The Faye's Secret: A Keepers of Light novel Read online

  Alex and Wesley both seemed so serious, not giving any indication that it was a joke. And even though her brain was trying to tell her that it was, something deep inside wanted to believe them.

  Wesley sighed, leaning on the counter, his arms slightly crossed over one another. “They aren’t just stories, Abigail. They’re very real and we’re fairly certain that you’re one of them.”

  She looked back at Alex, expecting to finally see a joke shining in his eyes, but they were still just as serious as they had been before. This was getting to be ridiculous. Ignoring the part of her that wanted to believe them, she stood up, taking a step away from the island and crossed her arms over her chest again. Maybe finding dinner in Buern wasn’t a bad idea. “That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard. And please stop calling me Abigail, I feel like a child when you do that. It’s Abby. If you guys just brought me halfway up the mountain to scare me, it’s not working.” At least that’s what she said, ignoring the rapid beat of her heart.

  The two men shared a glance, but it was Wesley who took a step around the island towards her. She took another step back to keep her distance. She was certain she imagined a pained look cross Wesley’s face before he stopped moving towards her. “We aren’t trying to frighten you, Abby. I’m pretty sure you’re the one doing the frightening, after blacking out like that.”

  She glared him, like it had been her choice to faint! She opened her mouth to say just that when he raised his hands, his eyes gentling.

  “I know it wasn’t your fault. I’m just saying. I think we’ve all had enough of a fright for one day. We’re just as confused as you are right now. So maybe just have a seat again and Alex can explain?”

  She stood there watching him for a moment. Content to stay a few feet away and yet trying to ignore the feeling of being pulled towards him. She had a sudden vision in her mind of walking into his strong arms and letting him hold her, her body yearning for the comfort only someone else could provide. She physically shook her head to rid herself of the image. She had never needed anyone to take care of her, she wasn’t going to start now. Standing her ground, she gave both men a hard stare, and asked again, “Why did you call me a witch?” She hoped her voice sounded as strong and resolute as it had in her head.

  Wesley glanced at Alex quickly before lowering his hands to his sides. He didn’t speak right away, looking over her face before seeming to give up on finding the right words to say, “Because you smell like magic.”

  “Excuse me?”

  She must have hit her head when she blacked out earlier, because this day was getting stranger and stranger by the second. She looked over Wesley’s shoulder to Alex, but he stood exactly where he had minutes before, his face watching her intently. Oh hell, she thought, what had she gotten herself into now? Taking a deep breath to steal her nerve, she said, “And why, or better yet how, do you know that I smell like magic?”

  Wesley stood a bit taller and took his own deep breath before letting it out in a rush. “Because, Abby, we’re werewolves.”

  Chapter Five

  ❖

  Abby

  She definitely hit her head.

  Abby stared at Wesley, waiting for him to take back what he had said and say it was a joke. But he didn’t. He didn’t say anything. Just stood still and watched her. But she could see the muscles of his shoulders pulling tight like he was battling with his own body to stay put. Looking closely, Abby couldn’t help but look for something, anything, that would tell her that he was indeed a werewolf. But he looked normal, like any of the guys she went to school with. Although he was definitely more handsome than most of those guys.

  Alex broke the silence then before either Wesley or Abby could say anything. “Why don’t we all just take a seat and talk? Sitting might help Wesley from thinking you’re going to bolt out the door.”He picked up Abby’s mug and headed to the microwave to re-warm the untouched apple cider.

  She looked back at Wesley and saw his hands clench, his knuckles turning white, before he let out a long breath. His shoulders started to loosen and he took a step back towards the island. He pulled out a chair for her. When she looked back up at his eyes, they had softened again. Had he been ready to grab her if she ran for it? Was it too dangerous to let her go, now that they had told her the truth? Somehow she doubted that she would get very far — Wesley’s legs looked like they could run a lot faster than hers.

  With a frustrated sigh, she made her way back over to the island. What other option did she have? She had no idea how far up the mountain they had gone — and no idea how to get back down. But there was also that tiny voice in the back of her head that had been nagging at her since she woke up. That maybe all of this wasn’t a joke. That finally, after so many years of feeling like the outsider, she was going to get answers.

  She sat back down at the island, her hands clasped in her lap. Wesley stood behind her for a moment, before making his way back to the other end, where his own untouched cider waited.

  * * *

  ❖

  Wesley

  Wesley felt like he would jump out of his own skin if she didn’t sit back down.

  He had been trying to get better control over himself since she had walked down the stairs. She was not afraid of the two strangers in her immediate company, that was clear. That was a good sign, his brain had told him. Right before his brain had also said that he needed to snap the hell out of it and get far away from her. She was clearly doing something to him, whether she knew she was Faye-born or not.

  He had no idea what could be causing him to feel so many emotions or want to act out so irrationally. All he knew was that he had never felt like this at fourteen and going through puberty. Alex had always teased him about trying to get dates with the local girls in town, but none of those girls had ever made him feel like this. So unhinged. So emotional. So like his father. And he was nothing like his father.

