We wait all day and through the night, hoping against hope that at least some lycans will heed my impassioned plea to join our forces. But as the first rays of dawn streak the sky, it becomes painfully clear – not a single one has come.
I won’t lie; the disappointment stings, even though a part of me expected this very outcome. Squaring my shoulders, I push aside the dejection. We can’t linger here any longer.
With Beatrice no longer welcome among them, labeled a traitor, we’ve decided to drop her off at her home in witch territory before continuing to the werewolf kingdom. Once everyone had finished packing, we set off on our journey.
The trip is a miserable one for me. The lingering nausea from yesterday morning has only worsened, and I can’t keep anything down, not even water. Exhausted, I push my seat back and sleep fitfully through most of the ride.
“I can walk; you don’t have to carry me,” I mumble in protest as Caleb scoops me up once we reach our destination – a serene lake nestled in a grove not far from Beatrice’s cabin. We’ve just arrived in witch territory.
“I didn’t say you couldn’t,” he grunts, depositing me gently on the lush grass at the water’s edge.
“Don’t worry, a bath in the lake will have her as good as new,” Beatrice reassures him. Unlike the healing pond, the waters here possess different restorative properties.
Caleb’s brow furrows with concern. “I hope so.” Turning to me, he presses a kiss to my forehead. “Mind-link me when you’re done.”
With one last worried glance, he retreats towards Beatrice’s cabin, where we’ll spend the night before continuing our journey tomorrow morning.
“Take off your clothes and get in, dear,” Beatrice instructs, kneeling by the shoreline and beginning to chant softly under her breath into the lake.
Stripping down, I step gingerly into the shallows, hissing at the icy caress of the water against my feverish skin. Once I’m submerged up to my shoulders, Beatrice falls silent and pads away, leaving me alone to soak in the enchanted waters.
Leaning back against the grassy bank, I close my eyes and try to clear my mind, focusing only on the gentle lapping of the tiny waves against my body. Almost immediately, I can feel the tightly wound knot of nausea in my belly, beginning to uncoil as Beatrice’s magic works its wonders.
I’m just starting to relax when a faint, achingly familiar scent wafts past on the breeze, setting my nerves instantly on edge. Jolting upright, I cast about wildly, searching the tree line for any sign of movement as Marie’s frantic voice echoes through my mind.
“That’s impossible! We shouldn’t have smelled that. We shouldn’t have!”
“Maybe we smelled it wrong,” I try to rationalize even as the scent intensifies, unmistakable now.
“Probably,” Marie concedes, though her tone is laced with doubt.
Unable to shake my sudden unease, I quickly clamber out of the lake and snatch up my towel, wrapping it haphazardly around my dripping form. I head back to Beatrice’s
“You’re back already? Do you feel better?” Beatrice asks in surprise as I burst through the front door of her cabin, leaving a trail of damp footprints across the hardwood floors.
“We need to leave. Now!” I bark, not waiting for her response as I stride towards the guest room she’d prepared for me.
“Amelia, what’s going on?” She hurries after me, concern furrowing her brow. “Did you see something at the lake?”
“No, but I smelled him,” I answer tersely, yanking open drawers and tossing my belongings haphazardly into my duffel.
Caleb appears in the doorway, alerted by the commotion. “Who did you smell?”
“Him,” I repeat, my voice cracking despite my efforts to remain stoic.
Beatrice’s eyes widen as she reaches out to still my frantic packing. “Who, Amelia? Who did you smell?”
“Him!” I snap, rounding on Caleb as my shoulders slump in defeat.
His expression is of confusion. “Who, Amelia? Who the fuck did you smell out there?”
I squeeze my eyes shut, feeling as if the word itself is a lead weight on my tongue. “Nickolas.”
Caleb’s brows knit together incredulously. “Is that even possible?”
“No!” I shake my head vehemently, resuming my hurried packing as dread coils in my belly. “That’s why I think someone is using his scent to mess with me, and that’s why we need to leave.”
“Amelia…” Beatrice lays a gentle hand on my arm, stilling me once more. When I finally meet her pitying gaze, her following words are like a physical blow. “Witches can’t mimic supernatural scents.”
The implication hangs heavy in the air between us as I struggle to process what she’s suggesting. “But… I smelled him,” I insist weakly, my voice little more than a whisper.
