Soft Fate (Wolven Moon Book 2)

by Dany Rae Miller

  She looks at the ceiling, then back into my eyes.

  “I think I’m a Soft witch.” Gray eyes judge my reaction. “Even though I don’t know what that means.”

  With a small nod, I confirm it. “You will. Soon.” I caress her face already dreading the agonizing horror that will come with her returning memories.

  The onyx ring handed down within my father’s family lies on the dresser. Desperate to change the direction of our conversation as well as my thoughts, I reach for it.

  “You were going to charge this for me. You seduced me before completing the job.”

  “Oh,” she gasps. “I can’t believe I forgot.”

  Gloriously nude, she quickly lights a small candle and takes the ring from me.

  Her eyes blink up to mine. “This ring has witchcraft on it already.”

  I nod. “Legend has it that the family ring was charmed so it would expand when a wolf shifted.”

  “Oh, that makes sense. So you wouldn’t lose it.”

  I smile. “Correct.”

  With a soft yet commanding voice she calls the elements and her ancestors. As before, the power she summons within seconds is tremendous.

  The living energy packs the room to near bursting. It flutters the curtains and flows hot across my skin. A split second before the candle flame flickers higher, the intense heat of the spirits weave around me, taking stock of me. Their judgment radiates as less critical than earlier. Regretfully, my mother is not among them.

  “Powerful, brave and wise, let nothing escape your watchful eyes,” Shavone murmurs while squeezing my ring tightly between her hands. “This amulet consecrate. Ensure that come what may, the wearer dominate.”

  I’m entranced watching and listening to her.

  Shavone closes her eyes, whispers her incantation. Her hands press the jewelry intently.

  After a time, she holds the ring by the band and quickly passes the stone through the flame. My love’s eyes flick to me.

  “Give me your left index finger.”

  “I wear it on my right middle.” I hold out my right hand.

  She shakes her head. “The left index finger is our original athame.”

  “I’m not a witch.” I smile.

  “It’s still everyone’s strongest finger.”

  “Alright.” I do as she asks.

  My breath leaves me as she traces the spot where the ring will sit on the finger. My skin tingles, then, power radiates up my arm, down my spine and outward from there.

  “Safeguard this one who has my heart. Shelter my wolf while we’re apart.”

  I’m over the moon at her admission of love.

  Shavone glides the ring on as she closes the charging. “It harm none, this spell is done.”

  Overtaken with emotion, I lift my witch to the bed, lying down with her. “Promise me you won’t return to that circle.”

  I kiss her ear, throat, making my way to her breast.

  “Enrique.”

  My movements still, my beast angry once more. “Promise me!”

  “I can’t do that.” She caresses my face. “I’m fairly certain Val’s been hexed. Along with locating my pendant, getting her into that circle” —

  I leap from the bed. “Getting in that circle with her is insane! I don’t give a damn about her!”

  She sits up, draws her knees to her chest. We stare at one another.

  The little witch’s lips roll inward. “You respond with such anger toward me now. If this is what mating is, I don’t like it.”

  Chastised by her words and the hurt expression in her eyes, the beast’s rage cools somewhat.

  “My anger isn’t at you, but at your lack of self preservation,” I murmur.

  She rises from the bed and comes to me. Her soft tits bounce. Her skin glows. She takes my hands.

  “If it were Antonio in trouble and you thought you could help him?”

  “That’s different. He has never attacked me.”

  “It’s a hypothetical question, Enrique. I was hexed and if Val was too, it could be the same witch targeting us.”

  The theory acutely disturbing, I gnash my teeth, fighting another emotional wolven outburst.

  “I won’t lie,” she says. “Darkness was present in the circle. Then, I heard your voice urging me to fight. When I did, the light came alive for me, with me. The power of that circle is magical in the most literal sense. I never would have known had you not taken me to it.”

  I shake my head. “What if she hurts you again?”

  She holds my hands. “If my sister is hexed, the circle will know and it’s power will help me to help her.”

