He looked down.
Her gaze pinned him in place. The emerald green of her eyes had been subsumed by a black as dark as night with swirls of liquid gold at its centre where her pupils should be. Twin universes. The swirls of gold sped up as she hooked her legs behind his back, urging him to push deep inside her again and finish what he’d started. His wolf surged to the fore, sensing true freedom within its grasp for the first time in years.
There was no way he could stop with her urging him on, with her power funnelling into him.
He drove into her again and again until her body convulsed against him, her sheath tightening around him as an orgasm, more explosive than any he’d driven her to so far, took her up and over the edge.
She collapsed; her legs fell away, arms limp against the sheets, and her eyes closed.
He snarled, unable to hold back the animal lunging for release. It wanted more. Needed more.
Her eyes snapped open, the swirling gold now a fluid circle within the liquid black. ‘I am yours,’ she whispered in a voice echoing and harsh with power. ‘I give back what was lost.’
Her body convulsed, back arching off the bed.
Power shot through him. Flaming heat engulfed the warm rush across his skin, burning him to his bones; to his core. He swore and fell away from her as his skin began to twitch, his body shaking. A rainbow glow engulfed him.
Scintillating energy burned through him like molten gold; pulled him apart, reshaped him into the creature too long locked inside.
Landing on the floor, he looked down to see paws where hands had been. He shook, desperate to feel the air run its warm fingers through his fur. He moved forward slightly and almost wept in relief as the air caressed every fibre of his fur. It had been too long since he’d felt the world around him through his thick, silver-gold pelt. Everything was keener—sight, sound, smell, especially the deep musk of their loving mixed with her apple blossom and honey scent.
His skin tightened with want; with a need so strong he’d never known its like. But he couldn’t move towards her yet. The energy still pulsed through every sinew as he struggled to believe what had occurred.
He couldn’t deny what he saw, however. What he felt.
Without thought, he lifted his muzzle to the ceiling and howled. Howled for the gift he’d been given. For what this meant to him and his pack.
This miracle—it was a gift beyond compare. It almost drove him to his knees. This one change would allow him to hold the pack together for months. He couldn’t believe she’d done this for him. Her power was even greater than her father’s. Perhaps even greater than that of the original Colliere Witch.
Why would she hide it from him and pretend she didn’t know who and what he was? What game was she playing?
The question echoed loudly in his head, halting his instinct to revel in this moment of freedom she’d given him. His wolf wanted to leap through the window and howl to the night, run until his legs shook only to return, change back and take her again.
But he couldn’t allow her to play games with him, even if she was his mate. He had to make her understand how much she was needed by the pack. She had to come back, allow them to care for her, keep her safe. And she could channel her remarkable power into all of them so they would once again have the gift of the change at will.
He couldn’t stay in his wolf form to do it, though. Even though his wolf had barely had a chance to stretch and revel in its freedom, he had to trap it once again.
His wolf snapped and snarled a protest as he pulled on his will and the power she’d just given him and forced himself to change back. It’s only for a little while, he placated his wolf. You can come out again when we’ve discovered what she’s playing at. His wolf subsided and the rainbow light of the change swept through him. Standing on two legs again, he padded to the edge of the bed, surprised she had fallen asleep. Using her power should have energised her. His wolf’s howl of triumph moments ago could have woken the dead.
‘Skye?’ He bent down and shook her shoulder.
Nothing.
A chill chased over him. He knelt on the bed and turned her head to face him.
Her eyes were open, staring blankly. Blood seeped from her nose and the corner of her eye. His breath caught in his throat.
Fucking hell. She’d flamed out.
He reached out and shook her gently. ‘Skye?’
She lolled like a rag doll, her open eyes glassy and blank.
‘Skye?’ He shook her again. She didn’t even twitch.
Fuck. This couldn’t be happening. Witches with her power couldn’t flame out. They would know better—wouldn’t take the risk of serious injury or death.
