Warlords, Witches and Wolves: A Fantasy Realms Anthology

by Michelle Diener

  But as she neared the cabin where Paul had disappeared inside with Mariella, that feeling of dread built again, and it was hard not to shake in the face of it.

  She went into the female change room and quickly threw her clothes into a locker and wrapped a towel around her, hoping that Siobhan didn’t notice her hands trembling or the tension that vibrated through her. Goddess, this feeling in her chest was awful. If it was Paul’s, how the hell was he still walking and talking let alone smiling at his prospective partner. And why dread? That wasn’t what she’d felt the night of the mating ceremony, or the echoes of what she’d felt since. And why was she still the only one feeling this?

  She really needed to find out what the hell was going on because she didn’t like this connection one bit.

  As she rushed out of the change room, she smacked into someone coming out of the male changing room.

  Warm, strong hands steadied her.

  That joy pierced her again and she smiled up at him.

  She looked up into vibrant blue eyes.

  ‘Ivy.’ Her name was whispered, a plea.

  ‘Paul.’

  His fingers tightened on her arms, his gaze dipping down to her lips. He swayed towards her—or did she sway towards him? Goddess, she wanted to feel his lips on hers. She’d never wanted anything so much.

  Laughter sounded from behind her.

  Paul let her go, blinking rapidly, the expression on his face tortured. ‘Sorry. Sorry.’

  ‘Sorry for what?’ she asked, uncertain about what had just happened, or almost happened.

  He shook his head, whispered harshly, ‘You can’t be here. Go. Please go.’

  She didn’t have a chance to respond as a voice from behind her said, ‘Oh, you waited for me, Paul.’

  He stepped around Ivy and held his hand out for Mariella. ‘Of course. I wanted to make sure you and your friends had a bottle of water before we head up to the springs. You need to keep yourself hydrated.’

  ‘I didn’t bring one.’

  ‘No problems. There’s plenty in the car. Let’s go get you one. Excuse me, Ivy.’

  They moved around her and disappeared outside.

  She stood there, breathing in and out deeply, trying to stop the racing of her heart and the feeling like she was about to throw up. Why had he asked her to go? Why tell her she couldn’t be here?

  Something was dreadfully wrong. Not just with Paul, but with her. And she needed to find out what before it drove her insane.

  Chapter 8

  Paul couldn’t believe his bad luck. He thought he’d been doing so well over the last week, avoiding her as much as he could. He’d never used his calming mantras so much, but they helped. He’d almost convinced himself he could live near her, that it would all be okay if he just kept his distance for a while.

  Then he’d seen her step out of the car, so close, her beautiful eyes on him, and everything went to shit again.

  She wasn’t supposed to like him, so why was she seeking him out? And she was seeking him out. She’d looked for him the moment she’d got out of the car. And he’d heard that she’d asked after him at the various pack functions and meetings he’d avoided for fear of seeing her.

  Hell. He thought having Mariella come down here to spend some time together would fix things. He did like the witch after all—she was kind and talented and very pretty, and she deserved some effort on his part to get to know her better, to allow her to get to know him better, before they made the decision that would bind them for life. But rather than create a distraction, for some reason, her presence seemed to be making everything so much worse.

  He didn’t want Mariella. The only woman he wanted—had ever wanted—was standing beside the spring down the hill, her green one-piece hugging her curves in a way that made him shift uncomfortably where he sat. He had done everything he could throughout the morning to keep away from her. But every time he and Mariella moved to another spring, Ivy had soon followed. And despite the fact she was talking and laughing with the others in the group, he couldn’t help but feel she was watching him. As was Siobhan and Chloe. They masked it well, not talking to him more than they did with the others in the group, but given he’d bound Ivy to a fate where she hated him and avoided him at all costs—which meant Siobhan treated him and his friends with dislike in support of her friend—it was strange that they were suddenly so keen to talk to him and be in his sphere as if they were friends.

  Had she remembered something?

  No. That wasn’t possible. He’d done his job too well.

  Then why the sudden and unnerving interest in him?

