Which is why it’s sitting so painful in my stomach. Why my wolf is growling to protect her, but for every reason I give about why claiming our pre-chosen mate can’t happen, he ignores it.
If she hears me approach, she doesn’t turn. The light breeze picks up her hair, the sun flickering through and lighting up the paler strands. I stop three feet behind her, far enough to let her remain in control. Her head tips up until she’s gazing at the cloud-splattered sky.
“I’ve been to the witches’ resting place plenty of times over the years,” she starts, acknowledging my presence with a story rather than a curse. “Death ceremonies, mainly—or visiting past family members. All those times, I was passing my real mother’s grave and never knew.”
Her scent is sour—tainted by grief and the weight of the truth. It’s then I realize how unprepared I am to manage another’s emotions.
“It’s surreal learning I’m from elsewhere.” Her head swivels, presumably in the direction she thinks British Columbia is, except her sense of direction sucks and she’s facing the wrong way.
Stepping closer and taking her shoulders, I turn her until she’s facing west. Her cheeks flush pink and through tears, she releases a soft chuckle that’s quickly stolen by a sob.
“It doesn’t change anything,” she continues, gazing up at the mountain in front of us; the one blocking the path to Vancouver. “Knowing a stranger birthed me doesn’t make Banff any less my home, Mom my mother, or Highridge my coven. But it’s different, in a strange way. Like, I shouldn’t be here. I’d be part of another coven, a different family, a whole other life if whatever happened back then didn’t.”
My heart clenches for reasons I pretend to not care about. If Carina was in Banff, would fate have still made her my mate?Would I have found her? Dad says those with anîkâkîstisbond always find a way to one another, so I’d like to believe so.
Does it even matter?If we never crossed paths, my life would be much simpler. For one, I wouldn’t be consoling this woman who my arms ache to hold.
“There’s too many unknowns,” she continues, tone thoughtful. “Why the coven hasn’t been seen since. What my birth mother was running from. What she protected me from.”
“Twilight Grove.”
“Probably.” Her shoulders cave in, making herself look even smaller in my oversized hoodie. “IfI really am descended from one of the first witches, that’s why Twilight Grove wants me.” She twists her head, and I’m slammed with every sorrowful emotion at once until it’s my breath that’s decimated. “They want to do to me what they did to Harlow and make me into a Dark witch.”
My heart pounds faster, my wolf pleading to be freed—to save her. Before today, I wouldn’t have cared about Carina on a personal level. Dad’s health was all that mattered. She wasn’t my problem.
Except now…now it is my fucking problem, even if I don’t want it to be. Turning away from the bond and not fulfilling it by releasing her, never letting my wolf out to claim her, is one thing. But sending her on her way to be irrevocably changed. That’s something else. That’s…unthinkable.
Protect.
They’ll make her different—Dark. Maybe evil. She won’t be thekamahkiwho agrees to fulfill deals, who soothes dying shifters, and agrees to be taken by an enemy coven.
She’dbethe enemy. Her coven’s enemy.Myenemy.
Swallowing down every drive to keep her, I know this can’t change anything. Carina’s already decided to go for the good ofher coven and witches all around. Dad will be healthy and when she goes, it’ll be of her own choice.
The breeze blows again, and she crosses her arms over her chest. Before I can consider my actions, I lift the sweater’s hood over her head and readjust her hair before sliding back beside her.
She twists to follow my trajectory, peering around the edge of the hood. Purple eyes sparkle with a strange contentedness that makes me want to dig a hole for her to hide in—and then one for myself to bury my body in.
“Why are you being nice to me?”
Because forces beyond you and I are demanding I care.I play my actions off with a shrug. “You’re sad.”
Her gaze drills into me, digging for the truth. She waits. A slow smile builds. That slow smile becomes everything right and wrong in my world. I want more of those.
She’s beautiful. Achingly so.
“That’s it? I’msad,so you become compassionate?”
Telling her the truth will only lead to more issues, and that’ll never be something she needs to know.
“Either way, thanks. It’s annoying how weather changes so abruptly here. One second it’s summer, the next, it’s practically winter.”
Not sure why I tell her what I do. Maybe it’s simply conversation to help dry her eyes of the tears that threaten my teeth being ground to dust. “We normally start moving to the caves by now, but with Dad being ill, we’ll be going slower this year. Mainly the children and any females who want to leave soon.”
“Caves?”
Before yesterday, no outsider had ever been told details about our living situation, but putting aside her genuine curiosity, it feels right to tell her. Perhaps because today hasshown Carina isn’t my enemy. Perhaps it’s the kick in my stomach. Or because she’s sad and talking will keep her mind off her complicated past. Maybe it’s the wolf inside me wanting her to know about pack life.
