No! She couldn’t be dead. He wouldn’t allow it.
He cupped her face. She was warm. Her pulse beat under his palms, the sound of her heart a low thrum in his ears that he hadn’t heard in his panic.
She wasn’t dead.
He kissed her. Her breath filled his mouth, her lips soft and pliant under his, but she didn’t respond. Stupid to think a kiss might waken her. This wasn’t a fairy tale for fuck’s sake!
He whispered against her lips, ‘Wake up, Skye. Wake up, my love. Please.’
Nothing.
He shook her again. ‘Wake up, Skye, damn you. Don’t do this.’ Worry was a claw in his throat, but even as his wolf whimpered inside him, the worry turned to anger. ‘Why would you do this? Why would you give me so much? Why would you purposefully flame out?’
Shocked by the panic raging through him, he realised he was yelling. He settled her back against the pillows and stepped away from the bed, raking his hand through his hair.
She didn’t need his anger or panic right now, she needed his help.
His wolf snarled at the thought because giving back the leftover magic would trap it again.
‘She’s our mate,’ Jason said. ‘What else can we do?’
His wolf subsided, but its acquiescence didn’t make this any easier. He’d never had to do this before, only knew the theory—although the tenuous mating bond should make it easier.
Trembling, he took her in his arms and cradled her head against his chest. Despite the anger riding him at the risk she’d taken, his need to feel the warmth of her skin was one he couldn’t deny.
He stroked her arm, twined his fingers in her silken blaze of hair, kissed her forehead. She was so beautiful. Her pale skin glowed like fine porcelain in the moonlight coming through the window, dappled by the shadows of the trees outside.
One shadow was far darker than any other. He frowned, brushing his fingers over the skin on her upper thigh.
A bruise. A large, dark bruise with a fine line across its centre from where his snowboard had pressed into her.
With power at her disposal, it should have been gone by now, but it wasn’t. She was still healing. The fact that she hadn’t healed herself had given him pause earlier; made him think there might be something wrong with her powers. But she’d just pushed power into him—such power no witch in centuries had held—so there was nothing wrong with her magic.
The only conclusion was she had no idea what she could do or how to do it.
Fucking hell! It wasn’t an act.
Which meant, maybe she didn’t know what he was or what she’d just done for him.
Hell, he wasn’t even certain if she knew what she was.
She’d been taken away from them, from her father, before she was anywhere close to trained, but they’d always assumed she would remember that training; would remember the pack and her duty to them as laid out in the Pact.
But it seemed likely she knew none of it.
No, that was impossible. She was too intelligent not to know she was a witch. Nobody could ignore the manifestations of a power such as hers—his mum had written to him often when he was away at school, pride in each word as she told him what a natural their next Pack Witch was. Skylar could levitate at two years old, could call fire and wind and rain by four. Summon moondust at five. Even if her memories of her childhood had been taken away, she wouldn’t have been able to keep those magics leashed.
Unless she did so purposefully.
But why would she hobble herself? Blocking her powers would be something akin to a Were not being able to change: it was fundamentally wrong.
Someone had done this to her. And she’d almost killed herself because of her ignorance.
His hands clenched into fists. He wanted to rail against the universe, punish whoever was responsible. But first, he had to give some of her power back before she sank further into a coma.
Laying her down on the bed, he held her head in his hands, fingers finding and pressing on the pressure points in her skull and her forehead. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and concentrated, trying to find the channel between them she’d locked onto and used.
He rammed up against something like a brick wall. The channel was blocked.
He frowned. Then why did his skin still tingle?
He sat back with a gasp. Even unconscious, she still shared her magic with him, using energy she didn’t have to spare on making him whole.
He had to stop her. She was already comatose. If she continued giving it to him, her heart would stutter and then stop.
Fear skated along his spine as he closed his eyes and tried to reach the Alpha–Pack Witch bond that had been created by her father before his death. Once again it was blocked to him. He tried to push at the block with his mind. It didn’t budge. He looked for another way.
His wolf growled in frustration.
Of course! The mating bond.
He concentrated on it. It vibrated with the feel and scent of her, but no matter how he called to her, begging to let him reverse the flow of magic, he was still blocked. Too much magic was channelling through from her end and the mating bond wasn’t strong enough yet for him to use as another conduit.
Even so, he pressed again. Breath hissed out of him. His hands trembled as they held her. Darkness crept around the edges of his mind. The room began to spin. He groaned as a spasm arched his spine; pain spiked through his head.
Letting go before he passed out, he pushed away from the bed and caught himself against the wall. Pulling in deep, shuddering breaths, he willed the trembling from his limbs. Slow minutes passed, but finally the room stopped spinning and he could stand without assistance.
His gaze never left her.
He felt like howling. He slammed his hand against the wall instead. He couldn’t get through. She wouldn’t let him—she was so goddamned strong. But he had to do something.