  Her laughter lit the air with the brightness of the sun on a summer’s day. She seemed to be enjoying herself—and yet, there was something wrong. He could feel it deep inside where the torn and aching threads of the mating bond were. She should be untouched by what he’d done because if she couldn’t remember they were mates, then how could she be affected by the loss of it? Yet, she was weaker than she’d been. The light inside her dimmed. She put up a good front, but he could sense it. And he knew that if he looked, he’d see the effects of it on her aura.

  Did Abby know? Iris? They must. They would have looked at her aura and seen that there was something wrong. Something missing.

  She laughed again, and despite the bright joy in the sound, he heard an echo of sadness.

  Had he caused that? Had he done something wrong when he’d changed their fate? Arianrhod had said there were consequences for messing with the Fates. He’d thought he would be the only one punished because he was the one who had cut and rewound the threads. Remembering Ivy as he did, the fact that they were mates, that she had loved him and that for a moment, she had been completely his, was the fiercest joy cut with the bitterness of deep welling grief. But he could deal with his suffering as long as she was untouched, as long as she was safe from the fate meant to be hers.

  But he couldn’t handle it if she was made to suffer too.

  What had gone wrong? He had to figure it out and right it. Ivy deserved to live a happy life, not one tinged by some unknown sadness. He would have to look into her future—something he hated doing. Inviting the visions never made them easier to bear, so he rarely did it. But to protect Ivy, he would do anything.

  ‘Paul?’

  He jerked at the touch on his arm and turned to see Mariella looking at him. The frustration in her eyes told him she’d been trying to get his attention for a while. ‘I’m sorry. My thoughts were wandering.’

  ‘So I can see.’ Her gaze flickered to Ivy then back to him. ‘She’s quite lovely.’

  ‘Yes.’ He wanted to call the word back as soon as he’d said it. ‘I mean, I suppose she is. She’s Stellan’s little sister. I’ve never really looked at her that way.’

  ‘Really?’ The word was drawn out, full of nuance he didn’t want to look at too hard.

  ‘Yep. Umm, do you want to move to another spring? This one’s quite warm and we shouldn’t sit in it for too long.’

  ‘Sure.’

  She let him help her up and lead her to the cooler spring up the hill, just out of sight of where the others were congregated. He slipped into the water with a sigh, enjoying the slight effervescence of the mineralised water.

  ‘This one’s smellier than the others.’

  ‘It’s got minerals in it the others don’t have. That’s why it feels bubbly against your skin.’

  ‘Interesting.’

  Silence fell and he became super conscious of the fact they were truly alone for the first time since arriving. He should move to sit next to her. It would be the easiest thing to slip his arm behind her neck, to feel the side of her body flush up against his. He should want it.

  He stayed where he was.

  He should chat with her, ask her questions about her life, her training, her likes and dislikes.

  He put his head back on the edge of the pool, closed his eyes and wished himself far away.

  ‘Paul?’ Her voice was a littl
e sharp and he sat up with a jerk, eyes snapping open, searching around them for whatever threat had put that sound in her voice.

  There was nothing. He looked back at her. Her gaze was pinned on his, eyes wide, her mouth opened a little to show the slight crookedness of her front teeth.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘You started to fade.’

  ‘What?’

  She lifted her hand, droplets of water sparkles in the sun as she gestured at him. ‘You were there and then … you began to fade. I’ve never seen anything like it before. How did you do it?’

  ‘What? What are you talking about?’

  ‘It was almost like you were becoming a shade. But that isn’t possible. You still have your soul.’

  He stared at her, a little frisson of horror sparking to life inside him. ‘It must have been a trick of the light. I didn’t do anything.’

  ‘I assure you, I was not seeing something. Ask her.’ She gestured behind him.

  He didn’t need to turn to see who was there.

  Ivy.

