8. Jace

"Hey, boss? Are you there?" a voice crackled through the radio on my kitchen table.

It was Shawn, one of the men who stood guard at the entrance to the compound. What could he need? I didn't have anything scheduled for the day.

I grabbed the handset. "This is Jace. What's wrong?"

"Hey, I've got a lady here who says she needs to see you."

"A lady?" A nervous tremor ran up my spine. "Um, black hair, hazel eyes, looks like a supermodel?"

"Actually, yeah. Pretty sure it's the woman staying at the old cabin right off the pack lands. Should we let her come up?"

I'd only dropped off the stuff she needed to repair her sink an hour or two ago. What could Kirsten possibly need so soon? And if she needed something, why drive all the way up here instead of calling me?

Another thought occurred to me. What if this was about more than a leaking sink or shopping in town? Had she figured something out? Did she know?

Only one way to find out.

"Yeah, Shawn. Go ahead and wave her through," I said.

For a few moments, I simply stood there, frozen with indecision. If Kirsten had figured out about the curse, I had no clue how. She'd be here any second.

I strode to the front door and stepped out. Less than a minute later, Kirsten's car appeared.

After a few awkward moments out in the driveway, she came inside and followed me into the den. As she walked over to one of the armchairs, I watched as she twisted her fingers together anxiously. I could hear her heart slamming away in her chest.

"Have a seat," I said, lowering myself into the opposite armchair. "Tell me what brought you here."

Kirsten took a deep breath, then shoved her hands under her thighs to stop from fidgeting. "All right. What I'm going to say might sound crazy, I'm not sure." She laughed. "I'm not sure about anything anymore," she muttered.

"I promise to hear you out," I said. "Say whatever you have to say."

She unzipped the side pocket of her purse and pulled out what looked like index cards. A closer look revealed that they were photographs.

"I found these in the cabin. Um, I know shifters live a lot longer than humans. Do, uh, do you recognize anyone in these photos?"

She placed them face-up on the coffee table between us. I clenched my jaw at the sight of Dorothy Welch. The picture was old—faded and dog-eared. It showed her standing with a young girl who bore a passing resemblance to Kirsten but with light hair instead of black.

Kirsten's great-grandmother. The woman who'd cursed me all those many years ago. Even seeing her there, nothing but a memory on paper, was almost too much.

Kirsten must have seen me tense up because she tapped the photos. "You do know something, don't you?"

I cleared my throat, hesitant to answer until I knew exactly what she knew. "How about you tell me what questions you have about them?"

A mad little chuckle escaped her lips, and she ran a shaking hand through her hair. "It's crazy, it's totally crazy, but I've got to get it out. If it stays in my head, I'll lose my mind."

"I'm here," I said softly. "Whatever you need to say, I'm here."

She let out a shuddering sigh. At first, she spoke in quick, nearly panicked bursts, but as she continued telling me the story, she calmed down. A discussion with her father had made her question things, and then she'd discovered an album with photos that made no logical sense and found the letter taped in the back.

The photo of her grandmother was easy to recognize—she looked like Kirsten. Her coronation ceremony would have been around the time when her powers manifested and she truly became a witch. One of my eyebrows rose as Kirsten recited what had been written in the letter, though. That made little to no sense. How could Kirsten's great-grandmother and grandmother have had the same visions? Could my curse have something to do with these visions?

"It said I would meet a man who would be drawn to me," Kirsten said, then laughed again, her cheeks going red. "Is that you?" she asked with a desperate lilt to her voice.

After a few moments of chewing my lower lip, I stood. "I think I need a strong drink to get through all this. What can I get you?"

"Oh, thank God. Yeah, I could use something to take the edge off."

"I've got wine."

"How about a Jack and Coke?"

My eyebrows shot up in surprise, and I chuckled. "Yeah, I've got that. It's actually what I was going to have."

"Great. Hell, make it a double."

"On the way."

In the kitchen, I pulled down glasses and bottles, trying to figure out the best way to explain things as I made the drinks. By the time I was done and walking back to the den, I still had no clue what to say. Kirsten took the drink eagerly, taking two heavy swallows before I sat down again.

"This is going to be complicated," I began.

"Oh, good," she said. "Everything so far has been so simple."

I grunted. "Fair enough. First question, what do you know about shifter history?"

Kirsten took another sip of her drink and shrugged. "I don't know. You guys have been around for, like, hundreds and hundreds of years. You turn into wolves. Stories say you have two minds or something?"

