Leisl Leighton - [Pack Bound 01]

by Pack Bound (epub)

  She returned her attention to the diaries, her fingers trembling over the leather, and then, taking in a deep breath, opened it and began to read.

  Not wanting to make it harder for her to concentrate, he stood, his movement knocking one of the volumes to the floor. He bent to pick it up and as he did so, a loose piece of paper slipped from between the pages and fluttered to the floor. Turning it over, he opened the folded piece of paper to see what it was.

  The spell Cordy had given him. How had it gotten inside the diary? He thought he’d put it in his desk drawer.

  ‘What is it?’ Skye asked, her eyes on him once again.

  ‘This is the spell I told you about. The one Cordelia created to help unblock your powers so you could have full use of them.’

  ‘Did Marcus change his mind? Is she coming to help Skye learn about her powers?’ Shelley asked, looking up from the diary in her lap.

  Jason shook his head. ‘Marcus won’t let Cordy off pack land and he won’t allow Skye to go to her, because her powers are so unstable.’

  ‘I wouldn’t go, even if he asked.’

  He looked down at Skye, startled.

  ‘They have children, don’t they? I’m not going anywhere I might hurt children.’ She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, then put out her hand. ‘Can I look at that?’ He passed it to her, watching as her eyes darted over it. After a moment, she dropped the piece of paper into her lap, squeezing her fingers into her palms. ‘I can feel the power in these words.’

  ‘She said you must speak them aloud.’

  ‘Read them, Skye,’ Shelley said.

  Skye shook her head, folding the paper and putting it in her jeans. ‘No. Not until I know more about my power. I want to read this first.’ She tapped the diary. ‘And perhaps if I could Skype Cordelia and ask her some questions?’

  Jason nodded, certain Cordy would be more than happy to do that.

  ‘Good. I need to figure out how to control the power that’s been leaking out. Who knows what will happen if the whole lot is unleashed.’

  ‘That’s what I’m here for,’ Jason said. ‘You’re supposed to channel it through me.’

  ‘No!’

  She sounded horrified. Jason couldn’t help it—he knelt down beside the couch and touched her shoulder. She looked up at him, then away. He brushed her hair back from her face, cupped her chin and lifted her head so her gaze met his once again. ‘It’s the way it works.’

  ‘I won’t do it until I know more. I could kill you. I almost killed River.’

  ‘You didn’t know what you were doing.’

  ‘I still don’t.’ She jerked her head back, out of his gentle grip. ‘I’ve agreed to stay, to help, but you have to let me do it my way.’

  His wolf snarled its disappointment, but he kept his expression gentle, calm. He tapped the diary. ‘Read this and we’ll talk.’

  ‘We’ll see,’ she muttered, returning her attention to the diary as he moved away.

  ‘I need to call Iain, see if the perimeter is clear. Will you be okay here without me for a while?’

  Skye didn’t look up at him this time, but nodded. ‘Tom will be home soon. Have you thought any more about sending him away?’

  ‘I have. Iain is going to take him and Suzie back to pack land tomorrow morning when a few more of my lieutenants arrive to help with security here.’

  ‘Good. I meant what I said about not wanting any children to be hurt.’

  ‘It’s your concern that tells me you are going to be a wonderful Pack Witch. Children are what binds the pack together. There’s nothing more important than them.’

  ‘I agree.’

  He couldn’t see her expression—her hair hung down, concealing her face—but he could see by the set of her shoulders she was tense. ‘You shouldn’t read for too long. It’ll be dinner soon. You should eat and then rest more.’

  Her eyes snapped up to his. ‘I slept all day and I’ve just eaten. Right now, I want to read this. I want answers.’

  Shoving his hands in his pockets, he nodded. ‘Okay.’ He understood. Hell, he wanted her to get a handle on her magic as quickly as possible, too. But he also didn’t want her falling sick. He looked at Shelley, who was eying them both, a curious expression on her face. She seemed to read the question in his eyes though, because she nodded.

  ‘I’ll make sure she goes to bed if she gets tired.’

  ‘I’m not a child.’

  Jason’s lips twitched at Skye’s petulant tone.

  ‘Are you sure?’ Shelley quipped.

  Skye turned to glare at her friend and then, suddenly, she was laughing.

