Chapter 17 - Donna
“That was amazing, Donna!” Arianna cheers, clapping from the side, her face lit up with a proud smile that puffs my chest with the same feeling.
The healing energy in my palms retracts, and with an inaudible sigh, it disappears, leaving only the tingling sensations behind. I take a deep breath in, smiling and proud of myself for my progress.
Now, I’m able to create a vortex with water or sand, applying enough energy to create a sturdy force that can knock down a tree. I should be proud of myself—I’ve achieved this without becoming too distracted.
What happened here the other day would have haunted me if I weren’t strong enough to ignore it. The almost-kiss with Nicholas nearly cost me my peace, my resolve, but I proved to myself that I can detach from my emotions and fully immerse myself in training my mystic abilities.
That’s why I’m pretty chuffed right now.
“Hm…” Delilah hums thoughtfully as she approaches me, eyes narrowed as if she isn’t as convinced that I’m where I need to be. “You’re using intent to wield your powers right now, and it’s good, don’t get me wrong.”
“But?” I ask, tilting my head because I can sense it coming.
“But…you’d be so much better if you allowed your emotions to drive your power. Like you did that night to extract the dark magic from Nick.”
I scoff and roll my eyes because I haven’t fully forgiven her for throwing me to a particular wolf the other day when she suggested I practice one-on-one combat with Nicholas.
She almost cost me my sanity by leaving me to train with the man who ignites a raging fire in my body while awakening my resentment toward him, but I know she only has good intentions, so I can’t hold a grudge against her.
“Emotions aren’t exactly my strong suit,” I admit earnestly, and she smiles knowingly.
“Then maybe that’s what’s blocking you from being great.”
“I don’t want to be great,” I murmur. “I just want to survive whatever comes our way, that’s all.”
Delilah stares at me, still unconvinced, shrugging diffidently as she turns at the sound of Cecelia’s voice.
“Hey, ladies!” Cecelia greets us as she comes toward us, her baby, Darius, on one hip, Arianna’s baby, Tyson, propped on the other, with his brother, Gio, running circles around her.
Arianna rushes forward to get her kids, and Gwen and Delilah rush forward to free Cecelia’s arms so that by the time she’s halfway toward me, she’s on her own.
“Hey, Dons!” She jogs forward, dark curls bouncing across her shoulders until she flings her arms around my neck. “I missed you, girl!”
“Oh, I missed you, too!” I return, hugging her tightly and basking in the warmth of her embrace a little longer.
She pulls back and stares into my eyes deeply, like she’s reading every thought and emotion there.
“You look lighter,” she comments. “Maybe you’re finally getting used to how things are.”
I sigh, the weight of guilt settling on my shoulders. My best friend since childhood has no idea about what happened last summer between Nicholas and me, while the other witches seem to know.
It wasn’t my intention to leave her out of the loop, but I was too embarrassed to tell her.
“Or maybe I’m just too tired of hating him,” I finally say, turning toward the house where the others are gathering for tonight’s barbecue. It was Dom’s idea for us to meet up in Wells; that’s why everyone is here this afternoon.
“You hate Nick? Is he being an asshole to you? Want me to tell Dom to fix him up?”
I turn and shake my head, taking a deep breath. “No, Cece…. What I’m about to tell you, I need you to keep it from Dom. Can you do that for me?”
Cecelia’s eyes soften, and she turns to me, placing her hands on my shoulders, brows knitting with worry.
“What’s going on, babe? Did he hurt you?”
I purse my lips, then take Donna’s hand in mine. “Let’s disappear for a bit, shall we?”
“Yeah,” Cecelia agrees, and I pull her toward the woods, glancing over my shoulder just to make sure we’re slipping away unnoticed.
Everyone seems to be preparing to set up the barbecue in Nicholas’s front yard, so we weave our way through the forest until we reach the creek.
Not just the creek, but the infamous rock where Nicholas and I used to stargaze last summer, the very same place where I found him that day when Delilah suspected the dark magic in him.
I turn to Cecelia and sigh heavily as I pull her down to the rock. She’s wearing a softened expression, becoming the safe space I need to open up.
“I know I should have told you sooner,” I murmur as I lower my eyes. “But I’m telling you now, and it’s probably ‘cause I’m losing my mind a little bit, but being married to him is like torture when—”
“You guys had a fling last summer,” Cecelia cuts me off.
I lift my face with a frown, the heat and color draining from my face. “H-how did you know?”
Cecelia sighs and reaches for a single blade of grass, wrapping the long blade around her index finger. “Dom and I were here too, remember? We were all visiting. I woke up one night to the smell of eggs and bacon, and being pregnant then, you bet I was following that smell.”
She looks up and smiles with amusement glowing in her eyes. “I saw you guys…”
“Shit!”
“Yeah…” Cecelia nods slowly. “But you weren’t saying 'shit' then. It was more like, ‘oh, fuck—'”
“Cece!” I shove her shoulder playfully, feigning disbelief as I drop my jaw. “Why the fuck didn’t you say anything?”
“Because I was waiting for my best friend to say something to me!” Cecelia retorts, rolling her eyes. “But I also figured you were embarrassed, since he’s Dom’s best friend. Kinda like with me and Dom…” she grimaces.
“Yeah, so you can’t be mad at me. You kept that secret from me for three years.”
“Only difference is I walked in on you guys.”
That has me blushing all over again. “I didn’t hide it to get back at you, Cece. I was genuinely embarrassed, especially when he rejected me.”
There’s a long, uncomfortable pause before Cecelia takes my hands, smoothing her thumbs over my knuckles to console me.
“That’s why you didn’t stay, why you went back home sooner,” she says, putting the pieces together. “He’s your fated mate, isn’t he? It was more than just a fling.”
