Chapter 12 - Articus

The air in the room felt tense, a heavy silence settling as Articus stood by the large window, his sharp eyes staring out at the endless expanse of his territory. The White Moon pack’s lands were vast and beautiful, stretching far beyond the mountains.

He had called Rowan and his wife here out of necessity, and despite his confidence in Juniper’s powers, it did little to quell the anxiety gnawing at him. Wren was upstairs, resting, her fragile state weighing heavily on his mind.

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the manicured lawn of Articus's estate as a sleek black SUV pulled up the driveway. Articus stepped out to the front steps, his white hair glinting in the fading light.

As the car doors opened, his heart momentarily lightened when he saw his best friend. Rowan Zev, towering, broad-shouldered, and exuding an aura of effortless confidence, stepped out first. Behind him, his wife Juniper followed, her presence as ethereal as ever. She moved with a grace that seemed almost otherworldly, her long black hair cascading over her shoulders.

Articus descended the steps to greet them, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Rowan, Juniper. Thank you for coming on such short notice."

Rowan grinned, pulling Articus into a brief but firm embrace. "What are best friends for? Besides, I couldn't pass up the chance to see the great Articus White in his new role as a married man."

Articus rolled his eyes, but there was no real annoyance behind the gesture. "I'm not really married, you idiot."

"Ah, but you will be soon enough," Rowan teased, his golden eyes twinkling with mischief. "Who would have thought? The last lone wolf, buying a wife at auction. It's like something out of a bad romance novel."

"Shut up," Articus growled, but there was no heat in his words. This was their dynamic; Rowan’s light-heartedness was something he had always appreciated, especially in moments like these.

Rowan laughed, a deep, hearty sound that echoed through the room. “I’m just saying, it’s not every day someone gets married on an auction stage. You’ve really outdone yourself this time.”

Articus sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

If only it were that simple.

Juniper stepped forward, her black eyes serious despite the small smile on her lips. "It's good to see you, Articus.”

“And you, Juniper,” he replied, inclining his head in respect. “Thank you for coming.”

“I hope I can be of help today," she said softly. Her voice was smooth, almost musical.

Articus nodded, his expression sobering. "I hope so too, Juniper. Your expertise has been invaluable to us in the past."

She nodded, her expression unreadable. Articus knew that behind those calm eyes lay a mind constantly at work, assessing, calculating. Juniper was powerful, more so than any other witch he’d encountered, and if anyone could help Wren, it would be her.

As they made their way into the house, Rowan's gaze swept the opulent entryway. "So, where's the girl? I'm dying to meet the woman who managed to catch the eye of the most eligible bachelor in the werewolf world."

Articus's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "Her name is Wren, and she's upstairs. I'll go get her."

As he climbed the stairs, Articus's mind raced. How would Wren react to meeting Rowan and Juniper? Would she be scared? Angry? He found himself hoping she would be comfortable, a realization that surprised him.

Why do I care so much about her comfort?

There was something about Wren that had gotten under his skin, something that made him want to protect her. He knocked gently on her door. "Wren? Our guests are here. Are you ready to come down?"

There was a moment of silence before her soft voice replied, "Yes, I'll be right there."

When she emerged, Articus was struck once again by her beauty. Her light brown hair fell in soft waves around her face, and her hazel eyes, though wary, held a determination that he admired.

Wren’s lithe frame was silhouetted against the morning sun that filtered in through the hall windows. She had a natural athleticism, with toned muscles and a slender waist that hinted at her active lifestyle.

"You look nice," he said, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

A faint blush colored her cheeks. "Thank you," she murmured, her eyes darting away from his intense gaze.

As they descended the stairs together, Articus could sense Wren's nervousness. Without thinking, he placed a reassuring hand on the small of her back. She stiffened for a moment but didn't pull away.

What am I doing? I shouldn't be touching her like this...

But he didn't remove his hand.

In the living room, Rowan and Juniper stood as they entered. Rowan's eyebrows rose slightly as he took in Wren's appearance, and Articus felt an irrational surge of possessiveness.

"Wren, this is my best friend, Rowan Zev, and his wife, Juniper," Articus introduced. "Rowan, Juniper, this is Wren Knight."

Wren offered a small smile. "It's nice to meet you both," she said, her voice steady despite the tension Articus could feel radiating from her.

"Juniper is a powerful witch," he explained. "She's helped us out of more than a few magical scrapes over the years."

Rowan raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips, but he said nothing, merely nodding in acknowledgment. Juniper, however, stepped forward, her expression gentle as she extended a hand.

"It's lovely to meet you, Wren,” she said softly, her black eyes kind. “Articus has told us about your situation. I hope I can be of help today."

Wren glanced up at Articus before tentatively reaching out to take Juniper’s hand. “Nice to meet you too,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, her smile faltering slightly. "I hope so, too. Thank you for coming."

