Broden hated leaving Abby alone, but he knew that his father was waiting to talk with him. Besides, it wasn’t like she wouldn’t be safe in his room within the confines of their cave. Slipping out of bed, he worked to cover her before he left. He smiled, watching as she nuzzled the furs and let out a soft mewl at the feel of them on her skin. Something in seeing her appreciate the sensation calmed him of his concerns, and he leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead before plaiting his kilt. With one last look at his woman, he turned and slipped out, finding his father standing in the living area. The stern look on his face unnerved him and he bowed his head as he closed the distance between them, swallowing the fear that had begun to grow. Though he was too polite to ever let it show in front of others, especially Abby, Bowen had always been one for the old ways; for the unspoken, unwritten rules. Grant and his outings were known to all, and his flings—because they were only ever just that: passing flings—were merely an ugly habit in their father’s eyes, something to groan about but never to worry about. But, while the others seemed willing to overlook the obvious, Bowen was not.
“It’s done then?” his father asked, though both knew it was only a formality. “Ye bedded her?”
Broden nodded.
Bowen sighed. “An’ yer certain that she’s…”
Another nod.
“Bloody hell!” Bowen growled and turned away, wiping his face and shaking with rage. “That sadistic bitch and her damned curse! Ye know she’s just cackling away about this!”
Broden flinched. He’d known that his father wouldn’t accept the idea of a union between one of his own and another species, least of all a human. He’d often theorized that the witch who’d cursed them would use this fact to torment him—to weaken them by tainting their pack with mates who weren’t their own kind—and ensure that the curse never be lifted. Broden, being the first to find his mate and, in doing so, finding her a human was just all the more reason to fear the worst for Bowen.
“Walk with me, son,” he grumbled, turning then to lead the two of them out of the cave. For a short while they walked, saying nothing, and the silence between them grew more and more painful with every step they took. “Doona let yer mother know I’m speaking to ye about this,” he finally said with a deep sigh. “She’s got it in her head that this is the beginning of something grand, but…” he shook his head, “But ye canna continue to see that girl. She is a liability. Ye being as smart as ye are, ye must know that. She’s a lovely lass, aye, but… a human lover is like an anchor on a warship, son—we canna hope to fight with the likes of her clingin’ to ye!”
“Father,” Broden sighed and shook his head, “curse or no’—human or no’—I… I love her.”
“Love?” Bowen turned to face him, a sneer spreading across his lips. “Of course ye love the girl, son; the witch made certain of that!”
“The witch cursed ye—cursed us—aye, but she did no’ create Abby, Da; she did no’ create me or any of yer other sons! We, all of us—yer sons and our mates—are no’ a product of the curse, Da, we’re just pieces in it! An’… an’ I canna say how things might have been, but what I feel fer Abby is no’ because of the witch’s magic. Like us, the magic’s working with the love, no’ creating it.”
Bowen growled and looked away. “Ye have no way of knowing something like that!”
“I do, Da,” Broden pushed. “I had no way of knowing that the curse was even real. Shite, I did no’ want it to be real! But now that I believe—now that I know!—are ye truly goin’ to turn away from the first sign of hope jus’ because it’s no’ what ye expected?”
Turning to face him, Bowen sighed. For the first time in Broden’s life, his father looked weak; looked human. “Aye, son, I am. I am because I have to. Love or no’, with Dana and her magic and all other manner of monster roamin’ these lands, being with that girl is too dangerous. Did ye know there are vampires in these parts now? Vampires!” he scowled and shook his head. “An’ here we canna even transform—canna even protect our own—and ye want to weaken us that much more by—”
“Yer the one weakening us if ye willna let what it takes to make us strong come to be, Da!” Broden snarled. “The witch punished ye with this curse, and now that I’ve found Abby—the first mate that we need to reverse all of this—yer willing to turn yer back on that hope now? Ye think we’d be so much stronger against the likes of Dana or vampires on our own? We canna even protect our own now!” He jabbed a finger towards his scarred torso, “Do ye think I’d have all of these if I could transform? Eh? And what of Callum? How might he have been spared if we could have tracked him; if he could have simply transformed and defended himself? I believe now, Da; I believe because I can feel it whenever I’m around Abby—I can feel it whenever I’m no’ around her—an’ I’m no’ goin’ to let her go! No’ fer ye; no’ fer some witch; no’ for anybody!” he snarled, driving his fist into the trunk of a nearby tree.
