That won’t be happening.
“How do you feel now?” I jerk my chin at the empty vial, using it to move off the topic of the bond.
“I can breathe a bit easier. The constriction around my lungs is loosening.” He inhales deeply, blowing it out as an example. “Nowhere close to able to attend the quarterly meeting comingup in two days. I’m remiss that I won’t be there to see you at your first, as Alpha.
With Twilight Grove and Carina, the gathering of packs has been at the bottom of my thoughts. The nearest packs come together to socialize and for Alphas to share news. Trades and potential matings are often initiated, as well as updates from the mortal or Otherworldly creatures that might affect us.
“I’ll tell them what we know about the Celestials. It’s only fair everyone can prepare in any way they can. For now, I should go and bring Carina food.”
“Take care of her, Ryder. No matter what happens.”
His ominous threat trails me out.
Twenty
CARINA
As soon as Ryder leaves,I curl up in the chair with my knees drawn up because I’d prefer not to risk his wrath by sleeping in his bed without permission. He’s been tolerable today, but fucking with the slice of peace we’ve found for ourselves isn’t smart.
Alone, voices echo in my head. Voices that sound like a dying witch sobbing to a stranger to care for her baby.
What I told Mom was true—that rooting through history isn’t worth harming Highridge—but the longer I sit in silence, the more my own words become lies. I’d like to say none of it matters, that it won’t change anything, but it does. Itcould. Something happened to cause the disappearance of my old coven and for my mother to run away.
Question is, was she runningfrom them, in which digging them up is unwise, as well as an insult to her memory? Or did something happen and she escaped from the same thing that’s happening to us?
I’m not ready for any of it. Not to think about it, not to face it. Not to even understand it. Not until I get out of Twilight Grove alive.
With Ryder’s hoodie sleeve, I wipe the few tears from my face. Last thing I need is for him to come inside and see me crying. He’ll taunt me with my grief, or worse.
Would he, though?
Today, he was the only one to check on me. He held me, helped me breathe through the near panic attack. He was kind—certainly kinder than he needed to be—to the person who, by all accounts, is the reason behind his father’s illness.
Hecate, why didn’t you help them? Why punish them for crimes they didn’t commit?
Another tear slips down my cheek and onto the sweater’s sleeve, which is still pressed to my flushed cheek. This time, I cry for Alaric and Ryder and the pack.
The door cracks open and with a sudden intake of breath, I drop my legs to the ground and wipe my face. If he has an ounce of empathy, he won’t comment on my undoubtedly blotchy cheeks.
He enters carrying tray of dried meat and plain rice, which he rests on the table between us. It looks unappealing but considering where we are, there’s limited options.
He drops into the free chair with a weary man’s sigh and stretches his legs in front of him. As he stares into the unlit fireplace, I wordlessly begin eating, my jaw having to really work the meat. Flavour I didn’t expect bursts on my tongue, and while I claimed to not be hungry earlier, this oddly hits the spot.
Every so often, his jaw moves and the flint in his eyes becomes ashier than what’s in the fireplace. Occasionally, he sighs a deep breath. He’s a man thinking hard but unwilling to share his thoughts.
“Thanks for the food,” I mumble in between bites, not really wanting to interrupt his contemplations, but also not wanting to be ungrateful. After all, Twilight Grove never said I had to be thriving; the pack could be starving me if Ryder chose to.
“Why were you crying?”
There goes all hope of hiding it.
He snorts and wipes a hand over his hair, fingers dragging through the shaggy strands. “Sorry, stupid question. Why wouldn’t you cry after today?”
I move onto the rice and continue to observe his troubled mind instead of commenting. “What was the meat?” I ask, aiming for any conversation after another few minutes, to help distract him. “Or do I not want to know?”
His lips twitch, which tells me there’s life still in there. “Deer. There’s plenty of them in Banff, so we won’t ruin the balance—provided we don’t over-hunt.”
“Huh.” I reach for another piece of the chewy meat. “Ever eat a bear?”
