Chapter 4 - Luke #2
That very thought nags at me, sitting heavily as I head back to the house once I know Dawson really is gone. With Sera still asleep when I get back, I have enough time to debate my next move, wondering whether being direct with her will make things better or worse.
Before long, though, the soft padding of her feet against the hardwood floor carries into the kitchen as she approaches, and when she appears in the doorway, I catch myself staring a beat longer than necessary.
“How are you feeling?”
She keeps her eyes on me, hesitating like she’s considering whether she should run or stand her ground. The glare she gives me speaks for itself. “Tired.”
Straight to the point, then.
Pulling in a breath, reminding myself to be patient, I point to the coffee machine while I start gathering ingredients. “Help yourself. Since I’m sure you’re starving, I’ll make you something.”
More of her resistance lingers when she doesn’t move at first, then, with what appears to be great reluctance, Sera grabs herself one of the nearby mugs and fills it up before taking a seat on one of the stools by the island, sure to put as much space between us as physically possible.
When I have breakfast cooked and plated in front of her, Sera takes her time poking at the eggs before finally eating. To give her some breathing room, I opt to stand and dig into my own.
Satisfied when she’s mostly done, I finally let out the very thing that has been plaguing my mind ever since it happened.
“Dawson Voss was here.”
At once, she stops, nearly dropping her fork as she looks at me with wide eyes. The color drains from her face. “What?”
“He’s gone now, but he came by earlier.”
With a harsh swallow, she glances between the plate and me. “What did he want?”
I reach for my mug. “You.”
Sera’s jaw tightens like she expected to hear exactly that, but she does her best to keep her cool. “And?”
“I refused him.”
She studies me for a long, quiet moment, as if considering what strings might come with this arrangement, or how all of this could backfire for her. A hint of relief shows in her eyes, but likely only because I didn’t give her over.
“You won’t be completely safe until I know what’s happening, or what Dawson wants,” I tell her, arms crossing over my chest. “The more I understand this, the better.”
“You already know that I ran. I wanted to get away from Wraith Peak.”
While the words don’t seem completely dishonest, it’s not the whole truth either.
“We both know that wouldn’t be enough for him to come to Coldreach personally.”
Sera averts her gaze, giving away that there’s more to this than she’s letting on.
“Why are they chasing you?” I ask, stepping forward and placing a hand on the island countertop. When she doesn’t respond, I harden my gaze. “Sera.”
Regardless of the subtle way she flinches at my tone, still nothing. I exhale slowly and rub a hand down my face.
Of course, she isn’t making this easy for me. Why would she?
Even if I brought this on myself, I’m not letting it go.
“What happens if I decide this is too much risk for my pack?” I ask her, choosing my words carefully. “I could send word to Wraith Peak and have this reversed.”
Her eyes return to mine, quick and vaguely alarmed. “What?”
“I can get Dawson to come back and collect you, and pretend like none of this ever happened,” I murmur, hating how it sounds, and hating the thought alone. “Or, you can be honest with me.”
Sera freezes, and she looks at me like a cornered animal now, with her quickened breath. I can sense her pulse’s fluttering from here.
“You wouldn’t.”
“Wouldn’t I?”
The fear that surrounds her is immediate and so visceral, I know it isn’t forced. The look of it alone twists something in my gut, making me regret even saying it. But I need her to tell me the truth.
“I’m trying to protect my pack,” I murmur, trying to at least soften the blow as much as I can. “If you’re hiding something that puts them at risk—”
“I’m not a threat to you,” she snaps at me, allowing more of her irritation to spark. It seems I’ve struck a nerve.
I cross my arms again. “Then tell me what you are, and why Dawson is after you.”
Sera stares at me for a long moment, hands trembling slightly like she’s trapped and trying to work out how to free herself with minimal damage. “You’d send me back?”
“Not if I know what I’m dealing with.”
She looks at me like she hates me, and honestly, she probably does. I can’t say I blame her. Then, surely aware this won’t end in anything but the truth, she sighs. “I’m a witch.”
I hold her gaze for far longer than I intend to, urging the words to settle and make any ounce of sense. But the impact of what that means hits me hard enough to render me speechless.
A witch. Magic.
