*Ryatt*
Ella moves between the canvases in her studio, sunlight dusting over her bare shoulders. She tucks a strand of her lush, dark brown hair behind her ear, revealing her paint-smeared cheek. Tear stains shimmer in the sunlight drifting through the angular windows like little silver pieces of thread that trail down her jaw and neck.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her, again and again. How many years has this been happening now? My nightmares bleeding into her own? I can’t stop it from happening. I’ve tried, trust me. I’ve taken every potion and tonic to put me into a complete stupor to stop my mind from drifting when I finally close my eyes, but that bond we share against our will ignites almost every night, tethering us together across realms.
I watch as she opens a can of black paint. She pulls a vial from her pocket that glistens in the sunlight–pale white with tinges of blue.
“Don’t, please–”
Too late. She empties the vial of her tears into the paint and mixes it well until the contents are the sucking, depthless black she’s been looking for. She only does this when she paints her nightmares. Does she know it brings the paintings to life? She must. She’s been doing this for years, for as long as I’ve been watching her. For as long as I’ve been warning her, telling her to stop. For as long as I’ve been wondering why she mixes her powers in with her paints.
But she can’t hear me. She can’t feel me or sense my presence.
I step forward, but my movements don’t disturb the dust covered floor. I stand beside her as she coats a canvas nearly as tall as herself with the inky black paint. “You have to stop,” I tell her.
She tosses her paintbrush down and picks up a pallet of the darkest reds and purples and begins painting like mad.
“Please, Ella. You can’t do this. You have no idea what you’re creating–”
“I’m sorry for what I said to you on the bluff,” she whispers.
I reel back as she turns to look at me… To look right into my eyes.
“I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean any of it. I don’t know how to process how I feel, Ryatt. I looked for you. I did. And now you’re hurt, and I feel nothing but regret–”
The vision of her studio blurs, my vision going dark at the edges and then flooding again with light, dimmer this time.
I blink, and a room comes into view. A dull ache travels down my body, blooming to life. “Oh, gods,” I groan as I reach up to rub sleep from my eyes. Sitting up, I narrow my eyes as I take in my surroundings.
I’m in a small room made of stone. Faded red curtains gently tremble in a cool breeze coming from a slightly opened window where rain falls beyond, the sky still shrouded in darkness. There’s a woodstove in the corner of the room, the fire burned down to embers. The kettle atop it pops and hisses with steam.
And in a chair next to my bed is Ella, curled into a little ball with her head resting on the arm rest.
Fast asleep.
I lay my bed back against the pillow and let my numb mind unthaw, memories of the last several days starting to tumble forward. The door to the bedroom opens, giving me a glimpse of the rustic living area and kitchen beyond. Granger walks in, pausing in the doorway when he sees that I’m awake, and Ella is in here with me.
Ella doesn’t stir as I ask, “How long have I been out?”
“Three hours. It’s the middle of the night.”
“I need to speak to the Alpha.”
“Thorne filled him in before the healers took over and knocked him out. He’s healing well.” Granger sits on a stool next to the bed as I sit up straighter. “What happened? Where is everyone?”
“Dead,” I say, the word burning like acid on my tongue. All eight of the men, some of whom I’d picked up in Twin Rivers, who’d stayed behind to fight with me had died, save for Thorne, while Granger and four of my men went to see Amanda and Ella to safety. “Thorne and I led my father’s warriors south for two days before we finally got them off our trail and then headed north again.” Pain cuts through my words. What’s left of my powers shudders, flickering out. I’ve never felt so weak. “I need to take Ella home. Her scent is all over my territory now. More warriors will come, and the villages will be defenseless against my father’s armies.”
Home–and I don’t mean back to her family.
Granger straightens, his expression turning grave. “Are you sure about this?”
“It was always the plan.”
My words hang heavy in the air between us. Ella will live as my captive in my city, the one place I’ve been able to ward against my father in full. I never wanted this for her, but her own choices led her here. Her own powers, over which she has little control, put her in this situation and have left me defenseless.
“What about Princess Amanda?” Granger looks down at his hands, which tighten into fists.
I exhale, propping myself up on my elbows as I painfully shift my position. I swing my legs over the bed, trying to stand, but a rush of pain travels through my legs that has me seeing stars for a moment. “She’ll have to come with us as well. My father’s warriors picked up her scent, I’m sure. They’ll come back to my territory to find the fox at his command even if they lose all traces of Ella. Her father won’t have a choice.” I stand, sighing through the pain. “The witches…”
“Sent their hellhounds after the group transporting the maid to the coven. It’s a clear display of aggression.”
“Well,” I say, pulling a shirt that had been laid out on the end of the bed, “they answer to me. If that’s changing, I need to go to the Coven anyway, don’t I?”
“We already have enough problems on our hands right now. Fucking with the Witch Queen shouldn’t be a priority.”
“She answers to me,” I growl, anger lacing every word. “I’ll remind her of that when we arrive–tomorrow.”
“You’re in no shape to travel, let alone shift.”
“We don’t have options right now, Granger. Ready the men to leave at daybreak.”
