Yet why had my uncle never told me?
My chest ached at the thought. Had it been a brother or a sister? Did they die in the womb, at birth, or after? Would they’ve been magical like me?
Was that why mom had fussed over me like I had to be perfect because she’d still been grieving for this other kid…and I could never make up for their loss?
I huddled in Aquila’s hold. His hair fell like a soft white veil across my eyes, as his cheek pressed against mine. “How did she lose…?"
Stella ignored me. Her smile was devious. “Zetta was always the clever one. Do you know why? She sensed something unique about you even then.”
Stella’s eyes sparked, as she advanced like the world’s creepiest Fairy Godmother.
I winced. Hey, I’d been called worse than unique. Except, Stella made it sound as much like reject, as if I’d been thrown in the cell along with Moon.
My eyes narrowed. “Whatever. I don’t care about your pinky promises; you don’t know me. Who’s my favorite artist? When was I first beaten up in High School? What was my wackiest magical invention?”
Stella blinked, then she lowered to the floor, whilst the House of Seasons finally stopped shaking. The rumbling settled to a low growl. “Oh, so now you want to get chatty?”
I rolled my eyes, and Aquilo tightened his hold. I loved the fresh scent of him and his breath against my skin. “I rest my case.” Then I turned my head, catching Aquilo’s lips with mine in a chaste kiss, which still had him gasping. Lux snarled, crossing her arms. Aquilo’s questioning gaze met mine. “I have my mage fiancé now, so that’s me all straightened out. Unless, you have any more epic tantrums to throw, before sending my Charm and us home…?”
When the Ambassador nipped my shoulder in warning, I jumped. I gazed down into his anxious eyes in surprise, then stroked his hair to calm him.
Yep, he was right: why on earth was I inciting the wicked witch of all seasons?
I cringed, as Stella stalked towards me; her hair still gleamed like bronze wires. “Sorry, internal attitude adjustment complete. I just want my mage and wolf safe. All I want is my pack.”
“Pack?” Stella hissed. “The wolves have infected you. We have Houses; we’re not beasts. Your mum would be ashamed.”
Witching heavens, I should’ve known that pack would be the wrong freaking word to use in a coven.
Stella’s eyes gleamed, and the clockface shattered in a shower of glass. Ivy screamed, throwing herself over her daughter, as the shards sliced them. My red ballooned in a protective bubble around my pack, including Moon, who was still trapped in the cage.
Shakily, I dropped my shadows, drawing in ragged breaths. It was the Ambassador stroking me now, in tentative touches down my shoulders, whilst Aquilo held my hand in his, squeezing our fingers together rhythmically like it was a ward against my aunt.
“In the name of the Head Coven, will you control yourself!” Ivy wailed, quivering as she magically drew out the shards that were embedded in her daughter and herself, before smashing the glass against the far wall. I flinched. “You never could think clearly around either your niece or a Wolf Charmer. Either she fights by and for our side, or my goodness, I vote for the Justice Chamber.”
“Woah, hold up a witching moment…” I shoved back from the Ambassador, dragging Aquilo to his feet next to me.
Stella patted at her hair with a sigh. “Rage hair. It’s one of the worst consequences of dark magic, I swear.”
Then she smiled at me like we were in the middle of a civilized conversation, rather than her magical freak out that would decide my fate. And how much did I hate that she had any control over that because shouldn’t we all have control over our own fates?
When Stella strolled to Moon’s cage, tapping on the bars, I stiffened. “Let’s see if I can think about this clearly then, shall we?” She trailed her hand around the bars, and Moon growled at her. There was danger in the way that she merely smiled back. “You have a mage problem: a dying god. Witches have a wolf problem: wolves who we need to kill. I have a Wolf Tamer problem: no test subject for my improved stronger dose. Can you see how the answer to these three problems is the same?”
My breath hitched, and my grip tightened on Aquilo’s hand.
Stella couldn’t be seriously offering to test the Wolf Tamer, which could become the weapon that wiped out the wolves or subdued them once and for all, on my Charms? I’d rather be turned into one of the frozen gargoyle statues in the House of Blood’s courtyard forever than allow her to turn my wolves into test subjects.