Cordelia. The McClunes’ Pack Witch. He’d call her. She would be able to advise him.
Thank the Moon Marcus McClune had been happy to keep up the treaty with the McVale Pack, despite the onset of the Curse. Where many other packs had turned from them, Marcus had stood firm, allowing them to use his resources, even giving Jason direct access to Cordelia—something Jason was eternally grateful for. She couldn’t help them to break the Curse—only their own Pack Witch could do that—but she had used what powers she could to help them. He knew she would help him now.
Picking up his phone, he dialled.
‘Jason?’ she asked, voice thick with sleep.
‘Sorry to wake you, but it’s an emergency. I’ve found her.’
‘Oh, Jason. That’s wonderful. Let me speak to her.’
He glanced across at Skye. ‘You can’t.’ He quickly told her what had happened, not glossing over anything, knowing she had to have all the information.
There was a long silence on the end of the phone. He gripped it tight, anxiety rippling through him in noxious waves. ‘What? What should I do?’
‘You have to leave her.’
Her words were a punch to his solar plexus. ‘No.’
‘You have to. You’re right. What she’s doing could kill her. If you can’t break through the block, you’ll have to break the connection.’
‘I can’t,’ Jason breathed. ‘She’s my mate.’
‘I know. And I’m sorry. But you can’t continue the mating. Not while her powers are so wild. Hell, Jason. She could have killed you tonight with the magic she pushed into you.’
‘She didn’t. It seemed like she knew what she was doing.’
‘But she obviously doesn’t.’ She sighed and he heard a rustling sound on the other end of the phone. ‘Look, I’m not saying you have to sever the mating bond. But you will have to leave her, allow her to heal. Her powers will rejuvenate by themselves if you aren’t near. Her lack of training will serve us in this. Without proximity, she won’t be able to access the Alpha–Pack Witch bond to syphon magic into you; the channel will close.’
‘How long?’ Hours he could take—maybe even a few days.
‘A few weeks at least.’
‘Weeks?’
‘Jason! Stop growling at me. Think past your wolf. She has to be trained properly; taught how to syphon her energy so this doesn’t happen again. You won’t be able to complete the mating until she knows how.’
Pain lashed through him at the thought. He didn’t know how he was going to stand being away from Skye with the mating incomplete, but Cordelia was right. He knew he must.
‘I never imagined she would be in this state,’ Cordelia continued. ‘I need to do some research. If she’s holding back her magic for some reason …’ She blew out a long breath. ‘It explains why we could never find her. But I’m not going to sugar coat it for you, Jason. This is not good.’
‘I guessed that when she wouldn’t wake up.’
Cordelia sighed. ‘I’m sorry. This has caught me by surprise. I never thought … Let me talk to Marcus. Maybe he’ll allow you to bring her to me. Or let me come to you. But first, I’ll scry with my Familiar and try to find out what happened to make her like this. That might give me a clue how to proceed. For now, stay away.’
‘My pack needs her, Cordy.’ His hand tightened on the phone. The screen cracked. ‘I need her.’
‘I know. Just give me time. I wasn’t prepared for this. Moving too quickly could be disastrous—as tonight has shown. But for now, keep her warm and then keep your distance.’
‘How far?’ He always thought he understood the mating bond, but now a blaze of fresh, white-hot understanding flamed across his mind. His mother hadn’t died from life-threatening injuries—she’d died because her husband, her mate, the man she couldn’t live without, had died. Mates were joined in ways that even the bonds of family, children and dear friends could not replace.
He’d hurt if Skye hurt. He’d die if she died. Staying away from her was almost unbearable to contemplate.
Cordelia’s voice held a wealth of understanding, although her tone was firm. ‘Tonight you have to get as far away from her as you can. Afterward, you can watch from afar—I know you won’t be able to stand not seeing she’s safe. You’re too much like Marcus in that way. But you cannot be in the same building tonight and you won’t be able to be in the same room for a few weeks at least. You cannot touch her or be near her until we’re certain the channel has closed. Until then, I’ll see if the Pack Witch Diaries have anything to add to this unusual situation.’
He could watch her from afar. It was something at least. ‘Thanks, Cordy.’
‘Don’t thank me yet. When I know what’s going on, I’ll let you know.’ With that, she hung up.
Jason put down his cracked phone and turned back to face Skye.
It hurt to move away, but despite the wolf growling inside, he made himself do it. He threw on some clothes, gathered hers up—they were torn. Damn! He spied the blanket tangled at the base of the bed. With more caution than he’d take with the most fragile of porcelain, he wrapped her in the soft folds of the blanket, picked her up, cradled in his arms, and moved to the door.
The lodge was dark and quiet, with most of the guests already asleep in their rooms. Even so, he moved through the darkness, folding the shadows around them, using his natural Were power to cloak them both from all but another Were or someone with power.
