“We need to go, now,” she instructs while getting to her feet. When she’s focused, nothing gets in the way. Tatiana has already walked away, starting our journey, when I begin to follow. Patrick nudges John as she strides past, and he simply smiles. He is so smitten with my sister that it is almost sickening. Five other men join us as we begin our trek to the other ward, which will consume most of the day. Less if we don’t have to watch our backs with every step we take. Sundown is our mark, harnessing the moon’s power as it begins its ascension.
I stealthily watch the shifters that surround us, their sheer size dwarfing me. With strong, broad shoulders displaying their dominance, the shifters are a powerful force to be reckoned with. And here they are, protecting two witches they barely know, all because of a long-standing alliance between our ancestors. They are willing to risk their own lives for us, and for that I feel an overwhelming pride in them.
We all stop in front of the ward but are blocked by the wall that’s in place during hours no one can leave. Each ward is granted leave for only a few hours a day to access the market. Now is not that time.
Tatiana steps forward, letting her raised palms hover inches away from the wall in an effort to push back against the power preventing us from leaving. It wobbles and sways while she silently mouths a chant. Beads of sweat drip down her temples, and I know she is losing too much energy by doing this. The wards are controlled by the queen, and her energy is far greater than Tatiana’s. I step in line next to her and mirror her hands, channeling my strength to push through the spell. Within a heartbeat, a large circle of the wall moves, from wobbles to waves, and then quickly begins to evaporate. My sister casts me a wide-eyed glance, watching for my own health as we demolish the wall. She knows the extent of my power, but would rather I keep my reserve for when it’s required.
“Go now,” she orders to the werewolves, who begin to one by one step through the hole we have made. John and Patrick remain behind, wanting to ensure we are safe.
Tatiana will have none of it. “Go,” she demands again.
I nod to John who seems to carry the same thoughts as me. He’s fast and she hasn’t a chance to stop it. John wraps his hands around Tatiana’s hips, pulling her through the hole. She squeals before he stands her straight down on the other side of the wall. She looks back through to me and I know time is of the essence. Stepping one leg through, the hole begins to close with the sudden loss of power. Warm hands wrap around my forearm, and I’m yanked all the way until I collide once again with Patrick’s broad chest.
My groan is followed by his deep chuckle. He straightens me and a megawatt smile lights up his face.
“Second time’s a charm,” he jokes, forcing a smile from me.
“Thank you,” I offer, knowing that despite some hostility among the wolves, Patrick has a good heart.
Past Patrick, I see laughing eyes holding my gaze. Tatiana is grinning knowingly, and I frown at her suggestion there is something between Patrick and me. Anything to keep the focus off her own relationship squabbles. She is shameless.
The group proceeds forward, and it’s easy to see how the wolves fall into formation within their pack. Tatiana and John take the lead up front and walk in silence. No doubt each of them is contemplating our plan of attack.
And then the peace is interrupted with a voice that chills me to the bone. A voice that cajoles with a menace that’s undeserved.
A voice calling my name.
Talia.
Tatiana hears it too and comes to an immediate stop. She turns on her heel, eyes wide in worry, and strides toward me.
Talia, the voice sounds again.
The wolves look curiously at our changed demeanor but are unable to hear the voice calling out.
I don’t have to look around and search the area for its source. The voice is other-worldly. Targeted specifically for me.
My, my, my. Aren’t you a pretty little thing? The voice practically purrs.
There is no denying its wicked intentions.
“Who is that?” Tatiana asks me with a shake in her voice. She grips my hands, and by now, the wolves have come to a stop and are watching our interaction. Her cautious eyes dart around the area, looking for whoever’s doing the taunting.
“They’re not here,” I say, squeezing her hands with reassurance.
“Do you know who it is?”
“No. I don’t recognize the voice.”
John approaches from behind, his brows knit in confusion.
“What voice?” he asks, looking between us. “I didn’t hear anything.”