by Callie Rose
“I haven’t touched your shirt,” I say evenly, dropping a t-shirt on top of the folded clothes inside my bag. “What did you do with it when you took it off?”
Trystan and I arrived here with literally only the clothes off our backs and the contents of our pockets. We didn’t come to the inter-pack summit planning for an overnight stay, much less a multiple-week sojourn. We borrowed clothes from Ridge, but it’s completely beyond my comprehension how a grown man could lose his belongings when he had so few things to begin with. Especially an alpha who has full and complete control of a wolf pack.
Trystan strides over to my side and digs his hands into the bag I so carefully organized, pawing through the stacks of shirts and shorts. “Did you already pack my shit?”
I fight the urge to throttle him. It’s tempting as hell sometimes, but the fact that Sable is attached to him holds me back.
“I didn’t pack your clothes,” I say pointedly. “I packed all of Ridge’s clothes that we’ve been wearing for weeks.”
“Check the dresser in the bedroom,” Ridge calls without looking at us. He drops a flashlight into his pack then heads for the kitchen, leaving me to deal with the irritated shifter.
Four alphas in a small cabin… takes some getting used to.
“Do a last sweep of the bedroom,” I tell Trystan. “If you don’t find it there, we’ll leave without it.”
We don’t have time to waste fucking around. We need to gather our things quickly and head out, before any loose ends from Dare’s vigilante run come looking for him. Chances are, Trystan’s things are either already in a bag or flung about the cabin somewhere, and they’ll end up packed before we’re done. He just needs to calm the hell down.
Although, to be honest, that’s a hard thing to ask for right now. From any of us. Between Dare’s injuries, the threat of witches, and Sable’s transformation, the little bubble we created here in this cabin feels irrevocably broken.
Trystan nods shortly and stalks out of the room. I cross to the couch and give Dare’s shoulder a shake, keeping my hands as far from any wounds as possible.
His dark eyes pop open, and he stares up at me as if trying to focus on my face through the haze of painkillers. “What?”
“You need to eat.” I grip his elbow and give him a hand sitting up, then pull him to his feet.
With an arm around his waist, I help him limp into the kitchen. His weight is heavy as he drapes his arm around my shoulders. The painkillers seem to be doing their job though, because he can put a little weight on his left leg without falling apart.
I get him settled at the kitchen table with coffee and leftovers, leaving him with strict instructions to fuel up for the trip ahead. We need him in the best shape possible if we’re going to have a chance of reaching my pack lands unscathed.
After leaving Dare, I go to check on Trystan in the bedroom. But I don’t see him there—he must’ve either found his shirt or given up the search for it.
Instead, I find Sable on the bed, seated next to the small backpack of clothes she brought with her. Half the clothes are too long and slightly too large for her, so I know they don’t belong to her. Wearing too-large clothes gives her a child-like, innocent look that suits her personality. She’s clearly packed and ready to go, but her heart isn’t in it. She’s staring down at the backs of her hands, her eyes red-rimmed and glassy. I’ve seen the black magic rising beneath the scars on her skin, especially during her transition and right after, but right now, her scars are pale and untouched.
Regardless, I’m absolutely certain all she can see is magic. It’s all I can see in my nightmares, and my trauma happened a long time ago.
“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Sable murmurs, turning over her hands until her palms are facing up. Shiny scars mar the moonlight-pale skin of her forearms. Sometimes, I get so lost in looking in her eyes that I forget about the constellation of her past decorating her body.
Or maybe I just hate to think of the pain inflicted on her during her years with her uncle. It reminds me that we have a truly awful thing in common. Torture like that is something no child should ever have to endure.
“I think it’s the best idea we’ve got.” Sinking down next to her on the mussed blankets, I nudge her with my shoulder. I keep the rest of the thought—it’s the only idea we have—to myself.
“Are you sure?” Her blue gaze finally moves away from her hands and settles on mine. “Maybe we need a plan that doesn’t include any of the packs. Maybe you could take Dare to get help with your pack, and Ridge or Trystan could take me somewhere else safe that won’t break any of your laws…”
I reach over and take both her hands, tugging her fingertips to my lips. Her skin is soft and cool as I press a resolute kiss to every knuckle. Finally, I tuck her hands against my chest and smile. “Sable, we’re sure. We all care about you. It’s not even about the bond anymore—it’s just you. You’re our friend, our companion, and possibly, one day, someone’s mate. Wolves don’t leave their own behind.”
“But I’m not a wolf.” Her voice cracks, and tears well in her already bloodshot eyes.
Fuck.
I usually know what to say. My ability to use reason and logic and to put things into the right words is something I’m proud of. But Sable disarms me in a way that leaves me scrambling for the right thing to say. She’s not taking this transition into being a witch well.
Honestly, none of us are, even when we’re trying to keep up the appearance that everything is fine.
I can’t speak for the other men, but Sable being a witch changes nothing for me. I just don’t know how to assure her of that truth. She was mistreated, abused, and lied to by her uncle for so many years. Being conditioned to expect pain and dishonesty is not something a person can easily overcome.
Still holding her hands against my heart, I lean in and kiss her.
