One of the Were stepped forward, a man, taller and broader of shoulder than the rest, with the bearing of a King—confident and yet weighed down with more worries than one man should ever hold.
The Alpha.
Three others—two male and one female—reached forward to stop him, but he turned to them, holding up his hands. ‘Be still. I will not come to harm. The witch has promised and she has bound herself to that promise. Her spell binds her far tighter than it binds us.’ He moved forward again, those behind him clearly on guard despite his words of reassurance.
Bron moved towards the dance, mesmerised, an invisible watcher, an astral traveller, brought to this place by the dream quest.
The Alpha stopped just outside the Dance where the moondust swirled and sparkled in the ever-brightening glow of the three-quarter moon.
‘I am so very glad you have come,’ the witch said, her lips curved in a gentle smile.
The Alpha didn’t answer at first, his fists two rocks at his sides as his gaze darted from her to the dance and the moondust and then back to her. His chest heaved, nostrils flaring as he breathed heavily. He seemed to be fighting against something. Tendons stood out in his neck and shoulders as he fought against whatever fear held the others at bay one hundred paces from the dance. Yet he didn’t run. He stood firm, his gaze intense, his stubborn form of bravery stamped in the jut of his jaw and the steel in his blue eyes.
‘Are you so certain of this, healer?’ His voice was gruff, hidden pain and an edge of violence bringing a rawness that made Bron flinch.
Yet the witch was serene as she said, ‘I am. This is the answer to all our problems. But you must trust me.’
‘And if this trial tonight works?’
‘Then we will go forward with the pact.’ The light from the moondust brightened and lit the entire dance.
A low growl rumbled in the Alpha’s throat, then lifting his head, he howled, the saddest, most grief-filled sound Bron had ever heard. With the sound still echoing in the silence around them, he lowered his head and looked at the witch, his ice-blue eyes burning almost white hot with a glow of reddened coal at their centre. In a voice rough with bloodlust, he growled, ‘I cannot hold the wolf at bay if you keep up with your magicks.’
‘I do not wish you to. Let it loose, Ioan. Only then will the McVales be free.’ The witch gestured to him to enter the dance, her long red hair blown in wild tangles away from her face by an ethereal wind that had no earthly home. Moonlight glittered on her pale skin. She held her hand out to the Alpha. ‘Come. From this time we will be brother and sister. Joined by blood and magic, by friendship and love. Tonight I give you the gift of choice. Turn tonight, on this three-quarter moon, and allow your wolf to feel the freedom of its change and know that neither of you is a slave. When you see what I say is true, you and yours will join me in pact and give me and mine the gift of your strength. Come. Mark my flesh and we will be one.’
‘My wolf will kill you.’
Her gaze held his. ‘No. I trust you and your wolf. The question is, do you trust yourself to shake off the Darkness?’
The Alpha, his bare chest glistening with sweat, his breath a heavy rattle in his throat, held still for one, interminable second.
Then he stepped forward into the light of the dance.
He stiffened, his teeth gritting together with snapping force. Tendons stood out on his neck, shoulders, arms. His feet curled into the green grass, his back arched. Something writhed under his skin, black and oily. The sight of it made Bron shiver. The blackness seemed to be fighting something, to be trying to sink back into hiding, but it wasn’t winning. The Alpha’s eyes widened, and on a terrible, agonised roar, his head tipped back and the blackness flew out of his mouth, nose and eyes. The moment it left him, he fell to the ground, sweat-covered and shaking. The black, amorphous darkness hovered above him, swirling and pulsing as if it was trying to get back to him, but the light glowing down on the dance held it contained.
‘By my Goddess’s will, be gone,’ the witch cried. She made a shoving motion with her hands. Golden light hit the dark, swirling shape. There was a screeching cry like tearing metal, the Darkness surged and split in half, trying to swoop down, back to the home it had dwelled in for aeons beyond counting, but the witch lashed out with the golden light again, fingers of it grasping the two halves and pushing it together. Hands outstretched, sweat on her brow, she pushed her hands together, shaking with effort. ‘Be gone, I say,’ she cried again. A high-pitched wail split the night sky, lashing at all those below with a desperate threat-laced plea, and then the dark mass was gone.
