Jason waited in the shadows, staring at Skylar Collins’ closed door. Her friends had left with Adam, whose job it was to get any information he could from them about their friend, after which Suzie had brought Tom by to say goodnight before she tucked him into bed.
That had been hours ago.
He started when the door he’d been staring at suddenly opened and the woman he knew had to be Skylar Collins hobbled out, a towel slung over her shoulder and a toiletries bag in her hand.
His wolf instantly came alert, watching her intently, taking note of her wild red hair and peaches-and-cream complexion with the smattering of golden freckles across her nose. Looking down at those freckles this afternoon, he’d had the absurd desire to lick them, see if they had the tang of the caramel they so resembled.
He swallowed hard, trying to ignore the inclination to show himself. He couldn’t, just yet. He had to be more certain before he gave her the Bond Wine.
His gaze ran up and down the gentle curves of her lithe, athletic body. She wore a loose, oversized T-shirt that hung sexily off one shoulder, and black leggings that encased her long legs like they’d been painted on. There was a fluffy green sock on one foot, a scarlet one with orange stripes on the other.
Jason smiled, wondering if she was quirky or just disorganised. His wolf wanted to know. He wanted to know. But only because any information he could garner about this woman would be helpful in figuring out if she was their Pack Witch and why she hadn’t returned to them when she’d reached her majority.
She hobbled across the hallway in front of him. He couldn’t help but notice the sway of her hips as she made her way to the bathroom.
His mouth dried. His wolf whimpered.
The woman swung around, wobbled, catching herself on the door jamb of the bathroom, and stared into the darkness of the hallway behind her.
He drew back further into the shadows, pulling his aura more tightly around him. He could see the confusion in her eyes as she seemed to stare right at him.
‘Who’s there?’ she asked, her voice hesitant.
He didn’t answer. This was a test. Cloaking themselves in their aura was a talent the Pack Witches had taught the Were, something that used internal energy rather than magic. However, even though the cloak’s essence wasn’t magic—if she was in control of her powers, she’d be able to see him.
Her gaze slid away.
His wolf whimpered again in frustration before he could muffle it. Her gaze snapped back to the shadowed corner he stood in as if she’d heard the internal sound. Then she winced, touching her head.
‘I heard you, Grandpa or Morrigan or whoever you are today,’ she whispered. ‘But you’re wrong. There’s nothing there.’
Jason frowned. Who was she talking to? A familiar? Most witches he knew who had familiars usually chose an animal of some kind, but it wasn’t unheard of that a familiar could be a spirit. But if she had the magic to talk to a spirit familiar, then why couldn’t she see him? What was going on here?
After a long moment of staring into the shadows, she turned away and rubbed her eyes. ‘What the hell was in those painkillers?’ she muttered, her voice husky. ‘I think they’re making me hallucinate.’ She made a face and he heard her smack her tongue against the roof of her mouth. ‘And how can my mouth still feel like the Sahara after a full bottle of water? It’s not fair. I’ve got all the symptoms of a hangover without the fun drinks beforehand.’
He had to bite back a laugh at her tone.
She pushed open the bathroom door and hobbled inside. The door clicked closed behind her. Running water sounded a moment later—she was in the shower.
He thought of soapy water moving over that soft, creamy skin and silently cursed as his cock hardened, pressing painfully against his jeans. He tried to think of something else. It was more difficult than it should have been.
The shower turned off after a few minutes—thank the Moon. He didn’t think he could take much more of that. Although the thought of her towelling down that delicious body was just as bad.
Fuck. He needed a shower. An ice-cold one.
Ten minutes of hell passed before the door opened. A steamy cloud billowed out into the hallway, filling it with the fragrance of orange and lemongrass-scented soap and herbal-fragranced shampoo. Skylar emerged behind the cloud, her wet hair pulled back into a ponytail. The severe hairstyle emphasised the slash of her cheekbones, the rose pink of her lips, the slightly tilted almond shape of her eyes.
