Lycan Legacy (A Soulmark Series Book 5), page 23
“He’s talking about our relationship with them?” I squeak. My eyes slam shut as embarrassment floods my system. “Perfect,” I practically wheeze, taking up my teacup again and finishing its contents like a shot. “As if we don’t have enough problems.”
Zoelle worries her bottom lip between her teeth before topping both our cups off. “Problems?” She broaches the subject with a frown creasing her pretty, smooth brown skin.
My mouth opens and shuts an inordinate amount of times with guilt and misplaced loyalty struggling heartily with one another. If Lucy can force you to spill a family secret to Atticus, you can confide in your alpha, surely? Except I learned the day after Lucy’s drunken antics, it had been our mother’s orders. The why behind it had—frustratingly—not been explained to me, a fact that may also be contributed to my mother's orders.
“It’s my fault,” I say, the words coming out of my mouth in a rush. “I’ve been awful lately. We’ve been… intimate, but not in the way you might think.”
Her frown deepens with newly set confusion. “I’m afraid I have no idea what you think I might be thinking,” she murmurs.
I brush my hair back, my fingers getting tangled in a few choice knots that are hell to break free. When I finish my stalling, I can’t help the forlorn sigh that peels out of me.
“We’ve had sex,” I say, the familiar rush of blood racing up my neck to my cheeks and ears. “But we haven’t done anything else, if you get what I mean.”
“Oh.”
Genuine surprise alights her face as she leans back in her chair to contemplate my words.
“I’m sorry, but why does that make you awful?” Zoelle asks.
I blink back at her. “Don’t you think I’m being a—” I stammer to a brief stop, coloring more brightly “—a tease?”
“No. But you clearly do, and I can’t fathom why.”
I duck my head at her soft reply. “We’re married because of our soulmarks… but I don’t want to be sealed.” I look up sharply to catch Zoelle’s reaction to my words, but she doesn’t seem offended. “Not yet, anyway.”
Not ever.
And Atticus will never want to stay bound to a woman he can’t conceive with, let alone one who is working with another pack behind his back.
“There’s nothing wrong with that,” she insists. “No one is going to begrudge you wanting to have something akin to a normal relationship with Atticus before diving into that kind of commitment.”
“Except Atticus.”
Zoelle is momentarily stunned by my grumbled response. “Is he pressuring you into sealing the soulmark?” she asks, her voice holding a dangerous lilt to it, like a mother ready to defend its child. “Because if he is, I’ll spike his next drink with some potion to teach him a lesson.”
I soften at her automatic defense, immensely grateful to have someone on my side. “Atticus wants to be sealed,” I admit. “But… he’s not pressuring me for it. I understand why he wants to move in that direction. I’m tempted to, but—”
“You’re scared?” she fills in.
I know better. I avert my eyes.
“It’s just… not the right time.”
Zoelle’s eyes scan her customers until they alight on someone behind me. “Excuse me a moment.”
She makes the rounds as is her job, and when they’re satisfied with her service, she comes back to sit with me.
“Sorry about that,” she says, a gentle smile on her lips.
“Don’t be,” I reply, fiddling with the napkin underneath my tiny spoon. “I probably should head out soon, so I don’t keep you from your work.”
“No,” she insists, reaching out and placing her hand atop mine. “You’re not bothering me or disturbing my work. Stay as long as you like, especially if you need a break from your cousin.”
A knot forms in my chest at her unbound kindness. “Thank you.”
Zoelle pauses, her features rewriting themselves back to confused concern. “So you and Atticus are in a weird in-between,” she surmises carefully. “Your cousin is probably a pain, and… is there something else, Winter? I can’t help but feel like there’s more.”
The knot tightens.
“It’s just,” Zoelle continues with a tender smile, “well, maybe it’s because I’m the alpha and you’re the beta, or maybe it’s my witchy instincts kicking in, but something doesn’t feel right. There’s something more, isn’t there?”
Her words come out just above a whisper. For a moment it’s as if we are the only two in this cafe and I can bare my soul to Zoelle. I don’t notice my hand in her own resting in the middle of the table until the comforting brush of her thumb over the back of mine comes into focus. With a fair amount of ruthlessness, I bite down on the inside of my cheek to try and keep myself in check.
“Winter?”
My slate gray eyes flash to her honey brown ones. “You’re right… about being the alpha and beta. We carry a special connection between us, because it's only the beta’s strength that can buoy the alpha’s in times of distress when all else fails around them. The pack can rally… but every alpha needs a beta.”
Zoelle softens. “Winter, you can talk to me, especially if whatever is weighing you down you don’t feel like you can talk to Atticus about.” She smiles wistfully. “The perks of being an alpha, no one can order me to break your confidence. I promise, Winter, I won’t breathe a word to Atticus or Xander. Tell me,” she urges. “Get it off your chest so you can breathe.”
And because she’s the alpha—because she’s even more empathetic than me—the words begin to stumble past my lips until they are crashing out of me like a waterfall.
“My youngest cousin is in trouble,” I say hoarsely as goose bumps erupt across my skin. “My parents are going to make her marry a man three times her age.”