  The sound filled Jason with warmth and hope. If she could laugh, then maybe she wasn’t in as bad a place as he feared. ‘Well, if you’re here to take care of her …’

  Shelley smiled at him. ‘I’ve been taking care of her for years.’

  He nodded then looked over at Skye, who was studiously avoiding his gaze. His wolf didn’t like being ignored. Giving in to the wolf’s urging—because he didn’t like being held at arm’s length either—he crouched down again, cupped her face in his hands and kissed her, short, hard, possessive.

  She stared at him, stunned, but he could see the embers of desire there. Despite what he’d said to her last night about giving her space, he wasn’t going to give her up without a fight. She was his mate. Her heart was his as his was hers. She only had to accept it to realise the gift they’d been given. He was certain once she realised it, there’d be no talk of going away.

  But now was not the time to bring it up.

  Smiling, he leaned forward and kissed her again, this time slower, softer, a promise. Her breath fluttered over his face as he pulled away. ‘I’ll see you later. Make sure you rest.’

  She didn’t answer, just stared at him with those desire-laden eyes.

  His wolf’s satisfaction a purr in his throat, he sauntered out of the room.

  Chapter 17

  Skye read for hours. She barely noticed when Shelley got up to turn more lights on, settling again beside her on the couch. When she’d finally been able to focus on the words in the diary after that more than confusing kiss from Jason, she had been drawn in. Her father’s words had captured her attention from the first line, speaking of things that seemed vaguely familiar and others that were so alien they crawled over her skin, making her shudder.

  Family history was intertwined between essays on the nature of magic and spells her father had learned or created. Her eyes wanted to skate over the spells because they made her head pound, but she knew she had to read every word, so she ignored the pain and made herself read them. After a while, the pain became a nauseating numbness in the back of her head, and she read about her life, her parents’ lives, their loves, their dreams and hopes—their joy when Skye and River were born.

  Then there were her father’s prophecies. Some were simple. Some made no sense and then there were others that seemed to be written in some kind of code she couldn’t understand.

  ‘What are you frowning over?’

  She passed the diary to Shelley. ‘I can’t make sense of this, although I have a feeling it’s incredibly important. Does it make sense to you?’

  Shelley’s brow furrowed as she read the words on the page, but she only said, ‘Maybe,’ and kept reading.

  Knowing that expression on her friend’s face, Skye muttered, ‘Well, I know I’m not getting that diary back again any time soon.’

  ‘What?’ Shelley asked, looking up at her briefly before looking back down at the diary.

  Skye chuckled. ‘Nothing.’ She pushed up from the couch, stretching out the cramps from sitting too long. ‘I’ve had enough for now. I need a drink. Do you want anything?’

  ‘Tea would be nice,’ Shelley said absently, not looking up from the diary. ‘And maybe some of Adam’s Anzac biscuits.’

  ‘Adam’s Anzac biscuits?’

  ‘Mmm-hmm. He does most of the cooking here.’

  ‘Huh.
’ Skye wondered if he’d made the amazing lasagne she’d eaten earlier. Lasagne and biscuits. Comfort food. There really was more to him than she’d realised.

  She headed down the hall to the kitchen, put the kettle on and went in search of the Anzacs. She found them in a tin marked ‘Adam’s Biscuits’. As she filled a plate, she thought about the diaries and what her father had written. Wisps of fog-like memories were being stirred by some of what she read, but she still couldn’t grasp them; they were too insubstantial. Hopefully, if she persisted she’d actually remember something that would help them now.

  ‘Can I have one of those?’

  She jumped and turned around. Tom stood in the doorway, a fluffy puppy in his arms.

  ‘Aren’t you supposed to be in bed?’ she asked, trying to ignore the lick of fear that crawled up her spine at sight of the dog.

  ‘I woke up and was thirsty. And a bit hungry. It’s a long time till breakfast.’

  ‘It is.’ She held out the plate, trying to stop her hand from shaking as he came forward with the puppy. She knew the fear was irrational, especially after she’d faced down his uncle as a wolf. Besides, the puppy was too cute to be menacing: a little ball of grey and white fluff looking adoringly up at Tom as he padded up to her and took a large biscuit. The puppy licked his face. Tom giggled.

