Page 210 of Warlords, Witches & Wolves

He kept his focus on the witch, trying to ignore the fact Ivy still gripped his arm. Warmth shot out from that touch and it was so hard not to lean into it, wrap her in his arms and never let go. He swallowed hard. ‘Do what?’

Mariella shook her head. ‘Not you. Her.’

He looked then and instantly wished he hadn’t. Ivy was staring at where her hand touched his arm, an expression on her face that was pleasure and pain combined. There was a slight glow emanating from where she touched him, remarkably like the glow a healer used when working their magic on a patient. But she wasn’t a healer. She was a maternal wolf, her empathy really only tuned to pick up the needs of the pack as a whole, not the individuals in it. She did not have the powers of a pack healer.

And yet, there was that golden glow as she touched him.

He looked up at her face. Did she look paler than before?

A vision swam through his mind—Ivy on a bed, her face grey as death.

No. No, that couldn’t be right. That was just his fear talking. He’d saved her. She wasn’t going to die. That wasn’t one of the ways he’d seen her die.

Another vision shot through him—Ivy staring up at him, her eyes full of tears and yet smiling, the lines around her eyes and mouth deeper, holding hints of wisdom. ‘It’s twins, my love.’

He jerked as it left him, nerves firing as if he’d had an electric shock.

‘Paul.’ Her voice brought him back.

Blinking, he looked down at where her hand still gripped his arm, the two visions of her overlaid with the reality of her. ‘Ivy?’ he asked slowly. He raised his head—it felt so heavy—to meet her gaze.

Her eyes were vibrantly electric as if lit by power within.

‘What are you doing?’ Mariella’s voice was a slap, pushing the visions away.

‘I’m not doing anything,’ he said, unable to break Ivy’s stare.

‘Yes, you were,’ Ivy whispered. ‘You were fading and I touched you and you stopped.’

‘Fading? I wasn’t fading. I didn’t do anything.’ He managed to drag his gaze away, glancing at Mariella.

‘You did something.’ She tipped her head to the side, a deep furrow marking her brow. ‘There was the strangest feeling of power. It buzzed around you and you began to fade again, just like a shade, but then she touched you and you stopped. Perhaps her healing powers stopped whatever it was from happening.’

‘I am not a healer,’ Ivy whispered, her voice husky.

‘Then how?’

She looked up at the witch. ‘I don’t know. I shouldn’t be able to do this.’

‘And yet you are.’

The water lapped over them and the edges of the spring as Mariella stood and quickly made her way over to them. She held her hand over where Ivy touched Paul. ‘You are right. This is not the kind of energy a healer uses. It’s a bond energy.’

‘The Packbond?’ Paul asked.

She shook her head very slowly, her frown deepening as she closed her eyes. ‘No. It’s something else. Almost as if—’ Her eyes snapped open and she stared at them.

‘What?’ Ivy asked as dread rose inside of Paul.

No. No. She couldn’t know.

‘What did you do?’ Mariella asked him.

‘Nothing,’ he said too quickly.

‘You’ve torn your soul,’ she said as if he hadn’t spoken. ‘Why would you do such a thing?’ She backed up a step, two, her eyes widening with horror.

‘I didn’t. I didn’t do anything to my soul.’

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