He took in a sharp breath, drinking in the delicious perfume that was her essence. She was a beauty. But it was the kind of unknowing beauty that made a man tremble inside with longing to be the one to show her just how beautiful she was.
He shook his head against the thought. That’s not what he was here for.
She limped back to her room.
The wolf lunged inside him, wanting him to move, to touch the silken flame that was her hair, caress the creamy skin of her shoulder exposed by the T-shirt. But he didn’t. He stood in the shadows, hands clenched to his sides.
When she returned a moment later, he didn’t follow her. He knew she wasn’t going out—she still wore those mismatched socks and leggings.
Before he showed himself, he had to get under control.
Halfway down the hallway, she stopped and turned, looking right at him. ‘Look, you can see for yourself, Grandpa,’ she said, pointing at the shadowed corner Jason stood in. ‘There’s nothing there. Now stop making me even more paranoid than I already am and let me go and get some dinner. I’m hungry.’
With that she turned and hobbled down the hallway towards the lounge room and kitchen.
Jason stayed where he was, the spark of desire that had flared to life now thoroughly doused by confusion.
She had definitely been talking to someone. Grandpa? Strange name for a familiar. Even stranger that the familiar sensed him, yet she couldn’t. And what was going on with the limping? She should have healed herself by now—unless she was hiding her abilities for some reason. Or someone was blocking them, as Adam had suggested. Although, if that were the case, he shouldn’t be able to sense magic on her at all; yet there was a definite something emanating from her. It just wasn’t what he expected.
None of it made sense. Unless she wasn’t Skylar Collins.
But then, why had the dreams shown her to him and brought him here? There was also the fact she had Paul Collins’ red hair and piercing emerald-green eyes and Ivy Collins’ heart-shaped face.
And what about her scent?
He breathed in deeply, her familiar scent still vivid among the others in the hallway. He remembered that essence emanating from the baby he’d held in his arms all those years ago, mingling with normal baby smells of powder and mother’s milk. Yet something had changed in it that had nothing to do with the fact that she was an adult now. There was something wrong with it. Almost like a hint of something dank and musty clinging to the edges. But this afternoon, that dankness hadn’t been there. Whatever was going on, he was intrigued.
So was his wolf. It was lunging forward, trying to break out of the protection of the aura cloak, wanting to get closer. Needing to touch, to taste.
No!
That wasn’t what he was here for. Besides, it was ridiculous. He barely knew this woman. She certainly wasn’t his type. And yet, this afternoon, lying on top of her, her scent surrounding him, those green eyes searching his soul, the raw edge of lust had threatened to take over. He’d almost leaned forward and taken her mouth in a kiss that had nothing to do with duty to his pack and everything to do with getting her into bed.
But he’d fought off the raw, edgy need. This woman wasn’t his for the taking. If she was who he thought she was, she belonged to the pack. He’d known then there was only one way to prove the truth of that.
The wolf insisted he give her the Bond Wine right now.
‘When we find her, your father will give her the Alpha-made Bond Wine.’ He heard his mother’s words in his head as though she stood beside him. ‘Once it enters her system, she’ll respond as if she is drinking sun-warmed nectar. The Packbond will ignite inside her and flare to life. Then she will be ours.’
She will be ours.
There would be no denying Skylar’s ties to pack after that moment, even if she wished to. She would return with him to the pack, take up her birthright and stave off the Curse.
Once that was accomplished, he’d be able to move on to what was driving him beyond his need to save the pack: revenge.
Whoever was responsible for kidnapping Skylar Collins would pay. They would pay three times over: for killing her parents and twin; for bringing the Curse down on his pack; for killing his family. He would hunt them down and they would regret the day they’d ever tried to bring down the McVale Pack.
But only after he’d proved she was Skylar Collins by giving her the Bond Wine.
His wolf lunged inside him, longing to get out. Taking a deep breath and ignoring the hammering of his heart, he dropped his hold on his aura. Promising his wolf freedom soon, he stepped out of the shadows and walked down the hall to claim his destiny.