Trembling, the witch lowered her hands and wiped her brow. A relieved smile blossomed on her face and she turned to the Alpha who was slowly pushing to his feet. ‘Now it is time to take back control of your birthright as it was always meant to be.’ She made a sweeping gesture and the moondust she’d held aloft with her will fell on him.
A cry exploded from his throat as the silver of moondust landed on him, his back stiffening, arms thrown out—but this time, it was like he was receiving a benediction. The light of the moondust was suddenly outshone by a burst of golden-rainbow light that swept over his body. He began to shake, then his form shattered outwards and Bron was blinded by the throb of light that surrounded him.
‘Come. Witness this.’ Bron looked up to see the witch hold her hand out to her. ‘Witness how the moondust can be a cure, not a curse.’ Bron held out her hand—she couldn’t stop herself—but as she touched the witch, something shifted inside her, melding, flowing. She looked down and realised she was sky clad, standing where the witch had been standing in the dance. Bron looked around. The witch was gone. She looked down again and saw her skin glistening like diamonds as thousands of sparkles of moondust fell on her.
A howl tore the air just metres from her, almost deafening in its ferocity. The largest wolf she’d ever seen stood in place of the Alpha, its lips pulled back in a snarl, its blue eyes subsumed by the glowing red of bloodlust.
She whimpered, fear a terrible pain in her chest. Run. She knew she should run.
Yet she didn’t. She stood there and, against her will, held her hands out to the snarling, vicious animal before her. It crouched, ready to spring, its lips pulled back over sharp white teeth.
Run.
She ignored the instinct, instead turning her head to expose her neck, and said, ‘Blood me. I trust you to keep us both alive because you are now free.’
As the moondust settled on the silver and gold coat of the Alpha wolf, making his fur look like it sparkled with a thousand diamonds, he leapt at her exposed throat, his snarl snapping through the air just before his teeth sank into her skin.
Chapter 18
Bron screamed, sure that her jugular was about to be torn open, but then, as if she knew instinctively what to do, she lifted her hands and the moondust rose into the air. Rainbow light streamed around her. Sharp canines were withdrawn from her throat in a sharp, slice of pain, and then before her stood a Were man.
But not the Were man from the vision quest. This was a man who came straight out of her dreams. His hazel eyes glowing as he looked down on her, the white twist of scars across his handsome face, visible in the moonlit dark of the room, the shag of auburn hair, all precious to her.
‘River?’ she asked, unsure if he was really there or if she was still in the middle of her vision quest.
‘Bronwyn. Are you okay?’
She nodded, unable to speak as his deep voice melted the fear and uncertainty inside her. He reached out as if to touch her, but then drew back.
She rose up from the bed to stop him, her hands colliding with his hard, T-shirt-covered chest. She gripped the material, pulling him forward, and burrowed into his chest.
‘River.’ She breathed out his name like it was a balm. ‘River.’ She didn’t care why he was here. He was here. That was all that mattered. ‘River,’ she whispered as his arms went around her.
His hand was in he
r hair, holding her against his chest, his other rubbing up and down her back, only a thin swathe of the cotton singlet and thin yoga pants she wore between his hand and her skin. She pressed harder against him, burrowing her face into him, clutching at his back as if she were afraid he would pull away at any moment. ‘River.’ His name trembled from her on a sigh of relief.
He didn’t say anything, but a long soft growl hummed in his throat. That growl soothed her as soft words from him never could. His lips were against her brow, pressing to her hair. She lifted her face, needing to feel those lips on hers, reaching for him. He stilled, his lips a bare centimetre from hers.
‘River?’ She felt him begin to draw away. ‘No!’ She clutched him to her even though she knew, if he wanted to break her hold, he could. Easily. He didn’t move further away, but the liquid warmth of before was gone. He was tense now. That tension thrummed against her nerves like an off-tune guitar string. ‘River. Don’t go. I need you.’
‘No. You don’t.’ His voice was gruff, but not unkind. Not to her. Even when he’d spat out that he wanted to fuck her, it hadn’t been unkind. It had been full of wanting. Why hadn’t she noticed that before?
