Blood Moon Rising Box Set (Books 1-6)
Page 75
Alara and Nik stared at each other; Verika assumed they must be having a private conversation.
At last, Alara nodded slightly. Casting Verika and her mate one last look, she wheeled about and followed Elijah out of the room.
Verika tensed as the silence in the room stretched. This might possibly be more awkward than her mother walking in on Elijah naked.
What could she say? Sorry? I’m happy for you? Nothing sounded right.
Damn her inability to start a conversation like a normal person!
Nik chuckled. His face lit up with that carefree smile Verika had so adored when they were together. It was still cute, but it didn’t tug at her heartstrings as it once did.
“I never got a chance to thank you.” Nik came to sit beside her on the couch.
Verika had thought about this moment, had felt it coming. There was much to say between them, and yet there wasn’t. What was done was done. The past was in the past and all that. Still, she found her old guilt returning as she said quietly, “Yeah, well, it’s the least I could do after I…”
Nik took her hand and turned her to face him. “Don’t feel bad. I mean, yeah, I’m not gonna lie. You leaving me hurt like hell at the time. But I see now everything happens for a reason. Every hurt, every trial. They have purpose. You walking out the door and never looking back allowed both of us the opportunity to find our true mates.”
She gave him an unsure smile. He smiled back, letting go of her hand.
Verika studied him from the corner of her eye. It would feel too weird to blatantly stare at him. It was hard trying not to. Here was the man she’d once thought she loved, whom she would have given up everything for at one point in her life, sitting here less than a foot away. A man whose heart she’d ripped out, along with her own, the day she’d decided to end things. A man she’d dreaded seeing since.
And yet she felt…content. At peace.
A long sigh broke her lips, and her shoulders eased as the burden of hurting him finally, at long last, lifted.
He’d forgiven her. Though he hadn’t explicitly said as much, she knew that’s what he meant. The reason he’d wanted to talk.
She was truly, deeply thankful for that. Freeing up her own hurts afforded her the clarity of mind to focus on healing her mate’s emotional wounds. Though it may not be her place, she said anyway, “Are you still pissed at Elijah?” And immediately regretted it when a sour look came over his face.
She bit her lip. Of course he was. Duh!
Smooth, Verika.
“Yeah.” A muscle ticked in his jaw. “I can’t easily forget or forgive him for ditching us like that, not when we most needed him.” He growled a sigh and rolled his massive shoulders and then his neck. Verika heard a few bones crack. She wondered how much rest he’d gotten since becoming Alpha, and then firmly reined in those feelings. He was no longer hers to fuss over. That was Alara’s job.
Nik’s expression saddened. “I missed him so damned much. Still can’t believe he’s back, like it’s too good to be true. I’m afraid…I’m afraid that if I let him in again, if I let him get close, he’ll leave.”
“Well, he and I can’t exactly live here,” Verika said with a wry smile, nudging him. “I don’t think Alara would go for that.”
He snorted and nudged her back. “That wasn’t an invitation to move in, love. You know what I mean.”
“I don’t think he’s going to run. He wants to be a part of your lives. He wants it as badly as you do. And don’t try denying it,” she added as he began to protest.
Nik pressed his lips together and gave an imperceptible nod. With a glance at his watch and another heavy-hearted sigh, he stood. “I should get you upstairs where you can rest.” He offered her his hand, and she let him pull her up. She’d forgotten how strong he was. How supportive he could be.
Alara was a lucky wolf, but then again, so was she.
A wolf.
Crap, that’s right. Her first Change was coming up soon. How was she going to manage that on top of this illness?
Breathe.
Nik supported her with an arm around her shoulders as he led her out of the room and up the stairs.
“So,” she said softly, leaning into him as her knees trembled. “Just to make sure we’re on the same page—we’re good?”
Nik smiled. “Yeah, doll. We’re good.”
Tears of gratitude stung her eyes. “Thank you,” she said quietly.