Juniper held her hand for a moment, her eyes flickering with something Articus couldn’t quite decipher. Then she released Wren’s hand and took a step back, her gaze turning more serious.

Juniper leaned forward, her expression serious. "Wren, before we begin, I need to explain what I'm going to do. I'll be using my magic to examine the spell that's binding you. It shouldn't hurt, but you might feel a strange sensation. Are you ready?"

Wren took a deep breath, her knuckles white as she gripped her own hands. "Yes, I'm ready. I want this... this brand gone. I just… I want to get rid of it."

Juniper nodded in understanding. “We’ll do everything we can.”

The room fell silent as they all moved to the center, where a large wooden table had been cleared. Juniper motioned for Wren to sit, and as she did, Articus couldn’t help but notice the slight tremor in her hands. He took a seat beside her, his presence a silent offer of support.

Juniper reached out, gently taking Wren's hands in her own as they sat down. As she closed her eyes, the air in the room seemed to thicken, charged with an invisible energy that made the hairs on Articus's arms stand on end.

Slowly, Juniper's eyes opened, and Articus saw that they had changed from their usual black to a deep, swirling purple. It was a sight he'd seen before, but it never failed to impress him.

She began to chant, her voice low and melodic, the words ancient and filled with an energy that sent a shiver down Articus’s spine. As she continued, a soft, violet glow began to emanate from her hands, swirling around her fingers like tendrils of smoke.

Wren sat still, her eyes wide as she watched Juniper's face. Then, almost imperceptibly, a faint shimmer appeared in the air around Wren, like heat rising from hot pavement.

Articus leaned forward, fascinated despite himself. He could see the magic now, swirling around Wren in delicate, intricate patterns. He watched, his muscles tensed, his instincts on high alert.

Then, without warning, everything went wrong.

The moment Juniper's magic touched the shimmering barrier around Wren, a blood-curdling scream tore from Wren's throat.

The sound was so piercing, so raw, that it jolted both Articus and Rowan to their feet. Wren’s body convulsed, her face contorted in agony as the magic seemed to burn into her skin. The violet light now appeared as searing flames engulfing her.

Wren's body convulsed, her back arching as if she were being electrocuted. Her face contorted in agony, all color draining from her cheeks. Juniper, her eyes wide with shock, tried to pull her hands away, but they seemed stuck as if the magic itself was holding them in place.

"Juniper, stop!" Articus shouted, his heart pounding in his chest. He lunged forward, reaching for Wren, but Rowan held him back.

"Wait," Rowan said, his voice tense. "We don't know what interrupting the magic might do."

For what felt like an eternity, but was probably only seconds, Wren's screams filled the room.

“Juniper!” Articus’s voice was sharp, laced with panic. He watched helplessly as Wren’s screams grew louder, her body writhing in pain.

Juniper’s face remained impassive, her focus unbroken, but Articus could see the strain in her eyes as she fought to control the magic. The violet flames flickered wildly before suddenly extinguishing, leaving Wren gasping for air.

Juniper's hands fell away from Wren's, and Wren slumped forward, her body shaking violently.

Articus broke free from Rowan's grip and rushed to Wren's side. Her skin was clammy, and her breathing was shallow and rapid. Her eyes met his—they were unfocused, filled with pain and terror.

"Wren? Wren, can you hear me?" Articus asked, his voice rough with concern.

Before she could respond, Wren's body heaved. Articus barely had time to help her lean to the side before she vomited violently onto the expensive carpet.

"Oh god," Articus muttered, his arm around Wren's trembling shoulders. He looked up, his blue eyes blazing.

Articus called for his butler, Edward, his voice sharp with urgency. A servant came out following a ring from the elderly man and hurried in to clean up the mess.

Articus gently lifted Wren into his arms. She felt so small, so fragile against his chest, her body still shaking.

He carried her to a nearby chaise lounge, settling her gently onto the soft cushions. Her eyes were closed now, her face ghostly pale, a sheen of sweat on her brow.

Shit, shit, shit.

She collapsed into his arms, her entire body limp and weak. Articus could feel the rapid thumping of her heart against his chest, her shallow breaths warm against his neck. He glanced up at Juniper, his eyes dark with worry.

“What was that?” he demanded, his voice low but filled with a barely restrained anger.

Juniper’s face was pale, her eyes slowly returning to their normal black. She looked exhausted, a bead of sweat trickling down her temple. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice hoarse. “I had to try.”

"What did you see?" Rowan asked, his usual joviality replaced by a serious, almost grim expression.

Juniper shook her head, her long black hair swaying with the movement. "It's... it's unlike anything I've ever encountered. The spell, it's not just on her body. It's bound to her soul."

Articus felt his blood run cold. "What does that mean?"

