Chapter 42: Chapter 42

Elijah

Cheeks burning, Elijah untangled his frozen limbs from Lily’s gentle grasp. His heart was light in a way it had not been since his parents’ deaths. Speaking the horrifying truth of it had calmed him enough that his breathing no longer sounded wet or pained.

But as the sun inched lower, he knew he did not have the luxury of time tonight to delve any deeper. He had brought Lily here to give her this same nirvana that she had, instead, gifted to him.

The bond was taut between them, an iron fist holding them close. When Elijah felt as though he was drowning, the river water swelling over his head, water burning his nose, his throat, his lungs, Lily was there to breathe for him.

She’d called him Eli tonight. For the first time, she had blessed him with the sound of a nickname falling from her lips. Dropping a syllable meant so much when it came from her; it meant closeness, trust, familiarity – all the things he knew she longed for. It meant all the things he longed to give her.

With the nickname swirling through his veins like a breathy caress, he pulled her close again. For Lily, he would stop the sun and moon turning on their axis. He would stop the world spinning, if only it meant he could pause time for a while.

“I… I get it,” she said quietly. Elijah startled; the silence had accompanied them for so many minutes that he’d lost himself in his own head.

“You do?” he prompted, running soothing fingers over her hands and wrists. An upturned palm showed a scar even in the shade, and Elijah gritted his teeth against the anger that rose, unbidden, at the sight.

She believed he was not guilty for his transgressions. If that were true, then she was innocent a thousand times over.

Atticus was a bully. He’d known that since he’d taken over the Blood Moon pack three years ago. His rise to dominance had come not through careful diplomacy and the crafting of noble treaties; instead, he had thrust his weight across the continent, forging terror rather than alliances.

Atticus was a bully, and it seemed he’d bullied his own pack, too.

“The feeling that you could have – could have done more.” Lily twisted the ring around her finger so viciously Elijah feared she might rip her finger off with it.

He stayed quiet, simply continuing to touch her gently, encouragingly. Words meant nothing when he did not know the situation she spoke of. He was there, a source of heat for her trembling body, and a source of comfort for her wounded mind. Nothing more.

While he waited for her to continue, he wished that he had enough control over his powers to create a heat source to warm her. Her back was hunched with cold. Maybe… maybe, one day, he could trust her with the full truth of his story. Maybe he could trust her with the reason his mother had been taken to the river.

His lips clamped shut. No. It was too dangerous. Leahne had –

“My mother died fighting another pack. To Atticus, she was just another number. A wolf that let him down by not being strong enough.” She laughed, anger fuelling her. Her eyes shone with fire, and Elijah understood.

“That was what hurt the most. My father and I gave her a funeral, but it felt meaningless with just the two of us there. We didn’t… I…” Lily swallowed. “Her body never came back. So we had a fire. I don’t know why we had a fire, either. She was more like the earth – always foraging, always baking, always growing food and flowers. My father wanted to bury her in her garden. Instead, he let it die.

“The battle that full moon was over a witch.” She shrugged, but her chest heaved as she spoke. “It never made any sense to me. He had us killing ourselves to make him look stronger. He’d not been the Alpha long. And, sure, yeah, he fights alongside them – but as if his wolves would let him get hurt. Any one of them would take the hit, at the cost of their own life.

“I despised violence even before my mother. She had blonde hair. I know that seems an odd thing so say about her – odder than kind by a long way,” she added in an attempt at seeming collected, at being able to joke about this, but Elijah did not smile. “I used to hold it when I was little, scrunching it between my fingers. It’s one of the only memories I have from when I was that small. It glistened like honey, and I… I thought that’s why I liked Atticus, to begin with. His hair was like honey, too.

“I never understood why I liked him beyond that. The mate bond made sense the second it fell into place. Well – it made my attraction to him make sense. He was a prick. I imagine he still is.

“But…” Lily shuddered. Her leg jiggled, and she stared into the darkness swelling above the craggy tops of the pines. The spring weather was cool, and the evenings still came sooner than the heat of the day suggested. Still, Elijah doubted that her shivers came from the rapidly cooling spring air.

“I’ve never fought,” she said, all at once, the words rushing out of her in a torrent. “I’ve never even been outside in my wolf form.” Unblinking, she watched as pale purple clouds shifted through the sky, their bottoms soaked apricot by the hidden sun.

Elijah’s breathing hitched. She’d never – she’d never been outside as her wolf?

It all made sense. That – that was why she’d been so on edge this morning. He almost wanted to laugh. Relief filled him. He’d been so worried.

