88

Eighty eight
*Rafe*
I stared at Freya’s still form lying next to me, my heart clenching with anguish and fear. Her slender body had been shaking violently just moments before, seized by whatever dark magic was attacking her very life force. But now she was unnaturally still, her chest barely rising and falling with shallow breaths. I couldn’t stand the sight of her so still and pale, like a porcelain doll that had been drained of all life. It was my fault, I knew, that she was lying here on this bed, fighting for her life. I had put her in this position with my doubts, allowing her to be targeted by the other ladies. I knew Freya was under the pressure to give me an heir. I wished I had not put her in such a position “fuck it!” I yelled angrily.
But I couldn’t let myself give into the guilt and self-pity that threatened to consume me. I had to focus on helping her, finding a way to save her before it was too late.
Gently, I brushed a strand of dark hair from her ashen face, my fingers trembling. I had never felt so powerless, so utterly unable to protect the woman I loved. Freya was my heart, my future queen, my everything. I couldn’t lose her. Not like this.
“Please Freya, fight this,” I whispered hoarsely, pressing my forehead to hers. “Stay with me, my love. Help is coming.”
But even as I said the words, dread coiled in my gut. It had been over an hour since I sent Connor to find the shadow witch Sersia – our only hope of saving Freya’s life, even if her kind were our sworn enemies. What in the gods name was taking him so long?
Suddenly, Freya let out a shuddering gasp and her body arched off the bed. Hope surged through me and I grabbed her shoulders.
“Freya! Can you hear me? Open your eyes, baby,” I pleaded desperately.
But she remained unresponsive, sinking back onto the furs as whatever momentary spark of life faded away again. Tears burned my eyes as I pulled her limp form into my arms, cradling her against my chest. I buried my face in her hair, inhaling her sweet lavender scent.
“Don’t leave me, Freya,” I begged brokenly, my voice cracking with emotion. “I’ll do anything, give anything, to save you. My life is yours.”
I plastered desperate kisses over her cold face, her closed eyelids, her parted lips – trying to will my strength, my love, my very essence into her with each brush of my mouth on her skin.
“Come back to me,” I whispered like a prayer against the shell of her ear. “I love you, Freya. I can’t do this without you by my side. You’re my forever.”
But she remained still and silent in my arms, her life force flickering like a dying candle flame. With each passing moment, I could feel her slipping further away from me. Where the hell was Connor with that witch?
Despair and frustration raged within me as I held Freya tighter, rocking her gently. I would storm the witch coven myself and drag Sersia here by force if I had to. I couldn’t just sit here helplessly and watch my mate fade away.
I would face a thousand enemies, embrace any darkness, sacrifice anything and everything to keep Freya safe. Even if it meant forging a tenuous alliance with my greatest foe. I just prayed to the moon goddess that the shadow witch would get here in time – before the light of my life was extinguished forever.
The chamber door creaked open and Connor strode in, his expression grim. I looked up at him sharply, my heart pounding with a wild mix of anticipation and dread.
“Where is she?” I demanded. “Did you bring the witch?”
Connor stepped aside, revealing a hunched figure cloaked in shadow. Slowly, she glided into the room, an aura of ancient power emanating from her frail form. As she drew closer to the flickering candlelight, I sucked in a breath.
Sersia’s hair was a stark, unnatural white, hanging in wispy tendrils around her wrinkled face. Her eyes glowed an eerie grey, like storm clouds brewing with untold secrets and dark magic. She looked impossibly old, as if she had witnessed the rise and fall of countless kingdoms.
I felt the anger surge through my veins as I glared at the witch, my lips curling into a snarl. Her kind had cursed my people, robbing us of our fated mates, dooming us to an eternity of loneliness. And now, the only woman I had ever loved lay dying in my arms because of their ancient grudge. If we hadn’t been cursed to not have our fated mates, this stupid competition would not have existed and maybe Freya would not be in this situation.
Unbidden, my father’s words echoed in my mind. He had told me the story of how the witches’ leader had cursed him after he broke her heart, damning him and every werewolf in our crimson kingdom to never find their true mate. At the time, I had scoffed at the tale, not understanding the magnitude of such a fate.
But as I stared into Sersia’s ancient, knowing eyes, I felt the full weight of that curse bearing down on me. The suffocating loneliness, the aching emptiness that could never be filled – unless I found a way to break the poison and save Freya.
The tension in the room was palpable as Sersia regarded me with a vicious smile, her eyes glittering with malice and something else I couldn’t quite decipher. In that moment, I knew I would do whatever it took, even bargain with the devil herself, to keep my mate by my side.
“Rafe, alpha of the crimson kingdom pack,” Sersia rasped, her voice like dead leaves skittering across a tomb. “I’ve been expecting you.”
I glared at the shadow witch as she approached me, each step agonizingly slow. My heart pounded with a mixture of fear and rage, my wolf snarling beneath his skin.
“Why did you take so long to come?” I demanded, my voice rough with barely restrained fury.
Sersia threw back her head and laughed, the sound grating and mirthless. “So hasty, young alpha. You should learn patience.”
My hands clenched into fists, claws digging into my palms. I opened his mouth to shout at her, to release the torrent of anger and desperation building inside me , but Connor’s hand on my shoulder stopped me.
“Rafe, please,” Connor pleaded, eyes wide with worry. “If you lose your temper, she might refuse to help Freya. We need her.”
I gritted my teeth, every instinct screaming at me to lash out, to protect what was mine. But Connor was right. Freya’s life hung in the balance, and alienating the only person who could save her would be foolish.
Taking a deep breath, I forced my muscles to relax and gave Sersia a curt nod. “My apologies, witch. I spoke out of turn.”
Sersia’s lips curled into a smirk as she inclined her head, accepting my grudging apology. She moved past me to the bed where Freya lay, her body as still and cold as marble.
As the witch crouched beside Freya’s sleeping form, I couldn’t help but wonder why she was even helping us. Her people had been enemies of the werewolves for centuries, their feud steeped in blood and betrayal.
“I can hear your thoughts, alpha,” Sersia said suddenly, her voice startling me out of my reverie. She turned to face me, her ancient eyes boring into mine. “I am not helping you because of any love for your kind. The war between our people means nothing to me.”
I stared at her in shock, my mind reeling. How could she know what I was thinking? Was this another witchcraft trick? I realized that my thoughts were not safe. She could discover secrets from just reading my mind alone. That was insane.
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