Chapter 10 Ten
Rhea's POV
Theron fell forward and I barely managed to catch him before he slammed into the ground.
He was impossible weight, all sinew and solid bone. I only should’ve been able to catch him, but somehow I did, easing us both down to the ground as if I could set him there more gently than physics would have it be.
"Theron," I gasped, my voice an octave higher than normal. "Theron, wake up."
His skin was burning. Not a werewolf’s normal warmth, but fever hot. Scorching. His silver eyes had gone all white and rolled back in hishead.
I screamed for help.
The door suddenly flew open and in rushed several men. Marcus was the first to show himself, bloodstained from battle. Following him were a few other pack members, their faces tense with concern.
"What happened?" Marcus demanded on his knees next to us.
"I don't know. He just collapsed." My hand trembled as I held his head in place. "He's burning up."
Marcus grabbed for Theron, attempting to drag him away from me. But Theron's hand whipped out, clenching my wrist with bruising force despite his being unconscious.
“I can't pry it out of him, I don't think he'll ever let go," I said through gritted teeth while trying to pull the dart free.
Marcus's face was grim. "It's the curse. It happens every couple weeks now, but never anything as bad. Typically, he locks himself in before people can even watch.”
"Curse? What curse?"
"No time to explain. We’ve got to get him to his chambers.” Marcus glanced at the other men. "Help me lift him. Carefully."
They tried to pull us apart but Theron only clutched me closer. His unconscious form appeared intent on keeping me near.
“She will have to come with us,” one of the warriors said.
Theron and I was half carried, half dragged through the passages as they lifted Theron with me still on him. Soldiers emerged from doorwells, some looking worried, others incredulous. Whispers followed us like shadows.
"The curse is getting worse."
"He should have told her."
"What if she can't save him?"
"Everyone out," she commanded. "Except the girl."
"Miriam," Marcus protested. "We should stay."
"Out," she said again, not speaking to be argued with. "You being here isn't helping. He needs calm, and you are all projecting panic like a lighthouse.”
And Marcus paused, looking into my eyes. "Call if you need anything."
And then they were gone, leaving me alone in the room with Lycan and the witch who might very well be the only one who could help him.
Miriam moved gracefully, but quickly, withdrawing bottles and herbs from a battered leather bag. She rested her hand on Theron’s temple, closing her eyes.
"How long has this curse been upon him?" I asked quietly.
"Over three hundred years." Miriam’s eyes fluttered open, and she started to combine ingredients in a small bowl. “He’s looking for his true mate all that time. Only the mate bond can break the curse.”
My stomach dropped. "But I'm here now. Why isn't it working?"
Miriam shot me that 'I’m smarter than you' look which made me feel like a kid. "Proximity isn't enough, child. The curse eats at isolation, at emotional walls. You have to be totally exposed to the other person for it to work. A real mating bond, not just sex.”
His words were like a punch to me. Theron had found me not only by fate, but because he was dying. I was his last hope.
“He should have warned me,” I responded, my voice small.
"Would you have believed him?" Miriam pounded herbs with the skill of long practice. “If a man told you that he needed you to live, would you believe him?”
She had a point. I would have thought it was just another manipulation, another way of using me.
"What can I do?" I asked instead.
"Stay close. He does seem calmed by your presence.” Miriam smoothed salve over Theron's temples. “The curse strikes when he is weak, when he loses control. There was something about you being hurt and tonight’s fight took it all out of him.”
"Seeing me hurt? I'm fine."
"You stumbled at dinner. He caught you." Miriam's expression softened slightly. “For a guy who has been alone for 100-some-odd years, the idea of losing his mate must be very frightening.”
I glanced at Theron below me. He somehow looked younger sleeping. The hard lines on his mouth had softened. His silver hair dropped into his eyes and I had the urge to push it back.
"What did he do?" I asked quietly. "To deserve this curse?"
Miriam was silent for a long time. “That’s his story to tell, not mine. But know this. Whatever he did, he’s suffered a thousands times over for it.”
She completed her preparations and rose. "I'll leave you now. Call if his condition worsens."
"Wait," I said. "What if it does worsen? What do I do?"
Miriam stopped just inside the door, ancient eyes locking on mine. "Trust your instincts. The mate bond knows what it wants.”
And then she was off, leaving me and Theron alone.
I went to a chair, to get us some distance. But Theron’s grip on my wrist tigntened, keeping me in place just as much when he was passed out cold.
"Fine," I muttered. "I'll stay."
I propped myself up against the headboard, letting Theron’s head lie in my lap. It was personal in a manner that I knew should have made me uneasy. But no, I felt oddly calm.
Night fell slowly. The room got darker as the windows only let moonlight through. I would watch Theron’s chest, which would rhythmically go up and down, medium breaths then wheezy breaths.
He would mutter in his sleep. Names I didn't recognize. Words in tongues that sounded old, dead. At times he thrashed, and I held him tight, running my mouth with nonsense words until he subsided.
It was during these moments that I saw the entirety of his age. He felt the weight of centuries of loneliness bear down on him like a physical thing. How had someone survived so long without contact? How did they not go mad?
