From being single to being a shifter’s mate.
From controlling my mind to having it invaded.
Kill.
Take.
Power.
It’s too many changes in one go, which is why I spend the few hours on Ryder’s back trying to block it all out. When that doesn’t work, I force him to release me so I can walk it out by maintaining as close to a speed to the shifters. If the Darkness won’t shut up, perhaps exhausting my body will cease the voices.
I’m not handling the changesat all.
I’m pretending to.
Being Dark, being a shifter’s mate—let’s add that to all the other shit in my life I already deal with and don’t want: being a coven’s heir, or learning my birth coven is in hiding.
When Ryder trails me to the stream, I’m unsure whether to tell him to go away or not. When he insists we “talk,” I accept it, using his explanations of the past week to distract myself from my harsh new reality. The more Ryder talks, the less Darkness does.
But that doesn’t mean it’s completely silent. While he’s explaining about thenîkâkîstisbond, the voice slithers in.
He’s taking choices away, exactly like your mother.
When he recounts trying to get rid of me, Darkness has its own explanation.
You’re a witch. He’s a shifter.
Or, perhaps that’s my insecurity.
Every few moments, he takes a step nearer, and it’s hard to not run away. To hear him out and remind myself this is the same Ryder I’ve gotten close to. The one I kissed because I wanted to.
The one I returned for.
The new term he’s throwing around doesn’t change anything.
Except it does. It changes everything. In the matter of that night, sex altered my life for good, giving me a possessive wolf who’ll trail me around. A wolf, and then Darkness—all new, all too much.
He never wanted me.
He claims to, but from our very first meeting, had instincts not stopped him, he would have killed me for being on his territory. He kept me around because something in his body demanded it, not because he wanted to. He bonded with me to save me from Sloane out of some misplaced guilt and male shifter attitude that insists he protect females.
He’s pressing against me now, saying words that truly threaten the walls I’ve spent all afternoon building around my consciousness to keep Darkness away. To make myself safe to be around others.
My head is lighter with him around. The voice a mere occasional whisper.
“The day Sloane came, I failed, but you’re back with me, and when we get home, that’s all you’ll ever be—mine.”
I can’t be his. I’m not even mine anymore.
My head thumps at the mental walls. Darkness is knocking again.
No, no, no, go away!
Pressure. I need pressure. Hands to my temples.
But if I do it now, he’ll notice. He’ll realize I’m not in control, and then he’ll attempt to help.
His hands cup my face, and for a moment, everything goes blank. There is no babbling brook behind me, no evening sun above. No Darkness nor Light. No Hecate. No packs. No covens.
