‘You?’
He chuckled. ‘You don’t have to sound so horrified.’
‘I’m not. I don’t. I didn’t mean—’
‘It’s okay. I get it. You’re more comfortable with Bron.’ She nodded, thankful he understood. ‘But Bron can’t be around all the time, so you need to get used to doing your exercises with someone else. It might as well be me, right?’
‘Oh.’ She could see there was no way out of it. She needed to do the exercises if she wanted to get her muscles working properly again and she needed someone to help her with them. ‘So,’ she said, trying to find something else to think about, ‘have Bron and River gone back to Melbourne? I hope nobody’s hurt. Oh.’ She bit her lip. ‘It’s not the little boy, is it? Tom?’
He looked at her strangely. ‘No. Tom is fine. Bron and River are just having a belated two-month anniversary.’
She shook her head. ‘Two-month anniversary?’ That didn’t make sense. ‘How could two months be an anniversary?’
‘I thought every girl knew about the importance of monthly anniversaries.’
‘According to you, I’m not a girl.’ She still had trouble coming to terms with what Bron had told her. That she wasn’t just a witch. She was also a shifter. Not a Were. A shapeshifter. She was supposed to be able to turn into any animal she wanted, even other humans if she became skilled enough. It seemed impossible, especially given she’d only ever been able to change into a cat. Apparently she was a failure as a shifter as well as a witch. They had the blood work to prove it though, so it must be true. One more thing Morrigan had lied about and kept from her.
‘You’re a woman.’ His gaze ran over her, appreciation clear in his gaze. ‘A beautiful woman.’
She tried to ignore the heated rush that ran through her. Flattery came easy to the Were. It meant nothing. She straightened her back against the headboard and clasped her hands around her knees. ‘So, tell me about monthly anniversaries.’
He did, his deep voice winding around her, helping her to forget the nightmare images that had torn her from sleep, but very soon he’d finished and they fell silent and the images came tumbling back. Images of Morrigan and darkness. And Cain.
‘What is it?’
She looked up. Iain’s chocolate eyes glowed amber in the low light of the room. She knew he was reading her expression. He seemed to be able to do it so well. Always seemed to know when something was worrying her. Sometimes she refused to answer his questions, but tonight… She looked down at her hands, the knuckles white as they clenched her knees. ‘I saw Cain in my nightmare. He hates me.’ She looked up at him, daring him to tell the truth. ‘He tried to kill me, didn’t he?’
His nostrils flared, reluctance clear in his eyes. She was sure he was going to lie, to placate, but then he nodded. ‘You remember that?’
‘Yes,’ she whispered. She’d remembered little when she woke from the coma, but every day, more and more came back to her.
‘You believe us now?’
‘I don’t think I have a choice, do I?’
He sighed. ‘You always have a choice, Eloise. You’re not our prisoner. You can go whenever you like.’
She lifted her hand, showing the cuff on her wrist. ‘This says otherwise.’
‘We told you that was just to stop your power from flaring. It’s not keeping you here. Just keeping you from hurting yourself or others until you have more control.’
‘I don’t have any powers.’
He frowned at her in obvious consternation. ‘That’s not what Cordy says.’
‘Well, she’s wrong. I’ve never been able to do much of anything with my pathetic powers. Only change into a cat.’
‘That has nothing to do with your powers. Not in the way you think.’
‘Well, they’re even more pathetic.’ She stared down at the cuff. ‘So this would seem to be useless then.’
‘Not useless. It also stopped you from engaging your shifter genes and changing while you were in the coma. It would have been dangerous for you if you had and we might never have got you back.’
‘I’m awake now.’
‘You need to get stronger first. Shifting takes up energy you don’t have.’
‘And when I’m better you’ll remove it?’