“I know you did, honey.” She pulls me into a comforting embrace, her tone tinged with sadness as she strokes my damp hair. “It’s okay.”
Lifting my gaze to Caleb, I find only a helpless shrug in response to my silent plea for him to contradict her. They both think I’m delusional, still pining for a dead man who betrayed me.
The hurt and anger are like a vise around my chest as I wrench myself from Beatrice’s arms. “I would like to be alone,” I grit out, struggling to keep my tone even.
Caleb’s expression is unreadable as he gives a curt nod. “No problem. I’m right outside if you need me.”
With a last sympathetic look, Beatrice follows him out, leaving me alone with my roiling thoughts and emotions.
Sinking down on the bed, I bury my face in my hands as I replay the moment at the lakeside over and over in my mind. I know what I smelled – that rich earthy scent but is distinctly Nickolas. But if Beatrice is right and it’s not some cruel trick… then how?
The need to prove them wrong drives me back toward the lake, this time with a singular purpose. If I can pinpoint the exact location where I detected his scent, maybe I can bring them there, and they’ll believe me.
But as I scour the entire shoreline, winding my way through the dense underbrush surrounding the water, there’s not even the faintest trace of that hauntingly familiar aroma. Beginning to doubt myself, I creep closer to the lake’s edge, wondering if the waters themselves carry some residual essence of him.
But there’s nothing, not even a whisper of his scent on the crisp breeze skimming across the glassy surface. Shoulders slumping in defeat, I turn to head back to the cabin, ready to admit I was wrong and must have imagined the whole thing.
Then, like a physical caress, it washes over me again – rich and earthy and so achingly, undeniably Nickolas. I freeze, paralyzed by shock, as I slowly turn away from the lake.
And there he is, materializing from the shadows of the treeline in all his devastating beauty. My breath catches in my throat as he moves towards me with that confident, predatory grace so intrinsically his.
“Stop!” I cry out, flinging one hand up as if to ward him off, even as tears blur my vision. This has to be some cruel trick of the mind, a waking dream conjured from the darkest recesses of my subconscious desires.
“Amelia…” That deep, velveteen rumble sends a shiver down my spine, the familiar cadence as intoxicating as I remember.
I squeeze my eyes shut, fighting the swell of emotions battering my resolve. “You’re not real,” I whisper brokenly. “And once I open my eyes, you’ll be gone.”
Slowly, reluctantly, I blink – and he’s still there, so close now that I can make out the dusting of darker stubble along his chiseled jaw, the rogue lock of black hair falling across his forehead.
“How?” The single syllable is little more than an exhale as the first tear tracks down my cheek, scalding against my chilled skin.
He takes another step closer, hand outstretched in wordless entreaty. “Let me hold you first, then I’ll explain.”
“No, stay where you are!” I demand, backpedaling instinctively – and forgetting the lake’s proximity until my heel catches on the muddy bank.
“Amelia!” His shout of alarm is the last thing I register before the icy waters swallow me in their numbing embrace.
I break the surface a moment later, sputtering and choking, only to be hauled bodily out of the shallows by a pair of strong arms. Coughing up what feels like half the lake, I find myself cradled against Nickolas’s chest as he carries me back toward solid ground.
“I don’t know who the fuck you are,” I rasp, my claws extending to prick menacingly, poised just inches from the point over his heart on his chest. “But I advise you to start explaining.”
Rather than fear, a slow, wolfish smile curves his lips as his gaze rakes over me with amusement. “I never knew you had such a fierce side, little one.”
My claws retract as I hear him call me the pet name he gave me. Only Nickolas and I knew that pet name. With trembling fingers, I reach up to trace the beloved planes of his face, my heart hammering against my ribs.
“Is it really you?” I breathe, hardly daring to hope.
“Yes, little one.” His calloused palm covers my own, the warmth and solidity of his touch sending a jolt of recognition arcing through me down to my very core. “It’s me.”
Marie’s jubilant howl resounds through my mind as the last of the tension bleeds from my body. This is no trick, no figment of desperate longing. Nickolas is here, alive and so gloriously, undeniably real.
“Oh heavens above…” I murmur faintly, the world tilting violently around me as my eyes roll back.
The last coherent thought before blackness claims me is bone-chilling in its implications. If this is truly Nickolas before me… then who the hell did Caleb kill that night?