By the Moon. This hadn’t happened for centuries. Not since the Witch–Were Pact had been formed.
What had she done? Was she dead?
No! She couldn’t be dead. He wouldn’t allow it.
He cupped her face. She was warm. Her pulse beat under his palms, the sound of her heart a low thrum in his ears that he hadn’t heard in his panic.
She wasn’t dead.
He kissed her. Her breath filled his mouth, her lips soft and pliant under his, but she didn’t respond.
He whispered against her lips, ‘Wake up, Skye. Wake up, my love. Please.’
Nothing.
He shook her again. ‘Wake up, Skye, damn you. Don’t do this.’ Worry was a claw in his throat, but even as his wolf whimpered inside him, the worry turned to anger. ‘Why would you do this? Why would you purposefully flame out?’
Shocked by the panic raging through him, he realised he was yelling. He settled her back against the pillows and stepped away from the bed, raking his hand through his hair. She didn’t need his anger or panic right now, she needed his help.
His wolf snarled at the thought because giving back the leftover power would trap it again.
‘She’s our mate,’ Jason said. ‘What else can we do?’
His wolf subsided, but its acquiescence didn’t make this any easier. He’d never had to do this before, only knew the theory—although the tenuous mating bond should make it easier.
Trembling, he took her in his arms and cradled her head against his chest. Despite the anger he felt at the risk she’d taken, his need to feel the warmth of her skin was one he couldn’t deny.
He stroked her arm, twined his fingers in her silken blaze of hair, kissed her forehead. She was so beautiful. Her pale skin glowed like fine porcelain in the moonlight coming through the window, dappled by the shadows of the trees outside.
One shadow was far darker than any other. He frowned, leaning forward to brush his fingers over the skin on her upper thigh.
A bruise. A large, dark bruise with a fine line across its centre from where his snowboard had pressed into her. With power at her disposal, it should have been gone by now, but it wasn’t. She was still healing. The fact that she hadn’t healed herself had given him pause earlier; made him think there might be something wrong with her powers. But she’d just pushed power into him—there was nothing wrong with her magic.
Fucking hell! It wasn’t an act. No matter how impossible it seemed after what had just happened, she truly didn’t know what she could do. She didn’t know what he was. Hell, he wasn’t even certain if she knew what she was.
She’d been taken away from them, from her father, before she was anywhere close to trained, but they’d always assumed she would remember that training; would remember the pack and her duty to them as laid out in the Were–Witch Pact.
But it seemed likely she knew none of it.
No, that was impossible. She was too intelligent not to know she was a witch. Nobody could ignore the manifestations of a power such as hers—his mum had written to him often when he was away at school, pride in each word as she told him what a natural their next Pack Witch was. Skylar could levitate at two years old, could call fire and wind and rain by four. Summon moondust at five. Even if her memories of her childhood had been taken away, she wouldn�
��t have been able to keep those powers leashed.
Unless she did so purposefully.
But why would she hobble herself? Blocking her powers would be something akin to a Were not being able to change: it was fundamentally wrong.
Someone had done this to her. And she’d almost killed herself because of her ignorance.
His hands clenched into fists. He wanted to rail against the universe, punish whoever was responsible. But first, he had to give some of her power back before she sank further into a coma.
Laying her down on the bed, he held her head in his hands, fingers finding and pressing on the pressure points in her skull and her forehead. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and concentrated, trying to find the channel between them she’d locked onto and used.
He rammed up against something like a brick wall. The channel was blocked.
He frowned. Then why was his skin still tingling?
He sat back with a gasp. Even unconscious, she still shared her power with him, using energy she didn’t have to spare on making him whole.
He had to stop her. She was already comatose. If she continued giving him power, her heart would stutter and then stop.
Fear skated along his spine as he closed his eyes and tried to reach the Alpha–Pack Witch channel that had been created when her father had bonded them years ago. Once again it was blocked to him. He tried to push at the block with his mind. It didn’t budge. He looked for another way. The mating bond.