  ‘Who’s your friend?’ she asked.

  Tom kissed the puppy on the head. ‘This is Mikey. Uncle Jase just gave him to me for my birthday. Can I have some milk, too?’

  ‘Sit at the table and I’ll get you some. But not a big glass—it’s not good to drink lots of liquid before bed.’

  ‘Oh, I know. Uncle A is always telling me I have a bladder the size of a pea.’ He looked up at her curiously as she put the glass of milk before him and sat down next to him. ‘What’s a bladder?’

  She was about to answer when the puppy scrambled from Tom’s lap to hers. Skye stiffened, holding her breath.

  Unfazed, Tom said, ‘He likes it when you pat him, like this.’ He sidled closer—he smelled of soap and toothpaste. Skye breathed in the familiar scent, trying to allow it to soothe her into relaxing. The puppy settled into her lap, lying his head on her stomach, and looked up at her with adoring brown eyes. Tentatively, she lowered one hand and followed Tom’s action.

  ‘See?’ Tom nodded. ‘He likes you.’

  She nodded nervously, but continued to pat the soft fur.

  Tom watched her for a moment, his forest green eyes full of questions.

  ‘You want to ask me something?’

  He nodded. Thought for a long second. Then, ‘You’re our Pack Witch, aren’t you?’

  She swallowed hard. ‘So I’ve been told.’

  ‘Why did you go away when we needed you?’

  ‘I didn’t know I was needed. Besides, I was only eight and my grandparents took me to look after me. They didn’t realise they would hurt any of you when they did that.’

  ‘Oh. I guess that’s okay then.’

  ‘Really? You’re not angry with me?’

  He shook his head. ‘Nuh-uh. It wasn’t your fault. Uncle Jase says we can’t take responsbly—responsiblibity—for things that aren’t our fault. Like my parents’ and Nan and Pop’s and Uncle and Aunt’s deaths. That wasn’t my fault. Uncle Jase says it’s okay that it makes me sad and I feel bad, but that doesn’t mean it’s my fault. It just means I’ve got to try my best always to make Mummy and Daddy proud of me in heaven.’

  Skye had to bite her lip to keep the tears from running down her face. She stopped patting the puppy and brushed her hand through the little boy’s silky soft hair. His acceptance and forgiveness was a gift she wasn’t going to sully with her stupid tears. ‘Your Uncle Jason is very wise.’

  Tom nodded. ‘Yeah. He and Uncle A are the best.’

  He ducked his head and began patting the puppy again. Aware of a little boy’s pride, Skye turned her attention to the puppy. ‘What kind of dog is he?’

  ‘A Keeshond.’

  ‘Huh.’ She’d never heard of them, but she had to admit this one was cute, and stroking her hand along its soft body was kind of relaxing. ‘It looks like a fluffy baby wolf.’

  Tom laughed. ‘Mikey’s too small to be a wolf.’

  At his name, Mikey jumped up, licked Tom’s face again, scampered off her lap and landed on the floor with a loud plonk. Scrabbling to his feet, he shot to the door leading out onto the back patio.

  ‘What’s he doing?’ Skye asked, pushing to her feet to follow Tom to the door.

  ‘He needs to go wees.’ He opened the door and the little puppy scurried out. Cool night air flooded in the door, making Tom shiver. ‘Don’t go far,’ he called in obvious imitation of his uncles, before closing the door. He looked up at Skye. ‘He won’t be long.’

  ‘Okay.’

  She stood beside him, looking out the floor-to-ceiling folding glass doors. She watched the puppy scamper off into the dark, nose to the ground, curly tail held jauntily across its back.

  The night sky was blue velvet and clear, the full moon high in the sky, casting dancing shadows all over the backyard and the stretch of wooded hills. She soon lost sight of the puppy. ‘He can’t get out into the park, can he?’

  Tom shook his head. ‘There’s a gate, but Uncle Jase locked it.’

  She saw something move near the end of the patio, bigger than the little puppy. ‘Do you have other dogs?’

  Tom shook his head. ‘No.’

  Her heart banged in her chest. ‘Then what are those?’

