Leisl Leighton - [Pack Bound 01]

by Pack Bound (epub)

  She bit her lip and turned away. ‘Tom is here? Don’t you think you should keep him away from me until I can control my powers?’

  His hands were gentle on her shoulders as he turned her to face him. ‘You won’t hurt him.’

  ‘How can you be so certain of that?’

  ‘Because I know how much you treasure children. I saw how much you tried not to lash out tonight, and if not for Adam trying to grab you, I think you would have succeeded. You are stronger than you give yourself credit for being.’

  ‘I don’t think you see me clearly at all.’

  ‘I see you just fine.’ Jason smiled, that little twist of his lips she so loved.

  Loved?

  Oh God.

  He leaned forward and kissed her brow. The soft, warm press of his lips on her skin made something crack inside her. She bit her lip to stop crying out in pain.

  ‘Sleep well, Skylar Collins. I’ll be in the room next door. If you need me for anything, just call. I’ll hear you.’

  She couldn’t trust herself to say anything, so she just nodded. He smiled one more time, brushed his fingers over her jaw and then was gone, closing the door behind him.

  Skye sank onto the bed and lay down on her side, legs curled up, arms wrapped around her chest as if she could hold the pain in. She stared blindly out the French doors.

  She loved Jason.

  How could that have happened? She didn’t believe in love at first sight. She’d been so certain it was just lust she felt for him—an incredible, once-in-a-lifetime lust. But it wasn’t. It was so much more. She curled into a tighter ball.

  ‘What am I going to do?’

  You will bear what you must, love. There are reasons behind everything that happens in the world, we just need to be brave enough to look.

  The words were not a comfort. They reminded her too much of what Jason had just said.

  ‘I don’t think I am brave enough,’ she whispered.

  Her grandpa didn’t respond. After all, what was there to say?

  She closed her eyes and tried to sleep, but sleep was a long time in coming.

  When it did come, rather than the darkness of oblivion, eyes of lightning-struck blue blazed in her mind, filling her with both warmth and despair. In her sleep she dreamed of a life she could never have. In her sleep, she wept—but they weren’t tears of joy.

  Chapter 16

  Daylight streamed through the gauzy curtains when Skye finally woke, the kind of yellowing daylight that suggested it was late afternoon. She’d slept the day away.

  The exhaustion of last night no longer weighed down her limbs, but her mind was fuzzy, her eyes dry and sore and her mouth tasted of the bitterness of tears.

  Groaning, she rolled off the bed and staggered to the bathroom. A toothbrush, still in its packet, lay next to the basin, and someone had placed some clothes on the chair in the corner. A note lay on top of them.

  Skye,

  I hope you rested well. These are for you. Feel free to shower or have a bath and help yourself to any food in the kitchen. Shelley called 4Us2 and they don’t expect you in today or the rest of the week.

  Her head snapped up.

  Shoot. Work. She’d forgotten all about it.

  Thank God for Shelley and her sensible brain. Jenny would have been so worried not to have heard from Skye. What kind of boss and friend was she to have forgotten those who did so much for her? She should have remembered and made the call herself. Jen and her staff would continue to manage fine without her, but guilt left a bitter taste at the back of her throat, even though she knew she couldn’t be around the children with the rogue coven after her. It was bad enough she was endangering her friends, let alone little ones too vulnerable to look after themselves. Sighing, she read the rest of the note.

  Bron and Shelley have gone out to do some research in their family grimoires, and Adam and I are going to talk with Marcus McClune. I’ve stationed members of the pack outside—Iain and his brother, Patrick. If you need anything, just stick your head out the door and they’ll come. Suzie will pick Tom up from 4Us2 and will be bringing him home at about six. I’ll be back as soon as I can. In the meantime, I’ve left a few of the Pack Diaries on the table in the lounge room. I thought you might want to make a start on them. But make sure you eat first.

  Jason xxxx

  Skye held the note to her lips when she finished reading, breathing in the scent of paper and a faint hint of Jason’s warmth. She shouldn’t read anything into those Xs but … They’d had sex. Twice.

