Destined (War of the Covens 2)

“I can’t help it. I had no idea it … I knew it was bad, but that—”

Panic shot through her. “Ryder, you can’t tell. Please,” she pleaded.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t want anyone to know how bad it was. I don’t want them to know about the telekinesis.”

“Why? It’s not your fault.”

“I just don’t.”

Please, please, please, please.

He took hold of her shoulders and shook her gently, his expression darkening. “You better not be ashamed, Jaeden Rodriguez, because you have nothing to feel ashamed of. You are the strongest person I know. I’m proud to know you.”

Oh goddess. She felt tears choke her again. Why did he have to be so perfect?

“Please don’t tell,” she persisted.

Ryder shook his head. “I won’t. But it’s not something you can hide easily, Jaeden. And no one will care. The pack is just happy to be getting you back.”

“Still …”

He held up a hand in surrender, smiling gently. “I promise I won’t tell.”

Relief flooded her and then immediately dissipated when his expression sobered. “But Caia already knows everything. She could see your … torture … through Ethan’s eyes.”

The blood drained from her face.

9

Darker Side

She felt awful.

Sleeping had been an issue after Marita and her “operatives” had worked out a plan of defense against du Bois and his gang of rebels. And it wasn’t because her body had still been pumping with the adrenaline of doing so well in classes at the Center. It wasn’t because she was juiced with excitement over how efficient and determined the team had been when discussing the MacLachlan attack. It wasn’t because she was nervous about her next day of classes.

It was because of the beautiful redhead who had disappeared into Lucien’s room with him last night so they could “talk.”

All night she tossed and turned, straining to hear any sounds from next door, fearing what she would do if she did. Finally, she used the telecom system by her bed to contact Noble and ask him if it was possible for her to have private use of the woodland simulator so she could go for a run.

Of course, it wasn’t a problem.

As she stood there alone, breathing in what she knew to be fake, fresh, woodsy air and yet exhilarating in it anyway, Caia willed her body just this once to change like it used to. She remembered how afraid she’d been of telling Lucien and the others that her body slipped into wolf like magik. Remembering the day they were scheduled for their first pack run together since it had happened, Caia felt her anger build irrationally. Lucien had been so kind as she explained the situation, and she’d been so scared he would look at her as less of a lykan because of it. No one in the pack had sneered at her, or condemned her, and she knew it was because of him.

So, why did he have to be big jerk now—taking some, six-foot-nothing bombshell back to his room? A bombshell he most obviously had a sexual past with, she rippled with fury, her eyes glaring at a large tree in front of her.

Rose had clung to his arm like a burr the entire evening.

A growl ripped out of Caia’s chest, and she felt white heat building from her toes upward.

No, no, no, no, no! she cried. But too late, she was stumbling back blinded. Afraid of what she would see, her eyes opened slowly, and she grimaced at the large pile of ash in front of her. She had destroyed the tree. She was really going to have to work on that.

Although most of her pent-up frustration had expelled from her, she still shook with the agony that Lucien had been in love with someone; that he loved another woman and couldn’t be with her because of her. Did he resent her? Please, Artemis, she pleaded silently, let the change be slow. Let my bones crack and my muscles ache, and my eyes tear.

She stripped naked, folding her clothes at her feet. And then she pushed the change. All too quickly she was a wolf, her hard paws sinking into the dirt. No cracking, no aching, no tearing.

Caia pelted straight into the heart of the woodland, the added feeling of impotence peddling her speed. She hated that she felt this way, hated the rage that gripped hold of her until she was almost blind with the pain. This was what it meant to be his mate. To hurt with a jealous longing so intense, it was as supernatural as the world she lived in. Jealousy, she was beginning to realize, was like a cancer. It ate at your very being.

She ran around the arena until her anger subsided to a thrumming beneath her skin, until it was somewhat manageable. Once she had changed back, and had her jeans and T-shirt on, she turned around to squint at the pile of ash. With a flick of her wrist, the tree rematerialized.