She’d missed out on so much. Sea Pine did not fight most months – only when it was truly necessary. He would not back down, but he would not send his Warrior Wolves out over nothing, either. But shifting was impossible to resist as the full moon rose, so his wolves usually met for pack runs within the safety of their territory. His Warriors took turns patrolling, and it was a chance for them all – the Omegas, the medics, the teachers, the farmers, even his Beta and Gamma and Warrior Wolves; his entire pack – to be free.

Elijah was careful not to blurt out what he was thinking. Lily was trembling with what he now suspected was anxiety, or even outright fear. He wanted to make her feel better – not worse.

“I understand why you wouldn’t want to fight,” he said, tracing spirals into the skin of her palm. He crossed out the scars, re-writing her fate with his fingertips. “Witches are powerful, but, more than that, they’re a status symbol. A status symbol is not worth the life of a single wolf. I am sorry about your mother, Lily.”

“You – you understand?” Disbelief coloured her tone. Elijah’s heart broke for her.

“Of course.” In that moment, he hated Atticus. He hated the Blood Moon pack and everything they stood for.

“My father thought that I hated myself, because of her death.” Even in the low light, Elijah saw her lip curl. “I don’t. I hate that I have to shift – that I have to become something violent. Something evil.” She took a deep breath. “I hate what I am, not who I am.”

“Lily…”

“I’m sorry.” She glanced up at him from beneath her lashes. Her brown eyes were dark, but glossy with tears. “I know that might sound as though I hate what you are, too.” She looked away.

He scooped both of her hands into his. “I understand,” he said again. “Not all packs are Blood Moon, though. Things aren’t the same everywhere as they are there.”

She sniffled. “Bolton and Benest seem exactly the same.”

“I cannot deny that.” He stiffened. “But here, they are the minority. And it breaks my heart that you have never felt the joy of shifting, safe and protected, surrounded by those you trust.”

“To shift means to fight.”

“Not here.” He stood suddenly, drawing Lily up with him. “Here, shifting means freedom. It means exploration. It means kinship.”

“How can I trust myself?”

“Well – how did you trust yourself to stay inside?”

“I didn’t.” She edged back, and he let her go. She stepped out of his embrace, and cool air rushed to fill the space she’d left behind. Lily wrapped her arms around herself and, though he ached to pull her close once more, he gave her space as she worked through the tangle of her emotions.

“Every full moon for two years, I have chained myself down in my family’s old wine cellar.”

Her words were a punch to the gut. He could see her, shivering, afraid, tying herself down in the darkness. He pictured her looking through a small, smear-covered window, anxiety climbing through her, using her bones as steps on a ladder, as the moon outside rose higher and higher.

Shifting was painful. Elijah could not imagine enduring those first shifts alone.

“You’ll never have to do so again,” he swore.

Lily turned to him, cheeks flushed, eyes shining. “I have to. I don’t have a choice.”

“You do, now and always. You deserve more than to live in chains of your own creation.”

“I didn’t make them!” she cried, stumbling backwards. “I was forced into them the day I was born a werewolf.”

Tears choked him. To have endured such suffering under Atticus’s leadership – no, he corrected, his rule – Elijah could barely stand it. And Lily had lived it for eighteen years.

He glanced up at the sky. The bond blurred time. Elijah had no idea how long they’d spent by the memorial. His pack would be meeting in the meadow, ready to run, as the moon began to curve up beyond the tallest building in Sea Pine – the pack house.

The moon could begin its climb any moment. It could have already begun. They had to get out from the shadow of the trees.

But Lily was crying, silent tears streaking down her cheeks. Elijah could resist no longer.

“Can I hold you?” he murmured.

At her nod, he closed the distance between them and folded her into his arms. “If you want to remain chained, I’m sure I can find something suitable,” he whispered into her ear. He shivered lightly, and he held her tighter, wanting to protect her from everything that had ever hurt her. “But…”

“But?” she whispered back, turning her wet face up to look him in the eye. Gently – ever so gently – he smiled.

“But I don’t think you should. I think, just this once, you should shift freely.” Before she could reject his idea, he added quickly, “Just this once. If you don’t like it, then I shall build you a replica wine cellar in which you may hide every month. I promise.”

One side of his mouth tilted up, and Lily broke. She laughed, choking out sobs twisting with joy. Twisting with hope.

She opened her mouth to retort, and he was glad – so glad – to see familiar warmth in her eyes. There was colour in her cheeks again. But then her gaze went dark, and she pointed at the sky with a single, shaking finger.

Moonlight glinted off her mother’s garnet ring.