Chapter Nine
869 Words
Kai leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching her.
Nia sat curled in the armchair by the fire, legs tucked beneath her, a massive leather-bound grimoire spread open in her lap. Her brow was furrowed in concentration, lips moving silently as she traced a line of text with her finger. The firelight flickered against her skin, casting gold over the deep brown, making her glow like something otherworldly.
Enchanting.
The word slipped into his mind before he could stop it.
He scowled.
She wasn’t enchanting. She was annoying.
(Even if the way she bit her lip when she was thinking did things to his pulse he refused to acknowledge.)
Nia suddenly looked up, catching him staring.
Kai didn’t flinch.
“What?” she asked, arching a brow.
“You talk to yourself,” he said flatly.
“And you lurk in doorways like a moody gargoyle.” She snapped the book shut. “But since you’re here, I found something.”
Kai pushed off the doorframe and crossed the room, dropping onto the couch opposite her. “What?”
Nia flipped the book back open, tapping a page filled with illustrations of twisted creatures—some skeletal, some shadowy, all nightmares given form. “Reapers. Poison-walkers. Spectral hounds. They’re not random attacks. They’re sent. Specifically designed to harm or poison their targets.”
Kai’s jaw tightened. “By who?”
“That’s the problem. I don’t know.” She exhaled, frustration sharp in her scent. “But the curse was disrupted by our wedding. Whoever’s behind this doesn’t want the bond to hold. They’re trying to break it.”
Kai’s wolf bristled at the thought.
“So what’s next?” he growled.
Nia turned the page, revealing another sketch—a faceless figure with hollow eyes and hands outstretched. “This isn’t just physical. The next attack will be mental. Emotional. Something meant to break us.”
Kai’s stomach dropped.
How the hell were they supposed to fight something like that?
Nia must have seen the doubt in his face because she snapped the book shut again. “We prepare. I’ll make protective talismans for the pack—charms to ward off dark magic.”
Kai blinked. “You can do that?”
She gave him a look. “I am a witch.”
Before he could retort, she’d already pulled out her phone, dialing a number with quick, practiced flicks of her thumb.
“Leah? Yeah.” Nia’s voice was all business. “I need the coven to craft protection talismans. Bracelets, necklaces—something durable. As many as you can make.” A pause. “No, now.”
Kai watched her, something uneasy coiling in his chest.
She was all in.
No hesitation.
For the pack.
For him.
(And that was more dangerous than any curse.)
The talismans arrived at dawn.
Leah had outdone herself—dozens of woven leather bracelets and polished stone pendants, each humming with protective magic. Nia laid them out on the packhouse’s long dining table, her fingers brushing over each one as if silently reinforcing their power.
The wolves gathered slowly, eyeing the charms with a mix of curiosity and distrust.
Kai stood at Nia’s side, arms crossed, his presence a silent command.
Take one.
Most did, albeit reluctantly. A few—like Garrett, one of the older enforcers—hesitated, his lip curling.
“Magic’s never done us any favors,” he muttered, loud enough for the room to hear.
Nia didn’t react, but Kai saw the way her spine stiffened.
Before Garrett could say more, Kai stepped forward, his growl low. “Take the damn charm or patrol the northern ridge alone tonight.”
Garrett’s jaw clenched, but he snatched a bracelet and shoved it onto his wrist.
One by one, the pack followed suit, though Kai didn’t miss the sideways glances, the whispered doubts.
“Since when do we trust witch magic?”
“Alpha’s bond is messing with his head.”
His wolf snarled at the disrespect, but Nia’s hand brushed his arm—brief, grounding—before she turned to address the pack.
“These will shield you from dark magic,” she said, her voice steady. “But they’re not invincible. Stay alert.”
The wolves dispersed, but the tension lingered like a storm cloud.
Dinner was quiet. Too quiet.
Nia picked at her food, her gaze distant. Kai watched her, the unease in his gut growing.
“You’re thinking loud,” he grunted.
She glanced up. “Something feels off.”
Kai set his fork down. “I know.”
The admission hung between them.
For days, the bond had been a low hum in the back of his skull, a constant awareness of her presence. But now—now it was restless. Like a warning.
Nia exhaled. “We should get some sleep. Whatever’s coming, we’ll face it better rested.”
Kai nodded, though every instinct screamed at him to stay awake, to watch.
But they went through the motions anyway—dishes cleared, lights off, doors shut.
As Kai lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, the bond pulsed once, sharp and urgent.
He ignored it.
(Big mistake.)
- Writer
