Page 46 of Cursed Bonds: An Alpha's Destiny

“If you do, give me a call. You’ve got my number,” I said as I got into my truck.

It was all I could do not to look in my rearview mirror. Instead, I kept both eyes glued to the road. No matter what I saw in that mirror, it would be bad. Either she would be hurrying inside without giving me a second glance, which would make my wolf—and, all right, a part of me—sad and upset. Or, she would be gazing longingly down the driveway, watching me drive away. That option made my wolf happy, and deep down, the part of me I didn’t want to admit to would have been excited by it as well.

I left it up to my imagination.

I was sure once I got home, I’d be able to put Kirsten to the back of my mind. Unfortunately, the opposite proved to be true. All the way up to the pack run, I thought of nothing but Kirsten. I replayed the events at the cabin over and over in my head, nitpicking every dumb thing I’d said, every mistake I’d made, and everything I could have done better. Worse than that, I did my level best to try to read into Kirsten’s reactions to everything. Had she felt the same connection? Did she notice that weird electric charge whenever we touched? Had the arousal I’d smelled on her been real or wishful thinking?

Wishful thinking? What the fuck was wrong with me? She was a witch. It didn’t matter that she was beautiful or that she hadn’t been the one to curse me. She was still a witch, and I couldn’t look past that.

Could I?

At the pack run, I was called on to speak to our members. I made some sort of speech, everyone cheered and clapped, but I had no idea what the hell I’d even said. At least it was good, apparently.

Kirsten’s face was emblazoned in my mind. Those eyes, the lips, that body.

Waylan must have noticed there was something wrong because he sidled up next to me before everyone shifted. “You good? Seems like your head isn’t in it tonight?”

“I’m fine,” I growled, casting my gaze up at the full moon. “Let’s get going.”

Waylan regarded me strangely. Not like he was offended by my abrupt attitude, but more like he saw through my show of irritation to what I might actually be thinking. That alone pissed me off more than anything.

The pack shifted, a wave of men and women slipping from their human bodies into the lithe and lean forms of wolves. Brown, gray, red, and black, padding silently into the night. I joined them, relishing the freedom and release that came with shifting. The wind rustled in my fur as I ran along with my pack. For several minutes, my mind was gloriously clear, and I lost myself in the scents of the forest, my pack, and the world beyond.

Not long after, the howling started—at the moon, to signal that prey had been spotted, along with playful yaps as friends pounced upon each other. It was everything I’d hoped it would be. The whole pack charged through the forest until we crested a ridge. I stopped to rest, panting, tongue lolling from my mouth. Below the ridge, my eyes latched on a slight orange glow far down in the valley. Crestwood was on the far side of a hill to the east. This was a lone light. A single building. Kirsten’s cabin.

Pulled by some unknowable, inescapable force, I left my pack, padding down the hill toward the house. My fast walk eventually turned into a full sprint until I stood at the edge of the forest in front of the cabin. I could move through the ward now, but then I’d be visible. Instead, I stayed hidden in the undergrowth and tree branches, watching, waiting, hoping to see her again.

Soon, my wish was granted. Kirsten walked past the kitchen window, talking on the phone while munching on a slice of pizza. At the sight of her, my wolf whined and pressed me to go to her. If he’d been in charge, I’d be slamming through her door. It took more effort than I wanted to admit to keep him under control, especially when I was in wolf form.

I was so intent on watching her that I never noticed the scent or sound of the wolf sneaking up on me. Waylan nudged me from behind, and I yelped. I twisted around and snarled at him.

He shifted back to human and squatted down. “I thought you might come this way. Figured our lovely Ms. Holly might have been why your mind was elsewhere. Seems I was right,” he whispered with a knowing grin.

I growled again, but this time, it was at myself. I could only imagine what I looked like, sitting here in the forest at night, staring longingly into a window. Some lovesick kid who didn’t know how to talk to a girl. Pathetic? Maybe, but I couldn’t stop. Something about Kirsten intrigued me. More than just the pull of the fated mate curse. More than her being a late-blooming witch. It was something I couldn’t even describe.

I padded past Waylan, giving him a go-to-hell look as I did.

He laughed, knowing I couldn’t stay mad at him long. He shifted back to his wolf form and joined me as I ran to rejoin the pack. Even then, all I could think about was seeing Kirsten again.

Chapter 13

Kirsten

The cabin seemed smaller every day. Being stuck in its four walls was cozy for a while, but not being able to go into town was driving me mad. After the intense moments with Jace the night before, I’d tried to get my mind off of him and my cabin fever by delving into the books again. I’d spent most of the night trying to find some way to end a century-long curse, but had no luck with anything I’d read.

As I brewed my morning coffee, I had a thought. A way to kill two birds with one stone. If I couldn’t go into Crestwood, and I didn’t feel safe going to Scottsdale, then perhaps another day trip to St. Louis was in order. I could get out of the house, maybe have lunch, and take care of another task: talk to Tinsley again. The kitchen witch had given me a lot of information to start off with, but now I needed her insight into fixing Jace’s curse.

Not wanting to be too rash, I waited until I’d finished my coffee and toast, thinking it over a few times. When I was done, I grabbed my keys and headed for the door. I couldn’t think of anything better to do, and no one better to answer my questions.

Tinsley’s store was busier than the first time I’d visited. At the counter, two women were discussing something with Tinsley. The overhead bell jingled as I stepped in. When she noticed me, her eyes lit up, and she waved at me.

“Hey there. I’ll be with you in a little bit,” she said.

“Take your time,” I said.

While she dealt with her customers, I browsed through the store. The weird sense of being home was even stronger on this visit. Racks of crystals and tarot cards, ancient leatherbound tomes, jeweled daggers, pewter cups, and a huge number of dried herbs and plants all reached out to me, tugging as if an invisible string was attached to my mind. It was strange yet comforting.

The women at the counter each took an armful of tightly wrapped square packages from Tinsley and departed, whispering to each other excitedly. Tinsley joined me in the center of the shop, that same knowing smile on her lips.

---