The sensation of her lips on mine makes me want to throw all caution to the wind. The wolf inside me wants to push her back onto the blankets and make her his, while my head is screaming at me to go slow—don’t scare her, keep it gentle and restrained. The two warring sides are enough to drive me insane. Especially when her fingertips slide into my hair and she pulls me closer, her curves settling against me.
I pull away before the kiss can go farther. I want her more than anything, but not right now, when we need to be fleeing the area.
“Maybe you are a witch,” I murmur. “But that’s not what my heart says. My heart says you are a wolf, and you belong with us.”
Sable smiles, her blue eyes sparkling. She seems a little buoyed by my short and sweet pep talk, so hopefully I was able to do some good here. She squeezes my hands, then gently extricates her fingers from mine before she reaches over to zip up the backpack, avoiding my gaze. “Thank you.”
Her voice is too small, like she’s trying to hide her emotions behind her gratitude. Our time together here at the cabin hasn’t been that long, but it’s been long enough that I’ve learned to read her well.
“What is it?” I ask softly. I slide my fingers into her silken hair and push it away from her face so she can’t hide from me behind a curtain of gold. “The idea of hiding your witch from my pack isn’t the only thing bothering you, is it?”
She bites her lip, keeping her gaze on the bag as she shrugs. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s obviously something.”
“Fine.” Sable sighs, her black lashes stark against her cheeks as she closes her eyes. “I’m terrified of what being a witch means. I barely understand what witches even are, much less how being one will affect my life.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “Oh. Well, I can help you there.”
The words come out a little more enthusiastic than I was going for, and her startled gaze bounces back up to my face. I dial my energy back a notch before continuing.
“None of us are experts on witches, but I do have a little experience. Being held captive by them for so long, I like to think I gained a bett
er understanding of how their magic works. So maybe I could help you try to understand your powers better.”
Sable brightens like a miniature sun. “Really?”
“Yeah, definitely.” I nod. “There’s a lot I don’t know, but I’ll tell you everything I can. We might have a learning curve, but we can figure it out together.”
There’s a beat of silence as she stares at me, then Sable throws her arms around my neck, colliding with my chest with some major force for such a small woman. “You would do that for me?”
I snake my arms around her back, holding her close. “I would do anything for you.”
“Thank you,” she whispers again.
The soft scent of her skin fills my nostrils as her heart beats against mine. Everything about having her here against me feels so right. Like we’re meant to be, and I never want to let her go.
Even so, a shiver runs down my spine at the idea of revisiting memories from the worst period in my life. Being held captive by the witches is something I’ve worked hard to bury. I was never sure I’d even survive those years in captivity. Once I got away and returned home, it took over a decade before I finally believed I was safe, that no one was coming for me, and I’ve made damn sure that my memories can’t resurface and haunt me every hour of the day.
But if drawing on those old memories and my dusty understanding of witch magic can lighten her load a little, I’ll do it. Sable’s hesitancy and worry right now aren’t just about being a witch—it’s also a fear of the unknown. It’s harder to be afraid of things you can understand and control, so with a little training, I think I could help her conquer this.
At the very least, I’ll give it my best shot.
9
Sable
Archer’s promise to help me come to grips with the witch magic has lifted a weight from my shoulders.
I don’t know how much he’ll be able to tell me. He’s a wolf, after all, not a witch.
But I won’t be alone in this.
I won’t have to face it on my own.
With a slightly lighter heart, I snap my backpack into place and follow the men out to the clearing in front of the cabin. I’m still not comfortable with their current plan of breaking laws and putting other shifters in danger, but now I have a future plan that gives me something else to focus on.
I’ll figure out how to master my magic, and how to control it.
The sun is high, filling the woods with warmth as we congregate outside the cabin. Ridge’s arm is around Dare’s waist. The injured man hobbles along beside him while Archer carries two bags and Trystan the third. The drugs in Dare’s system have turned his dark gaze glassy and unfocused. It’s haunting to see, but at least I know he’s not in much pain anymore. Once Dare has his balance, keeping as much of his weight off his injured leg as possible, Ridge addresses us.
“We’re going to go slow, but we stay together,” he emphasizes, his gaze lingering on Trystan meaningfully. “I know the gut instinct is going to be to run flat-out. But don’t. We follow Dare’s lead.”
Trystan rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I know. I’m not that big of an asshole, man.”
Ridge held up his hands, palms out. “Just sayin’, man. No offense.”
“I know what it means to be pack,” Trystan says, voice brittle.
“You know what it means to be West Pack,” Ridge snaps. “Not what it means to be united as shifters.”
The two bicker back and forth a little more while Dare stands beside them, looking sallow and weak. I swallow down the lump that clogs my throat. I can’t listen to Ridge and Trystan sniping at each other like this. It makes my heart ache. Ridge almost never loses his cool unless Trystan is involved, and Trystan is so deeply locked inside his own prejudices and worldview, I don’t know if he’ll ever learn to be a team player. So I block them out and study Dare, thinking about the journey ahead.
