by Callie Rose
“Nah, that’s all the runnin’ my mouth I plan to do for today. Go get your run in. I’m gonna throw rocks at Callahan’s window till he wakes his ass up and joins me for a coffee.”
He turns and heads back up the street, and I shake my head in amusement as I watch him go. Callahan’s mate died a few years back, and for whatever reason, Grady never found himself a mate. The two men have become closer than brothers over the past few years, and I’m glad they have each other.
My attention moves back to the forest ahead of me, but Grady’s words stick with me as I step out of my pants and shift into wolf form, sprinting off toward the sunrise.
That’s what this feels like—exactly what he called it. A reckoning. We got some answers last night about how Sable came to be both a witch and a wolf, but there’s still a hell of a lot we don’t know.
Eventually, those empty spaces in our knowledge are going to come back around to haunt us.
And I hope to God we’re ready when that day comes.
4
Sable
I’m standing at the edge of the grave my mates dug for my uncle, watching as dirt rains down on his bloody face. It’s raining, and the raindrops keep washing away the soil and the blood.
The shifters kick harder, pushing buckets of dirt into the grave, but still, it never covers the body. Dirt leeches away from Clint as the rain continues to pour.
Overhead, dark clouds gather, but they don’t feel like rain clouds. This is different. This is something I recognize. The darkness creeps into the forest clearing, casting Uncle Clint’s face into shadow. That insidious evil surrounds me, tendrils of smoke wrapping around my limbs like hands. I fought this energy the night I transitioned to witch. This hideous monster that wanted me to hurt my mates.
But I don’t think I can fight it now. It’s too strong.
And it’s a part of me.
Far below, my uncle’s eyes snap open, staring straight up at me.
I wake up with a start, ripping myself out of the dream.
I’m on my back in bed, staring blankly at a ceiling I don’t recognize. Magic churns beneath my skin, coupled with a strange numbness that permeates my arms, my legs, even my face. I sit up and hold out my hands to see blackness filling the scars on my skin.
Although the sight is vaguely horrifying, I’m too numb to react. I just watch the darkness crawl across my skin for several moments before it vanishes.
But the strange numbness remains.
I glance around me, noting the three men sleeping soundly on the bed. They’re touching me in their sleep, laying claim even as they dream, but I feel… nothing. I look at them and I feel nothing. None of the love and desire that I know should be there. None of the affection or trust.
Almost like they’re strangers.
Then Trystan’s eyes blink open. In the dim bedroom, his turquoise irises look almost gray, but the moment our eyes meet, the numb feeling evaporates. All of my feelings for him—for all of my mates—rush back in as if a spell has been broken.
Trystan smiles lazily, his fingers trailing possessively up my hip. “Morning, beautiful.”
He follows his touch up with a kiss to my bare skin beneath the hem of my sleep shorts, and fire tingles through me, chasing away the last of the strange feeling I awoke with. But it doesn’t chase away the worry.
For a moment, I didn’t feel like me. It was like something else had control of my body, and it wasn’t anything good.
As Dare stirs behind him, Trystan sits up and rubs away the sleep from his eyes. He studies me, his brows pulling together. “What’s wrong? You look pale.”
Archer has been waking up slowly, and at that, he bolts upright, jostling my legs. “What’s going on? Something’s wrong with Sable?”
“More nightmares?” Dare grunts, sliding his back against the headboard and giving Trystan more room to maneuver.
They’re all used to my nightmares, so it would be an easy out. I could just agree with Dare, and they’d all do their best to soothe away the fear. But I don’t want to lie to them. If I lie about what happened, even by omission, that secret will fester and turn toxic.
I can’t do that. I can’t lie to them or withhold parts of myself from them. They’re my mates, and I want them to trust me just as much as I trust them. Lying to protect myself, or to hide the fear I feel about this thing inside me, would just strain the bond between us.
“I had nightmares,” I say softly. “But that’s not the worst part.”
Archer scoots closer and takes my hand. “Tell us.”
I give them a quick rundown of how I felt upon waking up—the way I seemed to be outside my own body, every part of me numb and out of my control. How I looked at them and barely recognized them or even felt our mate bond until Trystan opened his eyes and chased the feeling away.
Trystan and Archer exchange concerned glances over my head, but all three men reach out to touch me.
“It’s okay, Sable. It’s all right,” Archer says firmly, wrapping his arms around my shoulders and tugging me against his chest. “Whatever caused it, we’ll figure it out and fix it.”
Trystan’s hands come to rest on my thighs, and he rubs my skin soothingly. “Archer’s right. We know what we’re up against better than we used to, and that’s a good thing. It’s just a matter of helping you control it.”
Dare’s arm snakes around Trystan to brush over my hair. “We’ll stick it out together.”
I smile at him, surprised by the force of the conviction in his tone, and earn a dazzling, scruffy grin in return. I’m used to Archer and Trystan going above and beyond to reaffirm their commitment to me, but it’s nice to see Dare making an effort too. His entire pack was murdered by witches, so the grudge he carries has been a little hard for him to control.
Ridge appears in the doorway a moment later, a sheen of perspiration on his skin and his t-shirt in his hand. He wipes his forehead, his gaze finding mine in between the other men.
