“Come meditate with me.” My mom’s request shouldn’t have surprised me since meditation was her answer to just about everything, but I was startled, nonetheless. I’d been so lost in my own thoughts, I hadn’t heard her come up behind me. I was usually more aware of my surroundings than this, but I’d been edgy and distracted ever since our coven meeting the night of the lunar eclipse. Deep down to my soul, I knew I’d made the right decision when I’d offered my support to my mom during the vote, but there was a part of me that braced for what was going to come next as soon as I uttered the words. A part of me that knew something had changed and understood I was the person who would be most affected by it.
I didn’t know what was coming for me, but I had a feeling it was going to be life-changing...and that I wouldn’t have to wait too long to find out. Maybe meditation would help. It certainly couldn’t hurt. “Sounds good to me.”
I followed her outside to a large rock overlooking the lake, laughing lightly when I saw the two pillows sitting side by side. My mother already knew what my answer would be before she asked. As I knelt down next to her, she grabbed my hand and squeezed it tightly. “I know it will be good for you.”
Her voice held a startling certainty, as though she knew something I didn’t—which shouldn’t be a surprise considering her power was much stronger than my own. It wasn’t unusual for her to have a premonition, but it was rare for her to have one about me. When I’d asked her about it once when I was younger, she told me not to worry. Even though it was hard to see the future of those with whom you were closest, we had to trust our powers to protect the ones we loved. The firmness with which she now spoke hinted at one of her rare visions about me, adding to my sense of unease.
My mom’s energy shifted as she murmured her preferred mantra over and over again. She was utterly still beside me, most likely having found her nirvana. Normally, I wouldn’t notice the change in her, but today I wasn’t fully focused on myself. I was too antsy to find my center. It felt like it took forever and a day before I was able to find the stillness within myself and grab hold.
But it didn’t take me to the place I expected. Instead, I found myself in a dense forest, surrounded by a menagerie of animals as I ran swiftly through the trees. There were three black bears behind me, but I didn’t feel as though they were chasing me. It felt like they were urging me forward. To my left was a lioness, her fur rubbing along my legs every once in awhile as she tried to speed me along. And to my right was a sleek, gray wolf, whose dark eyes gleamed in the moonlight.
My heart raced, but not from exertion—it was from excitement. With a profound certainty, I knew someone was waiting for me around the next corner. Someone who was everything to me. I dug deep and sped up, running faster than I’d ever moved before, desperate to reach him. When I rounded the bend, another black bear was there, and it felt like I’d been struck by lightning.
Electricity crackled along my skin and arced from my fingertips to the bear’s chest in a spark of white light. Suddenly, he shifted from bear to man; a completely naked man with every tanned inch of his six-foot-two frame exposed to my sight. A swirl of wind ruffled his jet black hair before sweeping toward me and pushing me forward. His whiskey-colored eyes were filled with wonder as he stared at me. I stumbled slightly in my rush to reach him and he leapt forward to catch me.
As soon as his fingertips touched my skin, I felt my magic blast through me with more power than I’d ever experienced before. It flowed from me to him, a warm glow of light surrounding us. I didn’t know his name or who he was, but I felt a certainty to the depths of my soul that he was the person I’d been searching for. A vortex of wind wrapped around us, lifting us both off our feet for a moment, and I felt another surge of power deep within myself.
When he reached the ground again, I wrapped my hands around his biceps to steady myself and almost jerked away at the searing heat of his skin. Tearing my gaze from his, I glanced down and watched as a mark appeared around the bicep of his right arm. It spread slowly across his skin, similar to a tribal tattoo, with the phases of the moon woven into it. They were familiar to me, the same shapes I saw every day—the symbols on the charms hanging from the bracelet on my left ankle.
It was then I realized who this man was. He was the one person in the world the Goddess intended to stand by my side—my consort. My shock at knowing my consort was a bear shifter pulled me from my vision, wrenching me out of the safety of his arms and back to my place on the cushion next to my mom. Only, she wasn’t on her pillow any longer. When my eyes popped open, I found her kneeling in front of me, her hands wrapped around my wrists.
“Selene,” she gasped, her gaze locked on the inside of my left wrist while her nails dug into my skin.
The image of a bear with one paw print in the upper right corner and a handprint in the lower left was faintly visible, darkening in color as we watched. The black outlines quickly filled in until the stamp was unmistakable to any witch—a consort’s mark, which shouldn’t have appeared until I’d met mine in person.
“Tell me what you saw!” My mom sounded frantic and I rushed to explain my vision to her. When I was done, she had tears streaming down her cheeks. “It’s as I feared.”
“I don’t understand, Mom. What’s as you feared?”
“It was always there, in the back of my mind,” she whispered. “The possibility that it was you, my darling girl.”
“Mom!” I snapped. “Why do you sound like I’m dying or something equally as horrible?”
“Many decades ago, there was a witch who fell in love with a shifter. He was a dragon and the alpha of his hold. As feared as he was respected by other shifters. She was young, but powerful, well on her way to becoming the high-priestess of her coven,” she explained, a faraway look in her eye.
“I’ve never heard of another witch with a shifter for her consort, not even a dragon.”
