Page 118 of A Wolf in the Garden

Lylia pats Ellie’s hand. “That’s where I come in. We’ll get you up to speed.Tomorrow. First, we have to make sure you’re safe.”

Both women fall silent for a moment. I take the opportunity to pour everyone a glass of wine, something I should have done at the start. I hold a glass of sauvignon blanc out to Lylia, pausing as she hesitates. “Or is it not a good idea, right before a spell?”

She shakes her head. “It’s fine. I’m still just as much werewolf as you; I won’t even feel a glass, and there’s hours to go before we cast.”

We each sip quietly as the wind picks up pace, whitecaps beginning to form out in the ocean.

“Have you always lived by the sea?” Lylia asks Ellie suddenly.

Ellie’s eyes grow moist, longing, deep sadness, and grief hitting me in the chest.Hergrief. “Not always. I grew up in a beach town, only one street back from the beach, but I had to… I had to move away, years ago, when I came to Auckland for study. I’ve missed hearing the waves at night.”

“But you can hear them here?”

Ellie nods, tears overflowing. “I can. For the first time in nine years. But… what happened the other night with the Unseelie that tried to take me…” Her face screws up in anger as more tears run down her cheeks. “I don’t want to give them the satisfaction of making me fear something that I love. Because I love the ocean, and I love the beach, and I lovethatbeach down there, but I’m so afraid that maybe they’ve ruined that for me.”

“They haven’t,” Lylia says decisively. “We won’t give them the satisfaction of that. That decides it, doesn’t it? We will go to the beach to perform this spell. You can take that power back from them. I will help you to do so, and trust me, you’ll know in your heart when it is done. You’ll feel the difference.”

“Okay,” Ellie agrees, wiping at her eyes as I stare out at the approaching storm.

* * *

The sound of the waves is deafening as they crash heavily against the shore below, sending saltwater flying into the wind, the smell of seaweed and ocean filling my nose from the moment we step out the door. Ellie’s hair whips about in all directions, calming only briefly while we trudge down the track to the beach, the forest canopy above a momentary protection from the brewing storm.

“I can’t believe the weather turned so quickly!” Mom says as gravel crunches beneath our feet, and I know she’s just making small talk to help distract Ellie. I’m getting a constant stream of anxiety through the bond, and I squeeze Ellie’s hand, giving her a reassuring smile when she turns those big doe eyes up in my direction.

“It’s going to be okay,” I tell her. She nods wordlessly, her mouth tight, and I recognise that look of grim determination on her face. She’s always been brave, always been willing to try something new, and today is no different.

We can’t see the sunset behind the thick grey clouds that have rolled over, and it’s already darker than usual. It doesn’t affect my vision at all, but I keep a tight hold on Ellie’s hand as we cross the grass clearing at the base of the track, and I guide her as she navigates the rocks that lead down to the sand, lest she slip. She flashes me a grateful smile for a moment before her hair flies in her face once more, her lips blowing raspberries in an attempt to clear it all. “I should have brought a hair tie!” she yells above the wind as I reach out, gathering her hair together, giving her momentary relief.

Lylia, now glamour-free, walks ahead of us, stopping only when the water rushes over her ankles with each huge wave. With ice-blonde hair, glowing green eyes, tall wooden antlers that continuously grow and drop blossoms, long pointed ears that are far more pronounced than Ellie’s, and pale blue skin that bleeds to a dark navy colour at her claw-tipped fingers, she looks nothing like she did before.

She looks just like the fae I saw under the full moon, the nightmares come to life to take my mate, and it’s been an effort to keep my wolves calm in the face of her true form.

Ellie and I linger above the waterline while my parents, Seth, Maeve, Kaito, and Nerilina all wait on the grass bank, a hodgepodge crowd of supporters, the irony being that none of them are from our pack. It doesn’t matter; all that matters is protecting Ellie, and as Lylia gestures for Ellie to join her, I pull her flush against me, pushing her hair back from her face once more. “You can do this,” I tell her. “You’ve got this. You are amazing. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

She’s trembling as I kiss her, and it’s hard to let her go, to know I can’t help her here, that this is something she must do on her own. It’s not just any old spell; it’s a permanent change to her body, setting a portion of her magic reserves aside to be used perpetually for the rest of her life. I know this is how the universal glamour used to be maintained, each person with enough magical reserves contributing to that huge spell that had existed for thousands of years, but it still worries me.

Lightning forks overhead, lighting up the sky as Ellie reaches Lylia. They grip each other’s forearms, and Ellie lets her magic free, her antlers appearing, a mirror set to the fae woman in front of her. Her eyes are a luminous green as the rain begins to fall in heavy drops, a few landing first in a brief warning, dotting the sand and leaving miniature craters in their wake. Another flash of lightning and the echoing thunder heralds the start of the downpour, and within moments my clothing is soaked through.

Ellie doesn’t seem to notice. The water that runs over her feet pulls at the skirt of her dress, glowing where it touches her. I feel the magic rise within her, feel her tug at my magic for a moment before Lylia steps in, redirecting Ellie’s abilities. Ellie has to use her own magic for this spell; she can’t rely on mine, though if I could, I’d give every ounce of magic I own, and never shift or transform again, if it meant she were permanently safe.

Lylia warned us ahead of time of what to expect — chanting in the ancient fae tongue, a quick surge in magic as the spell binds to Ellie’s heart, then a significant drop in energy. No long, slow process here. Ellie’s hair hangs heavy down her back, and like Lylia, the blossoms on her antlers continuously grow only to be torn away by the wind. Her cream dress is plastered to her body now, the outline of her breasts and the dusky pink of her nipples visible through the soaked fabric.

The sea surges around them as the magic surges within their bodies. It’s the strangest feeling, sensing this through the bond — I am both witnessing this fae magic as an outsider and simultaneously experiencing it as someone so intimately connected with their mate’s soul. I feel the moment it reaches its peak, the moment the spell binds. I feel the safety that this brings, and then the fall, the sudden loss of energy in my mate.

I rush forward, catching her before she tips backwards, cradling her in my arms. She blinks up at me, her face sheltered against my shoulder, and though she feels exhausted, the greater sense I get from her ispeace.The storm rages around us, but she is calm and safe. For the briefest moment I can sense the spell within her, coiled around her heart, the taste of it on my tongue, the feel of it in my bones, and somehow Iknowthe fae can never touch her again.

* * *

“This is becoming a really weird habit of ours,” Ellie says with a laugh, shivering as I pull her dress down her body. It falls with a splat against the bathroom tiles, and I tear through the fabric of her panties, too impatient to try and drag them down her legs as soaked through as they are. The shower is already running hot, and I usher her under the spray, joining her a moment later once I’ve removed my own wet clothing.

“Hopefully this is the last time I ever have to rush you into the shower because you’re wet and cold. I’d love to run you a bath instead, but I can’t stand seeing you shiver for a moment longer.”

“It’s fine.” She leans against me, and I lather shampoo into her hair and rub soap over her body, washing her quickly and efficiently. She’s exhausted, she needs to be in bed, and I just need to get her clean, warm, and dry.

She can barely keep her eyes open by the time I am tucking her in, her voice groggy as I add an extra layer of blankets over her for good measure. “You’re not staying in bed?”

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