“Not a chance in hell,” I snarled.
“How will me becoming your lab rat help Mischief?” Moon asked, quietly.
My eyes widened. What on earth was he doing?
I knew that Moon was used to sacrificing for the Omegas but would he now sacrifice for his god as well? Yet if my god suddenly appeared, even the non-worship royal prick style one, wouldn’t I suffer for him too?
Stella gripped the cage bars, practically cooing in delight. “Not just a pretty face, are you, Omega?” Moon grimaced, swiping at Stella with his claws, but she dodged back. “Never you mind your hot little behind. I’ll help stop the mage fading, as long as he serves as a slave to the House of Silver. And you swear to test the new dose of Wolf Tamer.”
She slipped a needle that bubbled with silver out of her pocket. Moon became ashen, whining. I didn’t blame him because last time she’d pulled out a needle like that, I’d stabbed him with it, leaving him in agony.
Who knew what this new one would do to him…maybe it’d even kill him.
Aquilo marched across the chamber. “You imagine that I’d allow you to poison him? I’m only a mage…male…to be married off, so you think that I don’t know what damage that dose could do? You haven’t used it on the Ambassador because you don’t want to risk killing him. Sorry, were you trying to keep that secret?”
Aquilo struggled to rip the needle from Stella, but Lux caught him under his arms and dragged him back. To my surprise, she was gentle with him, even if her words weren’t.
Lux hauled Aquilo to the side of the room. “The wind doesn’t choose—"
“I’m not the wind.” Aquilo shook himself free of his sister. His gaze was ice-cold. “I’m the Charmer’s pack.”
Ivy drew in a panicked breath, but Lux merely nodded, studying her twin with an intent gaze. In anyone else, I’d have called it respect. In Lux…? Who in the witching world knew what the bully was thinking.
“I take it that you’ve been waiting for the right moment to force me into this,” I gritted out. “But it’s not my choice. My guys aren’t my slaves, no matter what you say, and I won’t make this decision for Moon. If he wants to do this…no matter how much it’ll hurt me…that’s his choice.”
I battled to meet Moon’s gaze, even though I was struggling to breathe and desperate to claw back the words and demand that he refuse to go anywhere near that poison.
Tell Stella to go to hell. Stay with me. Say no, no, no…
Why couldn’t I at least tell him that I loved him?
Moon ducked his head, but when he looked up again, his gaze was fierce and more regal than I’d ever seen it. “You know what I said about us being enemies, Crimson? I take it back. You’re a fine rebel. I’ve made my choice: I can’t let another Omega suffer in my place.”
The way that Stella’s face lit up was indecent.
I bit my lip to force down the tumble of words to convince him to change his mind. “You don’t want to lose your own wolf, but you’ll make me lose mine?” I sneered at Stella.
Stella glanced at the Ambassador; her expression softened. Then she shrugged. “Sexy credit where it’s due: your hot prince is stronger than my Ambassador. He has a greater chance of surviving…not much, but every little counts, right?” She unclicked the lock to the cage, dragging open the bars. Moon reluctantly crawled out. “Don’t you see it, pretty peach? This isn’t about killing him. I could’ve done that whilst you were takin
g your nap.” I shivered at her breezy smile. “I want to see how far I can paralyze, restrain, control…didn’t you once say bully?” She chuckled. “How arrogantly sweet, just like your mum, that you crave to wield such powers alone with your shadows. It’s time that you learned to share your toys.”
When she tossed the needle at me, I fumbled and then caught it.
I glowered at the Wolf Tamer. Why couldn’t I just make it go poof in a spray of glitter? It was a shame that real witchcraft wasn’t like the movies, go figure.
Moon straightened his shoulders, before determinedly rolling back his leather shirtsleeve.
I hurriedly shook my head. “I don’t think so. If we have to do this screwed-up experiment, then you’re giving us privacy. I get to take Moon home with me.”
Stella’s gaze flickered between Moon and me, before she nodded. “After all, ideally a beast should die in its own witches’ House.”
What a surprise that they even had witch rules about killing Charms.