Her hand tightens around mine. “Why?” she asks, eyes wide and lips parted in a mimic of my horror.
“Because… because it’s advantageous for her family. Because it will give Juniper a higher rank in the pack. She’s too delicate to rise up the ranks through strength of will, or strength period. Because of—” me. Because I have coddled and protected her all my life. June has never known the harsher aspects of pack life because of my interference.
The world begins to fall around me as a dull ache throbs at the base of my skull and traverses its way up to dig into my head.
“Winter, breathe,” Zoelle commands. She lowers her voice and leans across the table. “I’m going to make some more tea. It’s going to help you relax and give you some peace of mind, all right? Chin up and bear this feeling just a few minutes more. Okay? I’ll make this better. I promise.”
She dashes away from the table behind the counter. Without her hand to ground me, a numbness begins to creep into my body through my fingertips and toes. I release a shaky breath and curl my arms around my middle, trying to do exactly as she’s said. Just breathe.
But even this simple instruction is a task when the eyes of the room are on me. Their judgment pierces my weak armor, and the numbness threatens to grow. What am I doing? The frantic thought makes me catch my breath. Am I really about to betray my parents? Am I ready to forsake Juniper?
Another voice, far softer and less manic chimes in. Can I go on living like this?
“Here.”
My eyes snap to Zoelle ,who returns in a breathless state. She pours a new tea into my cup, steam billowing from the liquid to warn of its temperature.
“Give it a minute or so to cool down, or you'll burn your tongue….”
It does burn. My lips and tongue and throat immediately protest my decision, but in a desperate need to end my warring thoughts, there is no other choice for me. The teacup rattles against its dainty saucer when I set it down.
“Winter?”
“I just need a moment,” I rasp, pressing my fingertips to my lips.
She frowns but nods. “I’ll grab some water and let Veronica know to cover the store for a bit.” My eyebrows raise in question. “She’s my employee,” Zoelle explains.
Again she departs, but this time around, my anxiety is wrangled down to a manageable level. And all it took was a single sip and a burnt mouth. She places a glass of ice water in front of me upon her return.
“Thank you,” I breathe, taking a large drink of cold water and soothing the worst of the burn.
“Maybe you should put a couple of ice cubes in the tea,” she suggests wryly. “It won’t dilute my—uh—special ingredient.”
I do as she suggests, conscious of my compliance in her magical methods of calming me. Mother would be incensed. A smile touches my lips at the thought.
“Are you feeling better?” Zoelle asks after allowing me another minute to compose myself. I bob my head as my fingers dash away any tears that have slipped past my notice in my panic. They are few, but they are there. I drag my fingers under my eyes to disturb and displace any that dare linger.
“Yes,” I say, shocked at the amount of relief in my voice. I dare to take another sip, pleased when the heat isn’t nearly as scalding as before. “How did you…?”
“It’s a gift,” she tells me. “I can impart my emotions into the things I make, or in this case, brew. To a higher degree, I can will an emotion to be in the things I make so that those who consume it feel what I want them to.”
“That’s a powerful gift to have.”
Understanding flashes across her eyes as she sinks back into her seat. “It is. Now, I believe you were telling me about the rather unfortunate circumstances of your cousin.” A severe scowl hunches her brows, partially obscuring her regard. “I’m sure you’ve been trying to figure out a way to help all this time. Have you considered extending a formal invitation to your cousin to join our pack?”
My world flips on its head for the second time, but this time, my feet find their rightful place under me. “I… I hadn’t thought of that.” Hope flares to life inside of me. “I—” And then it is dashed. How will I ever get Juniper out? And if Juniper came, Toby would need to be extracted too.
“I’m sure we can figure something out,” Zoelle says, latching on to the idea as she studies my reaction. “Xander can speak with your parents and—”
“No!”
The room comes to a pointed still at my outcry. I swallow sharply and reach out to grab Zoelle’s hand, trying to find a smile of reassurance to give her.
“No,” I say again in a tamer tone. “My parents will never allow it,” I tell her with a sad smile. The tea keeps my heart at a steady pace even as reality settles back in place. “You don’t just... leave the Blanc pack.”
“You did,” Zoelle counters, giving my hand a squeeze.
“I’m different,” I explain calmly, though a faraway part of me wanes with sadness at the statement. “I have the soulmark as my allowance.”
Zoelle sighs, pouring herself a cup of her magical tea as well. She blows on its steamy surface before taking a tentative sip and wincing. “We don’t have to inform your parents of her departure….”
Our eyes lock, Zoelle’s meaning quite apparent even in its unspoken state. I give a slow shake of my head.
“You’d be starting an altogether different war,” I tell her plainly. Zoelle’s shoulders sag, but I can still see the gears whirling in her head as she searches calmly for a solution.
“I don’t suppose you can speak to your parents about her predicament?”
“They support the match.”
“Oh,” she mutters. Her teeth sink into her bottom lip momentarily. “Surely there’s a better match to be made with the man other than your cousin. Maybe another offer can be brought to the table?”
I squirm in my seat and take another sip of the tea when my anxiety tries to poke its head up. “There… might be a way to help her, but there’s no guarantee it will work.”
