Page 13 of The Wolf and the Witch

Pale skin created a delightful contrast against his bronze one. He was an animal at heart and spent most of his free time outside and it showed in the color of his skin. Loathed to disturb his sleeping mate, he inhaled her sweet scent some more.

The sun’s glare reminded him of his approaching 24 hour deadline. They needed to begin the trek to Lake Placid, or get within 10 miles of it so he could contact Gunter for a pickup.

Ryker remained oddly silent, a quiet hum in the back of his mind, content to gaze down at their mate through his eyes. He didn’t want to think too hard on the implications of having a human mate who lacked a wolf to bond with Ryker. Through their connection, the beast didn’t appear to mind. Pure content flooded them. He shuddered, thanking Selene again for a second chance.

A wolf’s howl shattered the moment, turning the blood in his veins into glass shards, shredding his moment of peace. Greta bolted awake in his arms, tangled hair swinging around her face like a dark halo. Tension bracketed pert lips and her fingers furled into claws, gripping the fabric of her gown tight enough to whiten the knuckles.

Straddling his hips, she glared down at him with murderous intent. “Did you bring them here?” she demanded, fingers twitching as if she wanted to strangle him. “Was this a trap?—”

He surged forward, quickly switching their positions, trapping her beneath him. He shone red eyes down at her, letting her see the animal in his gaze. “Quiet, witch,” he hissed, anger boiling at her blatant distrust.

“I’ll deal with the threat and do another perimeter check before doubling back. Gather whatever you need and be ready to go when I return.” He lept off her without waiting for a comment.

“Absolutely not!” she snapped. He turned back to her, face partially shifting. Claws ripped through his skin and his mouth stretched, making room for more teeth. Saucer-like eyes gazed at him in shock. A defiant expression replaced the shock within moments.

“I can help.”

“You don’t have claws or sharp teeth to shred flesh.” He wasn’t letting his mate fall back into the hands of the king when he’d just found her. The king would take no one else from him if he had anything to say about it.

A pretty scowl twisted Greta’s lips. “You don’t tell me what to do, wolf,” she snapped out. Her nostrils flared with an exasperated breath. “I said I can help. Let me. Don’t let your pride get us both killed.” Her words struck like an arrow in his heart. Angel had been a Beta. She’d never had to “protect” him. As an Alpha, it was his job to protect his mate, not the other way around. But determination lined Greta’s face. She would defend herself if he liked it or not, putting her in harm’s way. He and Ryker would lose their mind if they lost another mate.

“Fine,” he gritted out between clenched teeth. A triumphant smile curved her lips, but he planned on replacing it with a frown. “But you do as I say. Follow my lead, or stay here.” As expected, she scowled at him, made all the cuter because bed head continued haloing her cherubic face.

She gave him a reluctant nod. Satisfied, Geralt continued his path to the door. He paused outside, breathing in the morning air. Death still tainted it. He trusted Greta’s assurance of safety. It was the area outside of her barrier that concerned him. Howling grew louder and closer. His muscles tightened in anticipation. Bloodlust and rage raced through his veins. They would protect their mate and bath themselves in the blood of their enemies.

He approached the edge of the barrier. Tingles erupted along his skin where he assumed he stood on the edge of its protective embrace. Magick, he thought. It was something absent and foreign in his pack. But he recognized the divinity in it. Witches worshipped Hecate, the goddess responsible for the curse on Lycan kind. A witch cursed the first Lycan with her Goddess’ blessing. Only Selene had mercy on the creature and he worshiped her with every fiber of his being, starting a tradition among wolf-kin. Witches and Lycans had been at war ever since, even if witches sometimes forgot the misery they wrought with their curse.

Waiting on the edge of the barrier, body tensed and ears tuned to the howling, Geralt attempted gauging their location. Some wolves could howl in quick succession, changing the pitch with each one, making it seem like they’re coming from every direction. It was a herding tactic, shepherding prey into a desired location. The door at his back eased open, and he fought a full-body shudder as Greta’s scent wafted to him on a breeze.

He turned and frowned down at the vials of black liquid in her hands. She’d also fashioned a portion of her blanket into an over the shoulder pouch. The weathered pages of her grimoire poked over the edge and the material bulged from more vials pressed against the large book. Grim-faced and standing tall, bare feet pressed into the dirt, she reminded of him a soldier going into battle. He supposed he couldn’t begrudge her weaponizing her magick. The Lycans hunting her wouldn’t hesitate to rip her throat out and present it to the king if they couldn’t bring her in alive.

