Chapter Seven
Brant wished the earth would open and swallow him up. Since Ian had noticed Kat’s reaction, he had emitted every possible sound he could think of, both human and animal, until his throat was sore, and for what? Nothing. A. Big. Fat. Fucking. Nothing.
Kat was now asleep in the bedroom and he was admiring the dying embers, dissecting each of the two events when she’d come back to the surface for a few seconds.
For the first time in his life, Brant wished he wasn’t a werelynx but a witch, although he knew that not everything could be dealt with by magic. He had spoken to Sera before they’d left, asking her if she could find a way to treat Kat’s mind like she had done when Ian had been cursed. The look of sorrow on her face was a clear answer for him. She had helped Ian come out of his unconscious state, but none of her attempts on another Sanctuary member caught up in the curse had succeeded. There was a difference between someone who was pulled into unconsciousness against their will, and Kat, who’d decided to go under for self-protection. Brant couldn’t begin to think how terrified she would have been to seek refuge so deep inside herself, so deep he couldn’t reach her.
Time passed as he sat in the dark, listening to the subtle sounds of the forest all around, and the almost undetectable sounds of the Sentinels making rounds.
More and more his mind drifted into the past, into memories created in this very cabin. His body was gently pulled into sleep until a loud bang made him jump on all fours on the carpet floor. About to change into his lynx, Brant realized that the sound came from just behind him, as Kat was rummaging in the kitchen. A quick look at the clock told him that he had indeed slept and that the sun would rise in less than an hour.
Tentatively, Brant made his way to the kitchen area as Kat was pulling bowls and other kitchen implements from the cupboard followed by other ingredients. Puzzled, he tried to look at her eyes and realized that she was still disconnected, her eyes as white as ever.
“Kat, love. What are you doing?”
As he expected, she didn’t respond, and continued to busy herself. Was it something automatic? Or was some part of her shimmering just below the surface?
Standing there, he watched her as she filled bowls, stirred and kneaded what appeared to be bread. Time passed and slowly the sun started to lighten the horizon at the same time the smell of bread filled the room. It may have been a play of light or his own imagination, but Kat’s eyes seemed to be lighter, and shimmered, almost as if he was seeing her irises underneath the milky white.
“Kat?” As soon as he spoke, she reacted, turning toward his voice. She was searching for him but didn’t see him.
Tentatively, Brant approached as she turned to pull out loaves of bread from the oven and placed them on a metal rack.
When she turned, it was as if the switch had gone off, and she was motionless again, the inexpressive doll he dreaded.
Before he could move or say another word, Kat slowly walked to the living room and sat on the sofa, as if waiting for orders.
Brant wanted to cry on the spot, both at the realization that she had been so close to coming back to him and that she was now so far back into that world she had built inside her mind.
It was becoming harder and harder for him to breathe, anguish clogged his heart when he looked out the window. The sun was rising, filtering sunbeams through the bare branches and fir trees of the forest, and snow was slowly falling, turning each snowflake into a glittering diamond.
Normally, his lynx would cheer in joy, being a creature of winter, but seeing his mate like that, so unresponsive and withdrawn was like mourning.
It took a few heartbeats to realize the word that had formed in his mind. Mate. Again, the rightness of it filled him with certainty in his bones. Kat may not be a shifter, but the core of him, the fused soul of his human and animal side couldn’t deny it. And with the realization, Brant knew he couldn’t fail. If it took him the remainder of his days, he would have her back. He would have his Kat back.
As he looked at the snow falling on their little cabin, he remembered something. In a pure instinctual act, he ran toward the entrance and got Kat’s winter gear. With gentle haste, he dressed her warmly in her boots and coat, almost strangling her with her long scarf. When she was ready, he took both her hands and pulled her, making her follow him outside.
As soon as they stepped outside, Brant realized two things. First, his wool socks would be wet in a matter of seconds as he stepped into fresh snow, but he didn’t care. Second, Kat blinked and turned her head up as soon as the snow melted on her face.
Brant focused on her eyes, trying to see if she was closer to the surface like before. It was very faint, but he saw it, encouraging him to get going.
“Kat, let’s go into the forest for a walk, okay?” The small cover of snow didn’t bury much of the green, but the effect was beautiful, and she seemed to be looking at it. “Christmas is just a few days away, how about we get a tree?”
At his question, her head turned to his voice, and he smiled as he saw the white thinning again.
Kat was hesitant to follow, as they walked deeper under the cover of the forest, but this time, Brant didn’t stop talking. He told her that she was safe, that Sentinels were close by to look after them, and that he would lay down his life to protect her. The more he talked, the less she tugged at his hold, and the more willingly she followed him.
A few minutes later, he led her to a small clearing he had noticed, where several small trees were clustered in a corner. As they were not protected by taller trees, the small fledglings were covered in a scintillating coat of snow.
Bringing her to stand in front of them, he let go of her hand and started to check the trees out.
“This one is tiny but cute, don’t you think?” He had no clue what he was saying, but his enthusiasm seemed to draw her attention, keeping her focus on him. “I can ask Ian to come and cut one for us later. Or maybe you would prefer this one...”
As he turned around, his flannel shirt caught in a branch and swung in his face. Inhaling the thin powder, Brant choked and sneezed. About to curse, he heard her laugh. His brain was slow to make the connection, but when it did, he glanced at her. The laughter was gone, and she now frowned looking around her as if she was awakening from a dream.
“Brant? Why are we here? Why are you in your socks in the snow? Why...”
One look at her eyes made him fall on his knees, air rushing through him as if he hadn’t breathed since she’d been attacked. And maybe he hadn’t.
