“You’re very observant,” she bit out.
And yet she still found herself moving over to the fireplace, prying open the frozen glass and starting up a fire fully for Gage’s benefit. It certainly wasn’t going to warm her. At best it left a few puddles on the floor that were probably doing irreversible damage to the wood. But as conflicted as she felt about Gage, she still didn’t want him to freeze to death.
“Come over here before your fingers fall off,” she said, fatigue finding its way into her voice.
He did as she said, sitting on the hearth and warming his hands by the fire. He looked up at her expectantly, one brow raised.
“What about you?”
“I’m fine,” she said, though the idea of sitting beside him was still tempting.
“Mmmhm,” he said. “So what’s really going on here, Lil?”
“It’s Lily.” He wasn’t allowed to use that nickname, no matter how simple. That was reserved for the boy he’d been. The boy who hadn’t broken her heart. “And there’s no vengeful spirit.”
Something flashed through Gage’s eyes. Recognition, along with a hint of his animal pushing through. A shiver that had nothing to do with the cold wound its way through her body.
“It’s you. You’re the one causing this.”
Gage had known she was a witch. Despite her parents impressing upon her the importance of remaining hidden, she’d shared it with him. She’d shared everything with him. And not only had he been accepting of it, he’d genuinely seemed interested when she told him about the new spells she was learning, and ridiculously proud of her when she mastered them.
“Not by choice,” she said softly.
“What happened, Lily?”
She could lie to him, but what good would that do? He was the most stubborn man she’d ever met. She doubted that had changed.
“I cast a spell and it backfired.” Perhaps it wasn’t the whole truth, but as far as she was concerned, it was as much as he needed to know. “And like I said, I’m dealing with it. I went back to Ridgely to get my spellbook.”
She nodded toward the blanket she’d thrown down when she got inside. Her one hope for salvation, and it was very likely still frozen solid. She was almost afraid to see it uncovered, yet Gage did just that, revealing the book in the same state it had been earlier. If anything, it looked worse now. No doubt the pages were becoming damaged; brittled enough to simply crumble into useless dust if she could ever pry the cover up.
Lily held her breath, for if that happened, she would crumble right along with it.
Chapter 3
Gage stared at the spellbook in disbelief. He remembered what it looked like before. Definitely old. Well cared for. The leather was brushed pretty frequently and the pages were never handled too aggressively. And even before he’d gotten his bear—his own form of magic—he’d been able to sense the magic in the tome. It was something to be respected.
Now, though, it was just one big block of ice. The leather was hard and weighed down by frozen water, and the pages weren’t even moving.
“Seems like we might need a plan B,” he said, running his fingers over the slick cover. Magic still tingled beneath his fingertips.
“There is no plan B.”
He looked back up at Lily, his brow furrowed. He’d told her he was here on a job, but really it was only luck that she happened to be it. He would be here regardless. Especially considering her condition. He hadn’t commented on it, but she looked about a half step away from death. Her skin was almost colorless, devoid of the warm reds and pinks he remembered. Though he saw a flicker of determination in her gaze, her green eyes had lost some of their fire and passion. Even her hair was seemingly flat now, flecks of ice throughout it. And her lips, once so plump and kissable, were chapped and practically blue.
It struck an undeniable fear through him and enraged his bear, filling him with a frenzied need to somehow fix this. But Lily wasn’t exactly giving him a wealth of options for doing so. It was almost like she was resigned to her fate.
No matter her current feelings about herself or how much she hated him, Gage wasn’t going to let that happen. Long ago he’d sworn he would keep her safe at all costs. Now it was time to make good on that promise.
“Well, I guess we’ll just have to tweak plan A a little. You got a hair dryer or anything around here?”
She gave him a strange look. “I do, but the power’s out.”
A grin he didn’t quite feel crossed his features. “I was wondering what was with the ambiance in here. I guess we’ll have to do this the old-fashioned way.”
Picking up the book—and cursing under his breath as the ice scalded his already abused fingers—he held it close to the fire. He could feel the change in her, the spark of energy flung toward him. She’d been closed off and despondent before, but now he felt a surge of the woman she’d been.
“That’s a priceless family heirloom. You can’t just roast it like a damn marshmallow!”
Gage laughed at the image. “What if I do it like a hot dog? Would that work?”
She swiped for the book, but he pulled it just out of reach. The glower he received probably would’ve been enough to freeze his balls yet again.
“Relax. I’m just trying to get some of the ice melted so it can be opened. I assume you actually need to be able to read it to fix this?”
“Yes,” she admitted through gritted teeth.
As he kept on ‘roasting the book like a marshmallow,’ Lily paced the common room. Every step she took splintered ice across the floorboards, cracking the hardwood in a series of tiny fissures. It was almost beautiful in a deadly sort of way, and Gage’s attention was held in a trance for several long moments before he focused on the book.
“I think I’m getting somewhere.”
The exposure to the heat had melted the ice and dried out the pages. The cover was definitely damaged, and there was a good chance some of the ink on the pages was smeared, too, but he had to hope for the best. Lily sat beside him as he carefully opened the cover. But where he expected warped pages and bleeding ink, he saw perfectly crisp parchment and lettering that was as clear and legible as it had been the first time he read it.
