Chapter Six: Tamsin

What was Charles Mellor doing at Mason's apartment building, watering the roses? One of Valaky's many devotees. This could be no coincidence that he was here. Had Valaky been keeping an eye on the wolf shifter? She supposed it made sense, given Tamsin's and Mason's last encounter. Knowing Valaky, he would have known about Mason's attempt on her life… Tamsin shuddered. Had Valaky been in on it, too?

No, she refused to believe that. But then she was not confident in her judgement of character right now.

Tamsin stuck close to Mason as they headed away from the building. But as they moved, she could not resist casting a quick glance over her shoulder. Charles Mellor stood in the street, staring after them with his strange, pale eyes. It was surely no coincidence that Charles was living in the same apartment building as Mason.

No coincidence at all.

"Can you cast the spell?" Mason asked.

"Spell?" Tamsin asked. "Oh, the spell to cover our tracks?" She nodded. "Yes." Magic rushed through her as she muttered the spell under her breath. "Wind, wind, sweep away, all the scent we make this day."

"That's it?" he asked.

"What do you want, a parade?" she asked as a light breeze began to blow past them, carrying the pungent aroma of peach with it.

"Yeah. A parade would be just…peachy." Mason gritted his teeth and strode on, keeping to the shadows as the sky brightened in the distance. Dawn would soon be upon them, and the town would wake from its slumber and people would fill the streets.

She'd missed the hustle and bustle of the busy town. Or so she thought. But now faced with the prospect of being surrounded by people, her stomach churned, and her chest tightened.

A panic attack. She hadn't had one of those since about six months after she landed on the island and realized she was stuck there whether she wanted to be or not.

The island might have been a safe haven. But it was also her own private prison.

There was something uniquely claustrophobic in staring out at the ocean, knowing that there was no way to leave.

But she quickly realized that if she was not going to go insane, she would have to adapt to this new reality. And so she did. Self-preservation kicked in as her desire to survive took over.

Her chest tightened further as she was transported back to that time in her mind and the feeling of being out of control of her own destiny gripped her. But then Morwenna's voice filled her head, and she forced herself to inhale deeply and let it out slowly.

One revelation she'd uncovered about herself, or maybe it was a human trait in general. She'd never gotten the chance to ask anyone else because she had seen no one else.

The revelation was this... It was one thing to agree to stay on a desert island of her own free will. It was a different thing entirely to realize the weight of that decision once it had been made.

It was as if the island shrank, as if the ocean and the sky held an unspoken threat. They had more control over her life than she had herself.

She'd grown used to the aloneness over time. Embraced it even. She'd settled into a routine, keeping herself fed and watered while seeking shelter in an old shipwreck that was above even the highest tide line. She dragged driftwood from the shoreline, and logs and fallen branches to her makeshift home, and made it watertight.

Made it safe.

And then she'd begun to practice her craft. And practiced she had, drawing on the elements around her as she dug deep into her emotions to stop them from spiraling out of control. She'd honed every part of her craft, from the summoning of her magic to the weaving of spells.

She taught herself intricate control over the flow of her magic, working the essence to a single silken thread, almost undetectable, before opening herself completely to the elements, acting like a conduit to earth beneath her feet, the wind that whipped her hair, the ocean that sprayed her face and the sun that burned down fierce as an inferno.

"Tamsin." Mason's voice was sharp, and she snapped her attention to him before she realized the breeze she had summoned to blow away their scent was growing stronger, rattling the signs that hung above store doors, and blowing a bunch of leaflets advertising a couples competition at The Lonely Tavern, that were dated a month ago, down the street.

"Sorry." She rolled her shoulders and flexed her fingers as the magic dissipated. "I'm a little..."

A little what? Lost.

"Hey." Mason took a step toward her, his eyes filled with understanding. "I can't imagine what the last few years have been like for you." And from the darkness in his eyes, she suspected he had known his own pain. "And I wish things hadn't worked out the way they did..."

"You mean you wish you had killed me?" she asked.

"No." He shook his head and his forehead creased. "I mean, I wish none of this had ever happened, that whoever wrote that dumb prophecy...hadn't."

"But if they hadn't, we would have had no warning about what might happen," she reminded him. "I'm supposed to unite with a wolf shifter from your pack and end both the pack and coven, remember? Not that I can imagine even being close with one of you mangy wolves."

