips, but they could use a little more curve.” He raised his glass. “To your hips.”
“That’s the weirdest toast ever.”
He shrugged. “Kind of goes along with the day.”
“Can I ask you something?” She glided the sharp knife through the steak, blood oozing out of the tender piece of meat. Her taste buds exploded in anticipation.
An owl hooted in the background, only adding to the quaint ambiance.
“Go for it.”
“Why aren’t you and that woman you were accused of having an affair with no longer friends?”
“I’m not exactly sure, but I suspect it concerns her husband. He knew we never had a thing for each other, but all the press caused an issue in their relationship, something I never wanted for them.”
“So they’re still married?”
“They weren’t married when the bogus story broke. They actually just got married about a month ago.”
Mostly, Jackson seemed to have a laid-back but confident attitude toward life, but she could tell all the hard knocks that had been caused by being the son of Reed Ledger, murderer of Prince Armand Windsor, chipped away at his core personality. She closed her eyes for a moment, focusing on his energy, pulling it close, inside the bubble of protection.
“What the hell are you doing? And don’t tell me nothing because I can feel you.”
She peeked open one eye. “How is that possible?” she projected her thoughts.
“You don’t want to know. Just like you don’t really want to know how it’s possible for us to communicate like this.”
“Actually, I do.”
“Ever hear of imprinting and fated mates?” he asked.
“Isn’t that a wolf and a wolfairy thing?” She closed her eyes and fixated on his inner aura, discerning a blocked emotional sensor. Some people were good at burying their deepest, darkest feelings in their inner core. It was a way of protecting them from the outside world. She suspected Jackson was doing his best to survive in a world that saw him as only one thing. The problem was that Jackson wasn’t stifling this sensor. It was being manipulated. Twisted. Plugged.
A dark force inside him choked tiny pieces of the man he should be. The man he was supposed to be and whatever that was, it chipped at her core as well.
She swallowed as an evil force, not of his making, seeped from his pores, oozing through his outer aura and tangling with hers.
This shouldn’t be possible.
A burning freeze sheathed over her skin. She gasped, opening her eyes, holding her pale arms out to the sides.
“What the fuck?” Jackson knocked over his glass as he leaped across the table.
Her body shivered as her heartbeat slowed from the cold darkness traveling through her bloodstream.
“What’s wrong?” Jackson’s touch only made the pain in her muscles intensify.
Unable to move her stiff body or speak, all she could do was stare at him with pleading eyes, hoping he’d somehow understand that she needed her father.
Or Trask.
Now.
Or she’d die.
Every time Jackson touched Amanda’s frozen skin, her eyes rolled to the back of her head. “What’s wrong?”
A faint moan escaped her lips.
Her body shivered, and her breath came out in a puffy cloud as if it were the middle of winter in Alaska, not summer in Upstate New York.
Her eyes shifted, rolling left and right before turning white.
He pulled his cell from his back pocket and found Trask’s contact information. It rang three times. “Come on. Pick up the fucking phone.”
“This better be good,” Trask said. “My little one just went down and I was having a romantic moment with my wife.”
“It’s Amanda. I don’t know what happened, but we were having dinner, and she closed her eyes and then froze. I mean literally froze. Her skin is white and cold to the touch. Her limbs are stiff, and she can’t talk.” He stopped talking to take a breath. “Her breathing is shallow and?—”
“What were you doing before she froze?”
“Projecting with each other,” Jackson admitted.
“You mated?” Trask asked.
“No. But I think I imprinted on her.” He held Amanda close to his chest. The chill coming off her body worsened.
“You think? I’m sorry. Either you did or you didn’t. There is no in between.”
“It’s hard to explain. But when she cast the protection spell, it was like a ceiling was lifted, and a connection that was already there strengthened. It was familiar, but it was like it had never had the chance to complete.”
“That sounds like more black magic,” Trask said. “I need you to listen to me and do exactly as I say, got it?”
“Okay.” Jackson swallowed, shaking out his hands.
“She needs your werewolf heat, but since I believe you’re the source of the spell?—”
“What?”
“I’ll explain that part later, but for now I need you to hold her and let your heat keep her warm. Tell me where you are. I’ll get ahold of her father and we’ll be there as soon as possible.”
“I’ll text you the address now.” He lifted the phone, dropping it once before sending the information.
“She’s going to act as if she’s in a lot of pain at your touch, but no matter what, don’t let go.”