At least if she died soon, she’d rest easy knowing one less person in the world hated her. Because once word got out she was a Black Witch, she had a feeling she’d shoot straight to the top of the Underworld’s Most Wanted List…and become one of the Underworld’s most feared—and loathed—witches.
Elijah was waiting for her when she got back to the room. He’d been sitting on the bed, head hanging low, hands pressed on his knees, looking as though he had the weight of the world strapped to his shoulders.
She could relate. She was so going to need a good massage when this was all over.
If she wasn’t dead.
A shiver rattled her bones.
“Hey,” Elijah said with concern, rising and going to her. He rubbed his hands up and down her arms. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” she answered in a shaky voice. “I’ll be all right. Just feeling a bit queasy.”
“Tell me about it.” He pulled her to him.
She eagerly went, pressing her face against his warm, strong chest, and wrapped her arms around him. She closed her eyes and listened to his heartbeat, memorizing this moment so she’d always have it to hold on to when things got dark.
Which was inevitable, considering the way things were already going.
She wanted to curse. Wanted to scream. Mostly, she wanted to pull Mistress Black’s hair out.
Or set her on fire.
Or torture her.
Her eyes flashed open with horror. Holy shit, since when had she become so bloodthirsty?
Her power snaked under her skin, whispering dark thoughts to her. She wanted to hurt her. Needed to make her pay for what she’d done to her mate.
Since discovering her magical affinity, she’d been conducting research on it nonstop, courtesy of a little magical hacking spell that covered up her trail on the World Wide Web. No need to alert the DPI’s cybercrime department to her massive search queries on “Black Magic.” It was undoubtedly one of the department’s hot words by now, used to try to track her whereabouts.
At any rate, she’d compiled quite the Black Magic database inside her mind, though half the time she wished she could unlearn what she found. On the bright side, it was spooky. On a darker note…downright spine-chilling.
Elijah held her like that for a long while. Which was fine by her. Let the world stop, if only for a moment. It owed them at least that much in exchange for attempting to save it.
Verika felt her mate tense slightly before he spoke. His voice was so quiet, somewhere below a whisper, as if he was afraid to even speak. “There’s one more thing I neglected to mention, about Mistress Black’s visit.”
Her heart stuttered. Immediately pulling back, she looked up into his eyes. “Tell me.”
He told her. And her jaw nearly hit the floor. “Excuse me, I’m supposed to be descended from her? That monster?”
“She says as much. Or, at least, she’s delusional enough to believe it’s true, even though it might not be.”
What. The. Hell?
Could she be? Sure, she supposed it was possible, anyway. She didn’t exactly know much about her birth mother. Okay, she didn’t know jack shit about her real parents because they had given her up, supposedly “for her own good.”
Dammit, she was sick and tired of people telling her what was and wasn’t good for her.
She was pretty sure being related to a psycho-witch wasn’t a good thing.
“What else?” she demanded. “I know you’re holding back information.”
He bit his lip. “She also said she’d remo
ve my brand if I gave her you.”
“A trade,” she said flatly.
“It would appear so.”
Verika’s brain stopped working. When it started up again, all it could muster was one word. “Fuck!” she shouted, pulling away.
Elijah’s eyebrows rose into his hairline as though there were balloons attached to them. The F-bomb rarely tumbled out of her mouth. She liked to think she was a sophisticated curser.
But sometimes, the F-bomb was the only word to do a situation justice.
She needed to hit something, now.
Going to the wall, she formed a fist and punched.
“Ow! Mother—”
“Whoa, there! Take it easy!” Elijah grabbed her hand, which throbbed now as if she’d dunked it in lava, and kissed it.
She winced. Tears sprung to her eyes. “That hurt,” she said miserably.
He chuckled, giving her an amused look as he gingerly rolled his thumbs over her sore knuckles, gradually massaging away the pain. “At least you formed the punch correctly and didn’t break your thumb. Though your hand’s going to be sore as hell, I’m afraid.”
