The witches keep chanting.
ta? bind i`? i`?syek ta? bind i`?
ta? bind i`? i`?syek ta? bind i`?
She slashes my wrist open again, since my skin keeps knitting closed, healing itself.
With the priestess's incantations and the coven's magic crackling around me, only then does it really register—all along, I've been feeding the wrong wolf.
The moon is still high in the sky. Shifters have their own Moon Goddess magic—it's what lets us hold two forms, what gives us power. Our enhanced senses, our ability to track and transform, our dominance and designations, it all comes from that power. But unlike witches, our magic stays inside us. It can't reach beyond our skin.
A witch's power works differently. They have to channel it, manipulate it. They pull from their surroundings, the earth, and tonight, with the full moon hanging heavy, their connection to the Moon Goddess surges.
Still struggling against them, however uselessly, I rasp, "Youfuckingbitch, I'm going to kill you, I'm going to slaughter your entire coven—"
"Silence!" Deidre cracks, and the command whips through me. Every cell in my body, every single drop of blood, everymuscle fiber, is stunned into obedience. My mouth snaps shut, my body freezes.
Her lips curl wide and serpentine, obsidian black eyes glowing with energy. "A geas, darling."
Then she winks.
I can feel my will bending, my alpha baring his neck. I fight against it, but it's like slamming into bedrock, the side of a mountain. Immobile, useless.
My wolf whines.
He tries to shift fully, but slowly, our claws rescind.
"Silas Ashland of Ashland Pack, brother of Grayson Ashland, Lune of the Silent Peak Clan. I bind you. I bind your wolf.Ta? bind i`? i`?syek ta? bind i`?.Let him remain dormant within your skin."
I ache. I fucking ache, and I'm a hundred and fifty years old, and I'm a rake and a fuck-up, but a dominant, powerful alpha. I'm notthis—this weak, pathetic—
My mouth opens. I can feel the roar rumble up from deep within my chest. It rattles my ribs, vibrates up my throat—then vanishes. Nothing. No sound comes.
My will is gone. My voice is silent.
The witches around me, what's left of them anyway, begin carrying away their dead brethren. Others are spilling herbs on the earth, chanting. My scent, all the spilled blood, it all disappears.
"Come, Silas. We've got work to do." Deidre snaps her fingers, and to my horror, my feet move, and I follow her down the mountain to a waiting car.
My brother and my best friend Orion, they'll come looking for me. They always do.
But there will be nothing left of me to find. They'll think I just walked away.
And why would they assume any different?
Chapter 1: Silas
NEW YEAR'S EVE,
4 YEARS LATER
Ilook around the apartment, wondering why I'm here. Deidre isn't in the habit of collecting humans, and Paulie here is most definitely human.
Hands clasped in prayer, Paulie climbs onto his knees in the middle of the dingy living room and begs for his life. Sounds of city nightlife spill in from an open window.
"Please, please don't—"
His words cut off with a strangled gasp as I squeeze his throat tighter before tossing him to the ground. He collapses, crying out in pain. I should be more careful. I always forget that humans break so easily, and I've already tossed him around the apartment some.
