Moon Bound

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Moon Bound Page 16

by Leisl Leighton


  The smile slipped. Something was different. She was calling the moondust to her, but fear and dread shot through him, living things pounding on his chest, in his head. He couldn’t move, even though he tried. She looked at him, the moondust sparkling on her fingers. ‘I’ve got you this time, River.’ He screamed at her to stop. The sparkling moondust shot out from her fingers to arrow into him, cutting through his skin rather than caressing him. Her scream joined his as pain sliced through him. ‘Skye!’

  ‘River?’

  The sound of his name brought him surfacing up out of the nightmare. Cool fingers touched his forehead. His hair was stroked from his brow in a gesture of such familiarity that it clutched at his heart. ‘Skye.’ Her name drummed in his head alongside the frantic beating of his heart. He’d been dreaming about her. He’d been fearful of her. Of something she was doing. But what? The dream had slipped away and now the horrific feelings it created were slipping away too. He grasped at them, but they swirled, nebulous as curls of mist in the dark of night, and drifted away.

  Pain rose up and slammed into his head. He groaned. ‘Skye.’

  ‘I’m here.’

  He tried to open his eyes, but light stabbed at him. He closed them again. The room smelled of books and parchment, the lemon scent of furniture polish and another, more familiar scent of honey and oranges and spices; Bronwyn. It was warm and close—she was here, in the room. It made him relax a little to know she was here. Behind her scent, there was an underlying nuance of older, fainter smells that told him it was a place Bronwyn spent time in. ‘Where am I?’

  ‘You’re in Bron’s office.’

  ‘What happened? How did I get here?’

  ‘Oh, River. I’m so sorry.’

  ‘What are you sorry for?’ He frowned, even though the action hurt.

  She smoothed his frown away with a stroking caress. ‘My power spiked suddenly and Jason wasn’t around. I’ve still not got the hang of opening the pack channel when he’s not nearby, so it spilled into the more familiar connection I have with Bron and Shelley. I didn’t mean to do it. I certainly would have tried to find a way to hold it back if I’d known you were with Bron.’

  She sounded so worried, so guilty. He had to stop her from allowing that guilt to eat her up. He tried to sit up, even though the pain clawed into his skull and shredded down his spine.

  ‘Don’t move.’ Small, warm hands on his chest pushed him back. Bronwyn’s hands. He’d know those hands anywhere. If it had been anyone else, he would have fought to sit up, but for Bronwyn …

  He lay back down without a protest and opened his eyes a crack, enough to see, but not enough to allow too much light to stab at him. ‘I still don’t understand what you’re apologising for.’

  ‘Because I should have called. Should have made certain one of the pack was close by to help Bron and Shelley release the energy safely. Should have made certain you weren’t here for a treatment.’

  She clasped his hands and he had to bite back a wince as pain jagged along his nerve endings from the tight grip on aching bones and ligaments. ‘Did you have time to make a call?’

  ‘No. The power spike hit me without warning.’

  ‘Were you at work? With the kids?’

  ‘Yes. But—’

  ‘They could have been hurt if the power had lashed out at any one of them, couldn’t they?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then you had no choice. You made the right decision. Don’t apologise for trying not to hurt children.’

  She sat back, wringing her hands and biting her lip. ‘I don’t want to hurt you. Ever again.’

  ‘I know you don’t.’ He reached out, muscles protesting, and took her hand in his. ‘You didn’t hurt me. It was my choice.’

  She shook his hand, anger suddenly spiking in her green eyes. ‘And why would you do that?’ She smacked his arm.

  ‘Ow! What was that for?’

  Her expression didn’t change, but she rubbed his arm where the sting of the slap still vibrated. ‘You should have let Bron call Iain or Patrick. Both of them would have been back here in under ten minutes. They could have channelled the power I pushed into Bron, and done it safely. Instead, you had to go and do an idiot thing you knew would hurt you. Why?’

  He could have said he’d done it because it was his job to take care of Bronwyn, but that would lead to questions he didn’t want to answer. It was bad enough that Jason and Iain knew. So instead he said, ‘It was hurting her and I was here.’

  Skye’s gaze whipped to Bronwyn. ‘You never said it hurt you.’