Down the stairs, past the central lounge and kitchen, down more stairs to the lower floor, he moved with stealth and speed that marked him as nothing human. In less than a minute he stood in front of the door to her room and opened it—she’d left the door unlocked. When this was resolved, he’d have to have words with her about security.
Nudging the door open, he carried her to the bed that held her scent and laid her on top. Standing back, he looked down at her cocooned in the blanket, her bare shoulder an unbearable temptation.
Clenching his hands at his side, he forced himself not to give in to the need to stroke, to lick, to nip.
He turned away.
Turned back.
He couldn’t leave her lying there, naked, helpless. He didn’t know if she was that familiar with her friends, and he didn’t like the idea of anyone seeing her as he’d seen her tonight.
Pyjamas lay on the floor next to her bed, as did some other clothing that carried her scent. He smiled, wondering if untidiness was one of her habits. Trying to keep his mind on harmless thoughts, he unpeeled her from the blanket and dressed her in the pyjamas, clenching his teeth to stop from touching her more than necessary, Cordy’s words echoing loudly in his ears.
Once done, he tucked her back in the blanket and placed the doona over the top. He knew he should take the blanket, but he had a strong need to leave his scent with her in something more than her skin. Besides, Cordy had told him to keep her warm.
He stood there, watching as she breathed, listening to the beat of her heart, taking in her glorious scent. Her magic still caressed his skin. Too long. She’d given him too much for too long. Her breathing was shallow, her skin cold.
He must leave.
A sound above caught his attention. Footsteps on the metal stairs leading to the front door. The door opening and closing. The sound of female voices and one male voice—Adam. Her friends had arrived home. They would look after her.
Shivering, he whispered, ‘I will see you soon, my mate.’ He longed to bend and kiss her but couldn’t risk it. Besides, he had to leave the room before her friends came downstairs and saw him there. They might not be born witches like Skye and her ancestors, but Adam had told him they had the scent of Wiccans on them when he’d ‘bumped’ into them this afternoon. If they were from one of the old families, they could still have enough power— power borrowed from their Mother Goddess—to see him, despite his aura cloak. He didn’t want to have to explain what he was doing there, nor why Skye wouldn’t wake up.
Taking one more look, one more long, deep breath, he padded to the door and let himself out.
As he slipped up the stairs, he heard the Wiccans and Adam in the kitchen. By the smell, they were warming milk in the microwave. Their voices were low, but happy. They’d had a pleasant night.
He didn’t feel like facing his brother right now. How could he explain what had happened? His actions tonight had endangered the safety and health of their Pack Witch and, therefore, their pack. What kind of Alpha was he to put his own pleasure before his duty?
Taking the rest of the stairs in one bound, he sped down the hallway, leapt up the final stairs and was through the door with barely a whisper of sound as it clicked softly closed at his back.
The curtain was open and moonlight shone, pale and milky, through the trees, glinting on the snow that made the limbs bow down under the heavy weight. Normally he would have been drawn to the window to look up at the simultaneous joy and curse of the moon.
But tonight, his gaze halted on the ruin of his bed.
The scent of her warmth, the perfume of her skin, the musk of sex, all rose to greet him with memories he would never forget.
He might not have her here in his arms, waking beside him in the morning as he wished, but he did have the memories of what had occurred. He wouldn’t give up those memories for anything or anyone. Despite endangering his pack, he wouldn’t be sorry for those hours of bliss here with Skye.
Not now he knew his mate.
But he couldn’t stay here, surrounded by her scent. It would drive him insane.
He unlocked the glass door that led out onto a balcony and stepped out.
A light misty fog enveloped him, full of the smell of wood smoke and eucalypts and the heavy, tangy scent of snow. He shivered as the cold curled around him, the snow crunching crisply under his bare feet, but it was a cold he needed to calm the burn of panic and self-recrimination in his chest. He closed the door behind him and let the change take him over, not caring that his clothes were ripped to shreds by the explosion of energy that tore through him.
Mid-change, he leapt over the balcony and landed a floor below, his paws sinking into the soft coldness of the snow. Without so much as a glance behind him, he ran into the night.
He would do as Cordelia had said. He would get as far away as he could to make certain the channel closed. And afterwards …
Cordelia would figure out how to help Skye. She had to. But Jason couldn’t sit around leaving Skye’s safety and the health and wellbeing of Pack McVale up to Cordy. He would return home tomorrow and read through their Pack Witch Diaries. Maybe there would be a clue there as to what to do. He also had to figure out who had taken Skye and why they had done this to her—and to his pack.
Whoever they were, they would have to be incredibly powerful to have shrouded her from the McClunes’ Pack Witches all these years. He had to be careful, but that didn’t mean he had to cower in the dark at the mercy of their evil.
He had to find a way forward. For pack, of course, but also for himself.
The wolf growled in agreement.
She was his, and one day soon she would know it. She’d have to know it. Because without her at his side, life wouldn’t be worth living.