Page 94 of His Whispered Witch

“Not gone,” Asher said.

Malcolm swung his mate in his arms. “You did it? Are you okay?”

Quinn laughed. “I had the easy part.”

Penn ran her hand over Asher’s head like he usually did to her. “Are you okay?”

“The wolf is a little confused. It’s gonna be a minute, but he might have a chance to heal.”

Penn didn’t move too much. Wouldshehave a chance to heal?

“I got you,” Becca said. “Healer, remember?”

Penn hadn’t remembered.

“You just had a little bit of a tear. I’d fix it now, but I think we’ve all had enough magic for today. If you can hang on, it’ll be okay.”

“I can hang on.”

It took a second for Penn to realize they’d done it. Asher was here and alive and sane, or he would be soon. The other wolves, too, had lost their snakes. Even the snake was okay. She shuddered. She never wanted to experience anything like it again.

Every choice she’d made for the last two years had failed or fizzled. She didn’t know what she would do with herself, now that she was living in the best-case scenario.

“Whatever we want,” Asher murmured.

“Did I say that out loud?”

Asher shook his head. “My wolf told me.”

She clutched him to her. She could live with the best-case scenario.

EPILOGUE

“Okay, men… and woman… We’ve been training for this for years, and it is your day. Will there be thoroughbred stallions in the race? Maybe. But that doesn’t mean you have no chance.” Asher surveyed his motley crew of donkeys in their newly constructed stalls behind the big house and sighed.

Of course, they had absolutely no chance, but they proved surprisingly useful when training young stallions. Their smell was both foreign and familiar, which felt like a threat to a thoroughbred, so it was excellent training for the races.

It was hard in the mountains of West Virginia to recreate a horse race. Many yearling racers got to the big stage and panicked. Since they started donkey racing, they’d had that problem a lot less often.

“You know they think you’re insane, right?”

He spun around to see his love leaning against the side of the stable, the bearded dragon perched across her chest.

Why didn’t you warn me?he asked the wolf, who sent back confusion at why it would ever need a warning about their mate.

His wolf was still quiet, far less talkative than any other wolf on the land, but it was sane. Asher thought back to that day of the massive spell when they realized the snake was gone. It had taken a month for the wolf to believe it and another two before it sent the first tentative message about the fact that Asher, amid the first major snowstorm of the winter, thought he was heading toward the barn when he’d been heading straight toward the woods. The wolf knew he would’ve figured that out eventually—probably the moment he hit a tree—but thought he might want to know. Asher had nearly fallen to his knees in relief.

It was the first nonviolent communication they’d had in years.

Asher wrapped his arms around Penn. He knew logically that this swell of love and gratitude would fade, that he would eventually forget the miracle that was every day he didn’t wake up to a battle of wills he knew he was going to lose, but it hadn’t faded yet.

“First, they think there’s a major threat,” Penn said quietly.

Asher frowned. “When?”

“When you give your inspiring speeches. First, they think you’ve seen something terrible behind them because you keep pacing and looking at the walls, but then, when nothing happens, they think you’ve lost it.”

He looked down at the donkeys, who had all come to the front of their pens and were staring adoringly at Penn.

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