by Cecy Robson
“We’ll be okay,” I say. “The wards should keep anything that threatens us out.”
Koda cocks a thick brow. “Even a skinwalker?”
“Yeah,” I say, although I’m no longer positive. The skinwalkers are the boogeymen of the supernatural realm, the ones who hide beneath your bed and stalk the woods after they kill you in your sleep.
I open the gate wide, giving Celia ample space. My friends wait until we step through, their shoulders sagging with relief when the wards don’t disintegrate Celia into ash. I suppose it was the final test to prove she means me no harm. I wasn’t worried. I’ve known that from the start.
Koda adjusts the elk he bagged against his shoulder. Gemini does, too. We nod our goodbyes before I click the gate shut and they turn away. Once we’re in, Gemini’s twin wolf leaps into Gem’s bare back, dissolving like ink into a vat of clear water.
“Wow,” Celia says.
“Yeah. Wow,” I mutter.
I start toward the house, hoping she’ll follow. “Does his twin ever turn human?”
I shake my head. “No. Gemini can become a wolf and divide in two like you just saw. But his twin is just another part of him. The theory is that his mother was carrying two babies, but only one survived and hung on to what remained of his twin’s soul.”
Celia smiles. “That’s amazing.”
It is. I’ve just known Gemini so long that I’ve accepted his ability as a part of him.
We start up the trail, wishing I could find the right words to say. I barely know anything about Celia, but what I do know makes me want to get to know her better. I only hope she wants to get to know me, too.
“What’s wrong?” she asks.
“Nothing.”
She nudges me with her elbow, the force hard enough to make me stumble. “What was that for?” I ask, laughing.
“Nothing,” she says, smirking. “I’m sorry. Wasn’t that what you just said to me?”
I chuckle. She can probably guess my mind is on other things. What she probably doesn’t know is that those other things are her.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asks.
“Yup. Just fine.”
The large property darkens as we make our way toward the house and the breeze picks up, sprinkling pine needles from the overhanging branches onto our heads. Celia crosses her arms when the wind increases in speed and strips a few pine cones free of their posts. They thud against the ground like the small steps of a fawn the first time it runs. I’ve always enjoyed those gentle sounds. I suppose it’s because they remind me of home.
“Are you cold?” I ask when Celia holds herself tighter.
“No. My tigress tends to keep me warm.” She laughs a little. “Except last night was cold, and I can’t maintain my form while I sleep.”
“No?” I ask.
“Can you?”
“Always,” I admit. “We camp out a lot. Sometimes, we don’t even bring packs. It’s just us, sleeping under the stars.”
“That sounds nice.”
I nod, mulling through what she said. “I don’t mean to insult you, but I’m surprised by your tigress. I would think where your best interests are involved, she’d be there to help you out.”
Celia quiets, keeping her attention ahead on where the well-worn path leads up to the barn. I start to think I went too far. But then she speaks in that cautious way she does when she’s afraid to open up.
“Unlike your wolf, my tigress is almost a separate entity. She resides within me, but I’m not certain she shares my soul. You’re better connected to your beast, from what I’ve seen. I’m not. There are moments when it’s all I can do to keep her from wandering and under control.”
“I don’t know about that.” I step ahead, lifting a low-lying branch to avoid it smacking me in the head. “When I’m angry or when I’m in danger like we were back on the mountain, my beast is quick to respond.”
“Mine is, too,” she admits. “But sometimes she responds in anger too quickly, making us do things that maybe we shouldn’t.”
“Like what?” I ask.
Her tigress eyes replace her own and she releases a shuddering breath. “Like hunt,” she whispers.
The wind stills and the chirping birds settling into their nests appear to hunker down. “You don’t mean game, do you?”
Her silence and the cool stare of her beast are answer enough.
“Does she make you do things you don’t want to do?”
Celia opens her mouth, but then shuts it abruptly, continuing forward without me. It’s not until the incline levels off that she realizes I’m not following.
This is a young, vulnerable girl who has suffered a great deal. I hate it, but I hate how it hurts her more.
“Celia?” I ask. “Does your tigress make you do things you don’t want to do?”
Small tears form across her irises, dissolving the eyes of her tigress and returning those of the Celia I first met. She blinks, releasing them to cut lines down her dirty cheeks. “Yes,” she admits. “It’s how I think I got here.”
I stop in front of her, fiddling with the strap of my pack. I’m not nervous. I’m scared. Scared for Celia and what’s waiting for her at home. “What happened?”
“There were these men, who broke into our home when we were little. They killed my parents.”
“Wow,” I murmur, although the words that follow are harsher.
“I found those men. All of them. It took me several months, but I did it.” She trembles. “I chased the last one down an alley. I had him, when something appeared several feet away.”
“What was it?” I ask.
“I don’t know. It was a dark figure. I could sense she meant me harm, and I felt her magic build when she saw me. But then something appeared behind her.” She wipes her face, embarrassed by her openness. “The next thing I know, I woke up here with no clothes and no memory of how I arrived.”
“I’m sorry,” she says, when I don’t respond. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this. It’s rare that I talk with anyone outside my family.”