He could feel her through it, but no matter how he called to her, begging to let him reverse the flow of magic, he was still blocked. Too much power was coming through the channel from her end and the mating bond wasn’t strong enough yet for him to use as another conduit.
Even so, he pressed again. Breath hissed out of him. His hands trembled as they held her. Darkness crept around the edges of his mind. The room began to spin. He groaned as a spasm arched his spine, the pain spiking through his head.
Letting go before he passed out, he pushed away from the bed and caught himself against the wall. Pulling in deep, shuddering breaths, he willed the trembling from his limbs. Slow minutes passed, but finally the room stopped spinning and he could stand without assistance.
His gaze never left her.
He felt like howling. He slammed his hand against the wall instead. He couldn’t get through. She wouldn’t let him—she was so goddamned strong. But he had to do something.
Cordelia. The McClunes’ Pack Witch. He’d call her. She would be able to advise him.
Thank the Moon Marcus McClune had been happy to keep up the treaty with the McVale Pack, despite the onset of the Curse. Where many other packs had turned from them, Marcus had stood firm, allowing them to use his resources, even giving Jason direct access to Cordelia—something Jason was eternally grateful for. She couldn’t help them to break the Curse—only their own Pack Witch could do that—but she had used what powers she could to help them. He knew she would help him now.
Picking up his phone, he dialled.
‘Jason?’ she asked, voice thick with sleep.
‘Sorry to wake you, but it’s an emergency. I’ve found her.’
‘Oh, Jason. That’s wonderful. Let me speak to her.’
He glanced across at Skye. ‘You can’t.’ He quickly told her what had happened, not glossing over anything, knowing she had to have all the information.
There was a long silence on the end of the phone. He gripped it tight, anxiety rippling through him in noxious waves. ‘What? What should I do?’
‘You have to leave her.’
Her words were a punch to his solar plexus. ‘No.’
‘You have to. You’re right. What she’s doing could kill her. If you can’t break through the block in the channel, you’ll have to break the connection.’
‘I can’t,’ Jason breathed. ‘She’s my mate.’
‘I know. And I’m sorry. But you can’t continue the mating. Not while her powers are so wild. Hell, Jason. She could have killed you tonight with the power she pushed into you.’
‘She didn’t. It seemed like she knew what she was doing.’
‘But she obviously doesn’t.’ She sighed and he heard a rustling sound on the other end of the phone. ‘Look, I’m not saying you have to sever the mating bond. But you will have to leave her, allow her to heal. Her powers will rejuvenate by themselves if you aren’t near. Her lack of training will serve us in this. Without proximity, she won’t be able to access the Alpha–Pack Witch bond to syphon power into you; the channel will close.’
‘How long?’ Hours he could take—maybe even a few days.
‘A few weeks at least.’
‘Weeks?’
‘Jason! Stop growling at me. Think past your wolf. She has to be trained properly; taught how to syphon her energy so this doesn’t happen again. You won’t be able to complete the mating until she knows how.’
Pain lashed through him at the thought. He didn’t know how he was going to stand being away from Skye with the mating incomplete, but Cordelia was right. He knew he must.
‘I never imagined she would be in this state,’ Cordelia continued. ‘I need to do some research. If she’s holding back her magic for some reason …’ She blew out a long breath. ‘It explains why we could never find her. But I’m not going to sugar coat it for you, Jason. This is not good.’
‘I guessed that when she wouldn’t wake up.’
Cordelia sighed. ‘I’m sorry. This has caught me by surprise. I never thought … Let me talk to Marcus. Maybe he’ll allow you to bring her to me. Or let me come to you. But first, I’ll scry with my familiar and try to find out what happened to make her like this. That might give me a clue how to proceed. For now, stay away.’
‘My pack needs her, Cordy.’ His hand tightened on the phone. The screen cracked. ‘I need her.’
