Page 45 of Enemy Wolf

“There’s the meadow.” Orson unlinked our fingers to point, and I missed the connection. But then he grabbed my hand again, and the fluttering in my chest returned.

We drove around the edge of the meadow, and I recognized the general shape of the shrubs bordering that side. But something wasn’t right.

When Orson stopped the bike, I didn’t wait for him before hopping off. I went right up the nearest plant and felt dread pooling in my stomach as I examined the branches.

“There’s no flowers,” I said in a stunned whisper. “Where are the flowers? Did they fall off?”

I dropped to my haunches and ran a hand over the ground at the plant’s base. All the leaf litter matched the nearby trees and grass growing, but not the shrub.

“Where are the flowers?” Panic entered my voice as I re-examined the naked, woody shrub. “They didn’t fall, where are they?”

Orson came up next to me and pinched one of the branches before he leaned down to smell it. “Looks like they’ve been eaten. Probably by the elk or mountain goats that live up here.”

“No, no, no. I need the flowers. There won’t be enough.” I went to each plant, examining it one by one. A few still had most of their flowers intact, but it would be nowhere near enough. Some of them had new buds forming, but that wouldn’t help either. I needed to harvest it at the full-grown, mature stage.

“Fuck, what am I gonna do? It’s not enough.”

“Will a new set of flowers grow back?” Bless Orson for trying to be helpful.

I shook my head. “No, not likely. The grimoire said they flower once a season. This is it for them.”

This was the worst possible scenario. Even if I figured out the right proportions to the recipe immediately upon returning home and made a full batch, it needed a week to cure. That would put me right at my end-of-the-month deadline with the dragon shifter.

There was no way I’d meet the deadline now. I was well and truly fucked.

And so was the entire territory.

“Is there anywhere else?” I asked Orson. “Anywhere else on the mountain where these grow?”

“I’m not sure, but we can look.” Not that I could focus on his face much, but he was looking at me strangely. “It’s going to be okay, Shiloh.”

“No.” I shook my head, my vision blurring with tears of my failure, tears for all of the people who wouldn’t be saved. “It’s not. It’s not okay, it was never okay. I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t…”

My panicked muttering was smothered by the lapel of a leather jacket. I was pressed against a warm, hard wall that smelled wonderful. A heavy weight rested on the back of my head while another ran up and down my back.

“Tell me what’s going on, Shiloh,” Orson growled in my ear. “Tell me who’s got you so scared.”

“I can’t—I mean…it’s no one.” My face pressed into the center of Orson’s chest, his heartbeat an insistent pounding against my cheek.

“Little witch, your scent is all fear.” Orson’s hand on the back of my head curled into a fist, trapping some of my hair in his grip. “Let me help you. Let me protect you.”

“You can’t,” I whimpered into his shirt. “There’s nothing you can do.”

The growl rattling out of his chest was one of frustration. “Shiloh, don’t write me off before you give me a chance.”

The weight of that sentence felt heavy, like it carried more than one meaning. I lifted my head to meet his eyes, my exhausted, broken-down soul daring to hope. To find another soul just like it, to not only share this burden with but to shelter with me from the fallout that would surely come.

“What do you mean by that, Orson?” I asked in a whisper.

His fist released my hair, the hand opening to cup my neck and run his thumb along my cheekbone. I leaned into the weight of his hand, the support of it so tender and badly needed that I wanted to cry again.

“You don’t have to fight all your battles alone.” His forehead brushed mine and warm air from his mouth teased my lips. “My teeth and claws are yours, Shiloh. Whoever is scaring you, hurting you, let me be your weapon to annihilate them.”

The strength of my voice was gone, a weak whisper as I said, “I can’t—”

“Please.” Orson cupped my face with both hands now, his thumbs brushing the edges of my lips. “My wolf will never so much as break a hair on your head, but he wants blood, Shiloh. He’s howling at me right now to protect you. And I’m in full agreement with him. We are bound to you, my sweet witch.”

Somehow, despite my heart pounding like a drum and my body taking on a floating sensation at his words, I found my voice.

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