Chapter 15 Chapter 15
Anya’s POV
I flinched and shrank away from Elder Agatha's intense, analytical gaze, instinctively moving to hide behind the solid, unmoving wall of Alpha Kai's back.
This crazy man! I thought, my panic rising to a hysterical pitch. Doesn't he have any conscience, bringing me here?
I scanned the faces of the witches and elders staring at me. They didn't look like healers; they looked like a coven searching for their next sacrifice. I could practically see them dragging me to a stone altar, drawing a circle, and chanting their spells as they watched me die.
Elder Agatha nodded slowly, her gaze sweeping over me as if I were a new, curious insect. "We will examine her," she announced, "We will study her. We must understand how she survived a night with you, Alpha... and why."
A soft, insolent snicker came from the back of the room. "Or maybe," a young witch drawled, her voice full of mirth, "she's just as cursed as he is."
Elder Agatha's head snapped toward the sound. "Silence!" she commanded, her voice cracking like ice. "Mind your tongue, child. You should be practicing your incantations, or I'll have you practicing them in the dungeon."
The young witch's smirk vanished. She lowered her head, but I could still see her shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter.
"In the meantime," Elder Agatha declared, "you must keep her by your side every night, Alpha. She must be with you, especially when the moon is high. It is the only way to be certain she is the cure for your long-standing curse."
She glanced at me, her ancient, impassive eyes making me feel like a specimen. "I will send for Nerissa, the Cave Witch. It may take a month for her to arrive... but that is enough time for you to confirm the truth."
Alpha Kai’s voice was low, his gaze fixed on the Elder. "And if she is the one... what is the next step?"
Agatha's answer was immediate, cold, and absolute. "You will mate her. You will mark her. And you will pray to the Moon Goddess that she is strong enough to survive the bond."
She paused, letting the weight of her words settle in the silent room. "Because if she is the cure and she dies in the process... you will never heal. But don’t worry, we can find you another like her again…"
Is she a witch or an elder? Both? How can she know these things with such certainty?
My blood ran cold. I gasped, the air stolen from my lungs. Mate... with me? Like... like they mean... sex? With... with him?
The "cure" wasn't a potion or a spell. It was this. It was a death sentence, just a different kind.
"No," I whispered, the word trembling as I took a step back. "No way."
The panic was so absolute, so primal, that my body reacted before my mind could. I turned and bolted.
"I'm out of here!" I screamed, bursting from the Sanctuary. I didn't care who was watching. I just ran, leaving them all calling my name, my feet pounding on the stone as I fled without once looking back.
I didn't stop running until my lungs were screaming for air and I was far from the Sanctuary. I collapsed against a stone archway, bent over, gasping for breath.
I didn't even hear him.
One second I was alone, the next, he just landed in front of me, dropping as if from thin air. He was completely silent, not even breathing hard.
I stumbled back, my chest heaving, my heart trying to beat its way out of my ribs.
"You don't have a choice, Anya. You will stay with me. Every night."
"And what if you kill me?" I choked out, the words raw.
"And what if I don't?" he countered, his voice void of emotion.
"And what if you do?!" I screamed, my voice shaking with a terror so profound it was almost anger. "What if I'm just the next woman you kill?"
He stepped toward me, his expression hardening into a mask of pure, cruel indifference. "Do you honestly think I care if you die? If you break, I will just find another. And another. And another. Until one of you fucking cures me."
"I'm human!" I sobbed, desperation making me bold. "How can a human like me possibly cure a thing like you?"
"What if you're not as human as you think?" he sneered. "What if you're something else? Something more?"
"No!" I shook my head, rejecting the very idea. "I would rather be your servant! I would rather scrub floors for the rest of my life than be your mate. Being your mate is a death sentence!"
He tilted his head, his gaze analytical, almost curious, which was somehow more terrifying than his anger.
"But you're so convinced you're going to die anyway," he mused, his voice dangerously soft. "You were just begging me to kill you. Why not die at my hands? Why not... die for a purpose?"