  No. It didn’t mean the same to him as it had to her. There was an animalistic side to his nature that put everything in a completely different light.

  Having sex with a Pack Witch was probably part of the ritual of connection he’d spoken of last night. He had said he wanted to explore the connection between them, but he’d been talking about the Alpha–Pack Witch bond.

  She groaned, scrubbing at her face.

  Stupid! So stupid to have misread that entire situation. It was like she was some love-starved adolescent. Putting the note down, she stripped out of the clothes she’d slept in and hopped into the large shower, sighing when the warmth of the spray pummelled down on her aching muscles.

  Half an hour later, feeling half human at least—although the aching pain in her chest didn’t abate—she wandered downstairs. Bypassing the lounge room where the Pack Diaries were waiting, she headed to the kitchen. She hadn’t eaten since the pizza Adam had ordered the night before. Jason was right—if she was to keep up her strength and not get sick again, she needed to eat.

  The kitchen was at the back of the house and as she stepped into the large, open space, the scent of freshly baked bread and tomatoes welcomed her. And basil. There was fresh basil growing in a tub alongside the bowl of tomatoes on the windowsill that overlooked the garden, the late-afternoon sun shining on their bright green leaves.

  She was surprised how large the kitchen was, given that this was essentially a bachelor pad. The modern appliances were well used, suggesting someone loved to cook—the smell of freshly baked bread was testament to that. Newspapers and crayons were scattered on the oversized oak table that took up a huge portion of the kitchen, and a box of toys sat next to the faded red couch and armchairs that faced the far wall, where a flat-screen TV hung. Large, leafy green plants stood on either side of the bank of glass doors that led out onto the patio that wrapped around the back and side of the house, spilling out onto the huge garden.

  A large cream and green rug covered the wooden floorboards in front of the couch. And there was a huge canvas on the wall opposite the TV; a splash of wild colours—red, orange, yellow, black, white and earthy browns with a hint of mossy green here and there. The painting was abstract, designed to create emotion in the viewer. Skye swallowed as she looked at it; passion, desire, loss and loneliness. That’s what she felt looking at the painting. She moved closer to look at the signature: A. McVale.

  Adam. Who would have known? There was so much more to him than she’d guessed. Jason had mentioned he was the pack Trickster; she really would have to find out what that meant. Looking at this painting, she had a feeling it meant he was far more than just a clown with a cocky smile.

  Her stomach growled.

  Tearing her gaze from the image, she turned and headed towards the fridge, trying to tamp down her reaction to the painting—to the room in general.

  It was probably because this whole room wasn’t what she’d expected in a bachelor residence. It wasn’t clinical with clean lines, but warm and welcoming. A kitchen and family room used by a family. The kind of place she’d always longed for. The kind of place she’d always longed to belong to.

  In fact, the whole house was like that. It was a family home, with half-a-dozen bedrooms, not to mention a study and play room, a formal lounge and dining and this large room. What could two bachelors with a little boy need with such a large house?

  A whisper of memory came to her: her mother standing in t
heir kitchen, cooking, flour on her cheek, the scent of pasta sauce and roasting lamb wafting delightfully in the air, mixing with the sweet floral hint of Ivy Collins’s perfume. She glanced up as five males let themselves in through the back door, each grabbing her up in a fierce hug and giving her smacking kisses on the cheek, hands lingering on shoulders and arms in ways that were not sexual but that proclaimed their affection for her. She returned their affection. They were pack. They belonged to each other.

  ‘I’m running a bit late,’ Ivy said. ‘You know where the drinks are. Help yourself. Paul is in the lounge room. Skye, can you please grab the oil for me?’

  Skye was just being set back on her feet by the biggest of the five men, laughing as he tousled her hair. She scampered off, dodging the back door as it opened to let in another group of people.

  The memory faded, leaving her gasping and disoriented.

  So many people. Pack. Welcome in her parents’ house like it was their own.

