Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 48193 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 241(@200wpm)___ 193(@250wpm)___ 161(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48193 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 241(@200wpm)___ 193(@250wpm)___ 161(@300wpm)
Idalis stirs, letting out a soft breath, and turns over. She does not wake.
After so much time in bed, I need to move. I go silently to the door and let myself out into the night.
I truly did sleep all day. The moon is high in the sky and nearly full. My wolf stirs at the sight of it, coming fully awake himself.
Feeling the need to shift, I leave her side quickly. Out into the darkness, I close the door behind me before shedding my clothes.
It’s a relief to shift into my wolf form. To stretch my limbs and allow him to take over. I take a few swift steps, then trot away from the cottage. The world smells different when I am a wolf. I catch the trails of many small woodland creatures who passed through the taller grasses over the last day. Not a mortal soul can be scented. I can smell the differences in patches of soil, and whether it was slightly higher or slightly lower when the rain soaked in. I can smell a den of rabbits somewhere in the forest.
My wolf bounds into a run, streaking through the night air, his muscles working in perfect coordination, his heart speeding up with the thrill of this new environment, made fresh by the rain. My mate. My mate. My mate. It’s all I can think. All he can think. The vigor of his run and the sheer thrill is intoxicating.
There have been times before when I have spent hours and hours in my wolf form, running as far as his powerful body could take me. I plan to let him run now, too, for as long as he needs.
But I haven’t yet reached the trees when he makes a sudden turn, streaking back toward Idalis’s cottage.
I try to urge him back into the open field, but he resists, snapping at me.
Run, I tell him in the voice of my thoughts. Run. Stretch. Hunt.
My mate. She’s my mate. My mate.
His whimper outside of the cottage is followed by a howl. A deep need for companionship. A need for her to know. My heart twists in my chest. Doubt creeps in. It was only a dream. I drag myself out of my wolf form and back into my human form, stumbling to a halt at the top of a low rise and heaving in breath after breath. My hand is on the door before my mind can catch up with what my wolf is sure of.
Idalis is still in bed, still asleep, and I cross the main room to the side of her bed feeling like I am dreaming—and like I am wide awake at the same time. The pounding in my chest is all I can hear. I take a few more deep breaths, which are filled with her scent. That scent. The scent that called to me, promising a mate. It’s a heady feeling.
A mate.
I did not take the dream for the truth. Why would I? I have known for most of my life that I would never have a fated mate. No wolf would ever be paired with me.
I pause at the foot of Idalis’s bed and look down at her.
She’s curled on her side, her head on the pillow, her breathing slow and steady. Gorgeous and peaceful.
My mate. My mate. My mate.
I thought the curse could never be countered. I thought there were no loopholes. No wolf would ever be paired with me, so I would never have a mate. It seemed so simple that it could not possibly be wrong.
And yet the curse was wrong. Or it was only right in terms of one aspect of my life, not all the others.
Idalis is my mate.
Chills run down my arms. My dream was the first to try to tell me. My wolf was the second. Now it is my own mind screaming the truth.
And this truth cannot be wrong. The way everything shifts inside of me as I lay eyes on her. The way my body begs me to love her. The need I feel to tell her. To nip at her neck and make love to her under the full moon.
I should think this through.
But I cannot tear myself away. I cannot make myself stop staring. I cannot shake off the shock. I do not know when it will ever fade.
I have a fated mate. And she’s a witch. Idalis is my mate.
IDALIS
It’s been a long time since I slept like this. The last time I can recall sleeping so easily, and so soundly, was when my coven was still alive. When I wasn't alone. When there was love in this home.
It was impossible for me to find peace after they died, and it took months for me to sleep more than a few hours at a time at all, and then it was never as restful as it used to be. I wasn’t used to being alone, and then, when I became accustomed to it, I grieved that, too. And then even that grief faded into acceptance.