Page 26 of Their Fated Magic

“Did your mother also tell you how she was making us sick?” Rinan asks.

I sigh, feeling even more pressure to get this right. “No, but my gut is telling me that the water is the source of the illness. I won’t know for sure until we get to wherever the truth might reveal itself.”

“You better be right,” Drogo mumbles from the back of our pack.

On the surface, he looks angry, but in his gaze, I see something else. Something new. Could it be that me revealing the truth is making him waiver in his hatred for me? I don’t know, but his words are still those of an asshole.

His eyes meet mine. “Because if you’re lying–”

“Shut the hell up. You know she’s not lying,” Garrick tells him as he brushes past him and walks on the other side of me.

I relax a little in the bear’s presence. Garrick is calming in a way I’ve never experienced before, and he makes me feel protected. He’s the only one out of the four who will really challenge Drogo, even when I can sense that Rinan and Arlys have a problem with his words. It makes me respect Garrick more.

As we continue our journey, I replay what just happened, the looks on all of their faces when I told them about the message from my mother, and I wonder yet again if I should have kept it to myself until everything is solved. I do feel better now that I’ve said something, but I don’t know if I’ve improved anything between the wolves and me, or if it just made things worse.

Sighing, I try to concentrate on the present. I can’t think about my relationship with the wolves too much, or I may just want to throw myself off this mountain for a little peace and quiet. Instead, I need to focus on the path ahead, and the difficult task I have to get right… or else.

THIRTEEN

Tara

All the men are huddled up, talking together, although I can’t hear what they’re saying, and I’m not sure I want to. They must be talking about me. The animated conversation between them is taking a long time to conclude, and none of them look happy.

I almost snort. Who am I kidding? Of course they’re talking about me.

I shift uncomfortably on the rock, feeling uneasy. I don’t want to be included in the conversation or deal with the fallout of whatever they’re talking about. Time to get the hell out of here. I decide I’m going to walk around. Get a little air and a little space.

Run away, maybe.

I stand from the rock I’ve been sitting on and stretch as casually as possible, then head off. The foliage on this mountain is unlike anything I’ve seen before. The greens are deep and the flowers burst with color. This is where I want to be. Not dealing with grumpy shifters who are probably discussing the fact that I’m a dangerous traitor. I pause to inspect a particularly pretty flower.

“Mind if I join you?” Garrick asks.

I jump and whirl around, my heartbeat racing and calming in the span of a minute. “Not at all.”

The truth is, I enjoy his company. He makes me feel free, and not like I’m locked into this forced marriage with men who can’t stand me. More than that, I like him, and I believe that he likes me too.

And that he wants to be with me when all of this is done. Garrick is my future. My freedom. A safe place to land when I’m done saving the shifters. I’m surprisingly excited for that life with him, even if my heart hurts thinking about losing my wolves.

Garrick picks a beautiful purple flower and holds it to his nose, breathing in its aroma. Then he walks towards me and gently puts it in my hair, his hand lingering on my cheek. “A flower for my bride.”

My smile grows wider at his gesture, and I put my hand over his. “No one has ever given me a flower before.”

Ever. No one has even shown any interest in me, friendly or otherwise, outside of the blacksmith back home. I accepted that no one probably would, and that things like flowers, kisses, and romance might be impossible for me to ever experience. His unexpected gesture wakes up something inside of me. Something that longs for more of this.

Garrick’s body goes rigid. “That’s impossible! How can that be?” He steps back and looks at me, like he hasn’t seen me before. “You’re stunning, and the nicest person I’ve ever met. No one has ever appreciated that about you enough to give you a flower?” His soft voice soothes the hurt inside of me, piecing together a fracture I didn’t know was there.

If this beautiful man can see me this way, why was I so lonely?

Before I know what I’m doing, I start to explain. To him, and to myself. “I don’t exactly fit in with the other witches in my coven. I’m the black sheep, so no one has ever thought much of me.”

His expression is one of complete disbelief. “Nonsense. You’re powerful and beautiful. I imagine everyone would flock to you just to be in your presence.”

He doesn’t understand witches. And he doesn’t know me as well as he thinks.

I fumble with my words. “Stop. Please. You don’t have to flatter me. I’ve come to terms with the fact that I’m not beautiful or special in the least bit. I’ve seen beautiful, special women. I used to live with a lot of them, and I know for a fact that I’m not one of them, and that’s okay.” I’m not even close.

As I look away, I can feel the burning intensity of Garrick's gaze on me. Unable to help myself, I glance up at him, and I’m shocked when I can see the pain in his eyes, as if he knows my deepest insecurities and is trying to soothe them with his presence. Which isn’t possible. Is it?

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