"Right." He pressed his lips together and then looked up at the sky. "We need to get out of town before dawn. It's easy to stay hidden and for me to sense if we're in danger without everyone walking around on the streets."

With that, he turned and strode away, leaving her to jog after him like a little lost puppy.

Still, she had to admit she found his presence comforting. Strange for a man who had tried to kill her.

But there was more to that story, she was sure.

The question foremost in her mind was whether he had let her go to save her, or because he was rebelling against his father.

Maybe it was time to get some answers.

"So, your father," she began as they left the outskirts of town and headed toward the mountains. Great, that's all she needed. Another brisk hike through steep terrain.

"My father," he repeated.

"He's the leader of the DuskWood Pack," she began.

"Why don't you ask me what you really want to know?" he cast a look over his shoulder.

"Did he push you to do it? He's always seemed very domineering."

"No." Mason kept his eyes forward. "I volunteered."

Tamsin gritted her teeth and stopped. It felt like she was being led on some elaborate goose chase.

"Okay, Mason, that's enough. I'm not going anywhere with you until I get some answers."

"It's just a little farther..." He nodded up ahead. "Then we can talk."

"I said no," she ground out. "Every time we've ever run into each other, it's been over some feud over land or power between us and our factions. The last time I saw you, your wolf was chasing me through the forest in the dead of night until Sophie found me and helped me get away, remember?"

He sighed. "I do."

"So now tell me why I'm following you to some secret hideout outside of town? Tell me why we're not trying to destroy each other since that's what we were doing when we last met... Which you just said you volunteered for, and weirder than that, why my coven leader and your pack alpha are working together... Even more than that, it sounded like they might even be lovers!" She threw up her hand. "What the hell happened in the past five years?"

Mason rubbed both hands over his face. "I can't answer all of those questions. I don't know what's been going on between your coven and my pack. It's as much a surprise to me as it is to you, believe me."

"You seem to want me to believe a lot of what comes out of your mouth," Tamsin said.

"Because it's the truth," Mason told her.

"So you say," she snorted.

"Well, if you hadn't noticed, I've distanced myself from them. I thought that would be obvious by the fact I'm living in some cramped apartment and not in my ancestral packlands. But what I can tell you is why I'm trying to help you now. And that is because I wasn't ever trying to hurt you." He held up his hand when she opened her mouth to protest. "I know it seemed like I was, but that's because it had to. I never wanted any of this. I don't believe lives should be ruled or ruined because of some stupid prophecy. I don't think there should be any more hurt because of it. All I ever wanted was to keep you safe."

"Well, that clears up the attack in the middle of the night," she said sarcastically.

"It had to look like I was trying to kill you. Would you have left town if I, a member of the pack you were a sworn enemy of, showed up and just told you that you were in danger?"

She let her arms hang by her side. "No, I suppose not."

"No. And so I had to make it convincing. I chased you out of town. And took that brooch you dropped as proof that you were gone after you disappeared. Of which I had no part of. Believe me, that was not part of my plan," he said, and she believed him. Believed he was trying to do the right thing.

"But why?" She looked up at him.

His eyes searched hers for a moment. And in that moment, she could have sworn she even saw a glimmer of tenderness, and he opened his mouth to say something, but then he stopped, and his steely gaze returned as he stepped away from her. "Because if this silly prophecy is able to bring an end to both the coven and the pack, maybe we shouldn't be fighting so hard to stop it."

"Is that really what you believe?" she whispered.

"And you don't?" he asked.

"My coven was there at the casting of the protection spell."

"And my pack is older than the protection spell. They were the protectors of the first settlers here." He sucked in a breath. "But things change. If death is the only answer to stopping the prophecy coming true, then maybe the price is too high."

"You know, I always thought your father was one of the biggest jerks ever," she said.

"At least we agree on something," he said with a forced smile.

"That wasn't my point," she said.

"So, what is your point?" he asked.

"That you must follow your mother."

Pain flickered across his face, and he ducked his head. "We should move on."

"I'm sorry." She hurried to catch up with him. "Although it was a compliment."

"I know."

She bit her tongue to stop herself from pressing him for more details. It was common knowledge that Mason's mother had died when he was a child, but the details had been kept quiet. However, Mason's pain and loss had not diminished with time.

Maybe they were, in fact, more aligned than she could have ever guessed.