Bowen stared at him long and hard, considering this, and then looked at his son’s hand. Following his father’s gaze, Broden saw that his hand was torn and bleeding.
“Dana’s magic kept me frozen while she lay that curse upon me, yer mother, an’ ye while ye were still in her belly,” he said in a low, apologetic tone. “I was strong then; could transform then,” he shook his head, “an’ still that wicked creature bested me. An’ now, because of that night, all manner of creature—vampire, bear, shite, even man—could best any one of us.” He motioned towards his son’s hand. “Look at ye now. Broken and bloodied by a tree. A tree! An’ ye speak of protecting anybody. A vampire would have Abby in pieces at yer feet before ye knew there was fang or fist to be feared about ye! An’ then ye an’ this curse would be lost to us forever! Can ye no’ see, son,” Bowen took him by the shoulders, looking into his eyes with tears in his own, “Dana’s curse is no’ just the fact that we canna transform, it’s that we think we someday might again. She wants ye to hold onto Abby like this so that she will be hurt. Then she can hurt ye—hurt us—that much more!”
Broden whimpered and struggled with this thought, wrestling the two sides of himself.
He couldn’t lose her.
He could fight for her.
Couldn’t he?
Falling to his knees and glaring down at his bloodied fist, he did what he did best: he forgot himself and everything he wanted for the better of others. His father was right. He couldn’t even protect himself or his brothers. Remembering the look of betrayal when they had found Callum, he squeezed his eyes shut, palming his face. He couldn’t protect Abby, not when he was as weak as he was, and he’d never not be weak. His father was right. Their curse would go unchallenged.
Broden would have to let Abby go.
* * *
Abby was never letting Broden go.
While she had been disappointed to wake up alone, she knew that he’d be back for her soon. Every instinct told her so. The pleasant ache between her legs was a satisfying reminder of their night together, and she hummed to herself as she shut her eyes and played out the scenes again and again. Shivering in delight, she decided that she wouldn’t have changed a single detail. Grinning, she opened her eyes and buried herself further into Broden’s bed, waiting for his return in hopes of adding a new memory to the collection.
She didn’t have to wait long.
A moment later, he stepped through the doorway. Her grin faded and her excitement fizzled. She could feel something was wrong, and when he turned to face her, the look on his face sent a shot of dread down her stomach. Something had happened while he was gone.
“What’s wrong, Broden?” she whimpered and stood from the bed, crossing over to him.
“Abby,” his voice was soft.
A warning?
She frowned, shaking her head at that and moved her hands to his face, lifting his chin to face her. His eyes held a mixture of pain and regret and the combination twisted like a stuck blade in Abigail’s stomach. His pain was her pain, after all—was this truly what he was feeling?—and she stifled the grimace in an effort to work to wipe it away at the source. Forcing a smile, only managing a small one, and hoping to help ease the pain, she looked into his eyes.
They could get through whatever was troubling him, she just had to get him to open up about it.
“It’s okay, Broden,” she whispered. “Ye can talk to me.”
“Abby,” he whispered again, this time his voice filled with reverence.
He leaned down, capturing her lips in his once more. She knew that this wasn’t an end to the troubles—just a way for Broden to delay whatever was hurting him—but, at that moment, she needed that delay as much as he did. She wrapped her arms around his neck, accepting his kiss. It was as much for him as it was for her. She somehow knew he needed this, he needed her touch just then. She wouldn’t refuse him, she didn’t think she could even if she wanted to. He ran his lips down her neck as he lifted her from the floor, wrapping her legs around him. She felt like she had to hold on; like her only hope in the world rested in not being torn away.
