Madison
Anger.
Fear.
Sadness.
I should feel so many different emotions, but I just feel resigned. If he’s not going to kill me, then I can go. I can get back to Eva. I can stay with her for a little while before it’s over, before the darkness claims her.
“Okay,” I whisper, swallowing hard. “So you’re going to let me go?”
“That’s not really how it works.”
“So I’m a prisoner still?”
“No, but, look…” He stands, running his hands through his hair. He seems confused by this, even anxious. “You’re my mate. That means you’ll stay here, with me.”
“You can’t lock me away, Bronx. I like you a lot, and I care about you. I don’t know why, but I do, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to stay here. You said you aren’t going to kill me, so let me go.” I take a deep breath and then add, “Please.” I do have manners, after all.
“Why?” He growls, holding his hands up. “Why, Madison? What’s so fucking important that you have to go? You poisoned me. Did you forget about that? You fucking poisoned me and that’s why I took you. I thought you were my mate from the moment my wolf laid eyes on you, but I wasn’t sure. Fucking you…” His voice softens. “Making love to you…it was incredible. Magical, even, if you believe in that sort of thing.”
“Of course I believe in magic,” I tell him. “Why the fuck do you think I drugged the food?”
“What?”
“Bronx, you dumbass. I wasn’t trying to kill you. I could have slit your throat if I wanted to, but I didn’t. I just wanted some of your fucking fur.”
“What?”
“Your fur.”
“What? Why?” Now he doesn’t seem mad or anxious. He mostly seems confused, but I’m embarrassed to tell him the rest. I don’t want to tell him about the myth or that I believe it, but I can trust him. I know that.
“Because my very dear friend is sick, Bronx, and the luck of the wolves is what she needs to heal.”
“What did you just say?” He stalks across the room now and stands beside the bed. “Say that again, Madison.”
“The luck of the wolves,” I tell him. “There’s a legend that the wolves are lucky.”
“We are.”
“Well, my friend is sick. She’s going to die, Bronx, and the only thing that can save her is magic or a miracle, and I don’t know which is real.”
“Madison,” Bronx suddenly seems very tired. “Can you just be straight with me? What are you talking about? The luck of the wolves? That’s not from our fur, baby.”
“Yes, it is. I read a story. Wolves are inherently lucky, and there’s a potion you can make. You just need a bunch of random household ingredients and a lock of a wolf’s fur.”
“You read this?”
“Yes.”
“Baby, was it in a children’s story?”
“No. Eva gave me the book,” I tell him. “It had all sorts of recipes in it. All sorts of magic.”
“It was fiction, honey.”
“No,” I shake my head. It couldn’t have been. I don’t believe that, and I’m embarrassed. I wish my head didn’t swirl with so many different emotions and feelings every time Bronx came close to me. I wish I could fucking think straight. I can’t with him around, though. I never have been able to.
“Madison, we’re lucky because we can shift. We’re lucky because we have true mates. We’re lucky because it’s almost impossible to kill us, but darling, you can’t make a potion with our fur. I’ve heard of dragon’s blood curing illnesses, but fur, even when used in a potion, can’t do anything. It’s just fur, honey.”
“But my friend…”
Now he raises an eyebrow. “Tell me about your friend.”
“Eva.”
“Okay, tell me about Eva. What’s wrong with her?”
“She’s sick.”
“Has she always been sick? How long have you known her?”
“A long time. She’s always had health problems, but I mean, they’re way worse now. No one really knows what’s wrong. The doctors say she’s dying and there’s nothing they can do.”
“And she’s the one that used that phrase?”
“What phrase?”
“’Luck of the wolves’?”
“Yeah.”
“Is she human?”
“What? Of course she’s human.”
“Maybe not,” Bronx says thoughtfully. “I’ve heard that phrase before, but only at mating ceremonies, births, and funerals. It’s part of a blessing wolves give.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that if your friend knows this phrase, it’s probably because she’s either a shifter or has spent time around them before.”
“But she hasn’t,” I insist. “I would know. We’ve been friends for years and years. She practically raised me. If she’d been around shifters, I would have known.”
“You’ve been around her for years, and she’s never even sort-of acted like a shifter?”
“What do you mean?”
“Shifters have certain tendencies, love. Did Eva ever do anything that just seemed kind of…strange…for a human to do?”
A million scenarios run through my head.
Times when she said things I didn’t understand.
Times when she did weird little things I thought were just nervous tics.
Times when she randomly knew information about the forest that didn’t seem possible to know.
“Yes,” I whisper.
“Love, she’s a shifter. What are her symptoms?”
I give him a list. She’s weak and frail and tired all of the time. She can barely move anymore. She’s forgetful. She’s almost impossible to have a complete conversation with.
“Madison, it sounds like she’s a shifter who stopped shifting.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean you don’t need a magic potion to save your friend, baby. You need wolves, and I’ve got wolves. Take me to your friend, Madison. We’re going to fucking save her.”