  Two massive grey dogs, like the wolf-dog she’d seen at the snow, stalked across the grass from the direction of the back fence to the edge of the patio, their shapes outlined in the spill of light from the lounge.

  One of the dogs moved forward, sniffing the air, then sauntered across the patio to where Mikey had disappeared at the edge of the lawn. The yellow-orange glow of its eyes in the purple night sent a little frisson of fear dancing down her spine, even though she realised these must be members of the McVale Pack—Iain and Patrick—who were on sentry duty.

  She shifted slightly, away from the window.

  At her movement, the dog’s head snapped around to hers, the yellow-orange gaze piercing her through the glass doors.

  The dog sat back on its haunches, lifted its head and howled to the sky. The sound wasn’t mournful but triumphant. Vicious. Deadly.

  A little ball of grey and white flew out of the kangaroo paw plant to the left, hurtling in a snarling, snapping flurry of fury towards the two monstrous grey dogs.

  ‘Mikey!’ Tom screamed as he opened the door.

  ‘Tom?’ Skye said, surprised by his fear. But then a growl, low and bloodthirsty, ripped through the air, and she saw one of the dogs snap at the puppy, swatting it with its big paw. There was a sharp cry as Mikey flew backward into the bushes edging the patio.

  Fear clutched her in its vicious claws, paralysing her. These wolves obviously weren’t pack.

  ‘Go ’way! Leave him alone!’ Tom shrieked in his high-pitched voice, coming to a quivering halt just outside the door as the dog turned and snarled at him.

  The sound snapped her out of her paralysis. She reached for him, but he was too far outside the door to easily pull him back inside. Despite the fear trembling in every nerve ending, Skye slipped out and placed herself between Tom and the dogs.

  The dog in the lead, the bigger one, widened its mouth, almost as though it were smiling.

  ‘Tom,’ she whispered out of the corner of her mouth, ‘go back inside.’ She held her hands out to the side in attempt to shield his movement back through the door.

  ‘I want Mikey.’

  His sob cut into her. She felt his worry for his dog as if it was her own, but she couldn’t allow him to stay out here with such dangerous wild animals. ‘I’ll get him.’

  Mikey had crawled back out of the bushes, far more cautiously this time, but his hackles were raised as he faced the dogs, his mouth pulled up in a snarl. If he weren’t so small a
nd cute, he’d look scary. As it was, Skye was surprised the dogs were reacting to him at all. If they were human, they would have been rolling around laughing at the comical David and Goliath display. But then again, David had won. Perhaps the puppy had heard the story.

  She giggled, realising she was on the verge of hysteria despite the fear clutching at her throat and squeezing her chest, a deep primal thing that made her want to curl up in a corner and whimper.

  Skye. You have to get back inside, love. Her grandpa’s voice, a whisper in her ear, filled her with thrumming tension. These are not pack wolves. They aren’t friends. They’re our kind.

  His words snapped her out of the trance fear had locked her in. ‘Our kind,’ she stuttered. ‘But they are wolves, not witches.’

  They are. Powerful witches. It’s called transmogrification. But they aren’t natural shapeshifters. They’ve used dark magic, he said, voice low and harsh and full of condemnation. Can’t you sense it?

  Skye nodded. Oh yeah, she could sense it all right. Every cell in her body was shaking with the need to run away to where that kind of evil could never touch her.

  Run.

  ‘No.’ She couldn’t run. Now the unreasonable fear had been slapped aside, her need to protect the little boy and his puppy was greater. Reaching out slowly, she bent forward and said in a shaky voice, ‘Mikey. Mikey, sweetheart, come here. Come to Skye.’

  Mikey snarled, his little body shaking with fury, and took two springy jumps forward then back.

  One of the wolves looked down his nose at the puppy’s display, his mouth widening into a tooth-baring grin, making a noise that sounded curiously like a snicker. The other wolf stood, the movement sharp, abrupt, making Skye’s heart pound in her chest. He leaned forward, black nose crinkling, lips pulling up into a sneer.

  Mikey let rip with a sharp bark. The laughing wolf kept laughing, the other shot his mate a look that on a human would be annoyance, and then returned his attention to the little bundle of furious fur in front of him. He leaned forward. Mikey yipped again, his entire body caught up in the noise, his little legs like springs attached to his mouth.