  Bronwyn shrugged. ‘It doesn’t always. Only when I fight not to release it.’ Her cinnamon-coloured eyes narrowed as she looked at him. ‘Which I was only doing because I didn’t want to spill it into your idiot brother.’

  ‘Oh, God! This is such a mess.’ Skye stood and began to pace, her hands burrowing into her hair. ‘Why can’t I control my power? I should be able to control it. Papa thought I could, so why can’t I learn? I mean, it happened when I was around the children. I would never have been there if I thought it might spike like that.’

  ‘Of course you wouldn’t,’ Bronwyn soothed.

  ‘But I didn’t know. It had barely begun to build. I thought I had time—weeks—before I’d have to do another channelling session. But it hit me. Just like that. Oh, God! I’ll have to give up work.’

  River could see his twin’s guilt was tearing her apart, but he knew no words of comfort would ease that guilt—she’d just slap them away. So he asked the question that was plaguing him. ‘Why did it spike like that?’

  Skye threw her hands in the air. ‘I don’t know. That’s what I’m saying. I’ve got no control over it whatsoever. I should have some control by now. I thought I did, but today just showed me how far from control I really am.’ She turned, face starkly pale in the dark room, wringing her hands so harshly he thought she might pull the flesh from her bones. ‘I should never have done it. I should never have connected to Shelley and you.’ Her gaze wavered on Bronwyn. ‘I should never have completed the mating bond and pulled Jason and all of the pack into my shit.’

  ‘I think Jason would think differently about that,’ Bronwyn pointed out. ‘I’ve never seen two people so in love. And I’ve never seen you more settled and happy than since you bonded with him.’

  Skye raked her hands through her hair again. ‘I know. I love him with every fibre in me, but how can I deserve that happiness when the cost to all those I love is so high? I mean, I hurt you and River, for God’s sake, and Lord only knows what’s going on with Shelley at the moment. What if Adam hadn’t been there?’

  ‘But he was. Shelley is fine.’

  Skye shook her head. ‘I don’t know how any of us can be fine when—’

  Bronwyn bounced to her feet and grabbed Skye’s hands, giving them a shake. ‘Stop it, right now.’

  Skye blinked. ‘But—’

  ‘No.’ Another shake. River smiled as Bronwyn interrupted his sister again. He’d never seen anyone cut Skye off in her tracks like Bronwyn could. It was quite a talent. ‘I know you’re about to start blaming yourself for sharing your power with us, but I won’t let you. You had the power of two people inside you. Nobody would be able to handle that by themselves, so give yourself a break.’

  Skye looked like she was going to argue the point, but Bronwyn raised her hand. ‘I will only say this once. The bond Shelley and I created with you was our choice, strengthened by the ties of love and friendship, and it can’t be taken back. Not only that, I wouldn’t let you take it back even if you tried.’

  ‘You’re only saying that because you’re all afraid I’d die if I hadn’t shared the power with you.’

  ‘Of course we were, but that’s beside the point.’ Bronwyn grasped Skye’s shoulders and even though she was a good four inches shorter than Skye, it seemed to River she looked straight into his sister’s eyes. ‘That night, what we did, when we helped you and took on some of your powers to do so, linking o
urselves to you for good or bad, it was our choice. Mine and Shelley’s. Our gift to give to you. Our best friend. The sister of our hearts. You didn’t force us. So stop wallowing in guilt and listen to the real intent behind River’s question.’

  River couldn’t help but chuckle, even though it hurt his head. Only his Bronwyn would be able to snap his sister back like that, with love wrapped in a slap. His Bronwyn.

  He shoved that unwanted thought aside. She wasn’t his Bronwyn. She could never be his Bronwyn. She had a manifest destiny that didn’t include a scarred and twisted Were who was damaged beyond repair and could never be of real use to anyone. Despair clawed at him with its sharp talons, leaving permanent wounds that he could never fully heal with his will, but he wasn’t going to let it take him down. Not while he had strength and sanity enough to ensure Bronwyn was safe and happy.

  ‘Bronwyn is right, Skye.’ Pushing himself up with a muffled groan, he faced down two sets of eyes that were now narrowed on him.