“It’s magic ink,” she said softly. “It protects the pages and the words written on them.”
As cool as that was, Gage was on a mission. “So what am I looking for in here?”
Lily tensed beside him and he could scent her reservation. His bear clawed at him from deep inside, reminding him it was his job to put her at ease. He did his best to silence the beast. That hadn’t been his job for a very long time, and judging by the reception he’d received, Lily had no interest in it being his job again.
“Just turn the pages. I’ll tell you where to stop.”
He did so, flipping through decades—maybe even centuries—of recorded spells and potions. Lily had been so excited to show him this book the first time, and as interesting as he found it, he’d gravitated toward her enthusiasm a whole lot more. Now the mood was somber. He could sense Lily’s tension and it made him feel on edge, too.
“There,” she finally said, and he stopped turning.
Looking down at the pages, his brow furrowed even deeper as he read the passage aloud. “To mend a broken heart. Upon casting this spell, the user will no longer feel the pain of a broken heart. Should only be attempted by an expert witch. Consequences are not well-recorded.” Gage raked a hand through his hair. “Shit, Lil. Is this what you cast?”
“Yes,” she said simply.
“Why?”
He met her gaze, and her expression had hardened. Beneath it, though, he saw a glimpse of the girl he’d hurt so badly so many years ago. His heart seemed to forget how to beat, and he forgot how to breathe for a moment as the pieces came together.
“You know why.”
He did know why. It was because of him. She’d cast this spell because he’d hurt her. Because he’d broken her heart. Walked away from everything they had
and left her and Ridgely behind.
“Yeah, well. We’re going to un-cast it.”
Determination settled through him, burning away everything else. Even his bear was in agreement. They had to fix the problem he’d caused first, then they could deal with fixing Lily. He wasn’t leaving here until both were solved. The beast wouldn’t let him, and frankly, Gage wouldn’t let himself.
He read the rest of the page to see if there was some sort of remedy or a way to dispel it. Only one line of text even hinted at it:
To reverse the spell, the pieces must be put back together.
“Well that’s vague as hell.”
“Magic often is,” she said softly. “I doubt there’s a direct remedy in this book.”
“So what were you going to try?”
She reached out for the book, maybe on instinct. Tendrils of frost leapt from her fingers and danced across the page before she pulled her hand back. Thankfully, the frost melted away with ease while still in Gage’s hands.
“Habit,” she murmured, cradling her hand as if she’d burned it. “I wanted to look for more advanced warming spells. The one I know is very basic; not enough to thaw this.”
“Why the ice, anyway? The book made it sound like that spell would just make you numb.”
“That’s what I thought, too. But like I said… magic is often vague. And not especially transparent. My best guess is that it… froze my heart. Slowly over the years.”
He looked at her then, searching her eyes for the answer to the question he didn’t want to ask. It was one thing to create a perpetual snowstorm around herself and look two steps away from death. But as he listened with the bear’s senses, he could hear the painfully slow beating of her heart.
If he didn’t do something soon, he’d lose her. Honestly lose her.
Pulling his gaze away, Gage flipped through the spellbook with a fierce determination until Lily stopped him again. When she found a spell that looked promising, she recited the incantation. The first was a complete bust. Nothing changed, as far as Gage could tell, except the fact that she seemed to grow weaker.
The second and third spells provided a temporary thaw. The hearth wasn’t a block of ice freezing his ass anymore, and a few of the crystals in her hair melted. But the magic faded quickly, and Lily looked even worse, practically panting with the effort.
“Maybe we should take a break,” he suggested warily.
But she shook her head, and a stubborn light glinted in her eyes. “No. I can’t afford a break.”
She directed him to flip through more pages, passing by spells that seemed too weak. Eventually she found a spell that was meant to create a living flame inside the caster, invigorating them and bolstering their strength. He watched as she recited the words. She began to tremble. Then shake. What little color was left in her cheeks fled, and the light in her eyes seemed to dim, slicing a cold burst of fear through him.
It was clear she couldn’t finish the incantation. She slumped forward and Gage was there, gathering her up in her arms. She felt almost limbless, exhaustion ravaging her body and evidently her spirit, because soon after he felt her shoulders shake, the hint of moisture touching his shirt.
Shifting on the hearth, he wrapped both arms tight around her, bringing her practically into his lap to let her lean on him fully. She was freezing cold, even through their layers of clothing, but he ignored it, feeling the tickle of fur as it rippled across his arms, helping guard him from the elements and giving him the strength to do what needed to be done.
And it seemed to be working. Her skin warmed some, and he swore he almost heard her heartbeat speed just a touch, too.
“Gage, don’t. You’re just going to—”
The desperation in her voice broke his heart, but her attempt to get away from him was feeble at best. He wanted to believe it was because she knew this was what she needed, not because she was too weak.
“Shhh. I’m not going anywhere.”
After a shuddering sigh, she relaxed against him. Resting his head atop hers, trying to somehow pour his warmth into her, he thought back on the words of that spell.
The pieces must be put back together.