"Sort of," I said with a nod. "Our inner wolf. It's not really two separate minds, but more like a symbiosis. But that's beside the point. I meant, do you know how we came to be?"

Her eyes widened, and she leaned forward, narrowing the distance between us. My wolf whined with desire.

"No, I don't. I didn't think anyone did."

"It's a fairly well-guarded secret. I can give you the basic story." I took a gulp of my drink, then settled back in my chair. "Centuries ago, a green witch—a witch who works with nature and plants—came across an injured wolf in the forest. This wolf was on the verge of death. The witch took pity on the creature and spent days and weeks nursing it back to health. Once it had recovered, the wolf was indebted to her. The two became inseparable. Witches live much longer than humans, and ages and ages longer than animals, so with time, the wolf aged. The witch knew that one day, her trusted companion would die, but that simple truth was too much for her to accept. She went about creating a special spell. What she attempted to do was increase the wolf's life span to one closer to hers, but something went wrong with the spell. Once it was cast, the wolf became something different. It transformed into a man who could shapeshift into a wolf on command."

"Seriously?" Kirsten asked, frowning. "That's how it happened?"

"According to all the legends. The story has been passed down from father to son, alpha to pack, for as long as anyone can remember. Witches are real, and they created us."

"Wow."

I frowned at her, confused by her reaction. "You seem a little more freaked out that your grandmother never told you than by the fact that witches are real. I'm not trying to be an ass, but that's kinda strange."

Kirsten had already finished half her drink, and she shrugged as she took another sip. "I thought about it in the cabin. I mean, like you said, shifters are real. You guys can literally change into a living, breathing wolf at the drop of a hat. Between that and a woman who can cast spells, which seems less probable?"

"Fair enough," I said. "As I was saying, witches and shifters spent centuries as allies. Our numbers grew, and things were fine between us for a long time. Our numbers were always much larger than theirs. In the days of old, witches would live on shifter pack lands, either solely or as part of a small coven, and they would help protect the lands with spells and wards.

"That's where things took a turn for the worse. After years—centuries—of this partnership, many alphas began to view witches as tools. Property to do their bidding. They would ask more and more of the witches on their pack lands. Alphas who had no witch would seek out and kidnap witches, forcing them onto their lands to assist with protection. It got bad. Witches fled and went underground, leaving behind their long-time companions, the creatures they had created that had become their greatest enemies.

"They hid among mankind, masquerading as humans. They have ways of masking their magic. It has a scent—I forgot to mention that. The smell is intoxicating to shifters. If we get around fully unfiltered and unmasked magic, we can…" I trailed off, remembering that night a century ago. "Well, we can get sort of drunk on it, and we, uh, we make bad decisions we never would otherwise. It's hard to explain." I cleared my throat. "The ones who didn't want to hide shielded their homes with wards to keep shifters or anyone with bad intentions out."

Kirsten sat her now-empty glass down. "So Nana was a witch. I guess it makes some sort of sense," she said with a faint smile on her lips. "I mean, she looked like a very spry and healthy woman in her mid-sixties, but if the dates on those photos are to be believed, she was well over a century old."

I nodded, running a finger around the lip of my glass. "You said she got sick?"

"Cancer," Kirsten answered sadly.

"That sucks. I'm sorry. The disease had probably been inside her for a long time. Her aging should have been even slower. If I had to guess, it was eating away at her magic for decades before she actually felt bad. The magic and sickness battled it out inside her."

"Why don't you talk weird?" she asked suddenly.

The question caught me off-guard. "I'm sorry?"

"Like I said, you guys are hundreds of years old. I'd sort of assumed you all would have, like, old-school accents and stuff."

I smiled ruefully. "Yeah, no. It's weird enough being a magical shapeshifting creature. Imagine if we all walked around saying shit like, ‘Forsooth, m'lady. ‘Tis true I've become enamored with my fine raiments.' It's still a human world, so we change with the times. Though, I will say, I refuse to ever say stuff like ‘rizz' or ‘no cap.' Sorry, not sorry."

She chuckled. "I wish you could get my students to feel the same way."

But the smile slowly faded from her face as Kirsten eyed her hands, looking down and running a thumb over her palm. As much as I wanted to comfort her, I couldn't. No matter what my inner wolf wanted or desired, the woman before me was still a witch. I could tell her everything, but that was as far as it would go. She deserved the truth, yes, but that was all I could give her.

