Page 46 of Freed Wolfsbane

BRIAR

“What do you want to do while we wait?” Saint asks as we step out into the chilly January air.

I shiver slightly from the bitter wind whipping through the houses. Saint notices and immediately shrugs off his coat. He wraps it around my shoulders and slings an arm around me to pull me into his side. I bury my nose in his charcoal puffer jacket and inhale his winter berry scent.

Nan said it would take her an hour or two to finish the potion. When we offered to help, she politely but firmly declined. Apparently, we’re more of a hinderance than help. I would be offended if my magic weren’t a temperamental toddler prone to throwing tantrums. I’m not really sure what assistance I can really provide when I’ve never made a potion in my life.

I attempt to shrug, but Saint’s muscular arm slung over my shoulders makes the movement harder than usual. “I don’t really know. Is there any place you wanted to go while we’re back?”

He presses a lingering kiss to the top of my hair. “I wouldn’t mind checking in at the house, if you’re good with that. I should’ve gotten an alert if anything was wrong, but it doesn’t hurt to make sure.”

“I’m good with that.”

“You wanna open the portal, little shadow?” Saint looks down at me with a heart-melting half smile. When we were kids, Saint was always grinning. Now he’s much more somber and serious. I want to be the one who brings back his smile and makes sure it stays on his handsome face.

“Sure,” I reluctantly agree.

I’d rather get shanked with a rusty spoon, swim in a piranha-infested river, or have a Disney-movie-themed sleepover with Ryker than try to wrangle my magic. But if I’m going to fulfill the prophecy, I need to learn how to use my power, sooner rather than later.

Blowing out a breath, I envision a portal forming in front of us. Whereas I usually have to fight and beg and plead with my magic to work, I feel it flowing through me once I picture what I want it to do.

“Holy shit,” Saint mutters.

I snap my eyes open and gape at the perfectly formed portal chilling out in Nan’s yard. It’s surrounded by icy-blue sparks, so I know I created it. But I never said, “aperire,” the focus word for portals. “How? How did I even do that?”

“Maybe it’s your—” Saint breaks off as he looks around at the few people milling about the historic-looking neighborhood. My gaze snags on all the different examples of Gothic Revival architecture before Saint’s palm on my lower back steals my attention. “Let’s talk about it after we go through.”

I nod. He’s right. We probably shouldn’t be discussing my unique magic out in the open in Hawthorne Grove, the headquarters of the North American mage council. The mage council is high on the list of people I hope never find out that I’m a mage-wolf hybrid. They’re a complication I don’t need.

Letting Saint steer me toward the portal, I stare at it apprehensively. This is only the second portal I’ve ever created. What if I did something wrong and it transports us to Antarctica or chops off our heads?

That would be super inconvenient.

Taking a deep breath, I step through the portal. When I emerge in front of Saint’s red-brick colonial home, I have to resist the urge to fist pump because I actually did it. I cast a spell that did exactly what it was supposed to, without me having to fight my magic.

I’m totally on my way to becoming an expert mage. You know, right after I do more than basic spells. But that’s really not the point.

Once Saint steps through, I let the threads of my magic keeping the portal open fade away. It snaps shut with a whoosh.

We make our way to Saint’s garage, our steps crunching over fallen leaves. “So, what were you saying about me casually creating a portal with nothing more than a thought?”

Saint rubs a hand over his neck as he seems lost in thought for a moment. “I was saying that I wonder if your magic works differently because you’re both a mage and a wolf. Although, after what Nan said, I wonder if you’re just more like the type of mages that existed before the council. I’m guessing there aren’t many of them left with the council winning control, though.”

I nod because he’s probably right. With everything else I have to be concerned about, a cool ability to open portals without a focus word isn’t high on my list of problems. If it’s not trying to kill me, I don’t really have time to worry about it.

He keeps one arm around me as he puts in the code to his security keypad. I watch him punch in 1-2-1-3, which seems kind of weak to me. But what do I really know about security?

I glance up at him in surprise when it dawns on me why he chose those particular numbers. “Has my birthday always been your security code?”

The garage door squeals as it rises, and his full lips tilt up in a small but genuine smile. “Yep. It’s my phone passcode, too. I use your birthday for pretty much everything that requires a PIN.”

We walk past his collection of bikes, a few muscle cars, and a Land Cruiser before we reach the worn steps that lead into his house.

“That doesn’t seem super secure,” I mumble as a warm fuzzy feeling invades my chest. The man didn’t see me for fourteen years, yet he still used my birthday as his password for everything. Even when I felt so alone all those years with Patrick, Saint was here thinking about me every time he unlocked his phone or went into his house.

He snorts. “Well, it’s a good thing this isn’t the only security measure on my house. Far from it. You don’t have to worry about me, little shadow.”

Pushing open the door, we walk into his clean but welcoming mudroom. I sit on the blue-and-white-checked bench cushion as I untie my boots. Saint does the same and slides both of our pairs of boots into a cubby underneath the bench.

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