Fated Magic (Claimed by Wolves 1)

So when he catches me glancing at him for the third time, I blurt out the first question I can think of that doesn’t have to do with the decimation of his pack.

“Does it hurt?”

His brows furrow. “What?”

God, Sable. Be more awkward. Please.

I take a breath, then speak at a more normal speed. “The shift. When you turn from a man into a wolf or back. Does it hurt?”

His dark brown eyes focus on me, and I remember what they looked like last night in the moonlight, deep and mysterious. I wonder if I’ll ever be able to look at him and not think of that moment. It feels like it’s still imprinted on my skin, on my soul.

“Nah, it doesn’t hurt.” His gruff voice drags me from my thoughts. “Most of us start shifting when we’re just cubs, so it might be a bit different for you. But it’s not like being ripped apart and reformed. The magic washes through you and then it’s done. It feels good in a way, like meeting your other half. Your better half.”

His expression softens a little, and I wonder if he thinks his wolf is his better half. Do all shifters feel that way?

“That sounds… nice,” I admit.

And it does. I was terrified by the idea that I might not be entirely human at first, but the idea isn’t nearly as frightening as it once was.

What would I be like as a wolf? Would I be stronger than I am as a human? More confident? Would I trust my instincts more?

Maybe Dare can see the wistfulness in my eyes, because he gives a soft snort. “I said better, not perfect. Wolves have good instincts, but we can make mistakes just like anyone.”

For a second, I think maybe he’s talking about the mate bond, and how four different shifters have somehow claimed that bond with me. But when I look up at him again, his features are hard, his gaze unfocused—and I realize he’s thinking of something else entirely.

He’s thinking of the thing I promised myself I wouldn’t ask about.

“I’m sorry. About your pack.”

The words come out before I can stop them. I press my lips together like that’ll keep me from blurting out anything else as Dare’s body goes stiff beside mine. We’re walking close enough to each other that I can feel the change in him immediately, and my own body reacts to the tension in his.

“Thank you.”

His voice is low and rough, and he doesn’t meet my eyes as he speaks. I can’t tell if I made anything better or just made everything worse. The overwhelming urge to reach out to him rises up in me, making my fingers itch to thread through his. I want to hold his hand or wrap my arms around his waist, and this impulse has nothing to do with the scorching heat that flared between us when he caged me in his embrace last night.

This urge is deeper and more complex than that.

I want to help him.

I want to heal him.

But I don’t know if I can, or whether I even have a right to try. I don’t know if he’d welcome that kind of touch from me, or what it would mean if he did.

So I just shoot him a soft smile and then move away to give him space, quickening my steps to join Archer and Trystan at the head of our little pack.

“Hey, Sable. You gettin’ your sunshine fix?” Archer greets me with a grin, draping an arm over my shoulders.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

I let myself melt against his body a little, my own arm instinctively going around his waist. It feels safe here. Comfortable.

When I glance over my shoulder, I find Dare watching me. The expression on his face is no longer hard and stoic. Instead, there’s a softness in his features that makes me think maybe, just maybe, if I’d reached out—he would’ve let me.

25

Sable

Over the next several days, things begin to shift between the five of us.