Page 20 of Whisker me Away
Freya leaned closer, translating the archaic text with growing unease. The words painted a picture of magic so dark and binding that she understood why her grandmother had hidden the truth. The original spell hadn't just required Celeste's life force. It had required her to bind her descendants to the same fate, generation after generation.
"The binding must be renewed every three generations," she read aloud, her voice growing steadier as she focused on the academic aspects. "But the ritual details..." She frowned, flippingthrough pages that seemed to blur and shift under her gaze. "They're incomplete. Deliberately obscured."
"Protection spells," Lucien confirmed. "The knowledge reveals itself only when truly needed, and only to those willing to pay the price."
"What price?"
"The same one your ancestor paid. The same one every guardian before you has paid." Lucien's finger traced a passage that made Freya's magic recoil. "Joining with strength. Marking of mates. The binding requires two hearts, two souls, two sources of power working in perfect harmony."
"Mates?" Freya's voice came out strangled. "The ritual requires a mated pair?"
"Not just any pair. The guardian and their fated mate, bound by magic deeper than choice or logic." Lucien's smile was sharp as a blade. "Tell me, Miss Bloom, have you found yours yet?"
Before Freya could answer, the bookstore door chimed. She looked up to see Kieran entering with that predatory grace that made her pulse stutter. The awareness that shot between them was so intense she wondered if everyone in Hollow Oak could feel it.
"Kieran," she said, her voice slightly breathless. "What are you doing here?"
"Looking for you." His gaze flicked to the open book, then to Lucien's knowing expression. "The council asked me to check on your research. Find what you were looking for?"
"More than I wanted to," Freya muttered, closing the ancient text. "Thank you, Lucien. This has been... illuminating."
"Knowledge often is." Lucien's green eyes danced with amusement as he returned the book to its locked case. "Give my regards to your research partner, Miss Bloom. I have a feeling he'll be more involved in your family's legacy than either of you realizes."
The cryptic comment followed them out of the bookstore into the cooling September evening. Freya walked beside Kieran in charged silence, her mind spinning with the implications of what she'd learned. A mated pair. Fated mates. The binding spell required something she wasn't sure she could give, even if she found someone willing to share the burden.
"You're thinking so loud I can practically hear it," Kieran said as they passed the town square. "Want to talk about whatever Lucien told you?"
"Not particularly." Freya pulled her sweater tighter around herself, trying to ward off both the evening chill and the way Kieran's presence made her skin hum with awareness. "Just more impossible magical requirements I'm supposed to somehow fulfill."
"Try me anyway."
She almost told him. Almost explained about fated mates and willing sacrifice and the terror growing in her chest that she might have to choose between saving Hollow Oak and destroying her own life. But suddenly, the wind shifted.
It came from the direction of the corrupted farmlands, carrying with it the acrid scent of dying magic and something else. Something that made her magical senses scream danger.
"Kieran," she started.
"I smell it too." His voice went hard as steel. "Corruption spores. Get behind me."
But the wind was too fast, too widespread. Freya caught a glimpse of dark particles swirling through the air like malevolent snow before Kieran moved. One moment she was standing beside him on the sidewalk, the next she found herself pinned against the bookstore's brick wall with his body shielding her from the toxic air.
"Don't breathe," he ordered, his chest pressed against hers as he used his bulk to create a pocket of clean air around her. "Not until it passes."
Freya's world narrowed to the heat of Kieran's body against hers, the solid strength of his arms braced on either side of her head, the way he stared over her shoulder at the swirling corruption. She could feel every hard line of muscle where he pressed against her, could see the gold and green flecks in his eyes when he looked down to check on her.
"You okay?" he asked, his voice rough with concern.
"Fine," she managed, though nothing about this situation felt fine. The way he looked at her mouth when she spoke, the intensity in his gaze that spoke of hunger and want and things she was afraid to name, made her realize she'd been lying to herself about her feelings.
This wasn't just attraction. This wasn't just the adrenaline of shared danger. This was recognition, deep and primal and utterly terrifying in its certainty.
"Freya." Kieran's voice dropped to a whisper, his head dipping closer to hers. "We should talk about what's happening between us."
"Nothing's happening." The denial came out automatically, even as her body betrayed her by leaning into his warmth. "We're working together. That's all."
"Is it?" His thumb traced the line of her cheek, and she realized she was trembling. "Because it feels like a hell of a lot more than professional consultation."
The corruption spores finally passed, leaving the air clean but charged with tension. Kieran should have stepped back, should have given her space to breathe and think. Instead, he stayed exactly where he was, his amber eyes dark with something that made her heart race.