At that thought, a deep and angry growl echoed through my mind. My wolf was pissed that I was ignoring his desires. I pushed him down, mentally telling him to get over it. This was not happening, no matter how much he wanted it. Still, a faint voice—mine rather than my wolf's—continued to whisper its doubt at my conviction.

"It's so strange." Kirsten's eyes met mine, and she added, "You still haven't told me what this has to do with you."

"Good afternoon, big brother!"

Kirsten and I both started at the unexpected voice calling from the foyer. Shayna.

Shit. My younger sister had always had horrible timing, and today only proved her skill.

"Oh, I should leave," Kirsten said, looking toward the entryway.

I stood quickly. "It's just my sister. You don't need to go. She's probably not here for anything important."

Why the hell did I care what Kirsten thought? Damn, I hadn't even told her about my curse. I needed to tell her. Desperation built inside me. This woman might be my only chance at lifting it.

Shayna came around the corner and stopped dead in her tracks. Her lips stretched into a smile, and she arched an eyebrow.

"Did I interrupt a little afternoon delight, Jace?"

Frowning, I looked back at Kirsten, my cheeks burning in embarrassment. In my haste to keep Kirsten from leaving, I'd jumped up from the couch, and now Kirsten's face was level with my crotch. It looked as though something much dirtier than a conversation was about to happen.

"Dammit, Shayna, don't you ever knock?" I growled.

"My apologies, Mister Alpha, sir. Who's the pretty lady?" she asked, smiling at Kirsten.

"I was just leaving," Kirsten said as she stood. As she did, her face came close to mine, and her scent struck me again. My stomach did a happy flip, but I shook the feeling away.

"You don't have to," I whispered.

"Yeah," Shayna added. "You don't have to. I can go upstairs, put some earplugs in. You two kids do what kids do."

Kirsten flashed a sarcastic smile. "Sorry, your brother is… well, he's interesting, I'll say that. I don't think that's happening."

"Ah," Shayna said, then gave me a mock frown. "She's already figured you out, bro? That didn't take long."

Kirsten was already walking out of the room.

"You can come back anytime. We can finish this later," I called after her.

"Thanks. Yeah, sure," Kirsten said absent-mindedly. She looked overwhelmed and confused. I wanted to push the issue, but that might have done more harm than good.

"Nice to meet you," Kirsten muttered to Shayna.

Shayna's eyes widened in surprise when she caught a whiff of Kirsten's scent. Once the front door closed, Shayna spun and looked at me.

"That's a witch," she hissed, pointing at the door as it closed behind Kirsten.

Other than Waylan, Shayna was the only person who knew about my curse. I trusted her with my life, even if she could be an annoying shit sometimes.

"Very observant," I said, then downed the rest of my drink.

Shayna hurried across the room and tugged on my shirt, lowering her voice to a hiss. "Are you going to get her to fix the curse?"

"I'm not sure. Kirsten doesn't even know she's a witch yet. I was trying to explain that, until some rude asshole interrupted."

"Oh," Shayna said. "Whoops."

"Yeah, whoops," I agreed.

Recovering some of her usual bravado, she grinned and nodded at the door. "She's super cute, though."

All I could do was grunt in response. "Yeah. Bigger problem. Not only is she a witch, but I'm about one hundred percent sure she's my fated mate."

"Get the fuck out," Shayna gasped, swatting my chest.

"Damn, that hurt."

"You found your mate? This is awesome, Jace. But why do you have that look on your face? You look like you just ate a lemon dipped in dog piss."

"You know why. You smelled it yourself. She's a witch, Shayna. I can't mate with a witch, for fuck's sake. I'm trying to work up the courage to reject her, but my wolf is being a bigger asshole than you."

The look Shayna gave me was the same look she'd been giving me my whole life. I was the older brother, I was the pack alpha, but in the end, I was still just her brother. And nothing would change the fact that she would always think she knew more than me.

"You can't be serious," she said. "You've been waiting for a mate for, like, a hundred years. You'll regret this if you turn your back on it now."

"This is probably just another part of the curse. Dorothy Welch decided she'd keep screwing with me and used her own great-granddaughter to do it. That's what I think. She knew I hated witches, so she made sure my only mate would be one of them, sealing the curse and ending any chance I'd have at a true mate. If I officially reject her, maybe there's a small chance that can change."