“Abby,” he said once more, nuzzling her neck and inhaling her scent.
And then the realization struck her. He was making a memory—a last memory—and preparing to say goodbye to her. This was meant to be closure. Part of her refused to believe it, but another knew it to be true. She tightened her hold to him and shivered, trying to say “no” to him but only managing a weak sob. Was he really going to let her go?
“What’s going on, Broden? Talk to me, please,” she whispered.
“I canna be with ye, lass,” he shook his head. “This was never going to be permanent. Ye should know that.”
“Why would I know that?” she narrowed her eyes. “What is this about? Look at me! Please!”
He turned to face her and she felt a shiver run down her spine. His gaze had turned to ice, the deep green of his eyes looked cold and dead, like the bark of a tree in the throes of winter, and she froze. What had happened to do this to him? What had changed from last night? She couldn’t just let him go after everything!
“It’s over, Abby,” he shook his head. “I’ll help ye back to the village.”
“Doona bother,” she glared. “I canna believe ye are treating me like some common whore! After everything we shared together.”
“What did we share?” he looked her in the eyes. “We merely fucked, Abby.”
CRACK!
Abby’s eyes widened as she stared at the reddening spot on Broden’s cheek, where she’d just slapped him. Refusing to cry in front of him, she turned away and rushed from the cave. As she hurried through, she spotted Nelle’s worried face. Broden’s mother called to her, but she couldn’t stop. Running as fast she could, she flew from the mouth of the cave and down the mountain, towards the forest that had started it all.
Past that, the village.
Home.
* * *
Abigail was finally out of the mountains and stepping into the village when she finally let the tears that had been eager to spill nearly an hour earlier come. The streets weren’t very packed, but what few people were strolling about caught sight of her sobbing as she walked. With no sign of harm or struggle, however, they weren’t certain what to make of the sight and whispered amongst themselves. They were a distant concern, however. While she hated to admit it, if even just to herself, she missed Broden and his family. She missed how welcome she’d felt with Nelle and how proud Broden had looked then. Remembering this and reflecting it against what Broden had said earlier, she found herself feeling pathetic for all of it. Broden said that he didn’t share any of the same emotions towards her.
“We merely fucked…”
Could that be all it had been to him?
She’d thought that she’d felt something there, some sort of connection that silently spoke between them. And that connection had said otherwise. She had felt alive and free with him. Enough so that not being around him made her feel like she was trapped and dying. So invested in what she’d felt, Abigail had felt a sense of security in the idea of a future with Broden. In less than a day, she’d found herself comfortable with the idea of leaving home and the village and learning the ways of the mountains; learning Broden’s ways. She’d gotten so comfortable with the idea of not seeing her parents’ home as her own that she felt disgusted at the idea of going back there. With no destination in mind, she just wandered, turning her gaze to the moon and biting her lip.
But still that connection—that thread—that seemed to connect her and Broden refused to sever. Again and again it called to her, beckoned her to return to the mountains; demanded that she return to him. She paused at this and glanced back in that direction. More and more, she realized, she couldn’t believe that what Broden had said was what he believed, because she couldn’t bring herself to believe it. And if their connection had proved nothing else, it was that they shared what the other felt. So how could she not have felt the same passiveness unless it was, in fact, just a lie? And if that was the case, why would Broden decide to lie like that? Especially after all he’d done to protect her already…
She stopped at that, blinking.
Protect her…
Could that be what had compelled him to push her away? Was he somehow trying to protect her from something? Did he view her getting close to him as some kind of threat?
Frowning at the thought and deciding that she had to know the truth, she began to head back.
She couldn’t leave things as they were with Broden, she couldn’t believe he’d give up everything they shared together.
Once again stepping out of the village walls, however, she became aware of the fact that she wasn’t stepping out alone and, hearing the soft crunch of other footsteps behind her, she turned to see who was following her.