Warner was gone.
Mari knew it in her bones before she saw his motorcycle was missing from the row in the garage.
And she knew where he’d gone.
He’d gone to find the rogue pack and take them down.
With the hunter Lenore. Her motorcycle was gone, too.
A stab of ugly jealousy knifed through her that she was good enough to take with him, but not her. Lenore was a hunter, but she was human. It was her he’d chosen and not his own mate.
Mari swallowed hard, because it was indeed a bitter pill. If she could pick anyone to take into battle, she wouldn’t choose herself either.
There had to be something she could do.
There had to be some way she could be of use.
Lifting her chin, she found her way to Westwood’s labs.
A strange green smoke billowed out from under the door and she heard what sounded like the honest to goddess, legit wicked witch cackle.
She wondered if maybe this wasn’t the best time to bother the witch. Who knew what was going on in that lab of hers. She could be doing important work. Like gathering eye of newt and toe of frog from some Prince Smarming gone awry.
“By the pricking of my thumbs, something heartbroken this way comes,” the witch said when she opened the door.
“I’m not heartbroken.”
“Didn’t say it was you, my sweet little darkling.” She held the door open wide. “Come in, come in. Cookie?”
A gingerbread man danced his way up to her and shook his little sugar booty at her.
She snatched it out of the air and crunched him, washing it down with the lovely steaming cup of tea that floated toward her after she was done with him.
“Another?” Eleanor asked.
“No. Yes. No.” Mari sighed.
“Yes, another. I think it will be just the thing.”
This time the gingerbread man booped her nose with his butt and she chomped. Surprisingly, Mari felt marginally better.
“Better, then?”
She nodded.
“I assume it’s Warner troubles that bring you to my door?”
“That obvious, is it? Am I that pathetic?”
“No, of course not. I just know Warner. I’m guessing he’s fucked off to Minnesota on his own with some noble, but misguided, idea about saving us from his darkness or whatever.”
“Yes, but he’s taken Lenore.”
To Mari’s extreme irritation, the witch cackled again.
“I don’t see how this is funny.”
“He didn’t take Lenore. Lenore took him.” The witch shook her head. “You know that there’s nothing but pack between them, right?”
“I know. But she was good enough. I wasn’t.”
“Oh, honey.” Eleanor pulled her into a grandmotherly embrace. “It’s not that you’re not good enough. He wants you and so does the dark champion inside of him. It doesn’t want Lenore. He doesn’t doubt you. He doubts himself.”
“I must be crazy to not be afraid of him—it.”
“Have you seen it, then?”
Mari nodded.
“That bodes very well. I think there’s part of you that knows something that the rest of us don’t.”
“Part of me that knows something you don’t? That would be a miracle, wouldn’t it?”
“Not at all, Miss Mari. There’s a strength inside of you that’s wholly your own, but you’ve been cut off from it.”
“You mean my wolf?”
“Hmm.” Westwood studied her, eyes narrowing. “Yes, I see now. I suspected as much.”
Mari suddenly felt like an odd little bug pinned with her wings spread under a microscope.
“What?”
“Ah, yes.”
“I… for the love of the Goddess, what?”
“Hmm.”
“Okay, you’re freaking me out.” Mari squirmed under the witch’s scrutiny.
“Yes, that would be normal in this situation.”
What. The. Actual. Hell.
“So, you’re telling me I’m really an alien or something, right? Something awful is going to tear out of my stomach and tapdance stage left?” Mari was only half kidding.
“Kiddo, all I can tell you is that you need to trust yourself. Listen to your wolf. Let her speak to you.”
“That’s just the problem. I’ve never been able to hear her.”
Mrs. Westwood put out a hand and let it rest on her shoulder. “Have you ever wondered if there was a reason for that?”
“Besides the part that I’m a freak who isn’t wolf enough for the supe world and not human enough for the rest of the world? No. What possible reason could there be? My genes are just too diluted, I guess.”
“Oh, child. It’s nothing like what you think. This generation of Woolven Wives have all been just like you. Randi was human, but when she was Turned, she became more than just a werewolf. You know the story.”
Yes, everyone knew how Randi had taken out a pack of Berskers on her own.
“And Belle,” Westwood said.
“She was already a vampire before she met Parker.”
“She was, but she’s basically a living goddess.”
Mari couldn’t argue with that.
“And Emmie… she’s become a whole new kind of wolf that’s half demon, but all badass.”
She didn’t quite get what Westwood was getting at. Her logical brain connected the dots, that Westwood was saying she was more than the little wanna be wolf who failed at everything but shopping.
But Mari couldn’t bring herself to believe it.
“And then there’s me. Who couldn’t transform unless she had a bowl of champagne to lap at.”
“Yes, Mari. There’s you. The draw you feel toward Warner is not one-sided. Nor is it a mistake.”
“He thinks it is.”
“Warner Woolven is a good wolf, but when it comes to matters of the heart, he doesn’t know his ass from a hole in the ground. Trust in the balance. Trust in the natural law. And most importantly trust in yourself.”
“That would be stupid.”
“Oh really? Why is that?” Westwood arched a perfectly groomed brow.
Mari just realized she’d told the terrifying witch that her advice was stupid. Yeah, maybe not the best choice she’d ever made.
“Uh…”
Westwood laughed. “No, I genuinely want to know why you’d say that.”