Zoelle ponders my statement, twirling a curly strand of ebony hair between her fingers. “You love her a lot, don’t you?”
“I don’t know if I would have survived back home without her,” I confess. Or without my correspondence with Atticus, and the hope it brought of freedom.
“Then you have to try. Try, and if it fails, we’ll figure out a new plan.” Zoelle smiles brightly. “We'll find a way to help your cousin, Winter.”
Her hope is infectious, and that dreary dark spot in my conscious begins to lighten. “There’s one more thing, Zoelle. I was hoping you might be able to help me with a small project I have in mind.”
She cocks a brow, sipping her tea more comfortably now as she awaits my proposal.
“It has to do with flowers.”
V
Her name was Arlette, and the only thing mildly important about her was that she carried Luc’s child.
Merida regarded her with keen eyes. The witch could not fathom what love Luc held for this woman other than the aforementioned fact. She was not particularly pretty, but she had peculiar features that made her stand out in the pack of wolves.
Brown hair that looked like spun copper when in the sun.
Hazel eyes set a touch too far apart.
A smile too wide by any reasonable standard.
Merida pursed her lips until they became a hard line during her study. Arlette isn’t smiling now. But neither was Merida. Bringing the she-wolf to the golden birch tree had been a challenge, one that had taken up precious energy she couldn’t afford to lose.
Merida blamed the Moon Goddess.
For all of Merida’s gloating in the weeks following her curse, she had assumed her hex had worked and the Blanc pack would no longer be able to shift to their wolf selves.
After, she had been immensely pleased to learn how far-reaching her hex was. Not only had she leashed the wolf spirits of the Blanc pack, but it appeared all of lycankind. She had laughed endlessly with glee, filling the forest with the cackling sound.
For these reasons, she assumed her plot for the night would go seamlessly… until she learned, along with the rest of the pack, they could shift into their wolf form under the protection of the full moon. Merida had seethed and raged from her concealed position in the wood. The trees trembled and the ground withered beneath the weight of her anger.
Even now, Merida simmered with it as she stared at her prize nestled in the roots of the golden birch tree. She had expended a great deal of magical energy to suppress Arlette’s wolf spirit and secure her with wolfsbane-soaked ropes. Too much energy, Merida and the Darkness ruminated. Perhaps not leaving enough to execute the hex.
A growl curdled at the back of Merida’s throat as she turned her back to her unconscious prisoner. It was essential that everything from this point forward go on without a hitch. After all, the only totem she had of the Blancs to bind the hex was the moonstone, which already bound the previous hex.
Another could fatally compromise the first, or ruin both efforts entirely.
Which meant no mistakes. The cursed moonstone currently rested inconspicuously around the she-wolf’s neck lost among the several others she wore that befit Arlette's station.
The Darkness sank into possession of the witch’s body. No mistakes meant allowing the festering presence to lead their efforts, and it took control with ease. Merida became a mere bystander to the events about to unfold, her true spirit waned and shriveled beyond repair.
Breaking the quiet of the night was a piercing howl followed by several others.
The haunted witch looked to the moon above and gave a menacing sneer. Upon arriving at her chosen altar with she-wolf in tow, the witch had erected a ward. The ward concealed the two women and further confounded the sight and noses of those who sought them.
Another desperate howl, closer but not enough to cause worry. The witch had no reason to doubt the ward’s ability, for it had performed adequately for her thus far.
She turned back to the she-wolf and snapped bony fingers to awaken her.
Arlette awakened sluggishly at first and then snapped to focus with a jolt. Her body hurt, and there was something very wrong inside of her. The wolf inside her mind was a hollow presence, being somehow there and not at the same time.
Fear scored through her veins along with adrenaline as Arlette spotted the ragged figure of Merida several feet in front of her. She jerked in her bounds and gasped against her gag as the binds that tied her cut through her flesh.
“It should please you to know that I’ve no intention of killing you tonight,” the witch said and began to pace.
Arlette watched the witch stumble back and forth with wary intensity. She was no stranger to the battlefront, and such an admission by her enemy was not in the least bit comforting—not when Merida clutched a jagged dagger at her side.
“It is not for lack of want,” the witch continued, dragging pitch-black eyes to the she-wolf. “But for you to truly suffer as I have, I must go another way.”
The two regarded one another stoically until the witch’s hand drifted absently to her middle. Arlette froze. Her gaze could not be moved from that wayward hand, even if she had tried.
“Mmph!”
Arlette’s fear doubled, then tripled as the witch’s lips grimaced into the form of a smile.
“More than anything, I wish for you to live a long life, accompanied by the knowledge that you will never bear your soulmark a child.”
Arlette wrestled with her bonds, her back arching and bones building with the pressure to shift. But she could not. Try as she might, she could not. She collapsed against the earth with a body-wrecking sob.
The witch clucked her tongue and stopped before the she-wolf. She crouched before her, dagger held leisurely in hand. “I too know the pain of losing a child,” she said, her smoky voice without inflection. “We shall be sisters in this… along with all the other soulmarks in the Blanc pack, for I am not so cruel as to make you suffer alone.”