‘Bron said she would. And then it’s up to you if you stay or not. But we’d prefer you to stay.’ He leaned closer. She could see the grain of his skin, the darkness of stubble across his cheeks and chin, the thickness of lashes that were so long they were almost feminine. But there was nothing feminine about that square-cut jaw and angular slash of cheekbones, nor the determined chin. His lips—full, with a dimple in the corner—were male. Firm. No nonsense. Even his scent was innately masculine. She couldn’t put her finger on what he smelled like. It wasn’t aftershave or soap or sweat or any of the other kinds of scents she was used to smelling on a man. It was wild and earthy yet had something of the quality of a storm over the sea.
It was a scent she liked. In fact, she’d been taking in deep breaths of it; was almost drunk on it. She held her breath. He watched her, a curious expression on his face. ‘Why do you want me to stay?’ she asked on an expulsion of breath.
‘We want to keep you safe. But more than that, you’re like us. We are the witch and the Were. So are you. You belong here more than you ever belonged with them.’
She swallowed hard—that fact still hurt. ‘No. I mean, why do you want me to stay? Why do you care?’
His frown deepened. ‘You saved River. Saved me and Gareth too by your actions, even though doing so almost cost you your life. Of course I care what happens to you.’
‘But why are you here and not Gareth? Or River?’
He sat back. ‘I’m a lieutenant of this pack, they are not. It’s my job to watch over you. In pack terms, I’m your Shadow. It’s my job to protect and to see to your care.’
‘Shadows are to protect pack.’ She’d learned that much last year when watching them. ‘I’m not pack.’
‘Neither were Bron or Skye or Shelley before they became bound to us.’
‘But they’re witches.’
‘So are you.’
She sighed in frustration. ‘I’m barely a witch. My powers are minimal at best—worse even than I thought they were.’
‘I don’t know why you’ve been led to believe you have no power, but Cordy isn’t the only one who can feel it inside you. Skye, Shelley and Bron can sense it too. Cordy and Bron think you’ve got huge potential. She’d like to help train you.’
‘And I suppose you want to teach me how to turn into a wolf too?’
‘Not if you don’t want to.’
‘Why would you treat me so well?’
His frown deepened again. ‘Why wouldn’t we? We might be part animal, but we’re not inhumane. Besides, we owe you so much. I owe you so much.’ He reached out as if to touch her hand, but then pulled away.
‘You don’t owe me anything. I didn’t do it for you.’
He shrugged. ‘It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that you did. And the fact that it was very brave.’
She shrugged. It hadn’t felt brave. It had felt necessary. Because despite the fact Morrigan had turned her back on the first tenet of her beliefs—that blood mattered—Eloise couldn’t. She’d helped River because she’d feared the consequences of not doing so. She’d defied Morrigan, had led her brother away as a distraction, been prepared to sacrifice her life, not because she wanted to help, but because she had to cling to that one belief. So many of her beliefs had already been shattered by watching the Were, she couldn’t have that one shatter too.
No. It hadn’t been brave. It had been self-preservation.
She glanced up, cleared her throat. ‘I’m not a good person, Iain. I betrayed my coven, my family. Don’t make it sound like I did something worthy because my actions suited you.’
He made a strange, wolf-like grunt. ‘When you’re feeling better, you’ll see all this in a different light.’
Eloise’s lips trembled. ‘I don’t see how that will ever be the case when my coven want to kill me. I’ll never see any of my family and friends again.’
He tensed for a moment and she chanced looking at him. He smiled, a warm, giving smile. ‘We’ll protect you.’
‘That’s not the same thing.’
‘No. It’s not.’ His smile faded. Coldness washed over her at its loss.
Silence fell. She didn’t want to be the one who broke it. He didn’t seem inclined to either. Why didn’t he just leave the room? That’s what other men would do in an awkward situation. And yet he stayed. Why? Because he was her Shadow? She looked up at him, wanted to ask, but couldn’t.
‘Eloise?’ His gaze was too intense. He reached out as if to take her hand.
She snatched it away. ‘My head aches and my foot hurts.’
The concern in his eyes stabbed at her. ‘I’ll get you something.’ He left. The room roared with the silence, with the emptiness he left behind. She almost sobbed with relief when he came back, a mug in one hand, a heat pack in the other. He gave her the mug—the familiar bitterness of willow bark curled in her nostrils, alongside the floral scent of chamomile, the spice of cinnamon and sweetness of honey. It was one of Bron’s tisanes, brewed to help Eloise with the headaches she regularly got. She sipped, grimaced.