Maybe it wasn’t so vague after all. Maybe the key to undoing the spell was simply undoing the hurt that caused her to cast it in the first place. Not that there was anything simple about it. Gage had avoided Ridgely because he couldn’t imagine how he’d be able to make it right; how he’d be able to explain to her what he’d been thinking.
But he had to try. After drawing in a deep breath, he began to speak.
“I haven’t had a peaceful night since I left Ridgely,” he began.
She stiffened in his arms, but didn’t pull away.
“I just keep replaying that day in my mind. Thinking that… if I hadn’t been such a coward, I’d still be here. I’d still be with you. We’d be happy together. I never once doubted that. We’d have a cub or two by now, and—”
“Gage, please. Don’t do this,” she said, her voice shaky. “I’ve relived that day so many times, I really don’t need you to tell me what might have been.”
He pulled back slightly to look at her. Fresh tears shimmered in her eyes, and his heart ached, knowing he was the cause. He wanted to just fix this. Ignore the damage done and move forward. But that was impossible.
“I need you to know why I did it, Lil.”
“I know why. You didn’t love me anymore. You told me as much, Gage. I don’t need to hear it again.”
She tried to turn away from him, but he wouldn’t allow it.
“No,” he growled, the sound vibrating through him, drawing her attention back to him. “I lied. I lied then, and I’ve lied every day of my life since.”
She closed her eyes, blinking away the tears. When she opened them again her gaze was harsh, filled with betrayal. “Why? If you’re telling me the truth now, then why did you lie back then?”
“I didn’t want to hurt you,” he admitted softly.
“Well you did a wonderful job of that.”
The barb struck him like a dagger piercing his heart. It was deserved; more than deserved. But it still stung.
“Do you remember when I had my first change? How fucking terrified I was?”
She nodded slowly. He’d gotten his bear later than most shifters. His father said it was just because of the strength of the beast inside of him; it knew he needed to be older and more capable of handling it. But Gage definitely hadn’t handled it well. Lily had been the only one able to keep him calm; keep him sane.
Then, once the bear finally burst forth and took hold of his body and mind, he understood why. The beast wanted her. Wanted to claim her as a mate. Bite her and keep her forever. See her grow round with his cubs.
And as right as that felt, the human part of Gage’s mind rebelled against it. He hadn’t understood what it meant then, to claim a mate. He was certain the bear would hurt her; maybe even turn her or kill her. He couldn’t decide which would be worse.
That thought, coupled with the nightmares that ravaged his unsettled sleep during that time—nightmares in which he saw his Lily, broken and bloodied, crimson staining his white maw—made him begin to fear the beast inside of him.
He remembered sneaking into her parents’ house and stealing the very spellbook that now sat on his lap. He’d tried so desperately to find a spell that would separate him from the beast, more than willing to give up his powers as a shifter if it meant keeping Lily.
But he’d never found a way, and it left him with only one alternative. He had to let Lily go.
That day was still the hardest of his life, and he wasn’t exaggerating when he told her he dreamed of it every single night, replaying it in his mind again and again. He’d lied to her. Told her he didn’t love her anymore, when nothing could be further from the truth. Told her he felt stifled and tied down, when all he wanted was to stay by her side, as close to her as possible for all time.
And slowly, he explained all of
that to Lily. He told her about the bear’s overwhelming desire. He told her how he’d tried to fight it. He even told her about the visions he’d had, his voice trembling as he remembered the image of her mangled body. Throughout his recollection, her expression slowly changed, moving from disbelief to pure shock. She even looked pained for him at one point, as Gage stumbled over his words, his bear growing restless, demanding he take action instead of just speaking.
He swallowed hard, searching her eyes for any hint of the girl he once knew. She was there, locked deep inside. If only Lily would let her out.
“I did lie to you that day, Lily. I loved you then, and I never stopped. All of this, the ridiculous excuse for a life I have… it’s been a poor substitute. It doesn’t mean anything to me. But you do.”
Chapter 4
Lily was absolutely stunned.
She looked up at Gage as he told his story, emotions raging through her, tumbling over one another and tangling into one big mess that shook through her soul. She felt his pain. Felt the fear of the boy he’d been, burdened with something he just hadn’t been able to understand.
She wanted to hate him. Wanted to leave those stony walls in place. But the more he explained, the more those walls crumbled. She could practically feel them giving way when he told her that his bear wanted her. That he’d hurt her because he was afraid of doing something much worse.
And when he told her he still loved her, his eyes filled with such sincerity that she couldn’t deny his truthfulness, those walls came crashing down in a storm of dust and debris that left her shaky and scarcely able to breathe.
Through it all, her heart was beating. Pounding. Thudding against her ribcage with a rhythm far stronger than she’d felt in years. It pumped fiercely, and heat slowly worked its way through her body, out to her limbs all the way to the tips of her fingers and toes.
She shivered at the sudden change of temperature, still caught in his gaze, those pale blue eyes begging for her understanding.
And she did understand. Or at the very least, she wanted to understand. He’d done the wrong thing. Made the wrong choice. He should have come to her and told her what was happening and they would have figured it out. Together.
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