His lips turn down into a frown as he looks at the four of us. “Why does it feel so heavy in here?”
I slide out from the protective, comforting touch of my mates and set my feet to the cold hardwood floor. “If you make pancakes for breakfast, I’ll tell you.”
“That, I can do,” he says with a grin.
While we mix pancake batter, I tell Ridge what I told the rest of the guys about the strange thing that happened when I woke up. Like Archer, he takes a pragmatic approach to it.
“I think we should prepare for certain manifestations that we can’t explain,” he says. “We’re in new territory here, so we should expect the unexpected when it comes to your power. But no matter what happens, we’ll deal with it. We’ll get through as a team.”
I lean into his arm. “Thank you.”
Abandoning the batter, he turns toward me, tugging me against his chest as his fingers curl into my hair and tilt my face up toward his.
“There’s nothing to thank me for, little wolf,” he says, his voice a low rumble against me. “I’d do anything for you. Face anything with you. We all would.”
Then he kisses me, slow and steady. It’s comforting and sweet, but with an undercurrent of heat that promises a whole lot more where that came from.
I want more. I want so much more. My body and mind have been through a lot in the past twenty-four hours, but I can still feel a pleasant soreness between my legs from when my mates and I all cemented our bond last night.
I cling to those remembered images and sensations as I press up onto my tiptoes to deepen our kiss a little. No matter what happened afterward, up to and including burying a dead body, I refuse to let any of it ruin the memory of that perfect moment.
Finally, Ridge breaks the connection of our lips with a soft growl, pressing his forehead to mine. He takes a deep breath as if he’s gathering my essence from the air, claiming even my scent as his own. Then he kisses my temple before we reluctantly break apart and turn back to the kitchen counter.
“W
hat were you doing out this morning?” I ask as he resumes the task of making pancakes. My voice is a little husky, but I clear my throat and pretend I can’t hear it.
He pours a ladleful of batter into the sizzling pan. “I needed to think, and I do it best when I’m running.”
“Think about what?”
It’s a stupid question, given everything that’s happened recently. But I just want him to keep talking. I like standing over the stove with him, helping him cook breakfast while my other mates drink coffee at the table and talk amongst themselves. It feels like home.
“Lots of things. Most importantly, how to handle the pack’s misgivings,” Ridge says, his voice serious. “I think our best bet is to head things off before they can start to cause us problems.”
“How so?”
“Ultimately, we’ll need to have a summit and invite all the packs in for a dialogue. But for now, a North Pack meeting to discuss this situation could be the best place to start.” Ridge slides the spatula under a bubbling pancake and flips it expertly. The butter coating the pan starts to sizzle in earnest as fresh batter hits the hot surface. “In the midst of Lawson’s challenge wasn’t a great time or place for the truth about your powers to come out. We’ll need to do some damage control and tell it to the pack straight. The less we withhold, the better.”
I nod, thinking how his own thoughts are mirroring the way I talked myself out of lying to my mates. Lies are so messy and hard to hold on to. Ridge is right—we have to be open and honest if I’m going to have a life here among these people.
I can only hope they give me that chance.
Ridge picks a time after lunch, swearing that recently fed shifters are easier to talk to than shifters who are called into a mandatory meeting without a chance to fill their stomachs beforehand.
He shifts to wolf form on his front lawn after giving me his clothes to carry, and then the five of us head down the road toward the council meeting house. Every few feet, Ridge lets out a piercing howl with three short, sharp notes to it. A signal, I guess, and find myself proven correct as shifters begin to leave their homes and join us on our walk.
In the barn, I hand off his clothes so he can re-dress and then join Archer, Dare, and Trystan in the corner while Ridge stays front and center, greeting the members of his pack as they arrive.
Before long, the barn is packed to the rafters. The few times I’ve seen a meeting take place here, there wasn’t even half this size crowd—not even at the all-pack summit Lawson dragged me into the first day I woke up in Ridge’s house. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that every single pack member has shown up for this. Word of what happened during the challenge has spread far and wide, and even those who weren’t present to see me use witch magic and then shift into a wolf were clamoring for answers.
“Looks like everyone but Lawson and the men guarding his cell is here,” Ridge murmurs under his breath to us. “Never seen the place so full.”
“That’s a good thing,” Archer says, although I get the feeling he’s trying to convince himself as much as us. “If people came, that means they want answers. Hopefully they’ll be willing to listen.”
I try to let his words bolster my confidence, but the knot of anxiety in my stomach doesn’t ease all that much. Most of the pack saw magic leak from my fingertips yesterday, and if I hadn’t shifted into a wolf shortly after that, I don’t know what would’ve happened. Would my mates have been able to defend me? Would Ridge have been able to talk his pack down like he did after I shifted?
If I let myself dwell on those questions too long, I’m worried my breakfast will come back up, forcibly ejected by my nervous stomach. So I shove the thoughts away, focusing on surveying the crowd instead.
Most of the elders are gathered in a small group across the room. Elder Jihoon meets my eye and gives me a small nod and a smile that I can’t read. He was the one who predicted that I had a wolf inside me. He was also the one who suggested we go to the mating cabin and wait for my wolf to choose her mate.
