Chapter 7
Elodie
Itook the coward’s way out, not looking at him as I delivered the death blow.
The death of his hopes and dreams so I could keep mine. I clung to them like a life raft, and I wasn’t strong enough to stop.
It was cowardly because I knew in my bones that he was right. If he was truly my fated mate, if we let the connection grow… it was ordained by the Goddess and could only be a gift. Blessed.
But it also meant that the life I was living wasn’t mine. And that was too painful to consider.
So I took the dagger from my own throat and held it to his instead. And he let me, because he may have been the enemy, but he was also an honorable man.
Any other male would have forced the issue, yet he didn’t. He wanted to know me, not force me.
Why did that hurt worse? If he’d tried to push the bond on me, I could have hated him. Properly hated him. But instead, I was the dick causing us both pain.
Refusing our destinies.
But I was so fucking scared to consider any other option. And a warrior couldn’t afford to be scared.
He parked the truck in front of the loveliest little stone home I’d ever seen.
The sharply peaked roof was reddish brown and decorated with several small dormer windows.
The colors matched the trailing ivy that climbed the stone, a red-green variety that radiated fall coziness.
It was straight out of a fairy tale, but hopefully this wasn’t the kind with a witch and stewpot inside, ready to eat us.
I stepped out of the truck, too chickenshit to look back at him and see his expression after what I’d just said. I heard paper crinkling as he walked up, pulling the receipt out of his pocket to show the gnome.
“What should I expect?” I asked, keeping my tone intentionally neutral and professional.
“I’ve only met him twice in passing, and he’s stubborn and grizzled, but seems to be more bark than bite. He lives alone, as far as I know, and gnomes aren’t fond of strangers, but they won’t start a fight without a reason.”
“Oh.” I was a little disappointed. It might be nice to work out some of my feelings on a feisty opponent.
Maybe Galyna would be up for a good, hard sparring session when we got back.
I trailed behind Valens up the cobblestone walk, letting him take the lead since he knew Sandrine. I skimmed over the surroundings a second time, looking for any signs of traps, trip wires, or the like, but found nothing.
He raised a fist to knock, but the door swung open on silent hinges under the first strike.
Valens froze, calling out from the doorstep, “Sandrine?”
There was no response.
I stepped up next to him, peering around the dim, empty interior. Everywhere I looked was chaos.
“Is he usually this messy?” I asked, spying a whole bag of flour upside down on the kitchen floor, a steady stream of black ants running from the pile of flour to a windowsill.
“No. Something is very, very wrong.”
He stepped cautiously over the threshold, as if waiting for a magical backlash. When none came, he walked deeper, and I split off to the other side of the house, inspecting everything without touching.
Broken furniture hid farther inside, clear signs of a fight. But when I reached the fireplace at the end of the house, built into the exterior wall, I froze.
“Hey, Valens?”
“Yeah?” He jogged over, swearing when he saw what I did.
The hearthstone had been shattered, the fire burnt to ash and long cold.
The gnome and his magic were not here anymore.
“How much power do you think it took to shatter a stone that big?” I asked, squatting down to get closer to the rock in question.
It had been huge, one large gray stone slab across the front of the double-width fireplace. Now the two large ends were heavily cracked, and the center was little more than sharp gravel, practically ground to dust.
Whoever had come after this gnome had meant business.
“At least we know why he didn’t deliver the devices now,” Valens said, pushing up and away from the wreckage as he spun to face the room.
“What are you thinking?” I asked, following suit.
“Maybe he hid them somewhere before he was taken.”
“You think this was a kidnapping?” I asked, looking at the scene with fresh eyes. There was no blood, no sign—or, more importantly, stench—of a decaying body. It was as good a theory as any.
He nodded, pointing to a key ring by the back door. “His car is still out back, and his wallet is still on the shelf. A typical robber would have taken both of those things. But whoever did this wanted Sandrine, not his money or his trinkets.”
“So, best-case scenario, he’s wrapped up in some unrelated turf war and got nabbed. Worst-case scenario… our enemies now have a powerful magical crafter enslaved and churning out Goddess knows what for them?”
“That was my thought.”
I ran a hand through my hair, my eyes going unfocused as I stared back toward the hearthstone.
“Maybe we can tell who did this. There has to be a clue around here somewhere,” he said under his breath, thinking out loud.
“Magical assailants rarely leave typical evidence,” I rattled off a line from one of my training manuals, drawn again to the stone for some unknown reason. Something about it bothered me.
“Doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try,” he countered, riffling through the kitchen drawers as if there might be a written confession tucked between the cutlery.
I sank to my knees, still staring at that stone.
There was nothing unusual about it, no hum of magical energy as I would have expected from what Valens had described about how gnomes crafted.
I reached out, trailing my fingers over the stone lightly enough to feel the natural dips and grooves in the surface until I reached the edge.
Something sharp sliced my fingertip, blood welling up immediately as I snatched my hand away, cursing.
Valens was at my side in an instant, on high alert. “What happened?”
I waved him back, showing him the small slice on the end of my finger. “Nothing, just not looking out for sharp edges.”
The first drip fell, landing on the hearthstone.
A chaotic whirl of colors flashed before my vision in a dizzying array, and I sat back on my haunches with a cry.
“What’s wrong? Was it booby-trapped?” He hovered at my side, patting at my shoulders and arms as if he could physically swat away the problem.
“I don’t know, I’m just seeing…” I trailed off, the colors calming into a single, coherent thread.
It practically sparkled as it trailed across the stone, pink and purple hues twined together, fuzzy and sparkling and… alive?
Was I seeing magical signatures?
Pixie.
My wolf’s voice came sure and steady, her attention fixed on the glimmering thread of latent energy.
“Pixies?” I asked aloud, confused.
“What?” Valens’s eyes snapped to mine, holding me captive far more than his hands, gentle on my shoulders.
“I see… a thread of magic. My wolf says it’s pixie.”
He nodded slowly, taking it seriously even though it was absolutely absurd. Wolves couldn’t see magic, and I had no special, Goddess-given marks to explain what was happening with me.
“Pixies could be exactly the lead we need.” His thumb stroked over my cheek, and I shuddered, a horrible realization washing over me.
“You’re touching me. You’re not supposed to be touching me!” Panic replaced the confusion of seeing power signatures for the first time, and he snatched his hands back as if I was a burning hot stove.
“I’m sorry, you scared me, and I thought you were hurt.”
My fingertip throbbed, reminding me that I was, in fact, hurt. But pain and a little blood meant nothing to a maiden.
No, the thing that terrified me was the low thrum of heat building behind my breastbone, the way his scent sharpened and deepened in my nose. Smoky sweet and mouthwatering, I wanted to press my lips to his with a ferocity that scared the shit out of me.
Mate.
The word was barely more than a whisper from my wolf’s mind, but it hit me with gale force.
Valens was my mate, and no amount of denial would change that. I’d hidden from the truth, but it had found me just the same.