Page 60 of Burdened Bonds
I’m panting. My head aching. My vision spinning.
I squint my eyes and peer at Winnie.
“Are you okay?” I ask her. She’s slumped in the chair, her brow sweaty, her skin green-tinged.
“Not my best, but I’ll live.” She eyes me. “You didn’t go snooping in there did you?”
“Miss Wence,” I say, laying my hand over my heart. “You have my word.” To be honest, I have no desire to admit towhat I glanced. Nope not going there at all. Winnie Wence is far kinkier than I’d given her credit for.
Winnie massages her temples. “Did you get it down?” she asks Azlan.
“Yeah, I got it,” he says, reading through what he’s written.
“So,” I say. “Does it seem like something we could do?”
“I don’t know. How good are you at brewing a potion?” Azlan asks. “Because I could never do that shit.”
I frown. It’s not exactly my forte either. Who wanted to waste time slaving over a simmering cauldron at the academy when there were far more exciting forms of magic to learn? In fact, it was barely taught.
“Not great,” I admit.
“Well, you’re lucky I tagged along then, aren’t you?” Winnie says, holding her hand out to Azlan. “Because my grandma can brew a wicked potion and she taught me everything she knows.”
Azlan passes her the slip of paper and she scans her gaze down the scribbled words, a little frown that worries me forming between her brows.
“Ahhh,” she says.
“Ahhh?” I repeat. “What the hell does that mean?”
Winnie peers up at me with her don’t-get-fresh-with-me expression. “It means this is one tricky potion. In fact, it’s not the kind of potion a person can brew alone. I guess it’s not surprising – we’re messing with ancient magic here.”
“We can help,” Azlan says sternly.
“Ahhh,” Winnie says again, “no offense but it needs more experienced hands.”
Azlan frowns and peers down at his hands. “My hands are experienced.”
“Oh I’m sure they are,” she mutters under her breath. “We need someone who knows what they’re doing. My grandma.”
“Your grandma?” I say, scratching my fingers through my beard. “Winnie, every moment away from Rhi is like hell. Every moment Barone could be–”
“Stone,” she says, “I know. But this isn’t something we can afford to mess up. This is ancient magic we’re talking about, the fated mate bond. I’m pretty good at brewing potions but this is beyond my capabilities and I’m not prepared to brew something that ends up damaging Rhi,” she tilts her head, “and the two of you,” she adds reluctantly. “My grandma can do this. We can leave in the car right now. Sure, it’ll take us a little longer but it’ll be worth it.”
I scratch my beard some more and peer over at my friend. “What do you think?”
“I think we don’t have a lot of choices.”
25
Spencer
The beast pullsme into consciousness. There’s someone else in the cell. Not a guard. Not Christopher Kennedy. This man’s scent is strong and wolfish.
Another werebeast.
I know it before I drag my eyelids open and through my blurry vision, see the other man chained to the wall opposite me.
His skin is brown, although not as dark as mine, his tangled hair almost black. It hangs in a matted curtain over his face, his head dropped forward so I can’t see his features at all. However, it’s clear he’s older than me by ten, fifteen years at least. He’s unconscious, his ragged clothes soaked in blood, his feet bare and cut to smithereens, his left arm broken.