My cheek twitched, whilst I rubbed at my arms. My gaze, however, never left Moon’s.
I’d told him that he’d had the choice about the Wolf Tamer. I couldn’t take it back, no matter how desperate I was to never let the needle break his skin. Yet now we had to return to the House of Silver to inject him with the Wolf Tamer to save the Ambassador and Mischief, but at the same time help the witches develop a weapon to defeat the werewolves in a war.
It was also an experiment that could kill Moon.
Amongst the crimson satin of my four-poster bed in the House of Silver, Moon lay in pale beauty, propped amongst the pillows. The scent of honeysuckle curled intoxicatingly around the sun dappled room. If I couldn’t save my Charm, I could at least carry out the experiment in comfort and at home, amongst those who loved him.
There was no ever-witching way that I’d admit I was preparing for Moon to die, even though the needle weighed heavy in my hand.
Huh, a witch could cast a Self-Delusion Spell on herself.
I bit my tongue to keep the same fierce expression as Moon, who was determinedly not looking at me or the needle, which I hurriedly clasped behind my back.
I hadn’t even been brave enough to explore up into the attic and check whether Mischief was still unconscious or had…faded.
Yep, not thinking of dying because I couldn’t take both god and Charm leaving me at the same time. I’d survived my parents and being the one left behind sucked. I knew that it was selfish but sometimes, dying was the easy part.
It was surviving that hurt.
I’d already snatched the wolf fur pelt off the bed because the last thing Moon had needed was to have to snuggle under one of his murdered family. I’d wrenched open the window, whilst my red had whipped around me in fury to hurl the hated thing out, but Emperor had stilled me.
“We respect the gesture,” he’d curled his hand around mine, before gently taking the pelt from me, “perhaps you could respect the dead?”
I’d blushed, as he’d drawn his thumb down the fur like a private blessing, in the same way that he’d done to the stone wolves in the Bloods’ courtyard. Then he’d carefully folded the pelt and stowed it out of sight in the wardrobe, which I’d once hidden in to save myself from the wolves.
Now, I watched how Emperor curled on one side of the bed with Moon, stroking his mess of curls. It caught at me, until my chest ached, that Emperor would’ve tidied Moon’s hair in the same way for school. Unless, you know, he was trying to get him to look his best for his funeral.
I tightened my hold around the Wolf Tamer; the glass dug into my palm.
Moon turned into Emperor’s touch with desperate longing. Why had Moon denied himself this closeness? What could’ve been so bad to divide the two princes?
At last it appeared that Emperor had been welcomed back into the cuddle zone. But it kind of spooked me how Moon allowed Emperor to caress him now like whatever had happened in the past no longer mattered because if this was Moon’s last few moments, then he’d take what he wanted.
And that meant Moon didn’t expect to survive this.
My shadows spun around me, faster and faster, whilst the world swayed.
I wouldn’t let my Charm die…I couldn’t…
Amadeus nestled on the other side of Moon with his arms wound around his waist and his head rested on his shoulder. Amadeus’ eyes were more red-rimmed than mine, and he hadn’t even spoken since we’d returned with news of Moon’s choice. Okami nestled on his shoulder like he sensed that he needed the most comforting, even if he’d never admit it.
Yet neither of the other two princes had tried to talk Moon out of it. Maybe there was something in this royalty gig that I didn’t understand…?
Reluctantly, I stumbled closer to the bed, raising the needle. Moon flinched, then held himself entirely still. Amadeus growled, refusing to let go of Moon.
“My, what a big prick you have,” Mischief’s silky voice wound from behind me.
Mischief was alive…
I twisted to him with a grin that made my cheeks ache; Mischief’s scowl was just as wide. Yet I didn’t care because he was alive and well enough to kick my ass.
“Why, I ask, would you be so foolish as to consider murdering one of my subjects?” Mischief’s long silver hair hung over his face, whilst his violet wings were outstretched.
He was pallid, and there were hollows under his eyes, but he was still the prettiest man that I’d ever seen.
And I still had wing envy.
I flushed. “I should’ve known that Zetta would’ve told on us. It’s epic to see your gorgeous ass out of bed.”
