Archer takes over the narrative. “It turns out, Sable’s uncle isn’t really her blood relative. He somehow convinced or forced a witch and a shifter to mate, and Sable was the result.”
“Holy shit. So you really are half wolf, half witch. That’s crazy,” Amora says, shaking her head in amazement. “Did he say why he did it? Why he wanted to create you?”
I open my mouth and then immediately close it. Should I tell Amora he meant me to be a weapon against the shifters?
But Ridge cuts in before I have to make that choice. “We aren’t certain, though I’m fucking sure it wasn’t for anything good. He attacked us again, trying to break free, and was killed in the fight before we could get more information.”
That’s not a lie, really. It stands to reason any witch who experimented with a half-shifter, half-witch baby wasn’t doing it for benevolent reasons. But the way Ridge glossed over the truth sends a pang through me. Does he have the same worries I do? About my witch having a mind of her own?
What if I really am the enemy?
Archer speaks up. “He did mention that there’s someone out there who might cause problems for Sable, should she find her. I’m assuming he was talking about another witch, someone he might have worked with or known previously. He didn’t seem to be part of a coven, but that doesn’t mean he’s always been on his own.”
“Damn,” Amora says quietly, then reaches out to take my hand. “That’s some heavy shit, girl. But don’t feel bad or feel alone, and definitely don’t try to shoulder this burden alone, okay? You’ve got four strapping men at your back. And me too.”
I squeeze her fingers and give her my best smile, which is kind of a lame one at this point. Despite my worries, I’m thankful to Amora. She’s the first true female friend I’ve ever had, and the easy way she shows affection makes up for my own awkwardness. Plus, her confident, no-nonsense presence is a nice balance to all the testosterone.
We discuss things for a while longer as we finish our drinks, but there aren’t any more answers to be wrung out from the night’s events. Eventually, Amora stands and stretches, then carries her empty glass to the sink.
“I’ll do whatever I can to help you get the packs on board with the situation,” she says as Ridge and I walk her to the door. “Just say the word.”
“I appreciate that.” Ridge dips his chin in a nod.
“Me too. Truly,” I add, swaying on my feet slightly. It’s a little from the whiskey, and a lot from the exhaustion.
Ridge notices the movement and slips his arm around my waist. “Amora, I’ll talk to you tomorrow, yeah?”
“You got it.” Amora kisses my cheek and then disappears into the night.
He bolts the door behind her, then turns and sweeps me up into his arms in a fireman’s carry. “Come on, little wolf. You’re dead on your feet.”
I lay my head on his shoulder and close my eyes, breathing in his intoxicating scent. We’re joined at the bedroom door by the rest of my mates, and then as one, we crawl into Ridge’s bed without even discussing our sleeping arrangements.
There’s nothing to discuss. I’m sure they feel exactly as I do—that sleep won’t come unless I can feel all four of them touching me.
Ridge curls around my back, and Trystan slides in on the other side, his face resting against my stomach. Dare spoons up behind him, and he presses his forehead to mine, passing out almost instantly, while Archer curls up against my legs. It’s a strange sort of arrangement, and it reminds me of the way we might all sleep together in wolf form, bodies all curled around each other’s in a messy pile. But it’s perfect.
Cocooned in the safety and warmth of my mates, I finally sleep.
3
Ridge
I open my eyes to the thick darkness of night, but I can sense the sun over the horizon. My wolf recognizes that electrified feeling in the air that means the start of a new day is just around the corner. In the past, if I woke up this early, I might shift and race into the wilderness, relishing the air in my lungs and the power in my legs. I might watch the sun rise over the mountains, taking in the beauty of the Montana wilderness around me.
But getting out of bed now would mean leaving Sable.
She’s lying on my arm, her golden hair spread over my skin and her breathing deep and even. Her face is turned a little away from me, so I roll slowly onto my side to get a better view of her, pausing as I catch Archer’s shoulder with my knee. But he only sighs in his sleep and rests his head against Sable’s bare legs without waking up.
Glad he can fucking sleep, I think, brushing Sable’s hair away from her face so I can see the long, pale line of her neck.
Her head is lolled back over my arm, putting her heart-shaped jawline on display. I have the strong urge to press my lips to the space beneath her ear—to trail my tongue down her throat, over the shallow valleys and curves of her collarbones, all the way to the soft mounds of her breasts, until she wakes up. But I do none of those things, against the better judgment of my cock, which stirs between my legs.
Instead, I just watch her sleep.
I haven’t been able to do anything but doze off and on throughout the night; my mind keeps churning over everything that’s happened. First, my brother challenging me to a duel for the alpha. Then Sable’s witch magic causing a near riot among my pack. Even our trip to her hometown didn’t give us any good answers.
I’m glad that monster is dead though. Her “uncle.” Tearing into that man’s carotid was the best decision Trystan ever made.
And he’s clearly not losing any sleep over it either. His face is resting against Sable’s hip, and his legs are tangled in Archer’s. Dare’s arm is across Sable’s waist, and his fingers are resting against me, so that we’re all touching, forming a circle around our mate.
It’s a tight fit, all five of us in this bed, but it feels right. I don’t mind Dare’s hand on me, and I don’t mind the way Archer is sandwiched between me and Sable. Not that I ever thought I’d be sharing a bed with three other men, but with Sable at the center, it makes sense. The mate bond declares that we all belong with her, which means we all belong together, come what may. The other men and I aren’t bonded like mates to each other—not like we are to Sable—but it’s a bond, nonetheless.
We’re a unit.
A family, really.
Not gonna lie—I’m all right replacing my piece of shit brother with these guys. The few weeks we’ve spent together have made me come to like them as people, more than I ever did before. Even before Lawson fucked me over, Dare, Trystan, and Archer had started to feel like my brothers. Real brothers, the kind that have each other’s backs.
Strange fucking feeling, man.
Sable mutters in her sleep, and I look down at her as she turns her head and nuzzles into my arm. I smile and fight the urge to touch her face, but the grin falls quickly from my face when blackness crawls across her skin.
My pulse jumps, and I almost pull away. It takes every last bit of my willpower to remain where I am, my arm still tucked beneath her face as that magic snakes over her pale flesh.
Those little signs of the witch inside her almost repulse me, and I know it’s because I’ve been programmed to hate witches. But this isn’t just any witch. This is Sable. My mate. So I shove aside the discomfort and reach out to rub my hand up and down her arm. Slowly. Tenderly, as if I’m attempting to soothe the witch away. Still lost in sleep, she mutters something else under her breath. I can’t make out the words, but eventually the black magic fades.