I wonder what he thinks of me now.
With the barn so full it feels like it’s bursting at the seams, Ridge walks out into the center of the room and holds up his hands in a silent bid for everyone to cease talking. The roar of conversation peters out quickly, as if they’d been waiting for the signal, and then an uneasy silence spreads over the crowd.
“Friends and pack mates,” Ridge says in a strong, unwavering voice. “Welcome. Thank you for meeting with me on such short notice. I know you all have things to do today, so I promise I won’t keep you long. As you are all now aware, something strange happened at the alpha challenge yesterday. I know you’re eager to get answers. I’m here to give them to you.” He pauses, his gaze sweeping around the room. The silence is absolute. “Sable, my mate, does in fact carry both witch and shifter blood.”
A ripple of whispers and gasps rushes through the gathered shifters, but it dies away almost instantaneously. Probably because no one wants to miss anything Ridge has to say.
“Many of you witnessed the release of her witch magic when she was worried my life was in danger,” he goes on. “And then moments later, you witnessed her shift to wolf form when Lawson and his friends were attempting to take over the pack. We sought out the man who raised her last night after the challenge to find answers.”
I swallow hard and lean against Trystan, thankful when he wraps an arm around my shoulders. I feel faint, and quite frankly, I’m terrified to sit here and listen to Ridge air all my dirty secrets, even though I know it’s the right thing to do if I ever want to be accepted here. Plus, I don’t want to do anything that might threaten my mates’ rights to be alphas of their packs.
Lawson’s challenge was bad enough, as petty and self-serving as it was.
Ridge walks in a circle in the small empty space left in the center of the room, his gaze moving over the crowd. “Sable was purposefully bred by a witch. He brought together a witch and a shifter and forced them to breed. We aren’t clear on the details—whether they were imprisoned and forced, or bribed, or whether they acted of their own accord. This man’s goal was to create a hybrid witch-shifter. As you can see, he was successful.”
“Is she dangerous?” a voice calls from the crowd.
“She’s not dangerous,” Ridge says, a note of warning entering his tone. “And she is not responsible for her heritage. The witch who created her was a cruel and evil man. He spent most of Sable’s life torturing her. The night she came to our pack was the same night she ran away from him. She was terrified and seeking safe haven, which we gave her. It just so happened in the process that she was found to be the mate of myself, Archer, Trystan, and Dare.”
Another ripple of concern flashes through the crowd.
“Four mates is unacceptable,” a voice snarls. I can’t place the speaker, but Ridge seems to find him in the crowd, his gaze narrowing furiously. “It goes against everything we believe. One man. One woman.”
“Would you like to question the magic that is the mate bond?” Ridge’s voice is hard. “Do you think yourself above the bond?”
The man doesn’t reply.
“How do we know she won’t hurt us, even accidentally?” another woman asks. I cringe, because that’s my worry too, but at least she sounds apologetic about asking.
The ripple of murmurs in the barn kicks up a notch, and Ridge has to raise his voice to cut over it. “Sable is not a danger to you. All four of us are here to help balance her powers.”
My heart slams against my ribs, pounding so hard and fast that it feels difficult to breathe. The noise level is going higher as more questions are shouted at him. Everyone is trying to talk over everyone else, and I turn away from the chaos, burying my face in Trystan’s shoulder and wishing it could all be over.
“That witch bitch doesn’t belong here!” a man roars.
I push down a sob, clinging to Trystan’s shirt. He’s right. That stranger is right, I don’t belong here.
Then ther
e’s another sound, and magic ripples across my skin. Not my magic—the sensation of someone close by shifting. I straighten abruptly, craning my neck to see who shifted.
I don’t have to search for long.
Dare’s massive black wolf leaps into the crowd with a vicious snarl.
5
Dare
My paws connect with the asshole’s chest, and in the same instant, the sneer vanishes from his face. He goes down hard, his body slamming against the floor as I land on top of him, and I snarl, letting him see every sharp tooth in my muzzle.
Fuck this guy. Fuck his shitty attitude and the way he’s judging my girl without knowing a fucking thing about her.
Nobody is allowed to do that. Not on my watch.
I growl in his face, letting all my weight bear down on him as my jaws ache to snap open and closed.
Fury has taken up residence in my mind. It’s like a murderous inferno blazing through me, blurring the line between animal and man inside me more than ever. There’s not an asshole in this room I’m going to let even look at Sable the wrong way, much less call her “witch bitch” and get away with it.
Yeah, it’s fucking hard to look past the witch in her. I see it every time I close my eyes—the scars on her body turning black, the slender swirls of magic dancing up her hands and arms. But I’m getting better at dealing, at finding ways to understand and cope. Because I know Sable. I know how much goodness is in her heart. I know she’s a fucking saint compared to pretty much everyone in this barn, and not a single one of them is worth a hair on her head.
So nobody is allowed to look at her wrong or speak badly of her in my presence. There will be no judging her without knowing her. If they haven’t spent a week basking in the light of her presence, then they can fuck right off.