  The wolf under his skin growled at the comparison and he didn’t blame it. Even if his father had been a good man once, the few memories Wesley had of him were not. He wasn’t some wild animal that couldn’t control the beast sleeping under his skin. Even if, currently, his wolf was giving him a run for his money. He was surprised that he hadn’t shifted — a huge black and gray wolf standing in the kitchen, ready to protect this woman from everything.

  After she took the seat he offered her, albeit a little gingerly, he returned to his own place at the other end of the island. He watched as Alex set the now steaming mug of apple cider in front of her. She wrapped her hands around it, as if seeking its warmth. Was it cold in the house? He doubted it. Even though they were all werewolves and could generate enough body heat to keep themselves warm, Wesley doubted that the heat was set that low. Just because their body temps ran higher than a human’s didn’t mean Alex would want his pipes to freeze in the winter.

  Despite Abby’s trepidation at taking a seat again, she slowly lifted her mug to her lips and took a sip. He could see the moment the warmth of the apple cider slide down her throat, her body letting go of some of the tension that had collected in her muscles.

  Damn Alex and his ridiculously good homemade apple cider. It worked miracles, Wesley knew all too well. Alex’s cider had been the only thing that had made Wesley calm down after his first shift; had been the only thing that could help him get back to sleep after a nightmare as a kid. Even now the smell of it alone was enough to bring his control back into focus.

  Abby made a pleased sound in the back of her throat and offered Alex a tentative smile. “This is amazing. You made this didn’t you?”

  Wesley wasn’t paying attention to Alex’s response, he was too busy trying to figure out when and how she had had the time to put a spell on him. Or, more likely, when her magic had taken the reins to protect her. Her magic was doing something to him, it had to be. He stared into his mug of caramel colored cider and thought it through.

  Maybe it had happened at the cemetery when those spirits had overwhel
med her? But no, that didn’t make sense. He had started feeling this way when she had walked into The Magic Muffin — maybe she had woven a spell before she entered the building? But she wouldn’t have even known that a werewolf sat in the cafe, so how could she have done a spell before entering? A small sigh from the across the island made him raise his head.

  Abby set the mug back down, a small smile still on her lips. But a second later it was gone, replaced by a tight line, “So, werewolves, huh?” Her voice still didn’t sound convinced that they were telling the truth.

  Alex nodded from his spot at the stove, stirring a pot and looking more at home in his kitchen than any cook ever could. “Yes, Abby. Werewolves.” He set his spoon aside and looked back at her, “And yet you’re not screaming and running for help, that bodes well.” Alex then proceeded to wink in her direction and it took all of Wesley’s self-control not to groan. He settled for rolling his eyes instead.

  Abby shrugged, “Well, neither of you have given me any reason to scream or run, not yet anyway.” Another small shrug, a chuckle escaping her lips, “Plus, I still think this all could just be a dream. I probably hit my head when I fainted and I’ll wake up in a hospital bed soon.”

  Wesley couldn’t stop himself from being slightly impressed by the little witch. Not that he had much experience in telling humans about the existence of werewolves. But the few times he had been present for those conversations, they sure hadn’t gone like this. He had a brief image of the man who Alex had caught stalking a young girl a few years back. The man had checked himself into a psych ward after the encounter. Werewolves weren’t bloodthirsty creatures like the movies made them out to be. Most of the time their wolves slept peacefully under their skin, waiting for the pull of the full moon to bring them out. But every once in a while, something occurred that made claws better than fingers.

  Looking back at the woman, he reminded himself if she knew she was a witch then she would know about werewolves. And if she really didn’t know...well then they had a whole ‘nother problem on their hands.

  “You’re a very reasonable person, most humans would have likely called the cops by now.” said Alex as he settled at the island with his own mug. Lifting it to his lips, he smiled over the brim at Abby. “And don’t worry my dear, you didn’t hit your head. Wesley is quicker than that, even when stunned silent.”

  She glanced at him then, one brow raised as if in disbelief.

  Wesley sat up straighter and puffed out his chest like some kid whose ego was threatened. “I caught you before your head hit the marble, thank you very much.”

  Her eyes softened and the corners of her mouth curved up ever so slightly. “Right. Well, thanks for that.” Her voice wavered slightly, a chuckle only just contained.

  Alright, so maybe he was acting like some rooster who needed to puff out his feathers to show them off. But the wolf in him was pleased that she found it funny. He was about to say some clever retort back when he felt Alex grow more serious. Having been raised by the wolf, sometimes Wesley couldn’t tell if he could just read the man that well or if the mood was slipping through the pack bond. He would probably get told off for not paying close enough attention if he ever asked Alex about it, and he had gone through that conversation enough times growing up. Always listen to the pack bond, is what his adopted-father would say. It could tell you if one of your own were in trouble, or sick, or simply lonely. It kept the pack strong and together. A pack was only as weak as their secrets.

  “How long have you been seeing spirits, Abby?”

  Wesley shot him a glare over the island, he sure knew how to sour a mood. But Alex wasn’t looking in his direction. Even from six-or-so feet away, Wesley scented the moment her anxiety spiked; heard the way her heart had skipped a beat.

