Chapter 8

C hase

One Month later

Chase stood at the edge of the clearing, his massive frame trembling with the effort of containing the forest's chaotic energy. The magic that usually pulsed through him in a steady, comforting rhythm now surged and ebbed erratically, sending shockwaves of pain through his body. He gritted his teeth, struggling to maintain his composure as another wave of uncontrolled power washed over him.

His dark eyes, usually sharp and alert, were now clouded with pain and exhaustion. The dissonance in the symphony of nature set his nerves on edge, each discordant note feeling like a physical blow. Chase's breath came in ragged gasps as he fought to center himself, to be the anchor the forest so desperately needed.

As he surveyed the clearing, the signs of magical instability were more than just visual anomalies to him. Each out-of-season bloom, each impossibly colored leaf, sent a jolt of wrongness through his system. His skin prickled with awareness, every hair standing on end as if he were caught in an electrical storm of pure magic.

With a groan that seemed to come from the very depths of the earth, Chase began his daily patrol. Each step was a struggle, the very ground beneath his feet shifting and pulsing with unstable energy. He could feel the ley lines, usually steady flows of power, now writhing like agitated serpents beneath the surface.

As he reached a particularly potent ley line, Chase fell to his knees, the effort of remaining upright too much to bear. He placed his palm flat against the earth, and the jolt of wild magic that surged up his arm nearly caused him to blackout. Sweat beaded on his brow as he fought to contain the power, to channel it safely back into the earth.

For a moment, the magic seemed to calm under his touch, and Chase felt a glimmer of hope. But then, like a rubber band snapping back, it surged again. The backlash sent him sprawling, his vision blurring as waves of nausea and dizziness washed over him.

As he lay there, panting and disoriented, Chase felt the forest's pain as acutely as his own. The land was crying out, its agony resonating through every fiber of his being. And with a clarity that cut through the haze of pain, he realized what—or rather, who—the forest was calling for.

Betsy.

The thought of his mate brought a new wave of emotion crashing over him. Pride in her inherent connection to the land. Fear for the dangers she would face. And a deep, gnawing guilt for keeping her in the dark about her true heritage and the responsibility that came with it.

As Chase struggled to his feet, his body aching and his mind reeling, he knew that time was running out. The forest's magic was spiraling out of control, and he alone was no longer enough to contain it. The bond between him and the land, once a source of strength and purpose, now felt like it was tearing him apart from the inside.

He cast one last longing look at the cabin where Betsy slept, unaware of the chaos unfolding around her. Chase's heart ached with the need to go to her, to share the burden that was slowly crushing him. But the fear of losing her, of seeing her crushed under the weight of this responsibility, held him back.

With a low growl of determination, Chase forced himself to continue his patrol. Each step was agony, each breath a battle. But he would endure. He had to. For the forest, for Betsy, and for the delicate balance that hung by a thread.

As the night deepened and the forest's song grew more chaotic, Chase felt himself being pushed to the very limits of his endurance. The magic pulsed around him, growing wilder by the moment, and he knew that soon, a choice would have to be made. The forest needed its steward, needed the balance that only Betsy could provide.

But as the magic surged once more, sending Chase to his knees with a cry of pain, he wondered if he would even survive long enough to make that choice.

The thought sent a wave of conflicting emotions through Chase. Pride in his mate's inherent connection to the land. Fear for the dangers she would face. And a deep, gnawing guilt for keeping her in the dark about her true heritage and the responsibility that came with it.

As Chase continued his patrol, his mind wandered to the moment he had first scented Betsy in the forest. He had known instantly that she was different, that she carried the spark of magic in her blood. But he had fought against the attraction, had tried to push her away to protect both her and the delicate balance of the forest.

But fate, it seemed, had other plans. The mate bond had formed, tying him to Betsy in ways that went beyond the physical. He could sense her emotions, could feel the warm glow of her presence even now, as she puttered about in the cabin.

Chase's steps faltered as a wave of longing washed over him. How easy it would be to give in, to embrace the bond fully and lose himself in the joy of it. To share everything with Betsy, to face the challenges of the forest together as true partners.

But the risks... Chase's jaw clenched as he considered the dangers. The magic of the forest was not a gentle thing. It was wild, ancient, and often capricious. If Betsy fully embraced her role as steward, she would be binding herself not just to him, but to the land itself. It was a commitment that would change her irrevocably, that would tie her to this place for the rest of her days.

And what if she couldn't handle it? What if the weight of the responsibility was too much? Chase had seen what happened to those who tried to control the forest's magic without truly understanding it. The thought of Betsy suffering such a fate made his blood run cold.

The forest was alive around him, whispers of magic carried on the night breeze. But for once, his attention was not on the land he was sworn to protect. Instead, his thoughts were consumed by the sleeping woman inside, by the depth of his feelings for her, and by the terrible fear of losing her once she learned the whole truth.

Chase closed his eyes, feeling the pull of the mate bond, the warmth of Betsy's presence in his mind. He wanted nothing more than to give in to it fully, to lose himself in the joy and comfort of their connection. But the risks were too great. The magic was too unstable, the danger too immediate.

As guardian of the forest, as the last of his kind, Chase bore a responsibility that went beyond personal desires. He could not afford to be selfish, to put his own happiness above the safety of the land and all who dwelled within it.

And yet... Chase's gaze drifted to the cabin window, where a soft light still glowed. The thought of pushing Betsy away, of denying the bond between them, sent a lance of pain through his heart. She had brought light and laughter into his world, had awakened feelings he had long thought dead. Could he really give that up?

As the night deepened and the forest's song grew more chaotic, Chase stood torn between duty and desire. The magic pulsed around him, growing wilder by the moment. Soon, he knew, a choice would have to be made. The forest needed its steward, needed the balance that only Betsy could provide.

But to fully embrace her role, to take up the mantle of her grandmother, Betsy would need to know everything. The good and the bad, the wondrous and the terrible. She would need to understand the true nature of the forest's magic, and the price it demanded from those who wielded it.

Chase's hands clenched into fists, his inner turmoil manifesting in a low growl that rumbled through the clearing. He was the guardian, the protector. It was his duty to shield Betsy from harm, to keep her safe from the dangers that lurked in the shadows of his world.

But he was also her mate, bound to her by ties deeper than blood or magic. And as her partner, didn't she deserve the truth? The whole truth, no matter how difficult or frightening?

She needed to know about the ancient pact, about the true nature of his kind, about the terrible consequences should they fail in their duty to the forest. But Chase just didn't think she was ready yet.