Tears drip onto the wood, darkening it. I smudge them away with a shaky exhale.
“Help me to see him again so I can love him the way you and Bjorn taught me to.”
They were my greatest teachers. If I can carry on the memories of Leif’s tender loyalty and Bjorn’s unconditional love, then they will never truly be gone. They will live on through me and helpme become the man I once was. The man who was capable of love and vulnerability.
The man Arlo deserves.
The bond tying me to Wulfric lights up, and my heart sinks.
“What is it?”I ask, praying he isn’t hurt. I’d feel it if he were, I know it.
“The witches are here, brother.”
I close my eyes tight, despair crashing over me like a dark, cold wave.Not yet. Please, not yet.
“And?”Why is he telling me this? I already knew they were coming, so—
“It’syourwitch, Gunnar. His family, too. He wants to see you. Don’t keep him waiting.”
Arlo.
He came for me.
My mate.
Oh gods, my mate ishere.
Gods, thank you.
Chapter 22
Arlo
Frigid water splashes myankles as I leap from the rowboat and wade the rest of the way to shore.
“Arlo, wait!” Dad calls, but I can’t. There’s no time. I’ve got to find Gunnar, got to make sure he’s okay. Nothing else matters. With a squeal, Truffles jumps out of the boat and tears after me, her hooves carrying her over the water.
I run until the village comes into view. Howls fill the air, echoing from the surrounding trees. We’ve been spotted. Ahead several dark shapes charge toward us. Wolves, ones I recognize. The big black one is Wulfric, and the smaller white wolf beside him must be Kieran. Another black wolf, Anders, and a white wolf, Lyall, the twins, ever the opposites. Another wolf who’d waited near the exit to town shifts, and I recognize him as Soren. He goes to stand by Lyall, their shoulders brushing. My lungs ache as I stumble from a sprint to a walk.
One by one, they shift to human form. The tension lining Wulfric’s brow softens. “Arlo. Thank the gods. We feared it was the other witches.”
“Has Gunnar been here?” I ask around heaving breaths.
Wulfric’s jaw tightens. “Have you come to take him away?”
The mistrust aches but it’s only to be expected. “No. No, I’m here to help. Am I the only witch here?”Please tell me we beat the Council here…
Kieran says, “Just you, for now.”
“Thank fuck.” I exhale. There’s that going for me, at least. “Listen, if Gunnar is here, then I can help him. My grandmother is making a potion I devised that could help cure his berserkism.”
Wulfric’s eyes widen. “Truly? Hold a moment.” He goes oddly still, brow furrowing like he’s thinking very hard or perhaps trying to fart.
“Uh. What’s he doing?”
Kieran smiles like he’s used to Wulfric’s mile-long constipated look. “Contacting Gunnar with their weirdTwilightwolf telepathy.”
“Oh. Right.”
