Page 121 of Cursed Bonds: An Alpha's Destiny

“A little over a year and a half. I was still young, and they were a small pack. I managed to get away one night. I ran. I ran and never looked back. I gave up my old life and headed west. I settled in St. Louis. I never want to go back to that, Mr. Stone. In fact, I opened this shop as part of my cover. If I hide in plain sight as a human practicing Wicca, then people are less likely to think me a real witch. I learned to mask my magic and the scent it causes that shifters can sense. It’s how I stay safe. It’s dangerous being an unclaimed witch.”

“Unclaimed?” Kirsten said.

I glanced at her, the words hitting me like a blow. Kirsten locked eyes with me, and a tremble of our connection bolted through me.

“Yes,” Tinsley went on. “It’s like I told you. Shifters have fated mates, but witches have a parallel connection. We have something called tethers. Our own magical pairing. It can help increase our powers, but the magic within us also reacts to the other person. A tether is supposed to be someone who will protect the witch. This goes back to the days when witches and shifters were inexorably linked. As that relationship eroded, the tethers began to manifest more often in human partners. Regardless, the connection is unbreakable and powerful. It’s something every witch hopes for. For the protection that comes with it, but also to share their life with one who knows them so well. I have yet to find that.”

Kirsten and I were still looking into each other’s eyes, neither of us able to look away. I was her tether—she’d told me as much—and she was my mate. I didn’t want to let go of that. I could only pray she felt the same.

I cleared my throat. “Tinsley, I don’t know you well, but Kirsten vouches for you. Should you ever feel unsafe, I want you to know that Crestwood will be a safe haven for you. For any witch. I can’t fix what happened in the past, but I can start mending fences now. You’ll be safe here, and no one will force you to do anything. I promise you that.”

“Thank you,” Tinsley said, her voice cracking. “Maybe I’ll take you up on that. For now, you need to do your part and keep your own witch safe. Kirsten? Take care of yourself. Hopefully, we can catch up sometime soon.”

“That would be nice,” Kirsten said, then ended the call. She turned to me. “Okay, what the hell is going on?”

I sighed and took a seat beside her. “I headed out around dawn to meet with the council. We inspected the wolf’s body, the one who attacked us yesterday. We brought a new doctor along to give his opinion. He’s positive we were right. The wolf was feral.”

“I heard you all saying that yesterday, but I’m not totally sure what it means,” Kirsten said, frowning. “Movies and TV shows about shifters make ferals out to be, like, werewolves. Bloodthirsty killers and stuff.”

“Not entirely accurate. Hollywood likes to embellish. It’s simply a shifter who’s spent too much time in his wolf form. Very difficult to do. Some do it out of depression after the loss of a loved one or mate. Others are cast out of their packs, and the loss of that structure and family drives them to it.

“Regardless, there’s only two ways Eren could have made it happen. One, he used magic. That’s why I came running. You and Tinsley are the only true witches I know of within a thousand miles of here. I thought Eren had taken her and forced her to do this.”

Kirsten gasped. “Are you serious?”

“It’s what I was afraid of, but Tinsley is safe, and I believed her when she said she hadn’t seen Eren. That means the only other possibility is that he’s forcing wolves to shift and remain in their wolf forms.”

“How can he do that?” Kirsten asked. “Wouldn’t that be difficult?”

“That’s the question. How, and more importantly, why? Ferals are nearly uncontrollable. They’re out of their minds. I’m surprised Tank and Kyro managed to scare off the second wolf. There must have been just enough humanity left deep in its subconscious to give it a glimmer of self-preservation.”

“So basically, Eren is somehow even more of a psycho than we thought?”

“Somehow,” I agreed.

The rest of the day passed with no drama or danger. Waylan and I escorted Kirsten into town to give Harley a quick tour of Crestwood. The entire time, Waylan kept stealing glances at Harley, though by lunchtime, he managed to speak to her without stumbling over every word that came out of his mouth. After eating, we took them to the cabin so Kirsten could pick up a few things she needed. By that evening, I was emotionally exhausted from the last two days and decided to turn in early while Kirsten and Harley sat in the lounge, talking and eating pizza.

My slumber was torn apart like teeth shredding flesh when the screams started. Piercing, panicked calls that swept the dreamless unconscious away and left me fumbling and nearly falling out of bed.

Kirsten.

“No!” she screeched. “No, don’t take me. Don’t take meeeee!” The last word drew out in a gut-wrenching shout.

Abject terror lanced into my heart. Was Eren here? In my fucking house? How? I had men stationed outside to guard it even while we slept.

Nearly tripping over my feet, I sprinted out my door, almost colliding with Harley as she stumbled from her own room, the fear and confusion in her eyes matching my own. Kirsten continued to scream and shout, and I slammed my shoulder into her door, not bothering with the knob. The frame shattered, and the door swung inward.

What I saw filled me with relief but also heart-rending sadness. It was only a nightmare.

Kirsten thrashed about in her sleep. My busting down the door hadn’t woken her. Her blankets and sheets twisted and bunched around her. Her brow was slick with sweat, and she kicked out rhythmically with her left foot. I could almost picture her dream. Running from Eren and his men. I gritted my teeth and went to her.

Harley followed, taking up the spot on her left as I took the right. Harley patted her cheek. “Kirsten,” she said firmly. “Wake up, babe. Come on. You’re sleeping. Wake up. It’s just a dream.”

I took Kirsten’s hand and massaged the muscles in her forearm, trying to bring her around gently. “It’s okay,” I murmured. “We’re here. You’re safe.”

At the sound of my voice, Kirsten’s eyes snapped open. For a moment, she stared at us like we were strangers. Was she still be asleep? If so, did we look like monsters to her? Giant beasts in her room ready to tear her apart?

“Shhh,” I cooed. “It’s fine. It’s fine.” I brushed her sweaty hair from her face.

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