“Don’t you have any friends?” Out of all the things I could have asked, I think this was possibly the worst.
“I have my sisters and Ana Lisa,” she says, her tone even, despite how her expression flickers with sorrow no one this young should feel. “They’re enough.”
She swallows as hard as Liam did after she removed that clump of evil and his throat sealed shut. Just because she didn’t ingest the poison he did, doesn’t mean she hasn’t felt her share of pain.
“I’ve said too much,” she stammers. “I should go.”
She doesn’t quite turn around when I drop my pack and wrap my arms around her. My embrace isn’t hard. It’s a shelter from everything that hurts her, and a shield against anything that might try. I don’t know Celia. We only met a few long hours ago. But everything I’ve seen makes up for it.
Celia faced an immense snarling wolf head on, telling him she didn’t want to hurt him. She’s a young woman who hid in embarrassment, but who took on a creature that weres live in fear of, knowing she couldn’t heal if wounded.
This female saved my friends, my brothers, ignoring everything it could cost her.
No. I don’t know Celia. But what I do know is enough.
That warmth amplifies between us, diffusing her fear and shame as if they never manifested. I bow my head, curling into her as her arms secure around my waist, the closeness we share reducing our intense breathing into something harmonious and calm.
“What are you doing to me?” she whispers.
I try to laugh. It doesn’t quite come out. “I was going to ask you the same thing. You’re like . . .”
“Magic?” she offers.
“Not quite.” I nuzzle her closer, my jaw sweeping over her head. “You’re peace.”
“That’s nice,” she says. I release her when her arms slip away, even though neither of us seem r
eady to let go. “We could all use some peace.”
The hoots from a distant owl is a firm reminder of how late it is. I offer Celia my hand, trying not to smile like a fool when she takes it. My dad always warned me that when I’d fall for a female, I’d fall hard. Still, I never pictured anything like this.
“Are you hungry?” She looks at me. “Sorry, that’s a stupid question. We can talk things over with my folks while we eat. Mom always makes plenty of food.”
“All right.”
I give her hand a small squeeze. “What’s wrong?”
“Aric, I know you mean well. But if your parents aren’t okay with me staying, I understand. If I can just call home, Ana Lisa, my foster mother, will wire me the money to pay for the call and a ticket back home. Do you have access to Western Union or something like that?”
“We do, but it won’t be necessary. My parents won’t take a dime from you, and they’ll welcome you like family.”
“But they don’t know me.”
“True. But they know me, just like I know them. They’re good people. Just make sure you eat plenty, otherwise you’ll offend my Mom.”
“I don’t think you have to worry about that,” she says. “I could eat a cow.”
“Good,” I say. “That’s probably what’s for dinner.”
I pause when we come across a familiar spot. “Want to see something?”
“Is it evil?”
I bark out a laugh. “No. It’s anything but.”
“In that case, sure.”
I lead her off the path until we’re standing directly in front of a pine with a trunk as wide as my body. “Here,” I say, guiding her around it.
She tilts her head when I point to the heart carved into the tree. “Who are A.C. and E.D.?” Celia asks, motioning to the initials.
“My parents, Aidan Connor and Eliza Dùghlas. They’re mates,” I add, when she glances back at me. “My father carved their initials into this tree the day they realized who they were to each other. My mother was so touched by the gesture, he bought this property to ensure nothing would ever happen to the tree.”
“It was a wedding present,” I say, when she continues to appear confused.
“What’s a mate?”
I want to tell her it’s a word connected to love, commitment, and honor. Stronger than marriage and the most sacred bond a were will ever share with another. But as I look into Celia’s pretty face and see the way she patiently waits for me to explain—like I’m the only one who can explain it the right way—the words barely come.
“Weres, the lucky ones anyway, have mates,” I say, my tone a whisper that vanishes in the increasing breeze. “That one special being they’re destined to love and share a soul with for eternity.”
Celia’s gaze drifts to mine. “Do you think you’ll have a mate someday?”
I think back to my parents, how lost they are when the other is not around, and how they cherish each smile and gentle touch. “I hope so,” I rasp.
The wind picks up again, lifting Celia’s long hair. It’s similar to how it felt last night, the same kind of wind that brought me that dream. “I should get you inside,” I tell her.
We hurry back onto the path and through the patch of woods that makes up most of our property.
The modern stone farmhouse my father built for my mother waits in darkness.
“Something’s wrong,” I say, moving faster.
“How do you know?” Celia asks.
“I don’t know. It just is,” I say, rushing forward.
I swing open the doors and hurry in. “You don’t lock your doors?” Celia asks.
My pack drops to the floor as I kick off my shoes. “No. The wards surrounding the house are stronger than the ones along the perimeter.”
I stop when Celia remains behind the threshold. “I don’t know if I should come in. My feet are filthy.”
Mud cakes them, and they’re still a little bloody from her trek through the mountain. I could care less and so will my parents. I reach for her hand and help her inside. “It’s all right,” I assure her.
“Mom? Dad?” I call out.