He shifted back. Panic enveloped her and she cried, ‘Don’t leave me.’ She grabbed his arm, hauling herself back against his chest, face buried in the warmth there, hands gripping the T-shirt, knuckles pressing into his back. The dream quest’s message had been clear. Be true to herself. She loved River. She wanted to be with him. There was nothing wrong with that. There never had been. Maybe he didn’t want her in the same way, but he did want her. And for now, after the confusion and violence of all she’d seen in the dream quest, she needed his solid warmth, the certainty of the desire he brought racing through her system. She needed to feel her body, give of herself. She wanted to share her love with him. There could never be anything wrong with that. ‘Don’t go,’ she whispered against his chest.
A sigh brushed over her hair. She could feel him trembling against her, his indecision. Her hands moved, fingers finding the edge of his T-shirt, slipping underneath to touch the warm, firm skin. He sucked in a harsh breath. But he didn’t move away.
Taking courage, she shifted closer, brushing against his erection. His breath hitched again and he tried to push her back. She gripped him tighter and pressed her lips to the pulse point in his neck, nipped at his skin. He jerked, a low groan sounding under her lips. She licked at the hurt her teeth had caused.
‘Bronwyn.’ The harsh sound was a caress—a rough, desire-tinged caress. Encouraged, her lips moved against his throat again as she swung her leg over his to straddle him. His hands gripped her hips, tight, almost as if he was about to push her away. But he didn’t. He just held her there, hovering over him, not allowing her to settle into his lap, to feel the rigid length of him against her core.
‘Bronwyn. Stop.’ His fingers tightened, sinking into her skin. ‘You don’t know what you’re doing. You’re half asleep.’
‘Does this feel like I don’t know?’ She kissed up his neck, her hands on his shoulders now, moving up into his thick, silky hair.
His hands, gentle yet strong, grasped her shoulders and pulled her away from his neck in such a way that she was still unable to sink onto his lap—he was so much taller than she was. ‘Bronwyn. You have to stop. This isn’t right. This isn’t what I came here for.’
‘What did you come for?’
His gaze searched hers for a long moment, his breath coming fast. ‘I was at the packhouse looking after Bluebelle.’
‘Bluebelle?’ she sat back. ‘What happened?’
‘She hurt herself. Skye and Jason brought her back to the packhouse to be patched up, but you never arrived there and she would only let me and Shelley and Skye touch her. So I helped.’
Bron nodded, relieved to hear her familiar was in good hands. She’d go over and check on her later. After she dealt with these feelings for River. ‘But that doesn’t explain why you are here,’ she said, watching him carefully.
‘You were distressed.’
‘How did you know that?’
‘I …’ His gaze slid from hers. ‘Through Skye. Her link with you.’
She swallowed hard against the sudden cold that swept through her. ‘You’re lying. Why?’
His lips pressed together and he shook his head.
‘There’s a connection.’ She put her hand on his chest over his heart. ‘Here. Between us. I know you feel it. Why are you denying it?’
His jaw was clenched so tight now, she thought it would break, but his hands were gentle on her shoulders, his thumbs moving across her skin in a silken glide that sent molten shivers chasing straight to her core. ‘I don’t … want the connection,’ he bit out.
Ice shivered down her spine, sunk into her skin and froze her desire. She swallowed hard, but knew she had to face up to this. It was part of her truth. ‘You mean you don’t want me. I’m not enough for you. I push you and annoy you and hurt you and have forced you to accept my healing attempts and all for nothing. I get it. I understand. But River, I want you to know, it’s not like that for me.’ The words spilled out of her, even though she didn’t want them to. ‘I know I should see you as my best friend’s brother, my client. And I’ve tried. I’ve tried so hard to do the right thing. But I can’t. I just can’t.’ Her fingers clutched against her heart, her body trembling. ‘I want you, River. I need you so badly it hurts.’
‘Fuck.’ One hand dropped to her waist, his fingers clenching on the soft material of her singlet top, his intense gaze burning into her.
She squeezed her eyes closed. Oh, Goddess! He hates me. And it’s all my fault. All my stupid, idiotic fault. ‘I’m so sorry. Let me get off and then you better leave.’ She shifted as if to move, making her fingers unclench and let go of his hair.
