Chapter 5
NICO TUGGED THE door of the cabin closed, making sure the lock clicked. He hadn’t been thrilled about leaving the party early. Very few guests knew about the witch attack. No reason to ruin the festivities for everyone else. Lucky for Nico, a few other officers were in the area. Ones he knew well and trusted.
Now he just needed to get word to his brother about what happened.
And deal with the fact he’d just mated in a way he’d never expected. He always thought it would happen while making wild passionate love.
Not in the middle of a battle.
His heart swelled with emotions he had no words for, and it flattened just as quickly knowing he couldn’t stay with his mate forever. Actually, more like she wouldn’t stay with him, but that didn’t matter.
What did matter was that he’d protect the twins, and then his heart would harden and break within months of Isidore leaving.
She would leave. He knew that. He felt the coldness in his bones.
“How the fuck did you do that?” she asked. “And why do you think I’m a fairy?”
“One thing at a time,” he said.
“Fine. Start with why a wolf has telekinesis.”
He told Gerri he liked feisty and a woman who spoke her mind.
“I want to take care of that cheek first. I’m sure there is a first aid kit in the bathroom.” He took her by the arm while she continued to hold the blood-stained napkin over her cut. “Sit.” He pointed to the toilet as he rummaged through the cabinets until he found some butterfly bandages and antiseptic.
“Are you capable of talking and bandaging me up at the same time?” She dropped her hands to her lap, glaring at him with eyes so dark he felt a trickle of fear creep down his spine.
“I can manage that.” He dabbed the cotton ball with the smelly liquid. “This going to sting.”
“Just start talking.”
“It started when the twins—”
“What twins?” Her mouth dropped open. “There are two Wolfairies?”
He should take a needle and thread and stitch his mouth closed. “Yes.”
She bolted upright, knocking him off balance as he slammed into the wall. “Jesus,” he muttered as he noticed a red stain on her shirt just on the side of her stomach above her hip.
“No wonder my father and my crazy coven is going even more bonkers over this.”
“I don’t follow,” he said.
“Power in numbers. After the birth of the twins, you can separate them, making sure at least one survives past the first month, ensuring the continuation of the new species.”
“They will both live, but thanks for the tip,” he said, tapping her other wound. “Take off your shirt.”
She glanced down, then folded her arms over her middle. “It’s fine.”
“That’s too much blood. Let me take a look.”
“What are you, a fucking doctor?”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. When Gerri said his mate might be too much for even him, she hadn’t been lying. “Isidore, please. I’m trying to help.”
Sitting back down, she raised the hem of her shirt, pulling it over her head, exposing a white, lacy bra.
He smiled, half expecting it to be black, but it was a nice contrast to her tough exterior. It was hard not to stare at her round curves. He let his gaze roam her body slowly until he came to a tattoo of a grouping of beautiful butterflies. Green, blue, yellow, and then three large burn marks, two inside of the wings of the largest image.
The burns destroyed the precision of the lines in the tattoo, and marred her skin with red, raised circles.
“I thought witches could only have certain types of tattoos.” He knelt in front of her, letting his fingers trace the edges of the scars.
“We’re only supposed to ink our bodies with things that represent witchcraft.”
“Butterflies are believed to be the birth sigh of the Wolfairy,” he said softly.
“I didn’t know that.” She lifted her hand, curling her fingers through his hair, looking at him with tenderness.
“Who did this to you?”
“I found a good tattoo artist—”
“I meant the burns.” He leaned in, kissing one. His lips burned, and he jerked his head back. “I’m going to kill the person who caused you such pain.” He touched his lips, still hot from feeling her agony.
“You’ll have to stand in line behind me,” she whispered.
He let out a short laugh as he examined the cut on her side. “This one should probably have stitches.”
“There’s a needle and thread in the kit.”
He cocked his head. “That will hurt like hell if I do it.”
“Give me your hands.”
He rested his palms in hers, staring at how her hands fit inside his and how it made his heart race with something akin to passion, desire…love.
“I call upon the forces I know. Water, Fire, Earth, and Air. Take this wolf’s hands and guide them through my flesh while sending my pain elsewhere.”
“That’s going to stop the pain of me sticking you with a thick needle?”
“It will ease it,” she said, resting her hand on his shoulder. “You stitch me up and tell me how you learned to move objects.”
“Only if you tell me who hurt you.”
“Don’t forget the fairy thing.”
“I won’t.” He sucked in a deep breath as he tried to thread the needle with a shaky hand. He’d stitched a wolf before out in the field, but the idea of causing his mate any ache at all made him sick to his stomach.
Fated mate.
He blinked, before gently pinching her skin together. “You’re the only one who knows about this new power of mine.”
“It started when the twins were conceived.”