“So much more, Cece,” I whimper, tears filling my eyes. “I thought I was crazy back then, and I hated him for rejecting me. But I think I hate him more now because suddenly he wants to believe we’re fated mates.”
“Have you stopped believing it?”
“I want to. It’d make things so much less complicated,” I sigh, and Cecelia offers me a reassuring smile.
“Being fated mates is anything but complicated, but the journey toward union is full of obstacles, no doubt.
But I do believe in divine timing for two souls who are destined to be together.
Your brother and I suffered when we were apart, but we needed to crack before we united for good.
Now, life is a bliss, and we have each other's backs to face any other challenges.”
I try smiling, but I can barely curl my lips, my heart heavy because there’s no plausible good reason for Nicholas hurting me like that. Nothing about it adds up, and I still hate him for it.
“Look, I'm really happy for you and Dom, you know that,” I sigh.
“But with Nick and me, it's different. He had no reason to reject me, unless he was betrothed to someone else or something.” I shiver as a flicker of envy pulses through my veins, even when I know that isn’t true. My brother would have known.
Cecelia rolls her eyes. “We both know that's not the case. But I’m sure Nick had a valid reason—even if it was dumb and only made sense to him. These males are stupid like that,” Cecelia clicks her tongue. “If you’re sure about the mate bond, then you must know there is no escaping fate.”
I lower my eyes, a wave of sadness washing over me. “Yeah…but it still hurts, Cece.”
Cecelia gives my hands a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “You’ve done your time, Dons. You both have. The only way for you to move forward is for you to be open to it. Open to forgiving him.”
I look up with a feeble half-smile. “I don’t think I’m ready yet.”
Cecelia nods and accepts this, but gestures to the forest. “Are you at least ready to go back to the barbecue? I’m starving.”
I giggle as Cecelia and I get to our feet, and she’s bubblier than usual. I pause to frown at her, my eyes flickering to her belly.
“You’re pregnant again, aren’t you?!” I gasp, and she quickly presses a finger to my lips.
“We both have secrets to keep from Dom,” she whispers. “I don’t wanna tell him right now. He has so much going on.”
I nod slowly, knowing exactly what Cecelia means, because it’s the same for me—it’s why I can’t tell my brother about what happened between Nicholas and me last summer.
The whole ordeal with the dark warlock is a dark cloud hanging over all of us, and it’s evident to see when we return to Nicholas’s house and find everyone at the barbecue discussing Tobias and the imminent threat we’re facing.
“Alpha Beaumont hasn’t found anything on Tobias,” Dominic tells the group, and my heart falls with dread.
“Yeah, well, that wasn’t his pack,” Sean reminds us. “If he’s covering his tracks, he wouldn’t dare go back to Loups de Lune.”
It’s still unimaginable that Tobias was faking his identity the whole time, and while we attended the same college for four years, he was living a double life as a lone wolf out there.
As I stand at the back quietly, I notice that Nicholas isn’t outside with the others. I wander toward Delilah, leaning in and whispering in her ear, “Where’s Nick?”
Delilah shields her mouth with one hand and whispers back, “He’s in the house. His father called him to speak to him privately.”
I nod slowly, brows furrowing slightly as I consider this, wondering what they’re speaking about.
While the barbecue continues outside, my restlessness grows until I find myself sauntering toward the house. As soon as I enter, I can hear their voices drifting faintly into the hallway from Nicholas’s study. I tiptoe closer, curiosity winning out and making me press my ear to the wall.
“I don’t see what the big rush is, Father,” Nicholas says, sounding disgruntled.
“Your pack is waiting on you, Nicholas. Or have you forgotten that you have a pack to run?”
“I have not forgotten, Father,” Nicholas sighs. “But the impending threat affects us just as much as it affects my friends. With Donna emerging as a witch, this is the kind of pressure I can’t put on her.”
My chest tightens when I hear him defend me, even if I don’t know what he’s defending me about.
“Well, I gave in to your request to marry her in the first place, despite my better judgment. Do not disappoint me in this, Nicholas.”
I hear movement, shuffling, as Nolan Bartalow gets to his feet from a chair, and I quickly dodge behind the wall, rounding the corner and bolting for the kitchen before he sees me. His footsteps echo down the hallway until he leaves from the front porch, and I let out the breath I’d been holding.
Nicholas appears soon after, dragging his feet into the kitchen and briefly glancing at me, shoulders slouched.
“Hey…you’re not outside with the others,” he comments, voice sulky as he heads to the bar.
“I, er—” Hesitating, my eyes flicker around until I spot the serving tray on the counter. “I just came to grab those,” I say, pointing toward the tray.
Nicholas nods halfheartedly as he pulls out a bottle of strong liquor from the cabinet. His behavior after meeting with his father is strange, and I only caught the tail end of their conversation, so I don’t know what Nolan wants from him—or me, for that matter.
Whatever it is, it’s affecting Nicholas, and he pours himself a straight glass of bourbon.
“You know, there are beers outside,” I say with a gentle giggle.
Nicholas turns to me, offers me a half-smile, and lifts the bottle. “You want one?”
I should probably say no and return to the barbecue, but there’s something soft, sullen, and desperate in Nicholas’s eyes that has me agreeing.
Maybe if I stick around, he’ll tell me what’s going on and what his father wanted.
Or maybe I’ll just stick around to be the kind of support he needs right now—because he definitely looks like he needs a friend.
Maybe Cecelia was right, after all. Maybe we’ve done our time, and now it’s time to forgive him. I’m just afraid of the consequences, of letting my guard down enough for him to hurt me again.
Because the truth is, only Nicholas has that power, and I feel it when his fingertips brush my hand when he passes me the glass, my body responding to its mate.