Chapter 22

Twenty-Two

WESLEY

“ D oes it hurt when you change?” Finn asked with his back to me while I dropped the illusion of clothing. “Like they say in all the books, bones breaking and all that.”

“No. I’m witchborn, it’s as easy as breathing for me.” Witchborn and witchblood shared similar traits, part magic, the variation of the phrase coming from which side was dominant, human or fae. I was more fae than human, thus witchborn. Sebastian was more human than fae, thus witchblood. I’d always hated the terms as there was nothing witch-like about my species, but those of us who straddled the line between human and other , fit the title. As if created by witches, but witches weren’t born, it was a religion. Some of them came with magic, others could try spells over a thousand lifetimes and never realize the power they craved. My chaos lingered in my blood and soul. Inseparable from who and what I was. “Werewolves are different. Cursed rather than born.”

“Werewolves are real?”

I folded up the clothes from the little dwelling he had built, adding them to a careful pile though they were dirty. “Lots of shifters are real. The Summer king is a fox. Vampires are real, too.”

“Holy shit. Vampires, shifters, and fae. Oh, my!”

“It’s not sweet and sexy like romances make them out to be. They are all deadly.” I pointed to my forehead. “Even my Stag. Don’t touch my antlers, they are poisonous. The tiniest cut will grant you a slow and excruciating death.”

“Scary.” He didn’t sound scared.

“And if I run, don’t follow. You’ll be forced to run until you die.” I glanced his way, but his back was to me.

“I’m pretty sure if you’re running from something, I should probably be running too,” Finn said.

“Smart ass. Yes, you should run, but not the same direction as me.”

He gazed over his shoulder with a thoughtful expression. “Run toward the scary thing chasing us. Okay. Am I bait? Crunchy and delicious with ketchup like a potato chip?”

I snorted. “If I run forward, you run at a three o’clock or nine o’clock angle. Whatever is chasing us will be caught in the Stag’s magic. Run until it dies.”

“Handy, but what about you?”

“I’ll be fine. The Stag can outrun just about everything.” Until my mortal half gave out. Which meant I wouldn’t last as long as my full-blooded fae brethren, not that they cared.

“Does it work when you’re human?”

“No.”

“What about that other form you had?”

“Other form?”

“When you scared the wolf away the first time.”

“Oh. That was mostly glamour adding the Stag’s bulk to my human form. I only have three real forms.”

“Three?”

“The Stag, this one, which is my human form, and my fae form.”

“What’s the fae form like?”

“Weak. I never use that form. It’s useless.” I changed into my Stag form, relieved by the easy change. Maybe this realm required me to rest more often to recharge. He stared at me with a frown on his face, but I hoped he understood my fae form wasn’t up for discussion.

Finn gathered up the abandoned clothes, tugged his hoodie back on and held on to mine. Everything needed a wash but his hesitation to go near the water made sense. He wove his fingers through the side of my fur and we headed in toward the fading light of the day. Finn’s grip grounded the churning anxiety in my gut. He was close and safe, and while his heart beat sluggishly in my heightened hearing, I knew I could head off the wolf again in this form if needed.