“I never understood the point of punching things until now. I just…grrr, God! I needed to release the anger somehow. Next time, I’m going to aim for a pillow.”
“Wise choice, Muhammad Ali.”
She lightly punched him with her free hand. “You’re hopeless.”
Elijah opened his mouth to say something, when he swayed. The color leached from his skin, and he stumbled toward a chair at the dinette set.
Verika went to him and sank into an adjacent chair, resting a hand on his arm. His skin was cold. He was never cold.
“Elijah?” she asked with worry.
“I’m all right,” he rasped. His breaths sounded labored, as though it took every ounce of strength he had to simply breathe. “Just letting it pass.”
“Has this been happening for a while now?”
His silence confirmed just as much.
“When did it start?” It wasn’t an angry, or even accusatory, question. Just a curious one.
“When we first hit the road. I’d been having ‘little flus’ here and there since I left Mistress Black’s, but they were so mild and few and far between that I didn’t pay them much mind.”
They sat in silence for a while. “I wish you’d told me,” she whispered.
“I didn’t want to wor—”
“Sssh,” she whispered, leaning forward and pressing her finger to his lips. She got up and hugged him. “You’re my mate. I’m going to worry about you regardless. It actually helps me worry less if I know what we’re up against.” She cupped his face in her hands, forcing him to hold her gaze. “I’m not breakable. Don’t hesitate to share your worries with me. I can take them.” Her lips quirked up in a grin. “I’m actually kind of a mystical badass, if you haven’t noticed.”
“Yeah. I got that part.”
Dropping a kiss on his forehead, she sighed and sank back down into her chair. “So what are we going to do?”
“What do you mean? Wait, you’re not considering handing yourself over to Mistress Black.”
She twiddled her thumbs and stared at her hands. “If it’s the right thing to do.”
He shot out of his chair. “Bull-fucking-shit it’s the right thing to do! Verika, she’s insane! She’ll kill you, or worse!”
She stood up too, her own voice rising in anger. “I can’t sit around and watch you slowly die!”
“And I can’t give up the only person who makes me want to live to the one who almost destroyed my life!”
Verika’s thought process stumbled. “Elijah…”
Pinching the bridge of his nose, he cursed and sat down. His back stooped, and he kept his gaze hidden from her as he said, “I can’t lose you. I can’t. It would break me, Verika.”
Speechless, she wet her lips and paced, nibbling at a fingernail. “We’ll explore other options. I think we should do as your brothers suggested and rest. Our brains work on things subconsciously while we sleep. I know it works for me. When I have a problem I can’t seem to solve, I sleep on it and usually wake with the answer.”
“But what if she comes? In my dreams?”
“That won’t happen.” Her eyes went cold as her power crackled through her. “If she comes, I’ll rip her apart.”
Elijah stared at her hands, where green energy had gathered at her fingertips. He swallowed hard.
The glow immediately winked out. Crap. She needed to calm down before she freaked him out more. She had to get a rein on her power before it became unruly.
Elijah blinked and looked away. His gaze found the window, staring. “Maybe we should run away, keep my brothers out of this.”
Her heart ached for the sorrow in his eyes.
She knelt before her mate and took his hands in hers. “We came here to ask for your brothers’ help. I’m so proud of you. I know that couldn’t have been easy, facing them like you did.” She kissed the back of his hands. “And I know it’s tempting to return to old habits because they’re comfortable. Diving into the unknown is scary. I should know. I was scared to death when I discovered what I truly was. At one point, I would have given anything to return to being an affinity-less witch because it’s what I knew. But change happens for a reason. It helps us grow and makes us stronger. We need your brothers.” She stood. “Running isn’t the answer anymore, Eli. We can’t run forever. The only way it’s going to end is if we stand and fight.”
She bent; her lips hovered over his. “I promise, through thick and thin, I’ll be there fighting right along with you. Forever.”
Then she kissed him.
A promise, filled with all the passion she possessed in her soul.
