Page 30 of Unbroken

“Let me,” I say, grabbing her hand in mine and pulling her behind me once more as I run us into danger.

We find Sam, butt ass naked, pacing frantically in the middle of the path leading to the Quads. Ty and Trys round the corner almost at the same time, definitely feeling Micah’s distress as Lyrik appears suddenly, stepping out of his purple mist.

“Meus amor. What’s happened?” he asks, glancing between us frantically, with a I can’t leave you all for five fucking minutes before the shit hits the fan look on his face.

“Sam. Where is she?” Micah releases my hand and runs towards him. Sam stops, the eyes of his Wolf stare back at us. He growls, pulling at his hair.

“They took her. They stopped me, I couldn’t get to her,” he growls. “They took her!” he shouts.

“Use your words, Wolf,” Trys says calmly, raising his hands in surrender as he approaches Sam. “Who took our little witch?” he asks.

Sam’s head snaps toward Trys unnaturally and he growls. “Mine!” he shouts possessively.

“Okay, yours. Yes, we know she’s yours. Again. Use. Your. Words.” Trys claps, emphasizing each word.

“Trys, baby, please. He’s aggravated enough,” Micah admonishes as she pleads with my brother to leave the Wolf alone.

“Sure, sunshine, but keep your distance,” Trys says, holding his arm out to stop her from getting any closer.

“Who took her, Sam?” Micah asks, her voice laced with concern, her face pinched in pain as she rubs at her chest.

Sam looks to Micah, mirroring her movement, rubbing at his chest as his knees buckle and he falls to his hands and knees. “The High Priestess. They took her back. They took her,” he says as his growls become deeper and his back arches as he begins to shift.

“Where, Sam. Do you know where?” Micah asks as his limbs break and rearrange slowly. Shifts usually happen instantaneously, but this looks fucking painful as his Wolf forces the transformation on him. He’s lost control.

“Blue Mountains,” he mumbles out before he shifts completely and his Wolf runs away into the Willow woods, howling in sorrow for his Mate.

ChapterSeventeen

ESME

Something wet hits my face. One drop, then two. Three. The pain in my skull ebbs enough to allow me to register rain. Forcing my eyes open, I squint against firelight. How long have I been out? It is still light. Wait. This isn’t a dream or a vision.

I try to remember what happened. Dark gray robes appeared before me on the path, Sam growling and fighting against magic holding him in place. They threatened his life. Go with them or he dies. I had no choice. I screamed as magic slammed into my chest and the world went black. I was so distracted after I left Micah, so plagued with guilt of putting distance between us that I hadn’t noticed them until it was too late. Isadura has me. There’s no escape. I’m trapped.

Lightning strikes across the sky before the thunder booms shortly after. I try to raise my head, but I’m met with resistance. Something presses against my forehead, digging into my skin but there’s no use. I’m bound. Don’t panic, I tell myself over and over again as I take stock of my body. I can’t move, the more I wiggle on this hard slab of stone, the tighter the bindings on my wrists and ankles become. The rain falls faster, soaking into my skin, the cold sinks deep into my bones, making my teeth chatter, sending shivers through my body.

“It is time,” I hear the High Priestess’s voice before she comes into view. The sound that’s been haunting me for weeks. It sends my heart into overdrive. Fear, exhaustion, and anger hit me all at once as her piercing, glowing gray eyes stare down at me with a wicked smile on her face. I startle as she pulls back her hood, her once youthful skin is haggard and wrinkled with heavy bags and dark circles under her eyes. She has become a hideous shell of her former self, a terrifying sight to behold. A crone. What the hell happened to her?

“Esmeralda, you thought you could hide from me, but I’m patient. Oh, so patient. It was only a matter of time, and as soon as you stepped out of the Underworld your power called home.” Her frail fingers stroke my face and all I want to do is turn my head away.

“You don’t like what I’ve become.” She tsks. “Neither do I, but the burden on the High Priestess weighs heavy on my mind, body, and soul. They take so much, yet it is never enough,” she says as she continues to stroke my face, letting her fingers travel down my body. “So much power and you’re not even pure.” She spits the words out in disgust. “Your mother broke all the rules when she gave birth to you and now you continue in her footsteps. But you won’t get to walk away with what is truly mine.”

My eyes widen and she laughs, harsh and hard. “Oh, you thought I would keep you here, beside me, let you take my place eventually? No, you are unworthy, and you don’t deserve the power you possess. I brought you back here to die. It’s the only way. The magic in your veins belongs to the Blue Mountains and I am the High Priestess, so that power is mine. I am going to bleed you dry, Esmeralda. I will drink and bathe in your blood until I am whole again. Until I am rejuvenated by your essence, and I am myself again.” Her eyes sparkle with manic glee as she throws her head back and lifts her arms up into the sky as lightning strikes so close it lights up the area around me enough to see other robed figures standing in a circle around us.

They begin to chant, low and harmonious. I get lost in the calm cadence as they all speak as one. It lulls me into acceptance, that this is my fate. I want to give in. She’s right. I didn’t want this power. But I don’t want to die.

Anima ad animam(Soul to Soul)

Caro carnis meae(Flesh of my flesh)

A sanguine exsuli(From the Blood of the banished)

Infunde me potentia tam iniuste data.(Infuse me with the power so unjustly given)

Servus tuus sum, audi me, deas montium caeruleorum.(I am your servant, hear me, goddesses of the Blue Mountains.)

It’s futile but I buck my hips and try to get free. Anything to loosen the bindings holding me down. The High Priestess holds out her hand as the other Witches around her continue to chant. A shiny glint of silver in the corner of my vision has me straining to see a sharp curved blade with glyphs etched onto the blade.

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