  ‘I thought I told you not to move,’ Bronwyn said, coming back over to him.

  ‘I’m feeling better now, thanks.’

  ‘You’re a bad liar,’ she retorted, repeating his words of earlier.

  He couldn’t help but smile. ‘Touché.’

  Her lips twitched, as if, even in this serious discussion, she couldn’t hold at bay the light and fun and laughter that seemed always to be bubbling out of her. It was nectar to him and it had been in short supply lately. He tried to return her smile and straighten, but pain sliced from his head and down through his body. He winced.

  ‘I wish I could help you with the muscle pain.’ She narrowed her eyes in that way she did when she was looking at his aura. ‘But the Darkness seems angrier. I don’t think it’ll let me use my power on you at the moment. Although …’ Her eyes brightened. ‘The potion that had my grandmother’s power laced into it helped channel some calm into you before. Maybe if I—’

  ‘No.’ He couldn’t let her touch him again.

  ‘You don’t need to be afraid. I got rid of the extra power by channelling it into Patrick.’

  ‘I know.’ He’d known it when she pushed on his chest earlier, making him lie down. The soft warmth of her touch was still a golden glow in his chest, completely unlike the electric sharpness of the excess power. ‘I need some space for a moment. Okay?’

  Rejection flickered in her eyes. He was sorry to have put it there, but if she touched him right now, he wouldn’t be able to stop from reaching for her, pulling her to him, taking her pink bow of a mouth with his, pushing his hands into the softness of her night-dark hair, before running them over her body to pull her luscious curves against his hungering hardness. He wouldn’t be able to stop from kissing her even though his sister was there. And he would never be able to explain such an action. Especially after he’d run from her the one and only time they’d kissed.

  Oh, God! That kiss. It had played in his mind over and over; brought him screamingly awake, raging hot and hard from his dreams every night since. His wolf whimpered.

  Bronwyn’s gaze snapped to him, narrowing, as if she’d once again heard his wolf. How could the connection between them be so strong when he kept cutting it off?

  He edged away from her, into the corner of the couch. He knew she wouldn’t come near him—her empathy wouldn’t allow her to push him in that way, no matter how much her healer instinct told her otherwise. But that pleading, hurting expression in her golden-cinnamon eyes still tore at him. She turned away, her footsteps muffled as she moved across the thick golden carpeting towards her old and slightly banged-up desk. He expected her to sit in the worn, green leather chair, but she bypassed that and reached into a painted green earthenware bowl on the windowsill behind the desk. The crystal she picked up glinted in the light, green with a golden light at its centre. She stood there for a moment, the white lace curtains fluttering gently in the early summer breeze, the soft rose light from the wood-nymph art deco lamp in the corner casting a nimbus of light around her.

  Despite the fact that she was wearing her plain taupe uniform—a long tunic and loose pants—she looked like a goddess. She always looked like a goddess, but the light and the sense of rightness of this place, her utter belonging, made her seem even more so.

  His eyes were drawn to the dormer window, a shadow shifting there. Bluebelle. She sat, a sentinel, like the cats of the Egyptians who looked after their masters and mistresses. A familiar needed to be unswervingly loyal. It was good Bluebelle was there.

  Bronwyn shifted, moving from her place in front of the window, breaking the spell. She reached for a large bottle at the end of the row on the shelf nearest the desk and brought it over to him, holding it out. He lifted his brow as he read the label: ‘Eye of Newt’. Inside it was full of huge, gelatinous-looking eyes.

  ‘They’re left over from Halloween.’

  ‘Halloween?’

  She nodded. ‘Kids from around here always come to the shop. It’s a bit of a tradition that grandma set up—a bit of fun coming to the “witch house”. She always did it up with fake cobwebs and pumpkin lanterns and covered all the lights with green shades so it looked spooky. Then she filled a whole pile of bottles with things that look like eyes and entrails and puts them on the shelves. She always made us dress up like witches—usually like the three old hags in Macbeth. She had Halloween lollies shaped like eyes and fingers and spiders and frogs.’ She looked down at the crystal in her hands, running it between her palms. ‘I’d planned a big one this year but I missed it because I was …’ She glanced up at Skye. ‘Well, you know. Busy. But Helen and her boyfriend held down the fort and I’m told it was popular as ever. The eyes are all that was left. Do you want one? They’re quite nice for a massive hit of gelatinous sugar.’