"And if it doesn't?" Shayna asked. "If you reject this woman, you might never find another mate. You'll never have an heir. Have you thought about that?" She sighed. "Jace, I think you're being hasty. Kirsten seemed nice. I doubt she's building a gingerbread house in the woods to eat children."

"Witch," I said again, as though Shayna didn't comprehend the meaning. "Have you ever heard of a shifter mating with a witch? Ever?"

"No. But I've also never heard of a shifter—a pack alpha, no less—who hasn't been able to find a mate in a century."

I growled in frustration and moved over to the fireplace, resting my hands on the mantle and letting my head sag between my arms. "This is not how I wanted this to go," I said, hating the misery in my tone.

"No," Shayna agreed. "But here you are. Can you tell me honestly that you aren't at least a little attracted to her?"

This again. Of course I was. Witch or not, Kirsten was gorgeous.

"She's very attractive," I conceded. The fact was, every time I laid eyes on her, she stole the breath from my chest and made my heart ache. It had nothing to do with the curse, either. Any man in his right mind would do a double take if Kirsten walked by.

"Here's what I think, big brother. I think you clear your head, push all the horseshit baggage you've been carrying for a hundred years to the back of your mind. Go into this with a fresh perspective and see what happens."

"You should write a self-help book," I muttered.

"Maybe I will," she said. "I'll leave you with that little tidbit. You've got some thinking to do. I don't know the woman, but again, she's gorgeous, seems nice, and you're drawn to her, whether you want to believe it or not."

"You said you were leaving," I said pointedly.

Shayna kissed my cheek. "I only want what's best for you, Jace. I've seen you be miserable for so long that if there's even a slim chance you could be happy, I think you should go for it. Love ya."

"I love you, too, sis," I said with an exhausted sigh.

A few minutes later, I was alone with my thoughts. No one to talk to me, nobody to bounce ideas around with. Just me and my inner wolf—no one else.

A lot of things ricocheted around in my head. Shayna's words burrowed deep into my psyche, stronger and louder than anything else. Could I be sabotaging my one chance at happiness? What would happen if this was all I had? My only option?

I'd spent decades pining for a shifter mate. A female wolf to spend my life with. That was all I'd ever wanted. The idea of being tied to a witch was so foreign that it was almost impossible to picture. When I thought of Kirsten, however, that happy warmth spread through my stomach and chest. Was it another trap? One more curse that Dorothy was throwing at me from the grave? How could I know for sure?

"Screw this," I grumbled, my voice sounding strange in the empty house. I needed to clear my head.

Before the back door had even clicked shut, I'd shifted and bounded up the hill toward the forest behind my home. The late-afternoon sun dipped toward the horizon as I plunged into the forest. At first, I thought I was running at random, enjoying the breeze through my fur. It didn't take long for me to realize where I was actually going. The cabin.

It came into view twenty minutes later. The sky still held light, but the sun had almost vanished, spreading dusky rays through the trees as I sat on my haunches in almost the same spot where I'd first seen Kirsten.

The wards still held me back, but I could make out the kitchen window, no longer covered by curtains. When Kirsten appeared, my eyes widened. Despite myself, I couldn't help but sigh at how beautiful she was.

Almost as though she could hear my thoughts, her eyes twitched in my direction. I froze. Had she seen me? No. Her gaze was distant, unfocused, looking at nothing. She appeared confused, introspective. I couldn't blame her. She had as much on her mind as I did, maybe even more. I'd had a century to deal with the fallout of the curse. She was only now understanding who and what she was. Hopefully, if we put our heads together, we could find a way out of this spell we were both under.

Memories of that night long ago flashed through my mind. My drunken mistake, the dumbass actions of a wolf who had barely become an adult. A wolf who'd lost his parents only a couple of weeks before. Yes, I'd fucked up, but that shouldn't have been enough to ruin my life for a hundred years.

That old anger filled me again. I could still see Dorothy's angry and vindictive face when I closed my eyes. The curse had slammed into me, and even now, it was hard to believe that it hadn't all happened yesterday. The sensation—burning hot agony—was still as fresh as ever.

Lowering my head, I turned and padded off into the forest, heading home. How could I ever love a witch? Whether Kirsten was fated to me or not, my hatred of their kind wasn't something I could let go of that easily. Maybe I never would have a mate. Even fate couldn't push me toward a witch if my heart was so full of anger.

Could it?