‘Is it too strong?’
She shook her head gingerly. ‘It’s fine. Just bitter.’
‘I put honey in it.’
‘I know. But it’s still bitter. I’ve never found anything that fully covers the taste of the willow bark.’
He flipped back the doona and placed the heat pack under her foot where it ached the most. ‘Does that feel better?’
‘It’s fine.’
‘Bron said you could have some headache tablets too if you want them.’
She shook her head. ‘They’ve never agreed with me.’
‘Not surprising. Sometimes normal medications can have odd effects on shapeshifter bodies.’
‘How do you know about shapeshifter bodies?’
He sat on the bedside again. ‘Shapeshifters share some physiology with us. And I’ve had some dealings with your kind. Enough to know the similarities. I’d like to help you find out for yourself, if you’ll let me.’
She wasn’t sure what she wanted, so said nothing. Instead, she sipped the drink. The soothing effect of the tisane made her head feel less like it was going to implode, and the warmth in the heat pack eased the aching cold in her foot.
As she sipped, Iain watched her quietly, seeming to know she needed silence.
When she finished her drink, he took the mug and stood. ‘I think it’s time you try to sleep again. It’ll be a big day tomorrow—your first outing since you woke up.’
‘And my interrogation.’ He’d told her yesterday that Jason and Skye were coming down to see her.
‘It won’t be like that. They’re coming down to see how you are and to answer your questions too. I know you have them.’
She did—but she didn’t know if she could ask them. Was afraid to find out more than she already had. ‘Maybe.’ She shrugged. ‘But if they think I’ve got more to tell them, they’ll be disappointed.’ She didn’t know anything. She’d never known anything. She’d barely been useful to her old family. She’d hoped to have a little more time before Iain’s pack found out how useless she’d be to them; how little reward they were getting for all their efforts. But worrying about that now was only going to make her unable to keep her wits about her tomorrow.
She lay back down, closed her eyes and, under Iain’s watchful gaze, fell into a deep sleep.
Chapter 3
Iain knocked on her door not long after she’d woken the next morning. He got her breakfast and then put her through a round of healing and physical therapy exercises as promised. At the end of it, she wobbled her way to the shower, muscles shaky, but feeling better. For the first time, she didn’t have to sit down to shower or get dressed. Humming to herself, she walked out of the ensuite rubbing her hair with a towel.
Iain was waiting for her. ‘Bron and River have just got back.’
‘I thought they weren’t going to be back until the afternoon.’
‘Bron wanted to be here when Jason and Skye arrived. They shouldn’t be long, so we better get you out there. Are you okay to walk or do you want help?’
The happy feeling fled. She wanted to say she was too tired, that she wasn’t up to seeing anyone yet, but that would be a lie. She was simply afraid. Afraid to see the condemnation in their eyes. Afraid of their accusations. Afraid they would turn on her just like everyone else had turned on her. She’d tried to come to terms in the last few weeks with what she’d done. The betrayal—hers, Morrigan’s, Cain’s—along with the anger and hurt and sense of shattering loss. She’d almost fooled herself into thinking she’d managed to be okay with it all. But that was a foolish lie. She wasn’t anywhere close to being over it. She just wanted to cringe in a corner and never come out. But she couldn’t do that. She owed these people more than cowardice.
So instead of curling into a ball, she dropped the towel, raked her fingers through her tangled hair and said, ‘Let’s go then.’ Head held high, she limped out of the room then hesitated, unsure where to go.
‘Bron and River are in the kitchen.’ He gestured to the left and waited for her to lead the way.
She forced herself to take one step, then another, hoping she looked dignified, despite her limp. Iain’s hand under her elbow told her she looked nothing but pathetic. She shrugged away his help, refusing to allow his pity to hurt.
She took two steps into the large room at the end of the hall and came to a sudden stop.