“What about putting her near a fire?”
“That will help, but your werewolf heat is better than anything. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
Jackson was about to ask how the hell he would do that, considering it was at least an hour’s drive, but then Trask could do things that no other wizard could. He tapped the phone, ending the call. Scooping her in his arms, he sat down in front of the fire, holding her tight, trying to absorb all the coldness her body projected. He’d seen some pretty weird stuff in his day, but never had he seen anything like this.
“Hold on, sweetheart, help is on the way.” His lips instantly chapped as he kissed her temple, but he wasn’t going to let that stop him. He kissed more of her exposed skin, the heat from his body beading across her skin.
A slight moan trickled out of her mouth as her once-frozen neck bent slightly, her head resting on his shoulder. In werewolf form, he rarely felt cold. In human form, he could sense cold, but never felt it like humans.
Right now, he understood what it was like to be left outside naked in a snowstorm.
A large white owl flying low caught Jackson’s attention. It landed on the ground near his feet, its head twisting almost all the way around. The owl opened its wings wide, flapping wildly as it made a horrific noise.
Jackson stood, holding Amanda, her body slowly defrosting.
The owl morphed, growing larger.
Taking a step back, Jackson prepared to run, but the owl stretched into a human form.
Trask.
“Jesus, you scared me,” Jackson croaked out. “How is it possible for you to shapeshift, when it’s morally corrupt for any other witch to do it?”
“Because I’m a wizard fairy. And because I used black magic.” He arched a brow. “I figured it was necessary that I get here quickly and looking at her, I’d say she’s knocking on death’s door.” He waved his hand toward the air. “Her father will be here in an hour. I granted him permission to use black magic as well.”
“You can do that?”
“Yes and no,” Trask said. “Sometimes the only way to fight evil is with evil. Now hold her tight. What I’m about to do is going to hurt.”
“Me? Or her?” Jackson did as instructed.
“Unfortunately, both of you, but it’s necessary.” Trask pulled out a vial from his pocket. “This is going to burn from the inside out. No matter how much it hurts or how much she cries out, don’t let go and whatever you do, don’t shift to a wolf.”
Jackson nodded, clenching his teeth as Trask sprinkled the hot liquid over their bodies. His muscles ignited, and blisters formed on his skin and Amanda’s. Her fingers dug into his back, tearing his skin. He couldn’t care less. He was only grateful she could move again. A sharp, stabbing pain pelted his head. He fought the urge to toss her off his lap, shift, and run until the pain subsided. A deep howl vibrated in his throat. His skin grew dark with wolf hair, but he continued to force his wolf-self to remain inside.
Amanda’s body bucked and jerked in his arms, her fists coming down hard on his chest. A thick black smoke lifted from their bodies, collecting in an angry swirl over their heads, followed by massive amounts of purple and blue fairy dust.
Trask jerked his head back and stared at Jackson. “She’s quite the fairy, isn’t she?”
“She’s been making more and more of this stuff as time passes.”
“Out of the flesh, into the fire,” Trask said, waving his hands around the ball of smoke. “No more shall you haunt the soul of this creature. Be gone with the final shiver of this seizure.”
Every muscle in Jackson’s body cramped. Holding on to Amanda as her body quivered, he tried to control the convulsions tearing through his system. The black smoke hovered over him, occasionally touching his skin, causing a kind of agony that could only be described as his flesh being ripped apart into tiny pieces.
Trask continued to wave his hands around the thick smoke until he’d collected it all and smashed it into the firepit. Flames roared a good twenty feet into the sky.
Jackson no longer felt pain, but he could barely keep his eyes open. His strength ripped from him, leaving him as helpless as a newborn pup.
His arms were still around Amanda, and he let his head drop against hers. A healing warmth blanketed his skin. It prickled like tiny bubbles gliding off his body in a bath.
“What…” Jackson’s throat cracked with dryness. He licked his lips. “What was that?”
“Rest,” Trask said. “Her fairy dust will help. Her father will be here soon. I have to get back to the farm once he gets here, but I’ll be in touch.”
Jackson didn’t have the energy to fight the need to sleep. He let it come to him as he inhaled the sweet smell of his soulmate’s strawberry and coconut scent.
He sucked in a gasp, trying to blink his eyes open. He’d imprinted on a mate. And not just any mate.
Lady Amanda Windsor was his destiny.
Oh, the irony.