He shook his head right before he tugged at the string, amazed she didn’t flinch, though she did dig her fingers into his shoulder. “It started when my brother stepped up as Alpha of our pack. It was slow, and the first time it happened, I’d had a bit too much to drink, so I thought maybe I was hallucinating.”
“But you kept trying.”
He nodded before taking the pair of tiny scissors, cutting the thread after he’d knotted the fourth stitch. Snagging some gauze, he gently placed it over her wound and taped it in place. “Before I opened the door today, the biggest thing I had moved was a pizza box and a six-pack.”
“That sounds fantastic.”
“I’ll order one, and there is beer in the fridge.” He taped up her cheek, then rocked back on his heels. “When that witch came at you with a knife, I had no idea if I could stop her.”
“Well, you did. So, thank you for that. But I would have gotten the upper hand.”
“Somehow I don’t doubt that.” The pride that flooded his mind and soul over her abilities to protect and fight stunned him in ways he couldn’t imagine. He’d always pictured himself with a strong woman. One capable of taking care of herself, but he expected it would be more like the ability to light a fire, or chop wood, not defend like a true warrior. “Let’s get that beer.”
“I’m game, but you still owe me an explanation for saying I’m—”
He pressed his finger against her soft lips. “After you tell me about the burns.”
She climbed up on the stool at the kitchen island and let her long, black hair down from her clip. He knew it would be long, but he didn’t expect it to flow over her breasts, bouncing around her middle. He swallowed, staring at her sitting there in just her bra and jeans.
“Can I get you a shirt?”
She looked down and gasped. “Um, yeah. That would be nice.”
He ripped his off and tossed it at her.
She groaned.
“Are you in pain?”
She laughed. “I’ve been wondering all night what you looked like bare-chested.”
“I see,” he said, unable to prevent his lips from curling up into an adolescent smile. He pulled two beers from the fridge, cracking them open. “You’re avoiding telling me what happened.”
She tipped her beer, before downing half of it in one gulp. “My mother loved butterflies, so I wanted to honor her with them.”
“Your mother passed away?” he asked, though he knew the answer. In his research, he’d learned her mom had killed herself. The only thing he didn’t know was why.
“When I was twelve.”
“You got that tat before you were even a teenager?”
“I was a bit of a problem child,” she said with a sweet smile. “Authority issues.”
“I hated being told what to do when I was a kid.” He twisted his body, showing off the large wolf tattoo that spanned across his shoulders. “I got that when I turned sixteen. My mother grounded me for a month, and my dad took away my motorcycle.”
“My dad just put his cigar out on my skin.”
The beer in his hands slipped through his fingers, fizzing all over him as it crashed to the floor. “What did you say?” He balled his fists, allowing a throaty growl to escape from deep in his gut.
“Please don’t make me repeat it. I’ve kept the tats and the scars hidden ever since.”
She blinked away the moistness that glistened in the corners of her eyes. While he composed himself, getting his anger in check, which was proving to be impossible, he cleaned up the spilled beer and cracked open another one.
“You’re awfully quiet.”
When he opened his mouth, an uncontrollable, menacing howl released from his lungs.
“Yeah, I feel the same way,” she said, tipping back her can.
“Does he still beat you?” the words vomited out of his throat. His already warm blood heated to inferno levels.
She lowered her gaze.
“Fuck me, why the hell do you stay?”
She snapped her head, glaring at him, her eyes emitting fiery dust. He was going to have to figure out where in her heritage the fairy part came from because based on how the room glowed red, he expected it was stronger than anyone thought possible.
Fairies and witches just didn’t mate.
“I’d do anything, include taking a few punches, to protect my sister. Something I thought you of all creatures would have understood.”
He deserved her wrath. He’d let anyone beat the crap out of him if it meant the twins were safe… and he’d die for Isidore if it came down to it.
“is there any way we can get your sister out before her branding ceremony?”
“She wants her powers, and she’s the kind of person that would use being a seer for the greater good. She’s not like the rest of my coven. She’s sweet. Special.”
“And you’re not?”
She snorted, which normally he’d find annoying, but on her, hell nothing she did could bother him…too much.
“I’m a trained killer.”
He shook his head. “You’re a protector, just like me. There is a key difference.”
“I was raised to hate what we don’t understand and make sure a future creature never gets born. That makes me a killer.”
“No. It doesn’t.” He eased around the island, leaning his hip against the counter, waving his fingers through the dust her body produced, gathering it up into a little ball. “You’re going to have to learn to control this.” He couldn’t really feel anything other than her warmth in the colors swarming between his fingertips. It was different from what the twins projected in both texture and strength.
“That’s coming from me?” she asked softly as she reached out to touch the magical substance, “What the hell is wrong with me?”
“Nothing.” He drew her into his arms. “We’re going to have to do some research into your family history, but I have a very strong feeling that you’re another royal fairy, like the mother of the twins.”