My mom smiled sadly at my use of the word ‘another’, clear evidence of the connection I already felt to the bear shifter from my vision. “Because neither the witches of her coven nor the dragons in his hold would allow them to come together as the Goddess intended.
“Before she followed her dragon in death, the young witch had a vision—a prophecy she shared with her fellow coveners. She spoke of a young witch who would come into the world one day, destined for a shifter. A witch who would be gifted with more power than any other who’d come before her. A witch who would be strong enough to face any challenges to her union with her shifter, who’d be able to hold onto her consort unlike she had been able to do. With her last breath, she cast a spell to ensure it would be so and drained all her power, sending it into the night sky with a flash where it would wait for the witch she’d described.”
“And you think she was talking about me?”
“No, Selene. I don’t think she was talking about you.” Before the relief I felt could sink in, she continued. “I know it’s you. Somehow, I’ve always known it was you.”
“But it can’t be,” I whispered.
“Why not, baby girl?”
I wasn’t sure how to explain it to my mom without admitting the insecurities I’d lived with all these years. I’d kept my fears hidden for so long, it was difficult to bare them to her. But if there were ever a time to do so, it was now. “Because I’m not powerful enough to be the witch she described. I don’t even know that I’ll ever be ready to step into your shoes with the coven, let alone unite shifters and witches. I don’t know how you did it, Mom. How you found the strength to walk away from the only life you knew growing up because you couldn’t turn your back on the magic running through your veins. Magic that was strong enough to earn you a place in the first coven you found—a coven who welcomed you with open arms, taught you all they knew about witchcraft, and turned you into the witch you are today. You were strong enough to rise through the ranks of our coven to become the high priestess, but me? I haven’t even been strong enough to admit how scared I am to follow in your shoes.”
> “You’re stronger than you know.” She squeezed my hand in reassurance. “You’ve never given yourself the credit you deserve.”
“You’ve always been blind when it came to my faults. The biggest one being I’m a twenty-two-year-old natural witch who still doesn’t know her elemental strength. How is it possible I’m the person in the prophecy when I can’t do something every other witch can?”
“You can’t compare yourself to anyone else, Selene. You’re your own person. Your own witch. You need to follow your own path wherever it takes you.” She stood and pulled me to my feet, giving me a hug before stepping back to look into my eyes. “Have you stopped to consider that you’re the only natural witch not to discover your elemental affinity when you turned twenty-one because you’re the witch in the prophecy?”
“No,” I gasped, shaking my head in confusion. “I hadn’t.”
“Just like you’re the only witch whose consort’s mark appeared before she met the man the Goddess intended for her. You’re different from all the other witches who’ve come before you in more ways than one. The proof is right there on your wrist. You need to believe in yourself as much as I do because with all of my heart, I know the world will be lucky if you’re the witch from the prophecy.”
I glanced down at the bear imprinted on my skin, tracing it lightly. “Maybe you’re right,” I admitted softly, opening myself to the possibility.
“This could be the reason our coven was meant to help the McMahon clan. Your whole world might change at our meeting tomorrow if your bear is one of them.”
“It won’t just be my world that changes if you’re right. It will be the entire world if we’re the couple from the prophecy.” As I watched the sunset on the horizon, I couldn’t help but wonder if this was going to be the last normal day I’d have—the final moments before my whole world changed.
Chapter 3
Camden
My night was filled with wild dreams. Images of a mysterious woman and myself played over and over, leaving me gasping for air each time I woke up. By the end of the night, I’d reached out to the other side of my bed more times than I could count, hoping she was there—longing for her to be real instead of a figment of my overactive imagination. Each dream was more vivid than the last, until finally, I erupted in my sleep. I hadn’t had a wet dream since I was a teenager, so waking up to find my dick in my hand and my come on my sheets was quite the surprise. But the way my heart pounded each time I saw her face and watched as pleasure clouded her eyes was more shocking than my unexpected climax. I’d never met her before, but I knew with a certainty I’d never felt she was important to me—more so than anyone else in my life. She was the one, my fated mate.
“Holy shit,” I whispered and rubbed my face, hoping it would help me wake up. “How the fuck am I going to find her?”
The timing couldn’t possibly be any worse with things finally coming to a head with Annora’s stepdad. Throw in the involvement of a witch coven to help battle the dark practitioners who’d been hiding him from us, and it was all I could do not to scream. Now my bear was growling in my head, urging me to search for my mystery woman. To say fuck it to all my other problems and find my mate. Only, I couldn’t walk away from my family obligations. Not now when we had our best chance of finding Annora’s stepdad and putting him in the ground where he belonged. Ending the danger to our family had to take priority over searching for my mate, but maybe I could put some feelers out to see if I could get a lead on her identity in the meantime.
I reached out to grab a notebook from my nightstand, determined to write down all the details I could remember, when a twinge in my bicep brought my gaze down to my arm. The sight of what I found made me forget why I wanted the paper and pen in the first place. When I went to bed last night, I didn’t have a single tattoo on my body, but the black ink wrapped around my arm was impossible to mistake for anything other than what it was: a tattoo I had no recollection of getting.