  “Mi dulci” —

  One of Shavone’s delicate eyebrows raises. “You told me to trust in my strength. I’m doing that. From now on, I’m doing that.”

  I grip the back of her head ready to argue further.

  “I know what I felt in that circle.” Shavone’s index finger presses to my lips. “You asked me to trust you. I need you to do the same for me.”

  She’s maneuvered me into an impasse.

  I close my eyes.

  “Oh, don’t,” she whispers, caressing my face. “Please. This sad, defeated look on your face broke my heart the first time I saw it” — her voice trails off as her eyes widen.

  With a start she pulls away. “Oh my gosh.” She bounces on the balls of her feet before turning to run for the bathroom.

  “What? What’s wrong?” I follow her to assist if she’s going to be ill.

  Bypassing the toilet, Shavone continues on to the closet. There, she lifts the strap of her ratty computer bag.

  “I forgot about my other camera card! I have shots of that woman on it, too.”

  Excellent.

  Eager to get a look at this person who’s punishment shall be death, I hoist the bag from her shoulder to mine.

  I follow my witch’s swaying bare ass back to the bedroom and place the bag on the bed.

  Inside are two computers — an older thick PC and a slim new MacBook. She selects the MacBook and sits, leaning against the headboard. She lifts the lid of the laptop.

  “Oh.” Her eyes round. “It’s almost dead. Will you get the power cord?”

  While she taps on the trackpad, I retrieve the cord from the bag. I plug it in. Returning to the bed, I hand her the other end to attach to the computer just as she clicks on the camera card icon. On the screen, pop dozens of thumbnail images of my house.

  Hurriedly, she scrolls past them.

  “Just a moment.” I sit next to her and reach over to the trackpad.

  Shavone covers the pad with her hands. “Those aren’t the photos I want to show you.”

  “Nevertheless, I want to see them.”

  I remove her hands only to have her cover the screen.

  “What are you hiding, Niña?” I gently pull her hands down.

  With a groan, she relents. I scroll to the very top to see all of the photos. My mouth opens in shock.

  “You spied on me?”

  Her embarrassed blush confirms it. “I was desperate, looking for Val.”

  “You thought she’d be in my bathroom?” I click to enlarge the pictures.

  “Her boyfriend is in your pack,” Shavone murmurs. “I thought maybe he’d show up at your place.”

  On a close up of me shaving, I notice the date stamp on the photo.

  I knew someone was watching.

  I assumed it was the Alliance.

  Despite my proximity, the council surprised me by agreeing that the enclave was the best place for an at-risk witch emerging from a shroud. Jack was aghast that Shavone and I were to be neighbors. She suggested I leave for the duration of her stay. I laughed, knowing I was finished waiting for my mate.

  Fitting that it was Shavone capturing the moment I reached the end of my patience waiting for her. This was after I had interviewed and hired her at the Dollhouse — after I touched her, scented her, looked into the face and gray eyes I’d obsessed over for years. />
  Her shots are quite good, well balanced and well framed. She’s an excellent photographer.

  I slide to the next photo — a crisp shot of my crotch.

  I grin. “Had I known, I would have dropped the towel for you, little witch.”

  I chuckle at her deepening blush.

  The next shots in the sequence are of me having coffee on the terrace — several of me looking directly in her direction. That I was thinking of her is written all over my face, the dichotomy of emotions was almost unbearable that day.

  What was she thinking of as she snapped these photos? That this wolf was a monster? The way I behaved at the interview appalling?

  She threatened to go to the Kitten Club for work.

  It was a bluff, of course. I squash the anger that someone dared take her there against her will.

  They will die.

  Oh, yes they will. On that, beast and man agree.

  As I turned to leave the terrace, she focused on the scar on my back — each shot zooming progressively closer as though she already knew its significance.

  I release her hands and sit back against the pillows to study her elegant profile.

  “What if you had seen Francisco in my home?” I ask. “Then, what would you have done?”