  At least now she understood the size of this house. Members of the pack probably stayed here with Jason and Adam. It would only be natural they’d want to be near their Alpha. It would explain why the house had the feel of a home, not just a base of operations.

  There was a feeling of rightness here—remembering that scene with her mother brought clarity to what Jason had said last night about her being pack, reaffirming it. But what did that mean to her?

  Shoving aside the feelings the memory brought up, she tugged open the fridge door, and stood there for a long moment, looking blindly at the contents before pulling herself up.

  ‘Get a grip, Skye. Get some food, read the diaries, figure the rest out later.’

  She reached into the fridge and pulled out a dish. Leftover lasagne. It would do. She put it in the microwave to nuke and turned to get a glass of water.

  Her phone rang. She looked at the screen: Morrigan.

  ‘Gran, what’s happened? Why are you calling?’

  ‘I just wanted to know how you were feeling. Alfrere said you would probably sleep for quite some time so I gave you most of the day before I called. Are you okay?’

  Skye was so stunned that at first the words wouldn’t come. ‘I’m … I’m fine … Thanks for asking.’

  ‘Of course I’d ask. I tried to call you at home but you weren’t there.’

  ‘No. Jason took me to his place. We thought it might be safer here and I wanted to read the Pack Diaries he told me he had. I thought they might help.’

  ‘Help? Help what? You know what you have to do. You aren’t thinking of tapping into your powers and helping them, are you?’

  Skye sighed. ‘I’m just trying to find the best way forward.’

  ‘The best way forward is for you to do as Alfrere and I told you. He didn’t weave that spell last night just to have you ignore us. It wasn’t fun for him, you know.’

  ‘It wasn’t fun for me either.’

  ‘No … Well, I’m sorry it was so painful, but there was a purpose to it. It wasn’t so you could play happy families with the Were.’

  Skye snorted. ‘It’s hardly been happy families. But they have a different view of things than you.’

  ‘Of course they do.’

  ‘They need me to stay and help them.’

  ‘Selfish bastards. Don’t they care what could happen to you if you do stay? What could happen to River?’

  ‘River will die. They will die if I don’t find a way to break the Curse you disregarded.’

  ‘They didn’t look after their coven the way they should. They deserve to succumb to that goddamned Curse!’

  The viciousness in Morrigan’s voice made Skye momentarily speechless. ‘How—How can you say that?’

  ‘I can say that because you don’t understand the truth.’

  ‘What do you mean? They’ve told me everything they know. I’d know if they were lying—something to do with the Alpha–Pack Witch bond.’

  ‘There are things they don’t know.’

  ‘And I suppose you do?’

  ‘Yes. Things Alfrere has told me. You need to come back. You need to let us help you.’

  ‘I can’t leave the pack to suffer. It wouldn’t be right.’

  ‘Even if it means the rogue coven could capture you? They’ll torture your power out of you and use you.’

  Skye shuddered at the coldness in Morrigan’s tone. ‘Jason says he can protect me and Grandpa agrees. He says that I’m far more powerful than my father, and if I can only find some way of tapping into my powers without them exploding out of me, then—’

  ‘No! You can’t do that.’

  Skye’s hackles rose at her grandmother’s tone. ‘Don’t tell me what to do. I’m sick of everyone telling me what to do. I can make my own decisions, my own choices. And I choose to stay and help Jason and the pack. I might even be able to find a way to help River.’ She stopped, breathless. She hadn’t known until that moment her decision had been made.

  She was staying. Nothing and nobody could drag her away. She had a purpose—Jason had given her that. Even if he couldn’t return her love, he’d given her something to strive for. Something worthwhile. Something to build on. And that just might be enough to mend her broken heart.

  Pack. She belonged with them. As they belonged to her.

  ‘I’m going to learn about my powers. I’m going to help the pack and break the Curse. And I will stand and fight the rogue coven with everything in me.’

  ‘Skye, you’re being foolish. You’re letting sentiment get in the way of reason.’

