Join the club. And on that note, “What do I do?”
“Let her read the books. Her powers will recognize the spells. Make her practice. You’ve got to tell her the worst-case scenario so she’ll understand. This isn’t the time to sugarcoat anything.”
“I’ll make sure she’s ready.”
With that, Jinx pushed up from the chair and headed back upstairs.
“What’s going on, Stray?” Vice asked, his back still turned to him.
It was odd that Jinx hadn’t asked, which made Stray suspicious. Obviously, Vice felt the same way. “Kate thinks that Jinx is … evil.”
“Wolves can’t be possessed for long. Spirits can get in, but the wolf’s too strong,” Vice said, finally turning to look at him. “We’d know.”
Stray nodded. “That’s what I plan to tell her.”
But neither of them seemed entirely convinced, which meant Kate would be a harder sell.
“Stray?” Gwen stuck her head into the kitchen. “She’s asking for you.”
“She didn’t call me,” he muttered, more to himself than to her.
Gwen put a hand on his arm. “She said she’s trying not to make you feel … like a pet.”
Vice snorted softly and Stray just nodded. “Thanks for helping.”
“Do me a favor—bring her some of the tea I like,” Gwen said.
When he went into the guest bedroom with the tea, Kate still clutched the book to her chest and Stray was starting to feel a little jealous of it.
“I want you to stay in my room from now on—with me,” he told her without prelude, and in spite of everything, she gave him a small smile.
“Okay.”
He handed her the mug. “Here. It’s some kind of … soothing shit.”
“Sounds lovely.”
“It’s Gwen’s.”
She accepted the mug, left the book between them on the bed as he sat down on the edge. “Did you see … what I did?” she asked hesitantly.
“A little. But I need to know more about the Jinx is evil thing,” Stray told her. “That’s what came through most clearly.”
Kate took a few sips of the hot liquid before cupping the mug in both hands. “It was … just a feeling. Like I knew something bad is inside of him.”
“You’re sure it’s not a premonition—a future event we can stop?”
“I’ve never … it’s never worked that way for me,” she said. “But with the grimoire, the new powers, how would I know?”
“Maybe it’s a witch-wolf thing?”
“I don’t feel it with anyone but him.” She paused, then met his gaze dead-on.
“Have you ever been wrong with something like this?”
“Never,” she said.
Holy hell, they were in trouble.
*
Kate was alienating Stray’s brother. What good could come of that? She’d been taken by this wolf because they needed her help for one of his kind. They were tight knit.
They’ll use you and throw you away.
“What’s going on in there?” Stray tapped the side of her head gently.
She couldn’t lie to him now, any more than she could lie to herself. “I’ve hurt Jinx.”
“You looked like you couldn’t control what happened.”
True, but that was beyond the point. “Your other brothers, even Gwen … they’re being nice, but when they look at me … I can feel the suspicion oozing from them.”
“I told you—witches aren’t typically a first choice of friends for a wolf. You have a lot of natural-born enemies,” he said. “Vampires for sure. Shifters. Even the trappers aren’t crazy about you unless they can control you. Demons don’t like you, either.”
“Does anyone in the supernatural world like witches? Because, honestly, it seems like even witches don’t like other witches a lot of the time.” She wasn’t sure why she bothered asking, because she already knew the answer.
Stray shook his head slowly. “By nature, witches are solitary creatures. Always have been.”
She understood why now, and she nearly crumpled. She’d been solitary for so damned long and the thought of going through the rest of her life—which was now forever—like that was unbearable. Stray might want her now, but if she continued to see bad things relating to his family …
A weight crushed her chest until she could barely breathe. She was vaguely aware of Stray holding her shoulders and calling for help.
“Kate, this is oxygen,” Gwen told her. Kate tried to fight the plastic mask on her face, trying to see if she would die or not.
Because she wanted to.
But strong hands held her arms down and her body’s survival instincts kicked in, forcing her to gasp in several deep breaths.
She didn’t know how long she remained like that, but finally the grip on her loosened and she slumped forward.
“What did you do to her?” Gwen said from somewhere above her.
She wanted to defend Stray, to tell Gwen that he’d simply given her more of the truth she’d asked for, but no words came.
“Kate, are you all right now?” Gwen asked, her face set in serious lines.
“Fine. Sorry—don’t mean to keep causing trouble for you and your family,” she murmured.
Gwen cast a look Kate couldn’t quite read her way and then told Stray, “Keep her calm. I can’t give her more meds on top of what I gave her for the headache.”
Kate heard the door close, felt the bed sink from Stray’s weight.
“I didn’t mean to do that to you, Kate. I suck at this stuff, but I’m trying to be there for you.”
“Stop. I got what I asked for. I keep asking and you’re going slowly, but every time you tell me something, I know you’re holding back. Now I know it’s witches against the world. Better I know what I’m in for, right?” She tried to give a small laugh and failed.
“It’s not you against the world alone, you know. You have us, despite what you’re thinking. You see what you see—you’re not doing it to hurt us. It’s better that we know.” He paused, then said fiercely, “You have me.”