  He didn’t want to acknowledge that he’d felt her presence the moment she’d started up the hill, had been trying his utmost to ignore it, ignore the fact he knew she was coming closer, but now she was here, the impact on him was unavoidable. He held himself still, even though every part of him was longing to turn, to look at her, to breathe in the beauty of her spirit, the gentle energy of her wolf, the intensity of her blue eyes. His fingers tingled to touch; his lips longed for hers. Her scent—jasmine on a summer breeze—cut through the mineral smell of the water and teased his senses.

  He wanted her.

  He longed for her.

  He could never have her.

  ‘Ivy, tell me you saw what Paul just did.’

  Ivy didn’t come closer, but he felt her eyes on him as if she was standing right beside him, touching him.

  ‘I’m not sure what I saw. It could have been the light.’

  ‘It wasn’t the light. Magic lit the air. You had to have felt it. Your wolf had to have sensed it.’

  She didn’t say anything but did come closer. She slipped into the water beside him, not close enough to touch, but close—too close. He shifted away. She made a small sound—of distress? Ah, shit. He didn’t want to hurt her. His eyes went to her.

  She was staring at him with that same look he’d seen in her eyes the night of the mating ceremony. As if she could see his pain. But that was impossible. He’d built so many barriers around his pain, impenetrable from even the most talented witch or warlock, there was no way she could sense it.

  And yet, now, he was certain she could see his pain as if he was wearing it on his face. How?

  He should go. He wanted to go.

  He couldn’t go.

  But he must.

  She gasped—as did Mariella.

  ‘Paul.’ Ivy reached out and touched him.

  Her touch sparked through him, bringing life and light where there had been pain-driven numbness. He gasped.

  ‘How did you do that?’ Mariella’s voice was a mere whisper.

  He kept his focus on the witch, trying to ignore the fact Ivy still gripped his arm. Warmth shot out from that touch and it was so hard not to lean into it, wrap her in his arms and never let go. He swallowed hard. ‘Do what?’

  Mariella shook her head. ‘Not you. Her.’

  He looked then and instantly wished he hadn’t. Ivy was staring at where her hand touched his arm, an expression on her face that was pleasure and pain combined. There was a slight glow emanating from where she touched him, remarkably like the glow a healer used when working their magic on a patient. But she wasn’t a healer. She was a maternal wolf, her empathy really only tuned to pick up the needs of the pack as a whole, not the individuals in it. She did not have the powers of a pack healer.

  And yet, there was that golden glow as she touched him.

  He looked up at her face. Did she look paler than before?

  A vision swam through his mind—Ivy on a bed, her face grey as death.

  No. No, that couldn’t be right. That was just his fear talking. He’d saved her. She wasn’t going to die. That wasn’t one of the ways he’d seen her die.

  Another vision shot through him—Ivy staring up at him, her eyes full of tears and yet smiling, the lines around her eyes and mouth deeper, holding hints of wisdom. ‘It’s twins, my love.’

  He jerked as it left him, nerves firing as if he’d had an electric shock.

  ‘Paul.’ Her voice brought him back.

  Blinking, he looked down at where her hand still gripped his arm, the two visions of her overlaid with the reality of her. ‘Ivy?’ he asked slowly. He raised his head—it felt so heavy—to meet her gaze.

  Her eyes were vibrantly electric as if lit by power within.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Mariella’s voice was a slap, pushing the visions away.

  ‘I’m not doing anything,’ he said, unable to break Ivy’s stare.

  ‘Yes, you were,’ Ivy whispered. ‘You were fading and I touched you and you stopped.’

  ‘Fading? I wasn’t fading. I didn’t do anything.’ He managed to drag his gaze away, glancing at Mariella.

  ‘You did something.’ She tipped her head to the side, a deep furrow marking her brow. ‘There was the strangest feeling of power. It buzzed around you and you began to fade again, just like a shade, but then she touched you and you stopped. Perhaps her healing powers stopped whatever it was from happening.’

  ‘I am not a healer,’ Ivy whispered, her voice husky.

  ‘Then how?’

  She looked up at the witch. ‘I don’t know. I shouldn’t be able to do this.’

  ‘And yet you are.’

