Page 36 of Ruthless Moon
His words strike me like a gust of chilling wind, freezing me in shock. Most Moonbound wolves can heal from even the most serious injuries.
“The injuries were beyond even Fate’s magick. My father died in the same accident—my mother was the only survivor.”
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, my heart aching for his loss.
He’s been through so much. And now he has to deal with my father. He doesn’t deserve this. He’s a good man.
“He will use your honor against you,” I blurt out before I can stop myself. Panic surges in my veins. What am I thinking? But I continue anyway, a wave of desperation crashing over me. “He’s going to threaten me to control you.”
I can see it in my mind’s eye, my father using Aiden, squeezing him in his vise-like grip. But instead of shrinking away from my words, Aiden fixes me with a determined stare.
“Yes, Gen,” he acknowledges, a grim certainty in his voice. “After his demonstration at the restaurant I knew that would be the case. But listen to me: I will fight for you. I will protect you with the fierceness a mate and wife deserves. And so will my pack.”
His vow resonates in the air, heavy with promise and the echo of battle yet to come. Tears prick at my eyes, but I refuse them permission to fall.
Despite the circumstances, despite the fact that I wish I could choose differently, I find myself hoping that maybe, just maybe, Aiden and I can find a way to make this work. After all, we’re both victims in this game, pawns in a larger scheme. Maybe together, we can turn this into something bearable.
And maybe I can find a way to protect everyone from whatever my father has planned.
Chapter Twelve
Thank You for Your Sacrifice
IMOGEN GALLAGHER
Aiden opens the door to his mother’s house and ushers me inside. I’m immediately surrounded by happy people eager to make me feel at home.
“Come sit. I’ll bring you some tea or coffee.” Eleanor takes my hand and leads me to a sitting area with several people I’ve not met.
“Coffee, please.” I’m going to need caffeine for this.
She sits me in a love seat facing two other small sofas. “These are very close friends of the family. Nathan and his wife, Liandra, and their neighbor Ross.” She bustles away from me and calls Aiden with her into the kitchen, disappearing from view.
I turn back to the strangers and attempt to give them a polite smile. The couple sits together on one sofa. Nathan is a large man, short dark hair, short dark beard. Flannel, jeans, and boots—normal rancher attire for the area. His wife is tiny and has long brown curly hair and dark eyes. She’s in a floral print dress and she’snota wolf.
“I’m a witch,” the small woman says, flashing me a bright smile. She has just the slightest remnant of an Italian accent.
“Mated to a wolf?” I ask, noticing the bond marks on their wrists.
“TheMathairsdon’t allow it, but it’s quite possible and used to be normal before they came into power. Many journals documenting the early history of the Moonbound are well-buried now and some have even been destroyed.”
“You know who theMathairsare?”
She nods, her face solemn. “I escaped an Italian court with my mother and came here many years ago.”
“She’s the best thing that ever happened to me.” The big man next to her nuzzles the woman’s neck and nips at her ear. “The court here protects many that have fled the old hags. Banfield Court is a sort of refugee camp, you could say.”
The woman pats his leg affectionately and then looks back to me. “I know what you and Aiden are doing is a huge sacrifice. I just want you to know weseethat and we owe you our lives for helping to keep our court a secret from your family.”
I nod, unable to speak.
The magnitude of the situation I’m entering is so much bigger than I ever could have realized. Not only finding out witches are real. That my best friend is one. That they have a secret court hidden somewhere in the mountains. That there are evil witches hunting for them. That both my father and my uncle would seek to use them to their own advantage as well.
Eleanor returns, cradling a decorative mug that wafts an intoxicating aroma. The coffee inside is a masterpiece; velvety foam crowns the dark liquid, adorned with a meticulous leaf design reminiscent of a talented barista’s loving touch. It’s precisely the type of latte I would expect to get at Rachel’s artisan café in town.
“Thank you,” I murmur, trying to communicate my extreme gratitude. Grasping the warm mug, I bring it closer, the scent of roasted beans intensifying, promising a heady blend of flavors. I take a tentative sip, letting the liquid slide over my tongue.
The first sensation is the silky texture of the milk, perfectly steamed to a frothy consistency, blending perfectly with the bold undertones of the coffee. The espresso itself carries notes of caramel and toasted nuts, hinting at its high-quality origins and meticulous roast. With each subsequent sip, the richness deepens, the delicate balance of bitterness and natural sweetness wrapping around my taste buds, warming not just my palate but my very soul.