“What mate bond, Reeyan?”
The truck hits a pothole I didn’t see, and I use the excuse to focus on the road instead of meeting her eyes. “We can talk about it later. After we meet with Evangeline and review the records.”
“We can talk about it now.” Her voice goes flat in that Llewelyn way that means she’s done with evasion and half-truths. “Is that what I’ve been feeling? This pull toward you? The way my wolf acts like you’re the most interesting thing in the world?”
“Yes.”
The word sits in the space between us for three heartbeats.
“And you didn’t think to mention it?” She doesn’t sound angry. Just tired. “You’ve been keeping me here under treaty authority, manipulating me into staying, and the whole time there’s a mate bond between us that you conveniently forgot to bring up?”
“I was going to tell you. After we figured out the curse situation. After things had settled between us.” The excuse sounds weak even to my own ears.
She turns back to the window. “That’s not an excuse. That’s cowardice.”
She’s right. I know she’s right. But hearing her say it still feels like taking a blade to the gut.
“I’m sorry.”
“Save it.” She waves a hand dismissively. “We’re here for answers about my pack, not to dissect whatever this is between us. Let’s focus on that.”
The conversation dies there, leaving only the sound of tires on dirt and haze scraping against the windows.
The forest opens into a clearing after another quarter mile. Buildings materialize from the mist like they’ve always been there, and I just couldn’t see them before. Low stone structures with thatched roofs, smoke rising from chimneys, and gardens full of plants that shouldn’t be blooming in this season but are anyway.
A woman stands waiting at the edge of the clearing. Tall and willowy, with silver hair that falls past her waist and eyes so pale they’re almost colorless. She wears simple robes in shades of gray and green, and the haze seems to part around her without actually moving.
Evangeline.
I park the truck and kill the engine. “Let me do the talking initially. Witches have protocol for these things, and violating it pisses them off.”
“Noted.” Sera climbs out of the passenger side, and I follow.
The moment our feet touch the ground, Evangeline’s gaze locks onto us, making my wolf want to bare his teeth. She studies Sera first, then me, then the space between us where the mate bond pulses with energy only magical practitioners can see.
“Interesting.” Her voice sounds like wind through leaves. “Very interesting indeed.”
“Evangeline.” I incline my head in the formal greeting the coven requires. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with us on such short notice.”
“The Hysopp Coven maintains relationships with all packs in the region. When you requested access to our archives regarding historical magical workings, I was intrigued. And now I understand why.”
Sera stands perfectly still, spine straight and chin up in that Llewelyn way that refuses to show discomfort. “I’m Sera Thornwick. From the Llewelyn pack.”
“I know who you are.” Evangeline stops right in front of her. “I can see what was done to you. What was done to all of you. The binding wrapped around your heart, squeezing and suppressing until you can barely feel anything at all.”
“You can see it? The curse?”
“Oh yes. Clear as day to anyone with the sight.” Evangeline gestures toward the largest building. “Come. The archives will explain better than I can.”
We follow her across the clearing and through a heavy wooden door into what looks like a library built inside a cave. Shelves carved from rock hold countless volumes, scrolls, and loose parchments. The smell of old paper and dried herbs fills the space, and somewhere in the back, I hear water dripping with rhythmic persistence.
Evangeline leads us to a table in the center of the room where several documents are already laid out. She must have pulled them before we arrived.
She taps the largest parchment. “The Llewelyn binding. Commissioned three hundred and seven years ago by a witchnamed Moira Ashwood. A member of this very coven, though we cast her out after we discovered what she’d done.”
Sera leans over the document, eyeing it. “Why? What did she do?”
“Created a curse designed to punish an entire pack for the sins of a few.” Evangeline’s pale eyes reflect candlelight that isn’t actually burning. “Moira fell in love with a Llewelyn wolf. One of the alpha males from a prominent family. She offered herself to him, offered her magic and her heart, and he rejected her. Publicly. Humiliated her in front of both his pack and ours.”
