Page 42 of Hunted By Wolves and Shadow
My eyes went wide at the sight. Whatever had happened after I fainted, no standard remedy had donethat. I rose from the floor on shaky legs and gawked at the man sitting up on the settee where I’d last seen him dying.
His expression was both wondrous and accusing as he looked at me. “And you said you weren’t a witch.”
“I’m…not. I didn’t do that.”
One eyebrow cocked high on his forehead. “Oh, you definitely did, Emerald Witch.”
“Don’t call me that.” My voice squeaked.
“Which part?” He smirked, reminding me far too much of another smirk on another pair of bowed lips. Lips that had tasted of woodland berries. I was hit with a wave of longing from the clear blue skies.
I didnotmiss Wolf. That was absurd. Yet there was something gentle and soothing about being around Wolf, even when I wanted to kill him, like he rounded off the rough edges of my world and dulled the sharp corners that I usually bumped into. I could use some of that right now.
Everything in this room felt jagged and intrusive in my thoughts. Magic? Emerald Witch? Impossibly healed wounds? I wanted none of it so much as another night by a fire in a too-small cottage with that unbearable man who settled my soul.
But here I was, being confronted with too much at once. I almost wished Locke were in pain again so he would stop giving me that smug look. It was infuriating.
“Both. Either. I’ve never liked my name. My sister got to be Jade. Do you know what it was like to wrap your tongue around the name Emerald Brightbane as a child? And I’m still not sold on this witch nonsense.” But even I could hear the desperation in my denial. “A woman being strong and independent doesn’t make her some evil sorceress. My grandmother was not evil, she…she loved me.”
I had to believe that.
Because if she hadn’t…
Then no one ever…No.
Locke sat up. I didn’t appreciate his pacifying raised hands. “Who said anything about evil? Witches are dead useful.” He still had that quirk of a smile, and his face was far more relaxed than when it had been twisted in pain. He was close, looking me right in the eye.
There was no denying Locke was a handsome man. Dark hair fell softly above one eye, and I couldn’t avoid appreciating the tan skin and mix of browns flecked in his dark irises. At the same time, my mind couldn’t help letting those eyes melt into ones of quicksilver, and his hair faded several shades to burnished brass in my imagination.
I leaned away with a quick shake of my head, clearing all thoughts of Wolf as Locke clasped my hand. “Emi, listen to me. First of all, emeralds sparkle far brighter than jade does. I should know. I move enough of them.” He paused until I looked up athis congenial smile blooming across his face. “Second, of course women can be anything they want without labels.”
Just when I started to feel better and breathe easier, his smile faded, and his dark eyes turned serious. “But just because not every woman who lives in an isolated cottage in the middle of a cursed forest is an evil sorceress doesn’t mean some of them aren’t. Ruby had her uses, but she wasn’t beyond evil deeds, and she could hold a grudge like an absolute boss.”
I scowled in silence. Locke spoke with strange turns of phrase from his native world, but I understood enough. I was so tired of everyone telling me things about my own family. Why did it feel like everyone knew more about Grandma Ruby than I did? I thought she favored me. Trusted me and told me things. It was dawning on me that I may not have known her at all.
I didn’t like anything about this uneasy squirming in my gut. “I did not heal you. I don’t have magic.”
“All evidence to the contrary, Emerald.”
My nose wrinkled at the use of my full name and at the part he wasn’t saying. EmeraldWitch.
“Yeah, that definitely wasn't me,” Juliet chimed in from the doorway, entering the room with an exhausted pallor that told me she hadn’t slept much in days. ”I thought for sure he was dead.”
Locke smiled. “Too bad I heard you forgive me. No take-backs.”
They were both confident. Juliet was so sure, she crossed the space and lifted a small dagger in her hand. Without a single hesitation, she swiped the tip across her forearm.
“Jules!” I grabbed her hand to stop her from doing worse.
She stood placidly watching me. I swear, the woman didn’t even flinch. Instead, she calmly told me, “Fix it.”
“I can’t!” But my body was responding. Foreign power tingled outward from that bubbling centre to the tips of my fingers.Without questioning why I was doing it, I slid my hands up her wrist to the cut. Before my eyes, the bleeding stopped. The cut sealed tight with barely a scar to show it was ever there. Heartbeats later, the only evidence it ever happened was the blood on Juliet’s wrist and a spiderweb-thin line of silver. My heart raced.
What. Was. That?
Sunbeams and shadows.
Wolf was right about me. He—