‘I know. Just give me time. I wasn’t prepared for this. Moving too quickly could be disastrous—as tonight has shown. But for now, keep her warm and then keep your distance.’
‘How far?’ He always thought he understood the mating bond, but now a blaze of fresh, white-hot understanding flamed across his mind. His mother hadn’t died from life-threatening injuries—she’d died because her husband, her mate, the man she couldn’t live without, had died. Mates were joined in ways that even the bonds of family, children and dear friends could not replace.
He would hurt if Skye hurt. He’d die if she died. Staying away from her was almost unbearable to contemplate.
Cordelia’s voice held a wealth of understanding, although her tone was firm. ‘Tonight you have to get as far away from her as you can. Afterward, you can watch from afar—I know you won’t be able to stand not seeing she’s safe. You’re too much like Marcus in that way. But you cannot be in the same building tonight and you won’t be able to be in the same room for a few weeks at least. You cannot touch her or be near her until we’re certain the channel has closed. Until then, I’ll see if the Pack Witch Diaries have anything to add to this unusual situation.’
He could watch her from afar. It was something at least. ‘Thanks, Cordy.’
‘Don’t thank me yet. When I know what’s going on, I’ll let you know.’ With that, she hung up.
Jason put down his cracked phone and turned back to face Skye.
It hurt to move away, but despite the wolf growling inside, he made himself do it. He threw on some clothes, gathered hers up—they were torn. Damn! He spied the blanket tangled at the base of the bed. With more caution than he’d take with the most fragile of porcelain, he wrapped her in the soft folds of the blanket, picked her up, cradled in his arms, and moved to the door.
The lodge was dark and quiet, with most of the guests already asleep in their rooms. Even so, he moved through the darkness, folding the shadows around them, using his natural Were power to cloak them both from all but another Were or someone with power.
Down the stairs, past the central lounge and kitchen, down more stairs to the lower floor
, he moved with stealth and speed that marked him as nothing human. In less than a minute he stood in front of the door to her room and opened it—she’d left the door unlocked. When this was resolved, he’d have to have words with her about security.
Nudging the door open, he carried her to the bed that held her scent, and laid her on top. Standing back, he looked down at her cocooned in the blanket, her bare shoulder an unbearable temptation.
Clenching his hands at his side, he forced himself not to give in to the need to stroke, to lick, to nip.
He turned away.
Turned back.
He couldn’t leave her lying there naked, helpless. He didn’t know if she was that familiar with her friends, and he didn’t like the idea of anyone seeing her as he’d seen her tonight.
Pyjamas lay on the floor next to her bed, as did some other clothing that carried her scent. He smiled, wondering if untidiness was one of her habits. Trying to keep his mind on harmless thoughts like that, he unpeeled her from the blanket and dressed her in the pyjamas, clenching his teeth to stop from touching her more than necessary, Cordy’s words echoing loudly in his ears.
Once done, he tucked her back in the blanket and placed the doona over the top. He knew he should take the blanket, but he had a strong need to leave his scent with her in something more than her skin. Besides, Cordy had told him to keep her warm.
He stood there, watching as she breathed, listening to the beat of her heart, taking in her glorious scent. Her power still caressed his skin. Too long. She’d been giving him power for too long. Her breathing was shallow, her skin cold.
He must leave.
A sound above caught his attention. Footsteps on the metal stairs leading to the front door. The door opening and closing. The sound of female voices and one male voice—Adam.
Her friends had arrived home. They would look after her.
Shivering, he whispered, ‘I will see you soon, my mate.’ He longed to bend and kiss her but couldn’t risk it. Besides, he had to leave the room before her friends came downstairs and saw him there. They might not be born witches like Skye and her ancestors, but Adam had told him they had the scent of Wiccans on them when he’d ‘bumped’ into them this afternoon. If they were from one of the old families, they could still have enough power—power borrowed from their Mother Goddess—to see him, despite his aura cloak. He didn’t want to have to explain what he was doing there, nor why Skye wouldn’t wake up.
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