Page 46 of Possessive Mate

Hanson did not question how she knew of their arrival. He knew better than to question sorceresses at all.

Instead, he rushed inside and gently eased Elena off his back onto the floor.

The witch crouched beside them immediately, her raven hair falling like curtains around her pale face until she swept it back behind her ear.

“What happened, wolf?”

Shaking off his wolf form, Hanson hovered over Elena, stroking her cheek.

“She was attacked by a rival pack,” Hanson said. “You must help her.”

The witch raised a brow. “Must?” she grumbled. “If nature allows, I shall.”

Hanson cringed. He hated witches and their determination to believe that nature and fate were entwined, that nothing could be changed unless it was the will of their beloved nature Gods and Goddesses.

Yet, he was stunned into silence when the witch placed her hand on Elena's stomach.

What is she doing? Hanson thought, a warning growl erupting in his throat.

“Fear not, wolf. I have no quarrel with this pup,” the witch announced, stroking Elena's stomach gently. Hanson watched in astonishment as her fingertips began to glow, her eyes closing in concentration.

“P…pup?” he stammered. That was as much confirmation as he needed. “Is…is it…okay?”

The woman opened one eye and smirked at him. “Strong.”

She didn't speak again as she added a second hand over Elena's stomach. She started to move them up and down, all over Elena's body.

Then, finally, the glowing in her fingertips stopped. She opened both eyes and ordered, “Help me get her onto the bed in the back room.”

Chapter 22 - Elena

The stench that hit Elena’s nostrils as consciousness returned to her made her want to retch. Herby, floral and overpowering, it was impossible to pick out one scent from another, but there had to be at least one hundred different herbs and flowers. It made it nearly impossible to smell anything else.

How anyone could have so many scents all in one room baffled her. She blinked open her eyes, relieved at least that the room was dimly lit by candles.

The scents, the candles, the smokiness of the air, all pointed to one thing. She was in the healer’s store—the one where Layla sold much of her produce now—and by the lack of windows, she guessed it was the back room.

As the world returned to her, so did her mind and her memory. She panicked, remembering the attack and how painful it had been. The way the wolves had torn at her as she had desperately tried to fight them off. They’d gone from wanting to take her to Christopher to willing to kill her for fighting back in an instant. She didn’t regret her actions—at least, not for herself.

Her hands flew to her stomach, the panic growing. “Oh no, please, no!”

She felt oddly hollow, empty, lifeless. She recognized that feeling all too well. She had felt it the last time she lost her baby. Tears started to well in her eyes, but before they could fall, hands grabbed hers.

“Elena, be calm. Everything is alright.”

Hanson’s voice was calm, affectionate, reassuring, but it did very little to help her panic.

Instead, she bit at him, “How can you possibly know that?”

She snatched her hands away from his. It was simply too painful to have him touch her. Oversensitive, panicked, vulnerable, she bared her teeth at him. “Get away from me. Don’t tell me everything is alright when clearly it isn’t!”

Hanson’s face fell. He pulled back.

“He’s right,” a gentle voice said from the doorway, and the beaded curtain parted to reveal Layla. The she-wolf looked tired, a little weary, but otherwise unharmed. That was something, at least. “Everything is fine, Elena.”

“How…how can you possibly know that?” Elena asked, her throat constricting. Everyone had told her that before, and she had still been forced to lay her baby on a funeral pyre.

“Violet looked you over herself,” Layla said, moving to stand at the end of the bed. “She’s assured me that both you and the pup are fine. You just need a little TLC to fully recover, and then you’ll be right as rain.”

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