As the waitress set the steaming, hot-off-the-grill steak in front of him, Elijah couldn’t wait to dig in. Screw Mistress Black for the next ten minutes. He was eating some goddamned steak.
He grabbed a fork and knife and went to town. It took a few minutes for him to notice everyone was staring.
“What?” He looked around.
Verika, he, his brothers, and their mates were gathered around a long, rectangular dining table in the manor. The meal’s theme was “soul food”: fried chicken and okra, green beans bathed in bacon fat, mashed potatoes loaded with garlic, sour cream, and butter, bowls of white and brown gravy. Sweet tea with lemon, frothy, ice-cold beer, corn-on-the-freaking-cob glistening with butter, cornbread—hell, yeah!—black-eyed peas. And he was pretty sure he could smell a pecan pie roasting in the oven.
This was by far the nicest meal he’d had in months. His stomach practically wept in happiness.
Pressing his lips together, he gently set down his fork and knife. No one else had touched their food.
Gage cleared his throat. “We, um, thought it might be good to give thanks first.”
Elijah raised a brow. Their mother had been sort of religious: she believed in demons because she constantly prattled about the ones taking over their father—read: “addictions”—but their father sure as hell never much believed in a higher power. Their family had gone to church maybe five times a year, and that was only on potluck nights for the free meals.
But hey, Elijah wasn’t judging. Prayer was fine by him, welcome even. They’d need all the help they could get, divine or otherwise.
Taking Verika’s and Alara’s hands, he bowed his head.
And suddenly felt ashamed.
Who the fuck did he think he was, asking God or the Creator or Allah or whoever they were praying to for help? He didn’t deserve it, not after the things he’d done. He felt naked in the darkness of his subconscious, all his sins laid bare. He was filthy, disgusting.
Nothing more than an animal.
When Gage said, “Amen,” Elijah jerked his hands back as if he’d been burned. Alara and Verika cast him curious looks, and then glanced at each other before picking up their silverware.
Elijah’s chest rose and fell with more labored
breaths than before.
You okay? came Verika’s quiet, understanding voice inside his head.
He latched onto her presence, let it soothe him. Yeah. I’m fine. Just wigging myself out.
I didn’t know anyone actually said that anymore. A small smile.
Yeah, well, I’m quirky like that. He smiled back.
Now, about that steak business…
Conversation didn’t resume for another blissful fifteen minutes. And when it did, Elijah felt like throwing up everything he’d just eaten.
“Do you know where Mistress Black is?” Nik asked after a hefty swallow of beer.
Gage glared at Nik, giving him a “Really? Did you really just throw that out there?” look.
Verika reached for Elijah’s hand beneath the table. He squeezed it and then backed off, not wanting to break her delicate fingers. He took a few deep breaths.
Just breathe. Breathe, dammit.
You can do this, Verika coaxed gently.
Talk to my brothers, or talk about Mistress Bitch?
Both.
He felt her warmth, her sunshine. Despite being a Black Witch, she was the kindest, brightest person he knew. Her whole soul radiated goodness, the likes of which he’d never known.
With mechanical effort, he forced air into his lungs, enough to give voice to his thoughts. “Sort of.” The air felt thin, cold. Probably just him. “I have…these patches of memories. What the place looks like. General area. I don’t remember exactly where it is.”
“Why not?” Nik again.
Gage gave an eye roll of exasperation, wadded up his napkin, and threw it on his half-finished plate. “Would you back off?” he growled to Nik.
Nik merely raised his brows, as if to say, “What?”
“It’s fine.” Verika spoke up. Everyone had stopped eating. Talking about a mass-murdering psychopath was a sure way to kill conversation—and appetite. “We need to talk about this.”
“Couldn’t he have waited after I’d gotten done eating?” Elijah grumbled.
“My thoughts exactly,” Gage murmured.
Alara cleared her throat. “So I’m assuming Mistress Black has blocked your memories somehow?”