“Willow,” Ursula said softly, as though she could hear her thoughts.“You’re not alone.Not anymore.But you’ll need to be ready.”
Willow sat up straighter, sarcasm spilling out like a safety valve.“Ready?Sure.Because I always dreamed of spending my weekend preparing to face off against a demon-eyed narcissist with a god complex.Marcus should’ve been an infomercial scam artist—or better yet, a Multi-Level Marketing recruiter.He’s got the pitch down.‘Join me and live forever.Reject me and die screaming.’Real charming.”
Saffie snorted.“Add in a free tote bag, and he could’ve filled stadiums.”
That coaxed a reluctant grin out of Willow.She looked between the two witches and the humor faded into something sharper, harder.“Okay.Enough jokes.We need a plan.If Marcus thinks he can curse me into submission, he’s about to learn that I don’t do submissive.I do survival.And I do revenge.”
Ursula’s eyes softened, pride shimmering through her sorrow.“That’s more like it.”
For a heartbeat, silence fell—weighted, but not hopeless.Willow pressed her palm flat over her stomach, over the bond to her mates.She closed her eyes and whispered, half to herself, half to them.“Hold on.We’re going to figure this out.And when the time comes, we’re ending this curse together.”
****
The exhaustion pressedinto Jacob’s bones like lead weights, but he knew it wasn’t just physical.It was the relentless push and pull of hope and despair, the curse gnawing at their bond and the fury of watching their mate forced to shoulder more than any woman should ever have to.Willow deserved joy, not war.She deserved peace, not Marcus.
But tonight, at least, she had them.
They had been talking about the curse, the three of them still on the couch with Ursula perched in the chair by the window and Saffie leaning against the wall, arms crossed.The words echoed in Jacob’s head.How do you kill a man the curse itself protects?The lines they remembered from Matthew’s twisted spell circled like vultures.No man could end his life.The curse was tied to him, to his blood, to whatever eternity he thought he had claimed.
Even Ursula had muttered darkly that she’d never heard of such binding magic, though her sharp tongue had faltered for once, awe flashing in her eyes as Saffie spoke.The witch’s sarcasm slipped, her usual bite replaced with something rawer.She pushed off the wall and stepped forward, voice low and vibrating with pain.“Do you have any idea what it cost me to do this?”she demanded, eyes flashing.“To weave myself into the curse, to counter it just enough to drag us forward through centuries?I burned lifetimes into that tether.Centuries of loneliness, of silence, of carrying the weight of failure again and again.We wouldn’t even be here without it.Without me.”
Willow had blinked, shock widening her eyes.“You mean, you actually bound yourself into it?”
Saffie gave a humorless laugh.“Bound, bled, branded my soul into it.Every time the wheel of fate spun, it pulled me back.I’ve lived more lives half-anchored than you can imagine, carrying the knowledge of what was lost, waiting for the chance that maybe, just maybe, this life would be the one where we finally end him.”
Ursula’s voice softened, almost reverent.“You never told me how deep you wove yourself into that curse.”
“Would you have let me?”Saffie shot back, but there was no real bite, only weariness.“This was the only way to keep hope alive.To keep them alive.To ensure that shifters could return.”
Ursula narrowed her eyes, leaning forward in her chair.“And what about you?What did centuries of sacrifice buy you, Saffron Burrows?”
Saffie’s lips twisted in a bitter smile.“An unbroken heartache and a front-row seat to failure.But also, the chance to be here.To stand with her.”She glanced at Willow, eyes shimmering with something fierce and fragile.“If I had to do it again, I would.A thousand times over.”
The weight of her confession had stunned them into silence.Ursula had looked at her as though seeing her for the first time—equal parts respect, guilt and awe softening her normally unflinching expression.
“We’re missing something,” Jacob muttered earlier, pacing, fists clenched.“There has to be a weakness.”
“Or a loophole,” Liam had added, green eyes storm-dark.“Every curse has one.But damned if I can see it.”
Willow had sat between them, her chin lifted though her hands trembled.“Then we’ll find it.Together.”Brave words, but Jacob had seen the flicker of fear in her eyes.He hated that Marcus had put it there.
Now, the shower hissed hot and heavy around them, steam rising like a curtain, wrapping them in an intimate cocoon.Jacob pressed Willow against the slick tile, her body warm and soft against his, her scent mixing with soap and the sharper edge of need.Liam bracketed her from behind, his broad chest pressed to her back, his hands firm on her hips.
“Tonight, we make you remember, sweet,” Jacob murmured, his lips brushing her temple before sliding lower, catching the delicate curve of her ear.“Remember what it feels like to be ours.Nothing—curse, prophecy, or that bastard Marcus—can take this from us.”
Willow shivered, not from cold but from the weight of his words.She tipped her head back against Liam’s shoulder and met Jacob’s gaze, her gray eyes dark and stormy with both desire and something sharper.Need.
“Show me,” she whispered.“Show me that this is real.”
Jacob’s cock throbbed at her plea.“Oh, it’s real, love.”He claimed her mouth in a kiss that was deep, rough, unrelenting—pouring into her every ounce of the love, hunger and defiance that burned inside him.Liam growled low, sliding a hand down between Willow’s thighs, finding her wet, swollen, ready.
“Ride me, sweetheart.”Liam’s voice was raw and heated.His green eyes flashed as he lowered himself to the shower floor and tugged Willow down with him.He guided her astride his cock, bracing her thighs as she sank down in one long, breathtaking stroke that had all three of them groaning.
Jacob knelt beside them, his heart pounding at the sight.Willow’s head tipped back, wet hair plastered to her skin as she moved on Liam, her breath catching with every rise and fall.Jacob wrapped a hand around his cock, stroking slowly, letting the scene sear itself into him.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he rasped, shifting closer.He brushed his thumb across her lips and when she opened to him, he slid two fingers inside, feeling the hot slickness of her tongue around them.The hunger in her eyes burned straight through him.She wanted more.She wanted all of them.
When she released his fingers, she turned her head, her mouth closing around his cock in one sure, devastating motion.Jacob groaned, bracing a hand against the wall to steady himself as the heat of her lips and tongue slid over him.“That’s it, sweet girl,” he growled, fucking gently into her mouth as Liam surged beneath her, driving her higher.