The thought of any harm befalling her had Ryker pressing against his skin, snarling for a way out. Pressure within his body felt tight, readying for implosion. He knew he’d give the reins to Ryker before too long. Wariness shifted into Greta’s gaze, her blue eyes roaming around his bulkier frame. More gray fur sprouted over his body and his nose tingled, a warning they were close to shifting into their Lycan skin, stretching his nose into a wolf’s muzzle.

He dropped to hands and knees, reaching internally for his wolf skin, knowing it would frighten his mate less. Bones snapped, and he gritted his teeth against his body breaking apart and reforming into a four-legged form. Greta watched it all wide-eyed. His lips stretched into a grin, baring sharp teeth. He knew he was about to show his hand regarding her being his mate since the only way he could communicate with her was through the matebond.

Climb on, he sent through the phantom bond. Until she accepted them into her body and heart, the bond would remain flimsy, fading with each day they delayed solidifying it. Greta gasped, stepping away from them. Fear tainted her scent and the howling suspiciously dwindled in frequency and volume. The enemy was closing in. He didn’t have the luxury of easing her into accepting something as small as a mental connection.

Greta, get on my back or stay here. Anger, suspicion and fear flickered in her eyes, creating a vicious display of cycling emotions. Finally, she gave him a determined nod, but he felt the bond shimmer, threatening to snuff out of existence. You will cost us mate, Ryker berated him. He ignored the beast. Until they put time into seducing her, Greta would fear them no matter what they did, Geralt knew this. His eyes hadn’t missed the healed scars encircling her neck. He warned Ryker last night that Greta wouldn’t accept them easily.

Once Greta settled on their back, clenching her thighs tight for purchase, Geralt ceded control to Ryker. As they raced away from the cabin, scenting the woods for their prey, Geralt settled in as a passenger in his own body.

Wind and trees whipped past them as Geralt’s paws pounded into the earth, jostling Greta. She tightened her grip in his fur. Her heart galloped miles ahead of her body. Fear and apprehension tightened her limbs. She told herself the wind stinging her eyes caused them to tear up. She thought she’d found a sanctuary, but too soon it was being ripped from her.

Powerful muscles contracted and released beneath her. Her world tilted on its axis for the second time in her life. She closed her eyes, nausea swimming in her gut. Her mother’s phantom screams haunted her ears. She forced her eyes back open in a panic, needing the blurring scenery as a reminder of the present.

Greta. She shuddered, blinking away tears and shoving aside the voice in her head. The Lycan had some explaining to do. But, first, they needed to survive the hunters stalking them.

Her Lycan slowed down, ears twitching in every direction. She had the absurd urge to flick them, to test their responsiveness. She pushed it aside and tried calming her breathing, heart still pounding in her chest. A low growl rumbled from the beast between her legs. She tensed, glancing around for the threat. The morning light reflected off a blur to her right, barely disturbing the ground.

She panted and tightened her grip on the vials in her hand. Fear and adrenaline raced through her veins. Silence and death stalked the woods. The hairs on her skin raised, an internal warning, not that she needed it. She shifted forward, a scream trapped in her throat. Geralt’s body moved in waves beneath her, bones snapping, disturbing the deathly silent woods.

Instinctively, she rolled to her right, landing near the Lycan changing before her eyes. Four legs gave way to two, muscles expanded and fingers lengthened into talons. Dread stole her breath. She’d heard rumors of some Lycans being able to shift into a third form, one capable of unspeakable damage, a conglomeration of man and beast. Geralt towered over her, breathing heavily. He’d grown at least two feet taller and he was a head taller than her before his transformation.

His lupine eyes scanned the area they’d paused in, nose sniffing the air. A wolf’s muzzle opened, letting out a voice that was a cross between man and animal. It held an echo, sending shivers down her spine.

“You want her, come get her. But, you’ll die before you touch her.” Geralt’s gaze locked on something behind her. She crawled closer to him and he lowered into a protective crouch. Her eyes scanned the trees before landing on glowing red eyes, a brown coat almost blending with the bark of the trees it stood between. She eyed the distance between them.

Biting her lip and mentally saying “fuck it,” she jerked forward and threw one potion near the brown Lycan. Upon shattering, decay spread where the liquid landed. A pained howl tore from the beast and he raced toward them, murder hardening the eyes locked on her. Geralt roared, running forward to intercept their attacker.

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