  River nodded. He usually didn’t like sweets, but when she offered him the jar and he popped an eye in his mouth, it tasted wonderful. It tasted of a history vibrant and full of fun and love. Bronwyn’s history.

  Bronwyn offered one to Skye, who took two. When Bronwyn gave her a look, she shrugged and said, ‘Two eyes are better than one.’

  Bronwyn shook her head. ‘There was a time you wouldn’t touch a Halloween lolly with a stick just because of the magical, witchy overtones of the celebration. Times have changed.’

  Skye chuckled, one of the eyeballs creating a round mound in her cheek. ‘It was hard though. You know I’m a sucker for anything sweet. You’re not having one?’ She gestured with the one in her hand as Bronwyn put the lid back on the bottle and slid it onto the shelf next to a thunder egg; an amethyst crystal that still wore its rough stone shell. It was ugly on the outside—how had anyone known of the beauty within? He tore his gaze away, an aching hardness in his chest, and tried to focus on their banter.

  Bronwyn was saying, ‘No. I never got a taste for raw sugar like you. Now, if they were chocolate on the other hand—’

  ‘There wouldn’t be any left in that jar.’

  ‘You know me so well.’ Bronwyn chuckled and picked up the green crystal she’d placed on the shelf when she picked up the bottle and began to rub it between her hands again. ‘But enough about eyeballs and chocolate. Let’s get back to the subject at hand.’

  ‘Awwight,’ Skye said, chewing on the eyeballs, which were now both in her mouth. ‘Wha wa e ubje a and?’

  River shook his head at his sister as he sucked the taste of sugar and fun from his mouth. ‘We were talking about your power spike.’

  ‘That’s right. I think River asked the right question before. Why did your power spike when there were no signs it would do anything of the sort?’ Skye’s mouth hung open—thankfully she’d swallowed the eyeballs. ‘The last time this happened, you said there was a kind of build-up, although you didn’t know what it meant. But this time, there was nothing.’

  ‘Oh, God. I hadn’t even thought of it that way.’ Skye moved over to the couch and sat beside him, careful not to touch him.

  ‘Do you think this could be Morriga
n’s influence?’

  ‘No. That’s not possible, is it?’ Skye looked between them. ‘You said she was terribly injured. We know from that diary Shelley found that she can’t change bodies until Yule, and after what she tried on Halloween, she wouldn’t have the strength to heal herself let alone do something like this. For all we know, she’s gone to ground and isn’t even a threat.’

  Bronwyn nodded, rubbing the crystal harder between her hands. ‘I think it would be naive to think she wouldn’t still be a threat. She’s had five hundred years to build up her resentments. She’s not going to let it all go because of one setback.’

  ‘Setback?’ Skye’s voice rose a little. ‘But we completely thwarted her plans on Halloween. If she can’t syphon my powers to use as her own, she has no use for either of us.’

  Bronwyn’s frown increased and her eyes darkened. ‘That’s wishful thinking, Skye. She has power unlike any of us or the other Pack Witches have seen before.’

  ‘But Cordy said …’

  ‘Cordy said she didn’t think you could be used again. Not in that way. But we don’t know what Morrigan is truly capable of. I mean, she was going to murder River and have Alfrere rape you so she could tear your powers from you and use them to break the link between you and the Were, and therefore break the pact. I don’t think she’ll stop now, do you?’

  ‘I … I …’ she looked around her, wildly, her fingernails digging into the cushion she’d grabbed.

  A growl low in his throat, River grabbed her hand and said, ‘That Morrigan bitch will not get my sister.’

  Chapter 13

  River’s words tore through the air with savage intensity.

  He watched Bronwyn shiver, her eyes filling with worry as she looked at him. ‘I know you want revenge, but we can’t let that cloud our minds.’

  ‘My mind isn’t clouded. I want Morrigan dead. She can never be allowed to hurt any of you again.’

  Bronwyn snorted out a laugh. ‘Oh, I don’t disagree with that, but how can you protect Skye, or any of us, from a different kind of attack?’

 

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