I licked my thumb and ran it along my skin, hoping it was a practical joke from one of my brothers and the ink would wipe off. No such luck. And oddly enough, it didn’t hurt when I rubbed a little harder. I might not have any tattoos, but from everything I’d heard, I would have expected it to be tender the morning after. Maybe my brothers had used a permanent marker to draw it on me while I slept...what little sleep I had managed to get last night.
None of this made any sense to me, but I didn’t have time to think about it. My dad and Damien were going to be here any minute so we could prep for the meeting with the witches this morning. They were due to arrive in a couple hours, so long as their plane was on time—not the broomstick I’d jokingly thought they’d use to get here from the west coast. A misconception Damien had enjoyed taunting me about with an inexplicable twinkle in his eye when he’d told me how much I’d come to know in the near future. As though my thoughts had conjured them up, there was a knock at the door. I stumbled downstairs to find my dad and Damien on my front step.
“You look like crap,” my dad grumbled as he pushed past me into the house. “What did you do? Go on a bender last night? You’ve got to pull yourself together, Camden. Now’s the worst possible time for you to fall apart.”
I slammed the door as soon as Damien stepped through it. “I didn’t get drunk last night, Dad.”
“Then what the fuck is that?” he asked, pointing to my arm. “You went out and got a tattoo?”
“I didn’t get a tattoo.”
“If it’s not a tattoo, then what the hell is it?”
I didn’t have an answer. There was no way to explain the tribal band encircling my bicep. “As impossible as it sounds, I don’t know. It was just there when I woke up this morning. I was kind of hoping Dair or Bray broke in here last night and played a practical joke on me.”
“It’s no joke,” Damien interrupted, lifting my arm to peer at the mark. I yanked my arm away when he leaned closer and sniffed at it, completely weirded out. Then his eyes did their strange swirling flame thing again and the moment went from weird to freaky. “Are the witches here already?”
I glanced around my house, half expecting a witch to pop out of a corner and surprise me. “They aren’t due into town for a couple more hours. Why would you think they were here already?”
“Because that’s a consort’s mark on your arm.”
“A consort’s mark?” I had no idea what he was talking about.
“A consort is the witch’s equivalent to a shifter’s mate. That,” he said, pointing to my arm, “is the same to them as the bite mark a shifter gets from their mate. It tells the witch world you’ve been claimed by one of them.”
“Are you telling us one of those witches can just reach out and claim my son without giving him a choice in the matter when he has a fated mate of his own waiting for him out there somewhere? That won’t stand. I’m not about to let a witch take away my son’s chance for happiness.”
“I’m not saying a witch can mark someone as her consort without even meeting them. I’ve never heard of it happening before.” Damien glanced at my arm again before lifting his gaze to mine with a questioning look. “And a consort has to accept a witch as his before the mark will appear.”
I thought about my reaction to the woman in my dreams last night. Acceptance was too mild a word for the feelings she evoked in me. It had to be her. It was the only possible explanation.
“My mate’s a witch.”
“What do you mean, your mate’s a witch?” my dad roared. “Shifters don’t mate witches. It just doesn’t happen.”
“Except it has happened once before.” My dad’s jaw practically dropped at Damien’s proclamation.
“I’ve never heard of a shifter mating a witch.” I nodded in agreement with my dad. It was news to me, too.
“I’m not surprised since her coven and his hold worked hard to keep it a secret.”
“Then how do you know about it?” I asked him.
“Because he was part of my hold,” Dam
ien admitted.
“Was?” I repeated.
“Her coveners and my holdmates united in their efforts to stop the mating, but they were too late. My great-uncle had already claimed his witch. That didn’t matter to them, though. They wouldn’t allow him and his mate to have their lives together, and neither were willing to give each other up, so they killed my great-uncle and his witch followed him into an early grave.”
“How did they manage to keep it a secret?”
“The how isn’t what matters,” Damien answered. “It’s the why that’s important.”
“Then tell us the why dammit,” my dad growled, his bear thick in his voice.
“Because they didn’t want anyone to know about the witch’s prophecy, which involved another witch and shifter matchup. Only this time around, I don’t think it will be a dragon involved, but a bear shifter. And not just any bear,” he said, looking pointedly at me. “Based on the mark on your arm, I’m almost certain the shifter is you. It’s the only explanation for how you got it without seeing her in person. You’re not just her consort. She’s not just your fated mate. You’re the couple who will unite witches and shifters.”
I listened quietly as he explained the details of the prophecy, shock leaving me unable to speak. I quickly understood why his hold and her coven worked so hard to keep it quiet for all these years. Shifters had always been wary of the power witches held, and witches had long been afraid of the possibility of being outed by shifters since they were the only ones who knew their secret.
Witches were well aware of how humans would react to their existence in the world. They’d survived enough witch hunts in the past to be terrified of the possibility of one happening again. It didn’t matter that they held the same power over us. They were too resentful of shifters to think clearly, so we all steered clear of each other. Only now, I was apparently going to take a witch as my mate. A witch I’d dreamed of the night before a meeting with witches. It couldn’t be a coincidence.
Bear the Burden: McMahon Clan 3 (Fated Mates Book 6) Page 2