She wanted to believe him so badly, but her breath came a little harsh again and she held the oxygen mask to her face for a few minutes until she was calm
“Here, drink more tea,” Stray urged. She did so, mainly to stop him from fussing over her. For a minute, everything settled in and then, with no warning, she shot up, the tea spilling on the floor and narrowly missing burning her. “Stray, I have to … go.”
“Is Seb back?”
“No. It’s nothing like that. But I need to find something.”
Stray stood as she did. “I’m with you. Do what you need to do.”
She hoped she wouldn’t run into Jinx again, but it wasn’t about him this time. Something yanked at her and she had to follow it. She pointed to the book and Stray stared between it and her for a long moment.
“You’re sure?”
It would be the first time he’d touched it, the first time she’d allowed anyone but her to. “I’m sure, Stray. Please.”
He looked down at it with a reverence she appreciated, then picked it up carefully and tucked it safely under his arm. And just like that, they’d crossed another line, gotten in deeper.
And she knew that it was right.
Only when the grimoire was secured with Stray did she leave the room, one hand out in front of her, palm raised like it was some kind of divining rod. She took a few wrong turns and rapidly retraced her steps until she was on the right track.
She faced the wide set of stairs—she’d never officially been invited up there—and started up them, her heart beating rapidly. Something drew her this way, and it wasn’t Seb’s voice in her head. She was aware of Stray behind her, which calmed her somewhat.
She stopped in front of a closed door and put a hand on the knob. It gave under her touch. “Whose room is this?”
“Rogue’s.”
“The brother who needs help?”
“Yes. Ji
nx’s twin.”
Her throat went dry. If Jinx was in there, she would know soon enough.
With that, she opened the door and moved forward without looking, narrowing her focus before her courage left her.
When she raised her eyes, she knew exactly what called her to this room. For a long moment, she refused to look at it, stared at Rogue instead, not identical to Jinx, but close enough. Except for the markings on the side of his face, which looked as though they were a part of him, rather than mere tattoos.
Go closer, she told herself.
She did, reached out and stroked his hair with a trembling hand, swore she heard thank you inside her head.
It was only then that she looked up at the same kind of monster she’d once seen on her mother. This one was sitting on Rogue’s chest, its wild eyes staring at her. Laughing silently. So close—and she hadn’t noticed.
She hadn’t backed away from it all those years ago. She wouldn’t this time.
Bitch, she told it before screwing her eyes shut and turning to Stray. “How long has it been there?”
“You can see it?” Stray asked.
“Yes. What is it?”
“A mare. Typically, it’s part of a nightmare—a dream you have when you feel like you can’t move. Superstition says it’s a mare sitting on your chest.”
That thing was way more than a superstition—and it wasn’t going away easily. “He’s trapped like that—by her?”
“Six months now,” Stray confirmed and then Rifter’s voice came up from behind him.
“Get her out of here,” Rifter said.
Stray walked her out and Rifter went past them and shut the door to the room behind him.
“Rifter seems angry. Was I not supposed to see Rogue?” she asked Stray.
“No. He’s worried that we gave you away. The mare reports directly to Seb.” Stray looked troubled. “I didn’t think of it, but Rifter did. The mare shouldn’t have any power over you, though. You’re stronger than that.”
“I hope so. She’s horrible.”
“Worse for Rogue, I’d imagine.” Stray’s voice was tight as he spoke.
“No one should have to suffer like that.”
Stray’s eyes were close to lupine when he said, “I guess Seb doesn’t feel the same way.”
Chapter 27
Stray woke from the nightmare with a start just as Killian approached him. The roar of the polar bears still rang in his ears when he sat up, covered with a thin sheen of sweat. Seconds later, Kate woke the same way he had, her eyes disoriented, staring straight ahead, but her nightmare was all hers.
When she got her bearings, she glanced at him. “Sorry.”
“You didn’t wake me. I have my own nightmares to thank for that.” He hated the tingle that ran through his body. He’d felt it only a few times before, always when he was in physical contact with Killian.
He and Kate had slept for maybe an hour. Rifter hadn’t come out of Rogue’s room, and Stray and Kate returned to his room. He’d given Kate back the grimoire and she’d curled up around it. He’d curled up next to her for protection and she’d snuggled against him, her ass to his cock, and he’d willed himself to sleep, because it was either that or touch her.
And once he started, the way he had in the rain, he wouldn’t be able to stop.
“Mine’s the same every single time,” she continued.
“Mine too. Had it every night for the past couple of nights.” He didn’t add that this nightmare was twenty-five years in the making.
“I’ve had mine every night for a year,” she admitted.
“Christ, aren’t we a pair,” he muttered, ran his hands through his dark hair. His chest shone, slick with sweat. “I’ve got to get out of here.”
*
Kate felt the disappointment stir at Stray’s declaration, assumed he meant alone. She couldn’t blame him—her own nightmares made her feel exposed and raw. Stray was actually the first one she’d ever thought about revealing them to.
Granted, he’d lived them with her, so that took care of the telling him part.