Granger stands, his eyes giving away his real feelings on the matter despite his emotionless, stone cold expression. He nods and exits the room, leaving the door open. I close it behind him and lock it then begin buttoning my shirt. “I know you’re awake.”
The chair on the other side of the room creaks as Ella lifts her head. I turn to look at her, wearing nothing more than the shirt and boxers. I keep my eyes on hers as I reach for the pants that had also been laid out for me, likely supplied by the villagers and step into them.
“Are you all right?”
“Do you really care?” I ask.
She winces but sits up straight, her eyes lined with dark circles.
“You should have slept somewhere else, in a real bed. It’ll be a while before you have the luxury again.”
She sucks her bottom lip, letting go with a pop. “I’m sorry for what I said–”
“You told me that already.”
“What are you talking about?” She stands, her thick hair falling nearly to her waist. The sight of her so undone has something tightening in my chest, but I shove it away, letting my anger at our situation take hold.
“You dreamt of painting in your studio. I was there, wasn’t I?”
Her face goes pale in confirmation. I chuckle darkly, sitting back down on the edge of the bed to lace up my boots.
“When your maid is safe with the witches, we will go straight home, and you will begin your training. I can’t continue to see inside your mind, Ella. You need to be able to block me, and anyone else who comes searching, out.”
“I have no idea what you’re even talking about,” she snaps. I stand, rounding on her.
“Your parents did you a disservice by not having you trained!”
“Trained in what, exactly?”
I step around the bed, stopping in front of her, the distance between us closing in a single step. “You have no idea what you’ve done, what kind of hell you’ve brought down on your own people, and mine. Those powers roiling through your veins are pure death, Ella. Your mother would have known, would have sensed it. Someone on that island of hers would have sensed it!”
“Well, nobody did,” she says curtly, crossing her arms under her breasts. “I hid it well.”
“Not well enough,” I growl. We’re nearly nose to nose. “You have no idea what you can do, what you’ve already done.”
“Then enlighten me.” Her voice is strangled, like she’s holding back a sob. I don’t let it affect me as she continues, “You seem to know everything about me already. Why not just tell me?”
“No,” I reply.
She purses her lips, her expression pinched and cheeks burning with anger.
“Get dressed. We’re leaving the second the sun rises.”
“For the witches–”
“You heard everything Granger and I said to each other. There’s nothing left to say.”
“Why not just kill me, Ryatt? I’m the center of all of your problems, right? Why not just end my life, and get it over with?” She steps toward me, her hands balled into fists at her sides.
I say nothing as I allow her to approach me.
“Why not reject me?” she continues, her lips pulled back in a sneer. “Why not reject me and put us both out of our misery!?”
“For the same reason you haven’t rejected me yet.” The words are hollow and choked with a feeling I’ve kept buried deep down.
Her eyes widen slightly, then mist over with unshed tears.
“Is that what you want to hear, Princess?”
“I–”
“That this bond between us is strong enough to blur our senses? Don’t let it get to you, Ella. Any feelings you may have toward me are only because of the bond, not because it’s how you actually feel.”
“Ryatt.” She steps forward and grabs my arm just as I turn away from her. “You’re hurt. You shouldn’t be going anywhere right now.”
“Yes, well, I have you and Princess Amanda to thank for that. Remember how I said to not let go of my hand? This was why.”
Her touch burns into my skin, igniting something primal, the same way her scent ropes around me and makes everything I’m dealing with seem trivial. It’s like my wolf is screaming to claim her, my mate. My mate. We’re in a room together, the door closed. We’re touching. Is this not everything I’ve dreamed about since the moment I felt that pull toward her for the first time at the ball?
“Let go of me, Ella.”
Her hand drops to her side. “You blame me for all of this, don’t you? The war with my kingdom, the fact that your father is sending warriors into your territory…. It’s my fault in your mind.”
“It’s my fault,” I clarify with a glance at her over my shoulder. I pull on the leather jacket I normally wear. Someone had mended it, the stitches lopsided and rough, but it holds together as I zip it closed. “I shouldn’t have gone to look for you all those years ago. I thought you were the answer to my problems, Ella. But I was wrong. You just add to them now.”
Her sharp inhale is all I can stand to hear before I yank the door open and step out into the common area of the small cottage I’d been dumped in last night. My chest heaves with a sharp ache as I leave the cottage, stepping out into the cool, damp night air.
I want to rip something in half. I need to fight, to kill, to quell this pain in my heart where the mate bond has an iron grip on me, tethering me to her. I need her to hate me. I need to keep her at arm’s length for as long as I possibly can. I can barely be in her presence without feeling like I’ll lose control. I need to find a way to defeat my father and send her home, back to her family, and far away from me.
“Ryatt, wait,” Ella says somewhere behind me. The tone in her voice gives me pause. When I don’t turn, she continues, “We need to talk through this. I can’t help you, and you can’t help me, until we clear the air.” Crunching wet leaves echo behind me as she slowly walks forward. “Please,” she whispers, laying a hand on my back. “I’m falling apart, and I need you, okay?”