“If I could trust my own instincts, I’d go after Warner. But what can I do?”
“I don’t know what you can do. Only you know what you can do.”
“I can’t do anything. Warner is becoming something else. Something more powerful than anything I’ve ever seen. What do I have to offer him that will help him? Nothing. Just me.”
Westwood handed her another cookie. “Why haven’t you ever considered that just you is enough? Just little Mari is all he needs.”
“Because that’s laughable.”
“Blake needed Randi before she became what she is now. Drew needed Emmie when he thought he could never give her his mark. Parker and Belle needed each other when they thought it was impossible for them to actually be together.”
She supposed all of those things were true, but it didn’t mean that the same formula was meant to work for her.
But why couldn’t it?
This question wasn’t something she’d dared ask or hope for in the past. Yet, it remained, loud and determined in the back of her head.
What could she lose by trying?
Her life? Yet, even as she answered herself, it was so far out of the realm of what she believed. She knew with a certainty that Warner wouldn’t hurt her.
Couldn’t.
Not because of who he was, but because of who she was.
But that was stupid because she was no one. She was just an heiress with mineral rights the Woolven Pack wanted to acquire.
She wasn’t fierce like Randi, strong like Emmie, or damn near invincible like Belle.
But looking in the witch’s ageless eyes, she saw a reflection of herself that she wanted so desperately to be true.
The witch saw her as capable, strong, and an asset to the Woolven Pack and her beloved Warner.
All of the other Woolven Brides wouldn’t think twice about joining their mates if they thought they were needed. Even before they became icons of badassery.
Lenore was out there with him, and even though she was a trained hunter, she was still human.
Not that Mari thought less of humans, but Mari realized she’d completely discounted herself and she’d been doing it for years.
“I guess I’m going to Minnesota.”
Westwood nodded. “Yes, you are. You should call your father before you go. I have a feeling there’s something he’ll want to tell you.”
Mari knew her father loved her, but his love language was actions, not words. Sending her to Woolven when he knew they’d be on opposite sides of the conflict had been an act of love. He knew that no matter what, Woolven protected its own. And he knew Woolven would win, but because of old promises and ancient alliances, he’d been forced to side with Remus.
So she really did know.
But her love language was spoken, and maybe he’d speak her language, just once.
“Well, go on. Get packed. Call Daddy. And haul ass. Time and Destiny wait for no man. Or woman.” Westwood shooed her toward the door. “The keys are in the Vette.”
Mari let the witch guide her toward the door and out of her lab.
“How will I find him?”
“Your bones will tell you.”
When the door closed behind her, she supposed if Westwood could have so much faith in her that maybe she could summon a little faith in herself.
The witch knew things, after all.
She pulled out her phone as she walked toward the garage and dialed the number.
“Alpha DeVaughn isn’t taking calls,” a rough voice answered. It was Rodrigo, he father’s Beta.
“Put him on, Rod.”
“I said he’s not taking calls.”
Rodrigo knew damn well who she was and it cut like a knife that he had permission to deny her the chance to speak to her father.
But the pain gave way to anger.
No, he didn’t actually have that right. Who the hell was he? She was the Alpha’s daughter. He was Beta. Not Alpha.
Something strange and new stirred in her chest. “Put my father on.”
Her voice was not her voice. It was deeper, and it sounded like it had echoed from the depths of hell instead of her throat.
Rodrigo howled in pain.
“Maribella? Are you alright?” Her father’s voice came on the line.
“Yes, Papa. I just wanted to hear your voice.”
“What did you do to Rodrigo? His ears are bleeding.”
“I’m not sure. Things are changing. Something’s happened in the north and I’m going.”
She waited for her father to tell her she shouldn’t go, that she should stay safe in Aphelion, to leave the fighting to the warriors, but he didn’t.
“Oh, my little princess. It’s happening.”
“You know?”
“I wish I could help you. I wish I could tell you, but I’m magically bound. All I can tell you is that you must listen to your wolf.”
“Papa, I’ve never been able to hear my wolf.”
“I know. You didn’t need her until now. But when she’s ready to come out, you trust her. You give her the reins. It’ll save your life.” He sounded so full of regret.
She wanted him to say it, so she had to ask for it in the only way she knew how. “Westwood said I should call you before I left. I wanted to tell you that I love you and I hope you can be proud of me.”
“I’ve always been proud of you, princess. Always.” He was silent for a moment that seemed to stretch into eternity. Until he finally said, “I love you.”
Something unwound inside of her and tears pricked the back of her eyes.
“Thanks, Papa.” She sniffed. “Tell Rodrigo not to deny my calls anymore.”
“He and I will speak on this. I would never allow him to deny your call. Has he done this before?”
“He has.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
She swallowed hard. “You have responsibilities, I’m not unaware of that.”
“There is no responsibility more sacred to me than that which comes with being your father. I hope you’ll understand that in time.”
Yes, she knew he loved her, but it was something altogether different to hear him speak the words.
“I know,” she whispered.
“Then believe me and the voice inside of you.”
“I’ve got to go.”
“Call me when you return. If the magick binding has been broken as I believe it will be, I’ll tell you everything then. If you still want to hear it.”
“I will.”
She hung up the phone.
That was when her skin began to burn.
And she knew that she had to get to Warner.
His presence was the only thing that would soothe the fire, the volcanic heat that bubbled in her marrow and the raging beast that now clawed at the edges of her mind