16. Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Sixteen
Taylor
“E lara,” I rasp, my voice little more than a broken whisper. “Do you...do you know who Rowan is? What he’s done to Liam?”
The witch closes her eyes and a shuddering breath escapes her lips. When she opens them again, they're filled with a sorrow so deep, it makes my heart throb.
“I pray that I'm wrong,” she says softly, each word heavy with dread. “But if this is the Rowan I remember, the Rowan I've heard whispers of in my coven through the years...”
“You know him? You know who Rowan is?” I ask.
She nods. Elara's face is a mask of grim determination as she speaks. “Centuries ago. There was a shifter named Rowan. He was a member of the Longtooth pack—our pack. It was a different time and place than it is today. Legend has it that Rowan fell in love with a human woman called Eliza. She was his fated mate, and their bond was strong and true, but the Alpha at the time, Elias, didn’t allow cross species unions even when they can be nothing more than Goddess blessed.”
Mitch scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief. Sarah moves to his side, her hand resting on his arm in a gesture of comfort.
Zane's jaw tightens, his arm tightening around Aria's waist. “Human female mates are anything but a weakness. With Aria I’m stronger than I’ve ever been,” he growls, his eyes flashing.
Elara nods, a sad smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “You're right, of course. But the pack's laws at the time forbade relationships between wolves and humans. As wrong as they were, they saw it as a threat to the pack's purity and strength.”
She sighs, the sound heavy with ancient grief. “Rowan and Eliza were forced to keep their love a secret, meeting in stolen moments and hidden places, but when the pack leaders discovered their relationship, they were furious. They demanded that Rowan choose between his love for Eliza and his loyalty to the pack.”
A bitter laugh escapes her lips. “Rowan chose the pack. He turned his back on Eliza, on their bond. And she, heartbroken and betrayed, fled the pack's territory, never to be seen again.”
The room is silent, the weight of Elara's words hanging heavy in the air. I feel the ache of Rowan's choice, the echoes of Eliza's pain. It's a story as old as time, a tragedy played out over and over again.
“Rowan threw himself into his duties as a pack member,” Elara continues, her voice hardening. “But his resentment toward the pack grew. He blamed them for forcing his hand, for making him choose between love and duty. He began to delve into dark magic, seeking ways to increase his own power and to undermine the pack from within.”
She meets Mitch's gaze, her eyes glittering with a fierce light. “Elias ended up culling him for his transgressions. Or so we thought.”
A chill runs down my spine, a sickening sense of dread settling in my gut. “You think he survived,” I whisper, the words like ashes on my tongue.
Elara nods, her face grim. “If this is the same Rowan, then yes. I believe he's using black magic to extend his life, to cheat death itself. And if he wants the Chalice of Lunar Rites...”
She trails off, her eyes distant. “Then it's likely he's the one who's been turning wolves feral with it. Perfecting his magic over centuries, biding his time until he could strike. It makes sense. Tainting the Goddess symbol with black magic makes sense.”
Silence descends, heavy and oppressive. I see the shock on everyone's faces, the horror and disbelief. It's a nightmare made real, a threat we never saw coming.
“Taylor,” Elara says softly, her gaze piercing as it meets mine. “How did you escape? If Rowan can control minds, his power must be immense. A normal human shouldn't have been able to break his hold.”
“In my dream,” I begin, my voice trembling, “there was a golden angel. A woman made of light. She gave me words to say, and when I woke, I felt this...this need to touch Rowan. Like I couldn't fight it even if I wanted to.”
Elara's eyes widen, a flicker of something like hope sparking in their depths. “What were the words, Taylor?”
I close my eyes, the strange syllables rising to my lips as if they've always been there, waiting to be spoken. “ Lunaris, Lunara, noctem illuminare, Gratia Lunarith, revelare lucem absconditam .”
A gasp ripples through the room, a collective intake of breath. Elara's hand flies to her mouth, her eyes round with shock. She staggers back a step, her face draining of color.
“Elara?” Mitch's voice is sharp with concern. “What is it? What do those words mean?”
The witch shakes her head, wonder and disbelief warring on her features. “ Lunaris, Lunara , illuminate the night. By Lunarith's grace, reveal hidden light.”
Her gaze finds mine, a wealth of emotion swirling in those fathomless depths. “The Goddess came to you, Taylor. Her name is Lunarith, the mother of all wolf shifters. You saw her, spoke with her. She blessed you with her power, her protection.”
A shiver runs through me, a feeling of awe and humility. The Goddess herself reached out to me, chose me. But why? What could she possibly see in me ? And how is that possible? I’m not a wolf shifter. Not a full one, in any case.
Elara frowns. “It's been a long time since Lunarith has made her presence known. For her to intervene now, in this way...”
She trails off, a pensive look on her face, but before she can continue, a searing pain rips through my chest. I cry out, doubling over as agony lances through me.
Cindi's arms are around me in an instant, holding me up as my knees buckle. She guides me to the bed, helping me stretch out beside Liam's unnaturally still form.
Elara is at my side in a heartbeat, her hand pressing gently against my sternum. Her lips move in a silent incantation, her eyes glowing molten silver. A warm, soothing sensation spreads through my chest, easing the pain to a dull ache.
The relief is short-lived. Liam thrashes on the bed, a low moan tearing from his throat. His face is contorted in agony, his muscles seizing and twitching beneath his skin.
“Something is coming between your bond,” Elara says, her voice tight with strain. “It should be impossible, but Rowan's magic must be strong. Stronger than anything I've ever seen.”
Tears blur my vision, desperation clawing at my throat. “Please.” My voice breaks. “Help him, Elara. I'll do anything, endure anything. Just save him.”
