Page 62 of Mated Exile

Kieran

Standing in the middle of my late alpha's office, surrounded by old books and dusty shelves, I tell Delilah confidently, "You can do this."

"I don't know." She chews her bottom lip, eyes wide and worried. "Sure, I pulled off a few plant spells, and Bastian showed me how to anchor myself in the earth and use some elemental magic, but this is different."

"It's still a minor spell," I remind her. "When I asked my aunt Tabitha on the phone, she said there's no reason to think it'll go wrong. Hedge witches and street witches have been doing spells like this for centuries."

It's been four days since I gave Delilah that box of books, and a week since my last dose of vampire venom. I've been tossing and turning at night, drenching my bed with sweat, nightmares plaguing me. The last two nights, Roarke has stayed over at my place, sleeping on the living room sofa with my bedroom door open. More than a dozen times last night he had to rush into my room and force my wolf to go back under my skin, because I was standing on my bed, feral and out of control.

Of course, I haven't told Dee these details, and I made Roarke swear to keep them from her as well. She doesn't need to know how hard the detox is, especially because she has so much on her mind anyway. I've kept a steady stream of texts with Lance whenever I feel uncentered, and for his part, he's forced me out of bed and to the gym every morning like clockwork, even when I feel like a wrung out wet sponge.

But I can't keep it up forever. Even Finn has noticed the wear on me—this morning, over Cat's frittatas, he leaned over and handed me a bottle of aspirin. If I don't do something to change things, I know that I'll wind up relapsing, just like last time.

I refuse to let myself go down that path again. I like the version of me I see in the mirror, with clear eyes and a sharp mind. Even when it's hard at night, I'll do anything I can to take hold of this sobriety and keep it until these moments of detoxing are behind me.

Especially if it means I finally get to make up withherand make things right again.

"If you're sure," Delilah says, peering up into my eyes, the thin paperback open in her right hand and a bowl of crushed herbs held in her left. "We could always wait until you've rested, though. No offense K, but you look a little tired."

"I've been waking up early to go running with Lance," I tell her, leaving out all the times I woke up before that, or the moment around three AM when I came to with Roarke holding me down, blood pooling in his collarbone from a wolf-shaped bite. He healed, but I didn't sleep well after that. "Trust me when I say that I'm ready to do this. Especially because we're about to go hunting in about... fifteen minutes? And I want to show the vamps I'm not their plaything anymore."

She regards me for a long, serious moment. I feel the brush of something against my skin, almost like another presence, and I carefully wrap up all my complicated feelings and bad nights, shoving them to the back of my head and keeping them there. I've learned how to hide little bits of things from others, even those with supernatural sight, after all my time around Roarke—and my forays into the vamp world.

Of course, I didn't know at first that was what Roarke was doing. All I realized was that if I felt an emotion strongly, or thought about something too hard, he would pick up on it. Maybe if I'd been sober I would've realized he was a natural-born alpha using his abilities on me.

"I'm going to do it in phases," Delilah says, motioning for me to get closer. I take a step towards her, inhaling her scent, sharp lavender mingling with dark chocolate in my nose. "The first part involves rubbing herbs into your skin. Then I'm supposed to say an incantation and pour the water over your head... I guess it'll be easier if you kneel. After that, we'll test the spell with the vial of vampire venom your aunt kept on hand, and I donotwant to know how she got it."

Because I can't help myself, I grin down at her and confess, "I know the answer to that one. Apparently she had an extended love affair with one of the bloodsuckers."

"Ew. That's disgusting." She wrinkles her nose, flipping her long maroon hair over one shoulder, and I chuckle. "They smell terrible."

"Agreed."

"Give me your hands."

I hold my hands out to her, palms up, and she pours the herbal concoction from the bowl into my palms. Then she carefully rubs it in, grabbing my hands and massaging my skin with her thumbs. Shivers go up and down my spine, and I swallow, the dark pit inside me curling and shrinking.

These days, it seems that the thing the pit wants the most isher.When she's around, touching me or even talking to me, I feel its hunger subside. It curls up like a contented cat with a bowl full of tuna, and for the briefest of moments, I almost feel whole again.

These days, I've started to wonder if I was wrong about the hole that formed in me three years ago. I assumed it was because Tara died. Now I wonder if the darkness was formed even earlier than that, the moment I turned Delilah away and ruined both our lives in a moment of teenage stupidity.

"Alright, get down so I can do the incantation and pour this water over your head."

I kneel in front of her, my knees hitting the rug in the center of the office, bending my head forward so the water will run off my face. She paces over and grabs a bottle from her father's desk, full of a blessed fresh water concoction Bastian helped her make this morning.

Something curdles in me at the thought of the newcomer, who I still can't bring myself to trust, despite everything. There's something in his eyes that reminds me of my own reflection on my worst days. A dark, angry pit inside me insists that he can't have been with the vampires for all those years without being corrupted by them. I've shoved the thought away, because Delilah cares for him, and I know my dark thoughts can't be trusted. But even the sober parts of me wonder how he survived for a decade with nothing more than surface scars, because no one is taken by vampires without succumbing to their venom, willing victim or not.

Unaware of my dark thoughts, Delilah starts the incantation. "Endless deity, grant this man the power of earth, to hold him to the ground. Fill him with the spirit of fire, to cleanse him and bring him courage. Grace him with the spirit of air, to free him from bondage. And bless him with the spirit of water, to turn his wicked ways around."

She tilts the bottle and pours the water down my head. I shiver as it hits me, shocked by its freezing cold temperature. A few slivers of ice slide down my skin as the water drips to the ground.

The moment the water has emptied, I feel a strange and overwhelming warmth within me. It starts in the center of my chest and moves outward. The herbs on my palms suddenly flare to life, stinging my skin. Hissing, I draw my hands towards me—only to stare down at clean skin, as the herbs sink down into my flesh.

Shaking off the chill water, I stand up, and feel a breeze lick across my skin. Delilah looks up at me with narrowed eyes, her brows knitted together. "Did it work?"

"We'll have to test it." I motion towards the desk, where a vial of green liquid sits. "That's the only way."

Delilah frowns deeper, setting the book aside and picking up the vial. She eyes me as she holds it up to the light, carefully drawing the dropper out and squeezing until a single green drop remains. I reach into my pocket, pull out the little Swiss Army knife I keep at the end of my keychain, flip it open, and slice a small cut across the base of my thumb.

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