  Francisco is extraordinary at sniffing out hunters. Impressed with his innate talent, I tapped him the second I earned Prime. He was to locate the faction of hunters who attempted to kill young Shavone and those who killed her adoptive mother. I’m convinced that the two mobs are, if not one and the same, related in some way. Unfortunately, Francisco met Valerie Gentil during his assignment and became smitten with the repugnant girl.

  “I would have followed him.” Shavone shrugs. “Hopefully to Val.”

  The totality of Francisco’s violation becomes vividly clear. I imagine, with horror, what could have happened to Shavone had she followed him to a nest of hunters. Endangering the sister is one thing. Endangering the person I most cherish is unbelievable. I thought Francisco was smarter than that.

  Putting him on her case was as grave a mistake as was underestimating Shavone’s loyalty to her adoptive sister.

  The cadence of my brother’s steps echo down the hall. He’s moving fast toward our door.

  Before he knocks, I respond. “Go away, Antonio.”

  “It’s important,” he says.

  “Damn it,” I grumble under my breath.

  I stand, toss my robe from the chair to Shavone. I watch her set the computer aside and put on the robe while I pull on my pajama pants.

  Once her lovely body is covered, I open the door.

  With a large smirk, Antonio hands me the tattered clothes we left downstairs.

  The wolf’s annoyance surfaces. “You interrupted us for this?”

  “Now would I do such a thing?” He chuckles.

  I raise an eyebrow, not amused.

  Antonio sobers. “Francisco called.”

  “Where is he?”

  “He’ll be in Aspen tonight. He said it’s vital that you meet with him one on one.”

  To do so, I’d have to leave Shavone alone. That is out of the question. His justice must be served at another time.

  The little witch snugs up beside me in the doorway. “Can I see him? I want to talk to him about Val.”

  Antonio laughs. “He won’t be able to talk when Enrique’s finished with him.”

  Shavone’s eyes round. “Why?”

  “It’s wolf business,” I say.

  “You can’t hurt him!”

  “This doesn’t concern you, mi dulci.”

  “Yes it does.” Fists go on hips. “He was with my sister when her entire personality changed. I want to talk to him.”

  With a smirk, Antonio’s gaze moves from Shavone to me.

  “I’m not meeting with him and neither are you.” I turn from the door to the small bar tray on the dresser. The pack can deal with him for now.

  “He might know who hexed Val.” She follows me. “And me.”

  I pour a glass of tequila.

  “Francisco did say he had vital information.” Antonio covertly nods at Shavone’s back.

  “See.” She touches my arm. “Please let’s meet with him.”

  “He wants to meet with Enrique alone, Shavone,” Antonio says. “He might not show if he sniffs a witch.”

  Shavone sighs deeply at me. “Go, please Enrique. For me? Find out what you can about my sister?”

  Do it. Please her, and find out what he knows about the status of the Soft shroud.

  Resigned, I down the fiery liquid in one gulp.

  Five minutes later, I’m nearly dressed.

  From the bed, my witch watches me buckle my belt.

  I walk to my dresser.

  “I want you to have this.” I check the safety before removing it from the drawer.

  I turn around.

  “A gun?” Shavone is horrified. “I’d rather not.”

  “It’s loaded with silver bullets.” I explain.

  Her eyebrows raise in question.

  “Silver is toxic to wolves.”

  “Oh. That’s why Gabs won’t wear silver jewelry,” she mumbles.

  I sigh, disgusted again by how little she knows about wolves.

  “The safety is here.” Pointing it away from us, I show her how to release and re-lock it.

  I turn the handle toward her to take it. My witch folds her hands in her lap, refusing to touch it.

  “Shavone, you were attacked by a wolf. Take it.”

  “Enrique,” she pleads.

  “Take it, or I’m not going.”

  She tilts her head, judging my determination. She sighs, knowing I mean it.

  Gingerly, she takes it — deliberately avoiding the trigger, to place it on the nightstand.

  “Please, my love. Use it if necessary.”

  I lean down to kiss her, drinking in her flavor.

  “Promise me.” I wait for a response, tucking her soft hair behind her ear.