The witch meets my gaze, a flicker of hesitation in her eyes. “The process will not be pleasant, Taylor. For either of you. The darkness within Liam runs deep, and rooting it out will be...painful.”
I nod, my jaw set with determination. “I don't care. I'll do whatever it takes. I can't lose him, Elara. I won't.”
She searches my face for a long moment, her expression unreadable. “I’ll do what I can and hope that it’s enough.”
She places one hand on Liam's chest and the other on mine, closing her eyes as her brow furrows in concentration. She begins to chant words that twist on her tongue and wash over me. Power thrums around me, shimmering through the air, growing thicker and heavier.
Pain explodes through every nerve, every cell. It's like nothing I've ever felt before, a searing agony that burrows deep into my very soul. I scream, my back arching off the bed as fire lances through my veins. Flashes of brilliant light strobe my vision before I’m sucked into a vortex of white. Liam convulses, a howl of anguish tearing from his throat.
Consciousness returns slowly, a gentle tide lapping at the shores of my mind. I blink, wincing as sunlight streams through the window, painting the room in shades of gold and amber. The leaves on the trees outside sparkle in the sunlight. Someone has cracked open the window, letting in sweet, fresh air. The curtains puff in the slight breeze.
For a moment, I'm disoriented, my thoughts sluggish and muddled. But then the memories come rushing back, a tidal wave of fear and pain and desperation.
Liam. Oh God, Liam.
I bolt upright, my heart slamming against my ribs, but as I turn to the male beside me, a wave of relief crashes over me.
He's here. He's alive.
Liam lies still and silent, his chest rising and falling with the slow, even rhythm of deep sleep. The fever that ravaged his body has broken, his skin cool and dry beneath my palm, but even as I drink in the sight of him, a flicker of unease curls in my gut.
He looks peaceful, almost as if he's simply sleeping, but there's a stillness to him, a lack of animation that sends chills racing down my spine.
“Liam?” My voice is soft, tentative.
He doesn't respond, his eyes remaining closed, his features slack and peaceful.
I reach out a trembling hand, my fingers ghosting over his cheek. His skin is warm beneath my touch, the stubble rough against my palm, but even that small contact fails to rouse him, fails to bring even a flicker of awareness to his face.
“Liam, wake up. Please.” Desperation rising like a tide within me, I grasp his shoulders, giving him a gentle shake, but his eyes remain closed.
A sob catches in my throat, my fingers curling over the center of his chest. I bow my head, pressing my forehead against him as the tears come in earnest now, hot and bitter on my cheeks. I can only hope that what Elara did is enough to bring him back.
How long will that take?
I swallow back the panic that claws at my throat and focus on tending to him in the only way I can. I head to the bathroom, find a bowl, and fill it with warm water. Grabbing a washcloth and towel, I begin to clean him. I wipe away the sweat and grime that covers his skin, and the dried blood that streaks his chest and face.
I roll him to wash his back and see a strange mark on the back of his neck. I frown, leaning closer to examine it. It looks like a pattern of blackened lines, the skin around them raw and blistered. Like a brand seared into his flesh.
A chill runs down my spine, a sense of wrongness that settles heavy in my gut. If I had the power, I’d incinerate Rowan to blackened ash.
I clean every bit of dirt off his skin, taking care to clean under his nails and wash his hair. Then, when there’s nothing else to do, I shower as fast as I can and when I’m clean, I lie back beside him, rest my head on his chest, put my arm around his waist and sleep.
Time loses all meaning as I keep vigil at Liam's side, watching the sun arc across the sky and disappear below the horizon. Minutes bleed into hours, hours into days. And still, he sleeps on, lost in a place I cannot follow.
Cindi is a constant presence, bringing me meals and coaxing me to eat even when my stomach roils at the thought of food. She sits with me, her presence a silent comfort as I pour out my fears, my hopes, my dreams for a future that slips further away with each passing moment.
When the walls of the room begin to close in, when the weight of my own thoughts become too much to bear, she gently but firmly steers me to the bathroom to shower again. The hot spray of the shower is a shock to my system, the steam chasing away the cobwebs that cling to my mind.
Mitch and Zane, Elara and Aria and Sarah take turns checking in on us, their faces etched with worry and compassion. They offer words of comfort, of encouragement, but as the days stretch on with no change, I can see the hope fading from their eyes, replaced by a grim sort of resignation.
I lie back next to Liam and bury my face in the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent and then, so softly I almost miss it...I feel him stir. At the same time, the strange presence inside me blinks awake, her golden eyes shimmering in my mind.
My heart stops, my breath freezing in my lungs. Slowly, hardly daring to hope, I lift my head.
Liam's eyes flutter open, hazy and unfocused. For a moment, he stares unseeing at the ceiling, his brow crinkled in confusion. Then awareness seeps into his gaze. His eyes meet mine, a wealth of emotion swirling in those depths.
“Taylor...” His voice is hoarse, little more than a rasp but it's the most beautiful sound I've ever heard.
A sob hitches in my throat, my vision blurring with tears. I gather him close, crushing him to me as if I can anchor him to this world through sheer force of will.
“Liam,” I breathe, his name a prayer on my lips. “Oh God, Liam. I thought...I thought I'd lost you.”
He lifts a shaking hand, cupping my cheek with a tenderness that breaks my heart. “Never,” he whispers, his thumb brushing away the tears that spill down my face. “I'll always come back to you, baby. Always.”
He lifts his arm and his fingers twine into the back of my head, pressing me down. I go down willingly, brushing my lips against his before a feral growl rattles in the base of his chest.