"So, this cabin," Tamsin began. "I'm hoping there's a hot tub and a sauna."

Mason chuckled. "There's a tin bathtub and you'll have to boil your own water."

"How about room service? I could really do with that after all the time in the wilderness."

"No."

"I thought it was the least you could do since you are the one that sentenced me to frizzy hair brought on by the salty ocean breeze for years." She placed her hand in her hair and scrunched it up. "I have dreamed of a hot bath, with bubbles, and a rich shampoo that washes away the salt. And conditioner... Oh, how I missed conditioner."

"And you couldn't magic those up?" he asked as they crossed a field filled with curious cattle.

She sighed. "No."

"Then it's a good thing I packed them in the bug out bag." He tapped the strap of his pack.

"You did?" She ran to catch up with him. "You are my savior, after all!"

He flashed her a grin. "Told you."

"And you can cook. You would make great husband material." She bit her bottom lip. "Do you have a mate?"

He tensed. "Did it look like my apartment had a woman's touch?"

"She might have been back at the packlands." Did she sound as obvious to him as she did to herself?

But then it didn't matter if he had a mate or not. She shouldn't have any interest in his life.

And anyway, he had shown no sign that she was his mate. Not that she would have guessed they would have been in a million years…but there was always a chance.

They reached the edge of the meadow and climbed over a gate, heading along a trail that led higher into the mountains. Her legs ached and her breathing became more labored as the incline increased. She was not as fit as she used to be. Before she left, she walked these mountains every day, foraging for herbs and fruits and berries, which she made into healing potions.

Her time spent on a poor diet and nothing but time on her hands had not treated her too kindly.

"It's steep here," he turned to tell her but did not offer her his hand.

Not so gentleman-like as she thought.

On and on they climbed, her muscles burning as she followed him. He never seemed to slow or tire, effortlessly clambering over ridges and up loose rocks.

"Were you lying when you said not too much farther?" she asked as a steep rocky outcrop rose before them.

"Nope." He reached for a handhold and hauled himself up. "It's just up here."

She sighed and followed him hand over hand, foot over foot, until she looked up and he'd disappeared from view. Spurred on, she climbed until she reached the top of the outcrop.

"Here." He reached down and grabbed the strap of her pack and hauled her over the edge, where she landed sprawled at his feet.

And there she stayed as she caught her breath. When she could finally move, she raised her head to see a small cabin made from sturdy timber, its door standing invitingly open.

"Are you coming in or are you staying out there all day?" the wolf shifter's aloof voice called to her. "I've checked, and there's no one here, but if you're still out there when the sun comes up, there's a good chance you'll be seen."

"I'm coming." She pushed herself onto her hands and knees and crawled away from the edge of the outcrop.

Wearily, she pulled herself to a standing position using a pine sapling for support. Then she walked to the cabin and went inside. She was too tired to come up with any retort or continue her distrust of her supposed assassin and savior. What a confusing time the past few hours had been.

As she stepped inside, she almost burst into tears. The interior was spartan, but cozy. The air was already warming from the glowing fire in the small hearth. A thick rug and a pair of plain but comfortable looking armchairs faced the stone chimney. It might be a simple hunting lodge, but after living in her makeshift hideout all this time, to Tamsin it might as well have been a luxury hotel.

And there, in the center of it all, was Mason, crouched down by the fire.

"Coffee?" Mason asked as he took a small kettle off a hook over the flames. "It's nearly ready. The cups are just over there."

"Coffee." She collapsed onto the rug. She felt like she was sinking into clouds. "Coffee. I almost forgot those deliciously bitter beans existed."

"There's a pail of water here you can heat up." He nodded toward a large cauldron as he stood up. "And the bath is there."

"Where did the water come from?" she asked, having learned just how important clean, fresh water was for survival.

"There's a pump that is fed from a nearby spring," Mason said as he edged toward the door.

"You're leaving?" She sat up on the rug.

"I am," he replied. "As long as no one can follow our scent, you should be safe here for now. The pack very rarely comes to this side of the mountain." He glanced around the cabin.

"Where are you going?" The urgency was only half-hearted as the smell of the brewing coffee reached her, and she could have almost forgotten Mason was in the room with her.

"Don't you remember?" he asked. "I have a brooch to fetch."

As he left the cabin, all she could do was hope that he would return.

Because, despite their past, Mason was okay. For a wolf.