  Abby’s head snapped up, making him wonder if she gave herself whiplash. “How did you know about that?” Her head turned to Wesley, her eyes searching his face for some sort of answer that he wasn’t sure he even had. “Did you see them?”

  He could hear how quickly her heartbeat had sped up, like a jackhammer behind her small frame. More worried she was going to give herself a heart attack, even if he was fairly certain that wasn’t possible, he tried to soften his face and voice. Alex’s words ringing in his head, Humans may not be aware of what you are, but their instincts can still sense danger. You have to control your body and emotions; you have to show them that you are no threat. “No, Abby. I can’t see spirits, it’s not an ability most werewolves have. But I can sense them, I know when they’re around.”

  His mother had been a very spiritual person, or so Alex had told him over the years. He wouldn’t have been surprised if she would have been able to see the spirits that Abby could. But he wasn’t a wolf that held that ability — only a few throughout history ever had — and he was perfectly happy with that. Just being able to sense when they were around had always been enough to make his hair stand on end.

  Glancing at her, he cocked his head to the side, “Is that what happened when you arrived in Buern? When you stopped in the road?”

  Her heartbeat quickened and her breathing picked up. She was starting to panic, but Wesley wasn’t sure why. She had been calm, if not wary, during their conversation but one mention of spirits and he could tell she was trying to control her rising anxiety.

  Without much thought at all, he rounded the island and gently placed his hand on hers where it sat on the granite. God her hand was small in his — he had been right to guess she was probably about five foot three. But he hadn’t noticed how small she really was. He wasn’t a giant by any means, and as a werewolf male he was considered rather small, but compared to her he must have seemed huge. Her bright green eyes looked up at him through strands of her auburn hair.

  “Abby, it’s okay.” He spoke as softly as he dared, just loud enough that he hoped she could hear him. Her eyes never left his, and she made no action to pull her hand away from him. He had her attention. “They can’t harm you here, Alex’s house is protected. No spirit can come into this house unless it’s welcomed in. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  It took her a moment to respond, as if she had been far away and his words took a moment to even register. But she slowly nodded her head. He let out a long breath — and at the same time consciously realized that he had moved from his seat. He really need to get control of his emotions. Becoming more aware of himself he noticed how warm her hand felt under his and how pleased his wolf was that he was touching her. She took a deep breath and then another, trying to gain control of her rapid breathing. A few more deep breaths and her heart rate had slowed back down considerably. Enough that Wesley was no longer feeling like whisking her away to where no one could ever scare her again.

  He shook his head. He wasn’t some prince out to save a damsel in distress, and he doubted that Abby would be so pleased to be called a damsel. Another moment later and she leaned back into the chair, her hand gently sliding out from underneath his. He leaned back himself, giving her some space. “Better?”

  She took another deep breath and nodded, attempted to speak but nothing came out. Her brows pulled together in frustration before she tried again, “Yes, better...Thank you.”

  Her voice was strained but her shoulders were relaxed again. Maybe not as much as they had been before this episode, but enough that Wesley nodded and returned to his seat.

  And all the while Alex had just stood on the other side of the island watching them. Wesley had known he hadn’t moved a muscle, perhaps afraid he would send either of them into a state. Wesley could feel a deep annoyance, nearing anger, settling in his stomach at his Alpha for sending Abby into such a panic. Wesley knew, without a doubt, that he and Alex would be having a very long conversation soon. But not while Abby was present.

  A sense of calm and atonement filtered down the pack bond and into his mind. Even when annoyed with him, Wesley couldn’t stay mad at Alex for long.

  Alex cleared his throat, looking concerned when
Abby turned her attention back to him. “My apologies, dear girl. I didn't mean to cause you stress.”

  Wesley wasn’t sure if he said that to appease Abby or himself. Whatever the reason, Wesley was only slightly less annoyed at him for scaring her so badly. He had known Alex all his life. Although Alex could be deadly if the need arose, he was also the kindest man — werewolf or not — that Wesley had ever known.

  “It’s…” she did that thing with her eyebrows again, pulling them together in the middle of her forehead, and Wesley thought she looked cute when she was frustrated.

  Shaking his head, he tried to focus on the words leaving her mouth and not the shape of it.

  Trying again, she sighed, “It’s okay. I— it hasn’t been long. It started a couple weeks ago. After my birthday.”

  Alex made a sound of encouragement around his mug, setting back onto the counter he said, “How old are you, Abby?”

  “Eighteen.”

  She was only a year younger than him. Wesley had assumed she must have been around his age, her face still held hints of being a teenager, but her body was starting to look more woman than girl. He remembered Alex telling him once that his own appearance would change more in his early twenties — his lean muscles would bulk up more and the lankiness he had throughout childhood would diminish. Werewolves weren’t known for their small muscles, after all.

  Of course, he reminded himself, she was a witch. And if her scent was anything to go by, a powerful one. That meant she had to be half-Faye. Which meant she would likely live just as long as he would. He wondered when a half-Faye stopped growing. Werewolves stopped aging around twenty-five or so, or depending on when they were turned. Perhaps a Faye and human hybrid were the same.