What kind of twisted magic is this?

"It means," Juniper said slowly, "that I can't break it. At least, not without killing her."

The room fell silent, the weight of Juniper's words settling over them like a heavy blanket. Articus looked down at Wren, watching the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. She looked so vulnerable, so hurt, and it was all because of him.

"There has to be something," Articus insisted, his voice rough with emotion. "Some way to break it without harming her."

Juniper's eyes were filled with sympathy as she met Articus's gaze. “I’m sorry, Articus. The magic is ancient and powerful. It’s designed to ensure absolute control over the victim. The only way to sever that bond is if you mark her or upon her death.”

"That's it?" Articus asked, disbelief coloring his tone. "There's no other way? No loophole, no more powerful witch who could break it?"

Juniper shook her head. "The laws of this magic are set, Articus. It's not about power; it's about the nature of the spell. It's designed to be unbreakable except under those specific conditions."

Articus ran a hand through his white hair, frustration and helplessness warring inside him. He looked down at Wren again, watching as her eyelids fluttered open. Her hazel eyes, usually so bright and defiant, were clouded with pain and fear.

"A-Articus?" she whispered, her voice hoarse from screaming.

"I'm here," he said softly, taking her hand in his. He was surprised by how natural the gesture felt, how much he wanted to comfort her. "How are you feeling?"

Wren tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness seemed to overtake her, and she fell back against the cushions. "Like I've been hit by a truck," she mumbled. Then, her eyes widening with sudden recollection, she asked, "Did it work? Is the spell broken?"

The hope in her voice made Articus's heart clench. But before he could speak, Juniper stepped forward. "Wren," she said gently, "I'm so sorry, but I couldn't break the spell. It's... it's more complicated than we thought."

Juniper exchanged a glance with Articus before continuing. "The spell is bound to your soul, Wren. It's not just on your body. The only ways to break it are... well, either Articus marks you or..."

"Or I die," Wren finished, her voice barely above a whisper.

Articus felt her hand tighten in his, her knuckles turning white with the force of her grip. He wanted to say something, anything to comfort her, but words failed him.

"Is there really nothing else you can do?" Articus asked Juniper again, desperation creeping into his voice.

Wren's other hand shot out, grabbing a fistful of Articus's shirt. "No," she said, her voice shaky but determined. "Please, don't try again. I can't... I can't go through that again."

Juniper's eyes filled with sympathy. "We couldn't try again even if we wanted to, Wren. Another attempt would likely kill you. The spell is too deeply ingrained."

Articus felt as if the ground had fallen out from beneath him. He had bought Wren at the auction to save her from a worse fate, but now... now he felt responsible for her in a way he hadn't anticipated.

He couldn't just set her free, couldn't let her go. She was bound to him, whether either of them liked it or not.

What have I done?

Wren was crying now, silent tears streaming down her face as she clung to Articus's shirt. Without thinking, he gathered her into his arms, holding her close as she sobbed against his chest.

"Shh," he murmured, stroking her hair. "It's going to be okay. We'll figure this out."

But even as he said the words, he wasn't sure he believed them. How could they possibly figure this out? The only options were unthinkable. But he knew he couldn't let her die.

Articus looked down at Wren. Her eyes were closed, her breathing steady. She seemed to have fallen into an exhausted sleep.

Rowan was quiet for a long moment, his golden eyes thoughtful. "Maybe," he said slowly, "the answer isn't in breaking the spell right away."

Articus turned to look at his friend, one eyebrow raised in question.

"Hear me out," Rowan continued. "You can't break the spell, and you can't let her go. So maybe... maybe you focus on making her comfortable here. On building trust."

"What are you getting at?" Articus asked, with a hint of wariness in his voice.

Rowan shrugged. "Look, I'm not saying you should try to seduce her or anything creepy like that. But maybe if you give her time, show her that you're not the monster she probably thinks you are... maybe eventually, she'll choose to stay. To accept the mark on her own terms."

Articus was quiet for a long moment, considering Rowan's words. It wasn't a perfect solution—far from it. But it was better than the alternatives he'd been wrestling with.

"Thank you both for coming," he said to Rowan and Juniper. "I know it was short notice, and I... I appreciate your help."

Rowan clasped Articus's shoulder, his grip firm and reassuring. "That's what friends are for, Art. We're here for you, both of you, whatever you need."

As Rowan and Juniper left, Articus remained on the chaise lounge with Wren still cradled in his arms. He knew he should move her to her room and let her rest properly, but he was reluctant to let her go. It felt as if she might shatter if he released her.

Somewhere between buying Wren at the auction and holding her as she cried, he had started to care for her—really care for her, not just out of a sense of duty or obligation, but in a way that made his heart ache when he saw her in pain.

It was a dangerous realization.