Page 53 of Betrayed Alpha Mate

Emily is reliving her worst nightmare while bleeding magic from her wounds.

“Emily!” I call out to her as she stands watching my former self with tears in her eyes and a trembling bottom lip.

I pause, my heart slowing as I watch her, realizing that I couldn’t see back then what I’m seeing now. I couldn’t see the hurt written all over her face, or the terror in her eyes while I was spewing cruel words at her.

Now, those vile words sound like poison to my ears, and I become disgusted with myself, while also understanding where Emily has been coming from all this time. Why she’d been so hurt, angry, and closed off from me.

She had every right to be, and standing here, watching her heartbreak play out for Goddess knows how many times, I can’t see her lose herself to her grief. I did that once before, and it broke me. I lost the most important person in my life, and I can’t lose her again.

I step in front of her, unsure if this is real, or if we’re still in Stowe, or in her mind, or in some astral projection. But when I look at her, Emily’s eyes are blank slates of iridescent gold, with tears gathering in the corners as if she’s breaking apart.

“Emily, please!” I call out to her, shaking her shoulders firmly enough to snap her into reality, but even that doesn’t work.

“Snap out of this, Em! It’s not real! It’s not!” My voice cracks in desperation, and that’s when logic flies out the window, and I do the only thing that I can think of doing to bring her back.

I grab her face and crush my lips to hers, urgently kissing her and breathing life into her, hoping she’ll snap out of it. Around us, an eerie laugh rings out, much like Morganna’s laugh when we fought her in Montreal.

Ignoring that ruthless laughter because I know it isn’t real, I continue breathing life through Emily’s lips, focusing on getting her back, because that’s all that matters to me. The Harrower might be taunting Emily, but she’s not really here; the wicked witch isn’t really on Stowe soil, because I’ve put up enough safety measures to keep her out.

It’s the final leg of this race before Merlin Grimes is defeated, and his lackeys are doing everything in their power to come after our witches. But we know how to keep them off our grounds, just not out of Emily’s head, since she’s the youngest witch—the last to emerge as one of our five witches from the prophecy—and she’s the most vulnerable to these mental and psychological attacks.

That’s why I kiss her as passionately as I can, until I can feel her magic retracting, seeping back into her pores until finally, she gasps on my lips. I stop kissing her, and she wheezes, before her eyes roll to the back of her head, and her body collapses forward.

I’m able to catch her in my arms, swiftly lift her, and cradle her against my chest. Her forehead is slicked with sweat, her lips parted as she takes dry, unsteady breaths. Her eyes are closed as exhaustion wins over, so I carry her back home, grateful that she’s in my arms where I can keep her safe. And now, she’ll be in my bed, where nothing can pull her outside and consume her again.

***

“Where… where am I?” Emily mutters, prompting me to bolt upright from the couch in the corner and make a beeline for the bed, crossing my bedroom floor barefoot.

“Thank Goddess, you’re awake,” I breathe out with a sigh of relief as I sink to my knees beside the bed, taking her hand in mine and pressing her knuckles to my lips. The morning sun greets the bottom half of the blinds in my room, sending gentle warmth into the room that kisses Emily’s feet where she lies under my sheets.

She frowns as she takes stock of her surroundings: the bed, the pillows, the bedroom. Her frown remains as she turns to me, sadness flickering in her eyes.

Or was that disappointment?

I grip her hand tightly as I say, “I found you in the woods last night. The Harrower is playing tricks on your mind.”

A gasp escapes her lips as she attempts to sit up. I help her by fluffing the pillow behind her head.

“I was in the woods? I didn’t leave my bedroom.”

“She must have caught you while you were in your bedroom, but the vision led you outside, and you were in some kind of trance,” I explain, giving her the details of how I found her in the clearing, bleeding magic. And I go on to tell her how I was hauled into the vision she was having when I touched her.

Her eyes widen with horror as she instantly recognizes what I would have seen, a blush creeping on her cheeks. She averts her gaze and stares at her toes covered by the sheet, but I give her hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of, Em. Actually, I’m the one who owes you more than a simple apology for what I did. I realize how much I hurt you. I saw it. I felt it last night. And…” I pause to gulp. “... there’s something I need to tell you. I have a confession to make.”

Emily turns back to me slowly, warily, her gaze questioning. “What is it?” she asks, and I bite my lip nervously as I turn my eyes away.

“I kissed you.” I flinch, the admission uncomfortable. “It was the only thing I could do to bring you back, to snap you out of that daze. You were under some kind of spell; it looked like you were losing your magic, and I didn’t know what to do. I’m sorry. I only did it because—”

“Sean,” Emily gently cuts in, and this time, she’s the one who gives my hand a firm squeeze. “It’s fine. You did what you needed to do.”

“You’re not offended?” I ask with a frown as my eyes meet hers. But the sapphire blue crystals just glow lightly, without any malice in them.

“No, of course not. I’m just glad you found me before something else happened.”

I shiver at the thought and shake my head, noticing the exhaustion circling Emily’s eyes. She’s been training these past few days tirelessly, and she’s had the Harrower to deal with, too, with all the evil witch’s sly attacks on her psyche.