“Coming?” he asked, didn’t wait for her answer before he grabbed her hand and tugged her along, out of the bed and down the stairs.
She noticed he’d also picked up the grimoire and the sketchpad. The grimoire was expected, the sketchpad, far from it. How he knew her so well after such a short time together amazed her. And then he led her through the house toward a door she hadn’t come across before. She walked behind him through a long, dark underground tunnel that would’ve spooked her before she knew what she knew now.
Finally, they ended up outside under the moon, where she and Stray both would find comfort. Actually, rather than being fully outside, they were in a screened-in section of the porch that gave the feeling of being outdoors with the added benefit of alarms. But the ceiling was nothing but the same fine mesh that threaded the rest of the area, and there was grass under her feet that came right up to the tiled section of the sunroom, where there was actual furniture.
“Since the house is spelled, no one but Dires can see it. And Weres we allow. So as long as we stay in here, we’re safe, and we’ve got the moon. Best of both worlds.”
It explained why she hadn’t been able to see the house at all when she’d been attacked by the Were earlier that evening.
He laid out the blanket he’d grabbed from one of the rooms they’d passed and motioned for her to lie down next to him. On their backs, moon shining in their faces, she began to relax. She sat up and took the pencil and paper and began to sketch the moon, the way she’d done countless times before. For many long minutes, there was a comfortable silence between them.
When she’d finished and her hand was tired, she looked over at Stray, half expecting him to be asleep.
He wasn’t, remained staring at the moon, looking as sleek and dangerous as his wolf. “You’re not going to draw me now, are you?”
“Not if you don’t want me to.”
He glanced at her. “Maybe later, all right?”
She put down the pad and laid it down again next to her. “If I wasn’t here, you’d be out running, wouldn’t you?”
“Probably. But this is nice too.”
“Who’d have thought it so soon after the dreams. Usually, it takes me hours to feel better,” she said. “I’m sure you know what my nightmare’s about.”
“I lived it with you, yes.” He reached out and took her hand in his. Squeezed it.
“I didn’t … tell you everything. Sometimes I have other nightmares along with the accident one. I’ve never told anyone about it, either. Do you think maybe sharing them would help?” she asked hesitantly.
“Like they’d cancel each other out and we’d sleep contentedly for the rest of our lives?” He snorted. “Guess it’s worth a shot.”
“I thought you said I’m supposed to believe in magic.”
“That’s not magic, baby; that’s wishful thinking. And it’s mostly a human thing.”
“Guess I’ve got some human habits I won’t be getting rid of anytime soon,” she told him. “You’re the first person I’ve ever told who actually believed me. Even though I technically didn’t tell you.”
“I’ve never told anyone about mine, period.”
“Not even your brothers?”
He stared at her. “It wasn’t time.”
“And now?”
“It is.”
*
Stray watched Kate carefully, wondering if they could both do this. Secrets weren’t good for anyone, but sometimes they were completely necessary.
He’d learn soon enough if that was true in this case. “That wasn’t the first time you’ve seen a mare.”
She shook her head, pressed her lips together, like she was reliving some kind of past physical pain.
“I can’t see her, but I made Gwen describe her to me,” he told her.
“Gwen can see mares?”
“Only when she and Rifter dreamwalk,” he expl
ained. “That’s his ability, like mine is mind reading. And she can see it only when they’re together. You’re the only one who’s seen her outright.”
“I’ve seen it once before, on my mother, the night before she was killed. But it left. I had no idea why. I yelled at it, but it laughed at me. I have no clue why it was there in the first place and we never talked about it afterward. And then she was dead and I wondered if there was a connection.” She stared at him. “Do you think I put the mare there?”
“No, Kate, I don’t. You don’t have that kind of evil in you.”
She was struggling to believe him. “I never wished her dead. But there were so many times I wished she was just … gone. I loved her, but I really hated her. My dad, too.”
“They hurt you?”
“Not my father. My mom.” She shook her head at the memory, and Stray nearly growled at the thought of anyone touching her in anger. “The physical pain was bad enough—it seemed to piss her off that I healed so quickly. Further proof that I was the devil’s handiwork.” She swallowed hard. “But she was so cold to me. It was like living with ice. It was more lonely than living alone.”
She was holding back the tears—a damned strong woman.
“It all makes sense now, though. If my mother was a witch who refused to practice, who thought witchery was evil, then … if I showed any signs of having power, she would do anything to stop it.”
She bit her lower lip gently and Stray caressed her back through her shirt where the brand was. It should be on its way to fading, never to return once her powers were fully hers, according to the lore. But the familiar tingle was still there under his palm. Kate continued. “My mother didn’t want me to be what I was. But I was exactly like her.”
Stray’s gut tightened. “Family’s a bitch.”
That made her smile a little. “I guess I was always a witch. Lila just made me a more powerful one. Kept me hidden until now.”
“You don’t have to hide anything from me,” he prompted when she paused.
“Because I can’t, right?”
“I try to be respectful, but it’s like you’re shouting in my ear.”
She told him then about the fortune teller she’d seen the day of the accident because she’d finally put the pieces together herself—and he got it immediately.
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