“You’re being serious with me?”
With some resignation, and what looks like a flicker of shame, she nods. “I’m telling the truth.”
I feel like an idiot for staring at her so blatantly, like I don’t have a single thought in my head, but the opposite is true. My thoughts won’t shut up as they bounce off the walls of my mind.
“I can use magic,” she murmurs, withdrawing into herself. “I’ve been hiding it my entire life, but Dawson and his family found out.”
As difficult as it is to digest fully, everything clicks into place. The wolves after her, whether they knew or not, Dawson’s barely restrained need to get her back…the warning that she would destabilize my pack.
I paid to have a witch inside Coldreach. The elders and everyone opposed to the use of magic will lose their minds.
“You smell like a wolf, not a witch. How?” I ask, trying to make sense of it all.
“I have wolf blood in me, but I can’t shift. It might have something to do with the magic,” she admits. “I’ve never had anyone to guide me.”
A shiftless wolf…uncommon but not impossible. Not that I know much about magic, but I can only assume she’s right.
“So you learned how to wield it on your own?”
She nods, not expanding on it. And she doesn’t need to.
My head’s already spinning, both mulling over what this means and what it could do to the pack.
On one hand, having her here could be incredibly dangerous, given how she’s likely volatile to some degree. On the other hand, this could be a good thing. She could be the proof I’ve been needing all along.
A living, breathing testament to the fact that magic can be contained and guided, even weaponized if needed. It can be helpful, rather than destructive.
And if she’s bound to me, then no one can claim her without facing me directly. No one can isolate or experiment on her, like Dawson was surely planning to.
The plan forms in my head before I’ve meticulously built it, and before I’ve had the chance to revise it, but this doesn’t feel like something I can sleep on.
“You’re not going back there.”
Sera just looks at me with her brows slightly knit together, visibly enduring whiplash from me. “Then what?”
“We’re getting married.”
The words leave me before I can fully bear the weight of them, well aware of how insane it sounds, but I can’t bring myself to care right now.
Her eyes widen before her expression drops. “What?”
“We’ll get it done quickly. It will be public, recognized, and nobody will question you,” I tell her, as if that will make it better. “Dawson won’t contest a mated female without challenging me directly, and he can’t afford that.”
She doesn’t say anything for a long moment, but the subtle changes in her features speak for her. Finally, she shakes her head and narrows her gaze. “You’re using me.”
The accusation stings, but I know she isn’t entirely wrong.
“To some degree. But I’m also trying to protect you.”
“Protect me?” Sera asks with complete disbelief. “You just threatened to send me back if I didn’t cooperate.”
Pulling in a breath, I try to hide how the reminder bothers me. “I needed the truth, and I won’t apologize for protecting my pack. Or you.”
She scoffs. “I don’t need you to protect me.”
“On this island, in this current state, you do,” I murmur, annoyed that it’s the truth. “You don’t have to trust me, but this is for your own good.”
Sera’s stare carries the weight of personal betrayal, and I don’t doubt that is exactly how she’s feeling.
“I won’t marry you,” she utters.
“You will if the alternative is Wraith Peak.”
Her face goes as cold as stone, well aware of the quiet threat woven in. And there it is…the hatred.
“You’re just like them,” Sera says, loud enough for me to hear clearly, but quiet enough to be cutting. “I hate you.”
The kitchen goes painfully still then, and even with her spitting those words at me, I can still feel a subtle pull to her. It’s almost magnetic and insistent, and it scares the shit out of me, unlike most things.
This weird instinct driving me to keep her as mine shouldn’t be the thing guiding me right now, but it’s too big for me to ignore.
She could be the bridge. The leverage and catalyst. She could be more than a runaway if she ever finds it within herself to look past the insanity of my plan.
Before I can say anything, Sera turns and leaves the kitchen with force behind her steps. I don’t bother chasing after her as she goes, finding myself in the silent room all alone now.
I know all of this is sudden and reckless, and half-baked at best, but I can’t shake the certainty clinging inside my chest.
With Dawson circling, the elders resisting my bid for change, and the pressure of knowing my dad is always watching, I need a miracle.
Even if Sera doesn’t see it, that miracle might just be her.