  ‘No. I’m not. I’m finally seeing things clearly and when I’m ready, I’m going to come and get River. I know you love him and you’ve always looked after him, but he belongs with me and the pack. They might be able to help him where you haven’t.’

  ‘Skye. Please, listen—’

  ‘No, Grandmother. I have listened. This is my choice. If you are afraid, you can run, but I’m not running any more.’

  ‘Skye—’

  ‘I’ll call you in a few days, tell you how I’m going. And if you want to help me in my new life, I’m sure the pack would be happy to welcome you back.’

  Before Morrigan could say anything else, Skye hung up and turned her phone off. She knew Morrigan would call again, but she wasn’t going to answer. Her grandmother had made her choice and now Skye was making hers.

  Turning back to the microwave, she got out the lukewarm lasagne. The scent of cheesy meat and tomato made her stomach growl. Suddenly ravenous, she made her way over to the table and ate. The lasagne was homemade and delicious with its chunky sauce and hints of basil, oregano and chilli. It was the first time she’d enjoyed food in weeks.

  Once she was finished, she washed up her dishes and wandered into the lounge room. The diaries were on the coffee table where Jason said they would be. Picking up two of them, she plonked down on the lounge with a sigh. Staring at the top one in her lap, she ran her hand over it. There was nothing special about the cover—just brown leather with ‘Paul Collins’s Diary’ embossed in black in the middle. Her fingers tingled as she ran them over her father’s name, but the tingling wasn’t bad. She wanted to open the diary, but her hand began to tremble.

  Coward! Her father had written this. There was nothing to fear and a lot to gain. What had happened to the resolve she’d found in her conversation with Morrigan?

  She gripped the leather cover. After a long moment of staring at the cover, she looked up and around. ‘Grandpa?’

  He didn’t answer.

  ‘Grandpa? I have some questions for you.’

  ‘He’s not here.’

  Skye jumped and looked up to see Shelley standing in the doorway. ‘How do you know?’

  ‘I’d see him.’ Shelley shrugged her shoulders as if that was normal.

  ‘Where is he?’

  Shelley shook her head and walked into the room. ‘I don’t know. Wherever spirits hover when they’re not trying to interact with living people. I’ve never asked.’


  ‘Don’t you want to know?’

  Shelley shuddered. ‘Not really.’ She leaned forward, her long golden plait falling over her shoulder, and ran her hand over the volume in Skye’s lap. ‘Is this one of the diaries?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Have you found anything in them yet?’

  ‘I haven’t been able to open it. Even though I want to know, even though I have to know, I’m afraid of what I’ll find.’

  Shelley didn’t press her with questions like Bron would have, just picked up another diary. ‘They smell nice.’

  Skye frowned, breathing in the scent of the leather. It was mixed with other scents, spices and herbs, tantalisingly familiar. ‘They smell like Papa, I think.’

  ‘Yes. They do. He always smelled of his work,’ Jason said as he came to a stop in the doorway.

  Skye swung around, her gaze meeting his, the green a deep emerald, like two pools high in the mountains surrounded by lush trees. He thought he might drown in them.

  ‘You’re home early,’ she whispered.

  ‘I am.’

  ‘Thank you for leaving these out for me.’ A faint smile touched her lips.

  Jason bowed his head. ‘My pleasure. But there’s nothing to be afraid of in them.’

  She blushed and looked away. ‘You heard me.’

  ‘I did.’ He came around the couch and sat on the coffee table in front of her, picking up a volume and turning it over in his hands. ‘They’re your heritage. They were written for you. There are things in here that will not reveal themselves to anyone other than those with power—much to my frustration.’

  ‘You’ve read them?’

  ‘I have. As my father did before me, trying to gain some information that would help us to find you. But much of it remained a mystery to him as it does to me. As I said, they were meant for you.’ He stroked the brown leather as he looked at her. By the Moon, he could look at her forever and never get bored. He saw something new, something unique, every time. She seemed to sense he was staring at her, because she glanced up at him and then away before he could capture her gaze again.