I remember watching a documentary on wolves once, on one of those few times Uncle Clint allowed me to choose the channel on the television. The camera panned over a traveling wolf pack on a vast snowy landscape as the narrator intoned that a pack in motion would set its pace by the slowest wolves, whether that be the young pups or the elderly or injured. So now, we’ll set our pace by Dare, our injured companion.
The fact that I’m now seeing that wildlife documentary come true in real life still feels like a crazy dream.
“We’ll be fine,” Archer says, jarring me out of my thoughts. He grabs the hem of his t-shirt and yanks it off over his head. “I’ll take up rear.”
As the sun shines over his muscular torso, I’m reminded vividly of our interlude in the shower earlier. I’d much rather be back there, standing beneath the water with his hands sliding over my skin and his mouth on mine. I don’t like the unknown of going into a new shifter pack, especially so fresh on the heels of my transition. But he’s right—we don’t have another option. I have to grit my teeth and bear it. For Dare.
One by one, the rest of the men strip out of their clothes and shove them into their packs until they’re all completely nude.
I know, logically, that they undress before shifting to preserve their clothes. I imagine it gets expensive having to replace shirts and pants that you’ve ripped to pieces in the heat of the transformation. But as used to nudity as they are, I am not. Even my worry over Dare’s injuries and the threat of a dangerous witch coven can’t keep me from gawking a little at the sight of them.
Memories flood my mind, making my mouth go a little dry.
As long as I live, I’ll never forget the way they all gathered around me when they thought I was going into heat. How they touched me and worshipped me in ways no man ever had before.
My skin flushes with heat that chases away the mountain chill. God, I want to go back to that moment. We basked in each other’s scent and touch, and they made me feel things I never dreamed possible. It was the best feeling in the entire world. I never wanted it to end. I would’ve spent days in bed with these men and savored every damn moment of it.
Unfortunately, I did spend days in bed. I just didn’t get to use that time doing what I wanted to with these four shifters, and my body absolutely aches with the loss. Instead, I thrashed and dreamed and boiled over with dark, viscous magic that wants nothing more than for me to kill the shifters I adore.
Shaking off my grim thoughts—and trying to ignore the desire that’s still somehow pulsing through me despite it all—I clutch the straps of my backpack and watch the men shift. As a shimmer turns their forms into a mirage, I can feel a strange crackle on the air that must be the magic that powers their shifting. I never noticed it before, but now, the witch in me seems to recognize the familiar sensation of magic.
Within moments, four wolves stand before me. I affix the large packs onto Trystan and Archer’s backs as Dare stands awkwardly with most of his weight on his front feet.
I hoped the shift might heal his leg a little, or at least that standing on four legs instead of two would help ease some of the pain. But even in wolf form, he looks miserable. I have no idea how he’s going to make this journey, especially once those painkillers wear off.
Ridge snuffles at my face, his wet nose tickling my ear. I huff out a laugh and brush a hand over his head, then he kneels down to give me access to his back.
Climbing up onto the large wolf’s broad frame, I settle just over his powerful shoulder blades. My fingers sink deep into his light brown fur, and I lean forward against his neck to cling to him, allowing myself to draw warmth and strength from his presence.
I don’t know these lands the way the shifters do, but as we set out, I can tell we’re taking a different path than the past couple times we arrived here at the mating cabin. Dare takes the lead, limping at a surprisingly quick pace for how injured his left leg is. I hate the thought of him up ahead, pushing through a debilitating haze of drugged-up pain, all alone with his own thoughts.
I wish I could comfort him, but he’d only push me away if I tried.
We jog for a while, though the only indication of passing time is the sun’s path across the cloudless sky. We pass over bare, rocky terrain, through a deep ravine, and into the soft cool shadow of a thick forest. The terrain is beautiful here, and more than once I find myself lost in the spectacle of it. It’s no wonder the shifters choose to live out here in the wilderness, surrounded by the mountains and the huge, blue Montana sky.
After a while, the landscape begins to pass a little slower, and I glance at Dare just slightly ahead of me and Ridge. It’s obvious his strength is flagging.
My jaw tightens, a knot twisting in my stomach. Shit. I knew he was pushing himself too far, setting too aggressive of a pace for that leg. As if he can sense my thoughts, the black wolf looks over at me, then quickly looks away with a small whine.
My heart aches for him. Not just for what he’s going through, but for the gulf that stretches between us.
Our pace gets slower and slower the longer we run, and it’s agonizing to see Dare pushing himself beyond what he should have to endure. But he keeps himself going long enough for us to reach the East Pack.
We finally step out of the thick forest into a vast clearing between two mountains. A small village sits up ahead, smoke curling from chimneys and a few people moving among the cabins. As we get closer, I can see that the setup is quite similar to Ridge’s town, only a bit smaller, with the homes closer together.
Just beyond the first line of houses, Ridge cuts ahead of Dare, halting his limping progress. He kneels, indicating I should get off. My legs and arms feel wobbly from so much time remaining seated on his back. I do a few stretches, shaking out my limbs while the men shift back to human form.
Archer is the first to finish getting dressed, and he goes to Dare’s side to help the wounded shifter get into his shorts. “We’re going straight to the medicine woman,” he informs us, shaking his head as he catch’s Dare’s gaze. “You look like death.”