Celia takes in the foyer, hugging herself. “Maybe they’re not home. All the lights are out.”
I wait and listen. “That doesn’t mean anything. Sometimes, they’re just upstairs having sex.”
“Excuse me?”
When I don’t hear them or anyone else, I pad into the kitchen, lifting the note my father left by the phone.
Aric,
Strange activity has been reported along the borders of Colorado. Witchcraft, very strong and unlike any we’ve seen, has stirred dark forces. Tornados and earthquakes are erupting all over the state.
Your mother and I are tasked with overseeing the packs prowling the affected areas and responding to reported threats in turn. Call when you arrive. The amount of magic used is greatly affecting the phone and power lines. Don’t worry. We’re fine, and all dark activity is occurring far from home.
~ Dad
“All dark activity is occurring far from home,” I mutter. “Yeah. Sure it is.”
Celia eases away from where she was reading the note. “What’s happening?” she asks. “And why do I feel like I’m a part of it?”
There’s nothing I’d like more than to assure her she has nothing to do with this mess. But the wind brought her here like Dorothy, and it threw the bogeymen and natural disasters across the Yellow Brick Road. “We’ll figure it out,” I promise her. “But first, I need to make a call.”
Celia follows me to the rear doors leading out to the terrace. “I thought the phones aren’t working?”
The wink and grin I cast her over my shoulder cause her to trip over her feet. “You’ll see,” I tell her.
The wind barrels through as we step onto the terrace, smacking hard against the side of the house. I press my hands against the dark wood railing and take a long deep breath, tapping into my inner beast.
I bow my spine and throw my head back, releasing a howl from deep in my soul, that primal place only weres and our ancestors have ever had the privilege of knowing. As I finish, I ease slowly forward, leaning my forearms against the railing.
The first to respond is my father, his deep baritone howl as familiar as his chuckle and quick wit. My mother follows, her howl lighter and as gentle and comforting as her touch.
Liam is next, his call ending with an excited yip. Gemini’s ensues right after, his voice louder and clearer with the help of his twin. Koda is last, the mournful way his beast sings, and the direction his call comes from erasing my smile and alerting me he’s home. He chose not to stay with our friends. Given what happened, I imagine he wanted to make certain his mother was safe.
I only wish she cared for his safety the same way.
The wind blows harder, this time against our faces. Celia’s hair cascades behind her. Until now, I didn’t realize her eyes were closed.
She opens them slowly. “That was beautiful,” she says, her eyes sparkling against the pale moon. “How can your family hear you now, when they weren’t able to before?”
“My parents and I share a stronger bond, because we’re pures, and because they’re mated. We also share a strong connection to our home and this land.” I hadn’t much thought about how special our family ties are until I explain them to Celia. The strong reminder of how lucky I am makes me smile. “On a clear day or night, they can hear me from hundreds of miles away.”
“But not during earthquakes?” she guesses.
“No. Between the sound and the amount of magic used to create it, any call would be muffled.”
“What about your friends?” she asks.
My fascination with Celia’s beauty and subtle gestures make it hard to stay focused. I do my best. “My friends live close, so the distance and wind aren’t an issue.”
She nods, appearing to understand. She hesitates, then asks, “Is Koda okay? He sounded sa
d.”
My loyalty to Koda won’t allow me to say much. “He doesn’t have it easy.”
I gesture toward the house. “Come on. Let’s get something to eat.”
The refrigerator remained plenty cold when I opened it. I found the giant sides of beef Mom had prepared seasoned and ready to cook. I suppose I could have broiled them in the oven with just a strike of a match but chose instead to roast them over the firepit.
I beat back a grin when I caught Celia gaping at me as I chopped firewood. I was hot, sweaty, and shirtless. I pretended not to notice, and although I already had plenty of firewood by that point, I chopped some more.
Celia had drunk all the water we’d brought on the hunt. She drank even more as I cooked our meal. I was sure all that water would fill her and that she wouldn’t be able to eat much. She surprised me by eating almost as much as I did. The meal made a big difference. She perked up and color returned to her cheeks.
I didn’t want Celia to help me clean up. She did anyway and was as efficient and fast as my mother. I almost asked her if this was a regular task, but I didn’t want to remind her of home, not when it would make her sad.
She washes the last dish and passes it to me to dry, covering her mouth to suppress a yawn.
“We should go to bed,” I say.
Her eyes widen. “What?”
I don’t have to look in the mirror to know my face is fire-engine red. “Ah, bed?” I repeat like a dumbass. “You know, in my room?”
Her tigress eyes replace her own. That’s pretty much when I realize I’m in trouble. “I’m not going to bed with you.”
My hands shoot out so fast, I almost break the plate when it lands on the counter. “That’s not what I mean. I just want you in my bed.”
“Oh, I bet you do,” she snaps.
And that’s when her claws come out.
“I mean, I want you in bed by yourself!” Holy crap, she looks ready to gut me. “Without me. Do you know what I’m saying?”
“No.”
Of course not. Celia doesn’t speak moron. “You can stay in my room is all I meant.” There. I said it. Why was that so hard?