Zetta was the essence of all the Wolf Charmers who’d gone before me in this house. Stella had created her as a ward to protect me. She was a spy, pest, and probably more dangerous than Stella herself.
Mischief’s hands circled like he was trying to summon his silver magic and failing. He hissed in frustration. “Do you imagine that your compliments shall reduce my rage? I look like death or at least, her hot bitch.”
I blinked. “Still, hot, right?”
Mischief sniffed, suddenly looking vulnerable and as unwell as I was certain he truly was. “You left us, witch girl.”
Now it was my turn to pale. When I’d been trapped in the well, I’d been torn apart by the thought that Mischief and Ramiel would’ve thought that we’d abandoned them. “Dude, I’m sorry. I got back to you as soon as I could. You know you talked to me about the responsibility of royalty…? I get that now. It’s just, Wolf Charmers have it too.”
Mischief studied me seriously for a long moment, before nodding. His gaze became steely once more. “Oh, I remember who you are again: a witch. They poison and control. I believed you different, which was my mistake. Yet you shan’t do it in my name. I won’t allow—”
“Stop your fussing,” Moon said, softly. “This way, the witches will save your godly behind.”
“Why do people always insist on saving me?” Mischief howled.
When he tried to stalk to the bed, however, his knees buckled, and he stumbled to the floor. His breathing was harsh, as his eyes closed.
Holy hell, why did he always have to push himself so hard?
“I told you, no more of this stiff upper lip crap.” I crouched next to him, wiping his hair back from his feverish forehead. “Should you even be out of bed?”
“I’m not an invalid,” Mischief snapped, before his eyes fluttered closed, and he groaned. Then he opened his eyes again with difficulty. “I admit, I’m possibly invalid adjacent.”
“Dying adjacent is more accurate.” Ramiel swooped into the room on pale violet wings, wafting in the scent of nutmeg that made me shiver.
Ramiel’s fairy tale pink hair hung over his face, as he bent to hug Mischief, before pulling him back onto his feet, whilst supporting him with his wings. His large violet eyes gleamed.
Mischief sighed. “Oh, goodie, it’s mother hen come to wrap me up in feathers again.”
Ramiel circled
his thumb along Mischief’s hip. “Would you prefer Daddy angel come to put you over my knee for rudeness again?”
Mischief reddened. “Will you never understand the concept of overshare?”
Moon held out his hand to Mischief. “Come on, we’re all getting in a last nuzzle. I’ve reserved you a space.”
Mischief curtly shook his head. Then he shuddered, as Ramiel’s hand inched across his ass in warning.
Moon smiled. I wished that I had his courage. “I can cut off your cuddle supply…”
At last, Mischief shakily returned his smile. Ramiel helped him to lie over Moon, cocooning him in his feathers, whilst Ramiel lazily lay out across the end of his bed with his long lean limbs like a pink-haired cat.
My crimson arched over the bed, stroking and caressing, connecting all my pack with pleasure, even though I was the one holding the needle.
Moon wrapped his arms around Mischief’s neck. “Fur and fangs, you’re my god. How can I not save you?”
Mischief turned away his face but he couldn’t hide the tears that were wet down his cheeks. “It should be I saving you. Pray, how can you forgive my weakness?”
Moon turned Mischief’s face back to his own, tenderly kissing the tears from his cheeks. “Goddess Moon, there’s nothing to forgive.” He cocked his head. “This is my time, that’s all, to save my people, pack, and family.”
Mischief snorted. “What are you…little me?”
“Less of the little.”
Mischief brushed his hand across Moon’s — yep, those leather trousers were seriously tight — pants. “I assure you that I can tell.”
Awkwardly, I perched on the edge of the bed, and my guys stiffened.
I couldn’t do this without telling Moon how I felt, even though this was less romantic even than my marriage proposal to Aquilo. I didn’t appear to be the chocolates and roses style witch, more the deadly injection and imminent death type.
But Moon was my adorable First Charm, and there was nothing more romantic than the feeling that you were going to lose someone who mattered as much to you as breath itself.
Only Pretty Betas: A Shifter Paranormal Romance Series (Rebel Werewolves Book 2) Page 8