My wolf whimpered within me mournful to aid him. To seal the bond, and give him what he needed. But my head fought with my gut.
I barely knew him. Yes, he saved me from an unwanted marriage. Yes, he had given me choices when nobody else did. But he’d also, in essence, kidnapped me. He’d had me pressed up against a wall and said his pack expected him to perpetuate.
But I couldn’t deny how I felt. The pull. The connection. The tender surprises amid the dominant aggression.
At about midnight, Theron fluttered his eyes open.
At first, he appeared dazed; his silver eyes unfocused. Then they got to me and a look of something like surprise crossed his face.
“You’re alive,” he croaked, his voice hoarse.
"Where else would I be?" I couldn't have thought those words before speaking them.
Theron peered at my face as if he were trying to remember it. "You could have left. Should have left."
“Your hand wouldn’t let me go.”
"I'm sorry." He made an effort to let go of my wrist, but had so little strength now. "I didn't mean to trap you."
"You didn't." I'd touched his hair once, swept it away from his forehead. "How do you feel?"
”Something like that…I just feel like I’ve been run over by a stampede of elk. He attempted to sit up, but fell back with a wince. "How long was I out?"
"A few hours. Miriam was here. She said it was the curse."
Theron's expression shuttered immediately. "What did she tell you?"
“That you were cursed for three hundred. Only the mate bond can destroy it." I met his gaze steadily. "That you're dying."
He was silent for a long time. "I was going to tell you."
"When? After you were dead?"
“Right after you started trusting me enough to hear it instead of running away.”
It was the sincerity in his voice that dulled my anger. "I'm not running now."
"You should." Theron placed his hand in mine and brushed his thumb over my knuckles.
“This is not your cross to bear, Rhea. You don’t have to save me. I’m not going to make you.”
"What if I want to?" The words surprised us both.
Theron's eyes widened. "Why would you want to?"
“Because,” I said slowly, not entirely sure as I spoke. "You gave me a choice. You gave me freedom when no one else did at that wedding. You’re making me strong when everyone wanted me weak. You pay attention when I speak, as if my words actually mean something.”
"They do matter."
“Let it then be my decision.” I shifted against the headboard to perch on his bed. "Tell me what I need to do."
Theron squeezed upward, cupping my face in a surprisingly gentle grip. "Complete the bond. Body, mind, and soul. No walls, no barriers. Complete vulnerability."
It should have been the words that frightened me. The right word was prickled, then would be the wrong one, and so instead I felt a settling in my chest. A rightness I couldn't explain.
I nuzzled into his fingers and rotated my face and pressed a kiss with his hand. Theron took a sudden, deep breath.
“Rhea,” he murmurred as if it were a prayer or a caution.
I didn't let myself think. Thinking would lead me to doubt, build walls around myself.
Instead, I trusted my instinct. I touched his face when he went to touch mine.
The second there was direct contact between our skin, something magic took place.
My hand was surrounded by a burst of silver flames. Not painful, not burning. They felt cool and bright, settling from me into Theron like liquid moonlight.
I gasped, but I didn’t jerk away. Couldn't pull away. The flames licked across my fingers, spread down my arm, curled around us both.
Theron's eyes went wide. His hand shot out and he seized my wrist. Not to drag me away but keep me there.
"What are you?" he gasped, his eyes fixed on the flames.
"I don't know." The words came out shaky. “I didn’t even know I could do this.”
But as I said it, something began to stir in my memory. My mother had been a shifter. Shifters had magic. Could I somehow have inherited her power?
The fire intensified, and over Theron’s head I saw his colour coming back. And the flush of fever died down in his skin. He began to breathe more slowly, deep and regular.
Whatever I was doing, it was working.
Suddenly the flames burst high and bright, almost blinding. And just like that, I was no longer in Theron’s room.
I was somewhere else. A forest at night. Blood on the ground. A woman screaming.
No, not just any woman. A dark hair beauty, with piercing eyes and a sword in hand. She was bloodied, her face a mask of fury and grief.
“You promised,” she yelled at someone I couldn’t see. “You’ve promised me eternity, and now you spit it back?”
No one but a very cold, deep voice replied. Not Theron's voice, but similar. "You broke the laws. You knew the price."
"Then curse me too." His wife dropped her sword. "If he suffers, I suffer."
"As you wish."
The vision shifted. I could see him now, Theron but younger. Less scarred. He was on his knees in a clearing, surrounded by bodies. His hands were bloody, his face expressionless in shock.
The dark–haired woman crouched beside him. "What have we done?"
"What we had to." But Theron's voice was hollow. "What we had to."
The vision shattered.
The present assaulted me with a rush. But the fire was still there, brighter now, consuming my control.
Too much. It was too much.
My vision blurred. The room spun. I attempted to yank my hand away, to stop what was happening, but I couldn’t budge.
"Rhea," Theron stated, his voice edgy with concern. "Rhea, stop. You're giving too much."
But I couldn't stop. The fires were independent, drawing energy from some unexplored place deep within me.
The last thing I saw was Theron’s face, not pale and sick as it had been for so long, but whole and healthy and terrified.
Then I was plunged into darkness, and fell forward on to his breast.