Marriage.The word scrapes against my skull like claws on stone. Yesterday, the thought of binding myself to Bridget forever would have filled me with fierce joy. Now it feels like putting on armor without knowing if there’s a knife waiting underneath.
My wolf doesn’t care—he’s ready to claim her and already sees her as ours. But the rest of me… Fuck. I’m about to be magically married to a woman who might be here to destroy everything I love.
Bridget closes her eyes, a single tear slipping down her cheek. “Very well,” she says softly.
Rachel nods, already pulling ingredients from the satchel. “Let’s begin.” She and Lila move with practiced efficiency, arranging a fine white powder in a three-pointed knot pattern on my kitchen floor. The scent of sage and something sharper, almost metallic, fills the air.
Lawrence stands off to the side, arms crossed, his eyes never leaving Bridget. The mistrust radiating off him is palpable, making my wolf restless. I really don’t like the guy.
“Bast,” Rachel calls, pulling me from my thoughts. “We need you and Bridget standing on either side of the design, hands clasped together over it.”
Lila points to Bridget’s hands. “Lawrence, we need the bindings off.”
“Absolutely the fuck not. Not until the wards are in place.”
The blatant disrespect in his tone makes my teeth ache. I draw in a sharp breath through my nose, tasting Lawrence’s distrust and anger on my tongue. Part of me understands his caution—hell, I share it—but treating my mate like a rabid animal is too far. I audibly growl and my wolf is pleased when the asshole of a witch takes a step backward.
Rachel moves quickly to stand between me and Lawrence. “Bast. Please. I know you’re pissed. I know your wolf is pissed. Just hold it together a little longer.”
I push down the wolf and stop the rumble in my chest.
“Lawrence.” Lila speaks this time. “Just move them. We need access to her palms and they need to face each other. Stop making this more difficult. She’s not going to do anything. The poor child is terrified.”
Lawrence snarls out something unintelligible, but I catch the wordassassinamong it. He walks toward us with an angry look on his face and I hate the way Bridget cringes.
“Bast, you stand on this side and she stands over there.” Lila points and I lift Bridget from the chair.
Even with betrayal burning between us, her body still fits against mine like it was carved from my own ribs. Setting her down feels like letting go of something vital, something I might never get back. But we need this spell—need the protection it offers both of us. Even if the timing feels like some cosmicjoke, binding ourselves together when every scrap of trust lies shattered at our feet.
I stand her where Lila directed, my hands lingering on her shoulders longer than necessary.
Lawrence pulls a bit of rope from his pocket and squats at her feet. He opens his hand and the rope slithers from his palm like it’s alive.
“Fuuuuuuuuck.” Bridget tries to move away, but I hold her in place.
The stink of her fear enrages my wolf.
“Stand still, Bridget,” Rachel says.
“I hate snakes.” Bridget’s face drains of color, sweat beading on her forehead. Her pulse hammers against my fingertips where they rest on her skin.
“It’s not a snake,” I say, tipping her chin up. “Look at me.”
When her eyes meet mine, they’re wide and dark with terror. She tries to look away, to hide it, but I hold her gaze. Let her see the strength I’m offering. The promise of protection, even now. Even when I know she doesn’t trust me either.
The rope wraps around and around Bridget’s legs, growing longer and tighter until they’re completely encased from ankles to knees. She trembles beneath my touch, and this time I don’t fight my instincts. I draw her closer, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of her neck while the other steadies her arm.
“I’ve got you,” I murmur, my thumb tracing circles against her skin. “Focus on me, not the rope. That’s it.” Her breathing steadies slightly, and something in my chest unknots. Even with all the questions between us, this feels right—keeping her safe, being her anchor.
Lila speaks again. “Now her arms, Lawrence.”
Lawrence narrows his eyes and glares down at my mate. “If you so much as sneeze funny. I’ll kill you and your wolf withouta moment’s hesitation. I will not allow you to do anything to jeopardize the witches here.”
I want to rip his head off for his words. Clamp down on his jugular and rip it loose. The man in me has to use everything he can to keep the wolf in me from doing just that.
Bridget stays silent and nods, but her eyes stare straight through me—vacant, distant, like she’s retreated somewhere I can’t follow. My wolf whines at the emptiness in her gaze. I’ve seen that look before, in wounded animals who’ve given up fighting. The sight of it on my mate’s face makes something raw and painful twist in my chest. I can’t stand to see her shut down like this. I don’t want this to be the end.
Lawrence’s fingers on Bridget’s wrists send another snarl up my throat. Every touch feels like a challenge. My wolf rises closer to the surface, claws pressing against the inside of my skin. The only thing keeping me from ripping his hands away is the slight relaxation in Bridget’s shoulders as the ropes loosen.