  The water lapped over them and the edges of the spring as Mariella stood and quickly made her way over to them. She held her hand over where Ivy touched Paul. ‘You are right. This is not the kind of energy a healer uses. It’s a bond energy.’

  ‘The Packbond?’ Paul asked.

  She shook her head very slowly, her frown deepening as she closed her eyes. ‘No. It’s something else. Almost as if—’ Her eyes snapped open and she stared at them.

  ‘What?’ Ivy asked as dread rose inside of Paul.

  No. No. She couldn’t know.

  ‘What did you do?’ Mariella asked him.

  ‘Nothing,’ he said too quickly.

  ‘You’ve torn your soul,’ she said as if he hadn’t spoken. ‘Why would you do such a thing?’ She backed up a step, two, her eyes widening with horror.

  ‘I didn’t. I didn’t do anything to my soul.’

  Her hand rose, palm up, fingers splayed as if creating a barrier. ‘I don’t know why I didn’t see it before, but whatever she’s doing is allowing me to see it clearly.’

  ‘What? Why? What am I doing?’

  ‘You’re healing the torn edges of his soul. I don’t know how—it shouldn’t be possible. Especially not for a maternal wolf with no powers. But I can’t deny what I sense, what I see. His soul is torn and you are healing it.’

  Ivy swallowed hard. ‘Should I let go?’

  ‘No!" Water surged around them as Mariella took a sudden step forward. ‘Whatever you do, you can’t let go. You are the only thing stopping him from turning into a shade.’

  ‘I am not turning into a shade.’

  ‘I know what I saw. She knows what she saw.’ Her gaze returned to Ivy. ‘You can’t let go. If you do, we might lose him.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ she said, sounding a little drunk. ‘I don’t think I can let go.’

  Paul snorted. ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ He really couldn’t deal with sitting this close to Ivy any longer. It was torture. Especially as he could feel her in every pound of his heart, in every spark of every nerve. ‘I need to go.’

  ‘No!"

  Mariella thrust out her hand and he was pinned to the spot. ‘What the fuck? Let me go.’

  Mariella shook, her nostrils flaring as if she was fighting tears. ‘I’m
sorry, Paul. But I can’t let you break the contact with Ivy. She’s the only thing keeping you here.’

  ‘You are being overdramatic.’

  ‘Am I? Look at yourself.’

  He looked down.

  At first all he saw was the glowing golden threads under and over his skin, emanating from the point of contact with Ivy. But then he noticed that under the golden threads, his skin held a grey sheen, like mist. And like mist, he could see through the areas where the golden threads had yet to reach.

  Bloody hell. Mariella was right. He was fading. He was turning into a shade.

  Chapter 9

  Ivy couldn’t believe what was happening. How was it happening?

  Paul had begun to fade again. It had terrified her and she’d grabbed his arm in panic and suddenly, he stopped fading. Now she couldn’t let go. Something in her was feeding into him. Holding him here. Stopping him from becoming a shade. Whatever a shade was. She hadn’t heard the term before but from the sound of Mariella’s tone, it wasn’t good.

  Paul had stilled when he looked down, his shock rushing through her, punching the breath out of her lungs. He didn’t want her to touch him. It hurt him. She wanted to let go, his desperation to get away from her slashing at her, hurting so deep it made her wolf whimper and howl.

  But she couldn’t let go.

  What the hell was going on?

  ‘I don’t know,’ Mariella said and Ivy realised she’d asked the question out loud. Or had Mariella heard her thoughts—she didn’t know what the McClune witch’s talents were. She hadn’t listened as the group had chatted earlier, her attention too bound up with watching Paul, being aware of Paul. She had meant to watch him, but the way all her senses—wolf and human—focused on him was unnerving.

  And now this. ‘I don’t feel very good,’ she said as her head swam with the enormity of it.

  ‘She’s feeding me too much energy,’ Paul said. ‘Ivy, you have to let go.’

  ‘No. She can’t. If she does, I fear we’ll lose you.’

  ‘You don’t know that. I can keep myself here.’

  ‘You didn’t even know you were fading.’