River and Bron were standing just inside the patio doors, their bodies outlined by the panoramic vista of sloping gardens, orchards and gentle green hills seen through the floor-to-ceiling, wall-to-wall windows. Bron was laughing, her body turning in to River’s. He cupped her face in his hands, body curved in a way that was intimate and protective. Bron’s hands slid around him, face lighting with a smile so bright it was almost blinding as she stood on tiptoes to receive his kiss.
A little sigh escaped Eloise. There was something so special about Bron and River together, something that spoke of happiness. No. Happiness was too simple a description. It was joy. Bliss. She’d noticed it the year before when she was spying on them—although back then it had been tinged with grief and confusion as they struggled to come to terms with their feelings. Now it was in full bloom.
She should leave them to their intimate moment, but couldn’t look away. It wasn’t because of the way they held each other, or the way his body angled towards hers and hers towards his, that made it impossible not to smile. It was the look in River’s eyes as he stared at his mate. A hot, unbidden shiver chased through Eloise. A shiver that lodged in her chest around her heart. A tear trembled down her cheek. She wanted to reach out and grasp the essence of this moment, to bottle it up and unstop it whenever she was feeling down and unloved—which, quite frankly, was all the time. Especially now she knew how much of an outcast she truly was.
She bit her lip to keep the sigh locked inside her throat, too aware of Iain standing behind her, his silent presence an electric shock zinging along her spine. To be looked at like that, as if you were heart and soul incarnate, the centre around which everything rotated, had to be an incredibly heady feeling.
A memory flashed of Skye and Jason standing in the living room of the packhouse in Templestowe, Skye turning to Jason, her whole body lighting to his presence and his to hers. The way they’d looked at each other had been one of the first times she’d questioned what she’d been brought up to believe. She hadn’t believed anyone could feel such a depth of love for something that was neither human nor animal, and especially not one of the downtrodden, used and abused witches the Were tied to their packs so they could feed on their power. But Skye did. And Bron did. More proof that what she’d been brought up to be
lieve was a massive lie.
That truth had become more and more apparent in the last week as she learned from the Were and their coven what she should have known all her life. That she truly had never belonged. Her parents weren’t her parents—how could they be when she was a shifter and a witch and they were barely witches? And her brother, Cain? Was he even her brother? He’d never shifted, but he did have magic. Powerful magic as it turned out. Had he been stolen from some other family too so he could be shaped and moulded to Morrigan’s wishes? Morrigan had said they were twins—two sides of one coin, something special in nature. But had that been a lie too?
They’d been so close until recently; until he’d turned on her at Morrigan’s behest. She thought he, like Morrigan, hadn’t cared about their blood tie. But maybe the truth was they weren’t tied by blood at all. Oh Goddess! Even though he’d tried to kill her, she didn’t want to think that Cain wasn’t her brother.
The possibility battered at her, the enormity of all the lies smashing through the numb shell she’d coated herself in. Waves of emotions crashed through her, and at their peak, a sense of betrayal so strong it threatened to swallow her whole. Darkness blackened the edges of her vision. Her fingers shook and she clenched them at her sides. She wanted, more than anything, to find Morrigan and give her back every single moment of loneliness, of grief, of pain. She wanted Morrigan to lose everything she ever cared for, everyone she ever loved, to realise she’d been made into what she was with nothing but lies.
‘Hey, Little Bird. Are you okay?’
Eloise started, the brush of Iain’s breath against her cheek warm and smelling faintly of the sea air. It brought her back, and she took in a shuddering breath. ‘Fine. I just got woozy.’
‘Do you need help? You’re still a little unsteady on your feet.’
She shook her head and took a limping step forward, Iain close behind her, his hands hovering millimetres from her shoulders as if he was ready to catch her if she should fall. She wished he wouldn’t stand so close, making her want to lean on him, soak up the heat of him that burned through the thin T-shirt Bron had given her to wear. She looked down at herself—the pale pink shorts and green thongs a combination she would never have chosen. Borrowed. Everything was borrowed.
Shifter Bound Page 3