‘Don’t move.’
‘But River, I know you don’t want this. You couldn’t have made it clearer.’
‘You’ve got no idea what I want.’
Then his mouth was on hers. Hot. Hard. Wet. Wild. The taste of him was in her mouth before she had a chance to breathe, to think, to feel, his tongue tangling with hers in an open-mouthed kiss that was all want and possession. He twisted, lifting her, and laid her down on the bed, the hard heat of his erection pushing against her core.
Something tore. The cool of night air caressed her skin, then heat as his chest pressed against her breasts, his legs, still encased in jeans, falling between her parted ones, pushing him more firmly against her core. She almost sobbed with the joy of the sensation; of being weighted down, pushed into the soft give of the mattress by him. By this man she had longed for, for so long, without even realising it. His lips left hers and she whimpered a protest, but then bit back on a cry as his hot, firm mouth pressed just under her jaw and moved to chase down her neck, nipping, sucking, licking her heated, desire-slicked skin.
‘Bronwyn.’ Her name was a ragged breath against her neck. ‘So beautiful.’ His hand moved, down her neck, across her chest to cup her breast. She pushed up into his hand, grinding her core against the erection bursting at the seam of his jeans while her hands traced over the muscles of his shoulders and down his back. His hand tightened on her hair, almost painfully, but then it moved, gentled, his thumb sweeping her cheek, touching her mouth. She rolled her head to take it into her mouth, sucking. ‘Ah, by the Moon,’ he groaned. ‘You are going to be the death of me, Bronwyn-mine.’
‘Kiss me, River.’ It sounded more like begging than a demand, but she didn’t care. Right now she was a slave to him, to the sensation of him lying on top of her, pressing her into the bed.
‘Not a good idea. This has already gone too far.’ He stared down at her, his eyes burning coals of amber in the semi-dark room, a gaze that seared into her soul, shattering her open.
‘River,’ she sobbed. ‘Please, don’t let go. I don’t care why you’re doing this right now, but please, don’t stop. If you stop I’ll fall apart and never be able to pull myself back
together.’
The hand on her breast brushed back and forth, circling the nipple as the other hand moved back up to her throat, holding her still in a way that was purely predatory male. She moaned and pressed into him. His burning, liquid hazel eyes with their amber centre bore into hers. ‘If we do this, it means you are mine.’
‘I’m already yours.’
He hissed out something that sounded like, ‘you have no idea’, but she didn’t have time to process it, because his lips were on hers again, his tongue brushing the seam. She opened, welcomed him inside. Welcomed him home.
Fire leapt inside her, racing through her veins, searing her as he deepened the kiss. She gasped for breath, but didn’t break away. It felt too good. His lips ravaged hers, his tongue doing things inside her mouth that she never remembered experiencing before. It was a new dance.
The last dance.
The thought flamed through her mind and then was gone as his hand shifted on her throat, his thumb stroking over the pulse point at her neck. ‘I want to bite you, right here.’
An image from the dream quest, of the wolf leaping at her neck, had panic rising for a moment, but when she opened her eyes, she saw him staring at her with something more than lust in his gaze. He cherished her. In his eyes, she was a treasure waiting to be found, opened up, explored, loved.
Nobody had ever looked at her like that.
Reaching for him, she turned her head to the side, exposing the pulse that visibly thumped under her skin. ‘Take whatever you want,’ she murmured. ‘Whatever you need.’
‘Do you know what you’re agreeing to?’ he growled.
She nodded. She’d studied the nuances of Were social interactions—it was her job as Pack Healer to know. This was an act of trust between lovers. She was more than willing to give him her trust. In fact, if he wanted it, she would give him her love.
But that was for another time. He was here with her. It was what she had longed for. What she had dreamed about ever since that first day of treatment when he’d taken his top off in front of her. No. This was something she’d dreamed about far longer than that. This sense of rightness. She’d been so wrong about her dream man. It was River. It had always been River. She needed him, to chase away the other dreams, to fill the empty part of her that had always been there. She had to make him see what could be between them if he only allowed it to be so. And this lesson in trust was the first step.
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