  Smiling, she nods.

  Reluctantly releasing her, I slip on my shoes.

  “Uncle Agustin should be home shortly. If you need anything at all, just ask him.”

  “He lives here?”

  “In the cottage at the back of the property. Uncle Emmanuel lives in the guest house next to the pool.”

  I show her how to use the estate intercom that links the structures. Then, I pick up her phone charging on the dresser to enter all our numbers into her contacts.

  “In the meantime, don’t hesitate to use that if” — I eye the gun. The word trouble sticks in my throat. The terror that something might happen while I’m gone sours in my stomach.

  Her eyes soften. “I’ll be fine.”

  I kiss her tender pink lips once more.

  “Promise you won’t hurt Francisco?”

  “Shavone.”

  “Promise or I’m going with you.” She slides her legs off the bed.

  “Alright. Alright.” I close my eyes. My wolf scowls. “This time, for you, I won’t harm him.”

  It’s the best I can do.

  “Thank you.” She touches the scratches LaFontaine left on my cheek. “You’ll be careful?”

  I kiss the ring she charged for me. “How can I not be?”

  chapter 19

  “Come, girls. Hurry.” A redheaded woman shepherds me and two other girls to a door leading out of a warm, cozy house. The woman speaks soothingly, but fear makes her voice quiver.

  Outside, it’s dark and rainy. We slip and slide running on the wet grass in the yard. I hear rushing water — either a creek or a river. Though I can’t see it, it sounds very close.

  “I don’t want to,” the littlest girl cries.

  “Hush, Skylar.” The woman picks up the youngest girl. “Sophia, hold hands with your sister.”

  “Yes, Mom.” The oldest girl, shifts a large leather wrapped package to her left arm and links her free hand with mine.

  Through an aspen grove, we run t
oward a circle. Mom carefully steps over the stacked stones. Crossing the circle, the power of it warms my wet skin.

  “None of our magick is working.” A man, tall and lean, catches up to us and takes Skylar from Mom. “Faster, honey. They’re getting closer.”

  Mom chokes on a fit of panic. The sound dredges bile up from my stomach. I want to throw up, but I keep running.

  On the other side of the circle and over the stones, the five of us go down a ravine. There, hidden behind thick brush and tall grass, is a tiny opening into the side of the earth directly beneath the circle.

  “Damn it. I forgot the triskele,” Mom says.

  The man sets Skylar down and turns to head back.

  “I have it, Dad,” Sophia says. From her pocket, she pulls a coral medallion that is tethered to three gold chains.

  “Good job, Sophia,” Dad says. “Remember the spell isn’t in here.” He taps the package in her arm. “We created it specially for you three. Do you remember it?” He looks at her and me expectantly. She nods, and so do I — even though I don’t have a clue what he’s talking about.

  “The sound of wolves is your cue.” Mom hugs me so tightly, it’s bruising. “If you have to do the spell” — tears stream down her face as she gathers my sisters in her arms with me — “always, always, wear your necklaces. The gold will bind you together and each piece of the triskele will draw you home until it’s whole once more.”

  In the far distance, we hear angry shouts and car doors slam.

  “For there is no friend like a sister in calm or stormy weather,” Mom murmurs.

  “Get in now, girls.” Dad has Sophia go first. She steps on a series of boulders below the opening and crawls inside. Then, I do the same to follow her.

  While Sophia stows the leather package in a cubby carved into the rock, Dad hands me a flashlight.

  “Don’t turn it on until the shelter is sealed,” he says.

  I nod.

  Once we’re situated on the earthen bench inside, Dad places a whimpering Skylar between Sophia and me. He caresses Skylar’s cheek. He kisses her forehead, then mine and then Sophia’s.

  I expect him and Mom to get into the sacred shelter with us, but instead he steps down and stands back.

  “We love you,” Mom chokes on the words.

  Linking hands with Dad, they quickly raise their arms and chant fast in a whisper through their tears. “Mother Earth, our children protect, these sisters who into your comforting womb have crept.”