Sorcha's Wolf by Billi Jean

Author:Billi Jean
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub

Chapter Seventeen

Sorcha gathered all the herbs needed for the potion, still worrying over Alex, and now Bethany. Blood Moon. Why did everyone want to be called something other than their given name? Even if Blood Moon was one of her given names, and a cool one, Bethany had always been such a wonderful name. So sweet, just like the child.

She’d been in the Fay Realm for centuries. Ages of men.

Why did that make her throat ache for the small girl she’d once sung Gaelic songs to? Because Bethany had reached the same age she had when she’d first seen Alex. Had Bethany’s mate denied her?

The thought was so absurd, she wanted to laugh, but for that tightening in her chest and the sorrow surfacing every time she thought of Bethany.

Bethany was hiding. Hiding from a male.

“Do you think the potion will harm you?”

Alex’s voice after so long without hearing it startled Sorcha, so too, did his question. She dropped the spoon she was using to stir the noxious stuff and sat back to look at him. He appeared even more agitated than before.

“Will it? I swore to protect you, if you fear that, tell me now,” he demanded.

What to say? The truth, she supposed, or some of it. “Of course I worry. I’d be a fool not to.”

His brow furrowed in that way she’d grown to realise meant he wasn’t sure if she jested with him or not. “It will harm you? You fear this?”

She nodded silently. It might. She was making it after all, not some witch with who knew what kind of power and talent. She might make it right, while the other person had fouled it up and that was why she’d been able to break its power.

“Why? You’re making it, will that not aid you?”

“No, not entirely. The fact that I’m making it makes it worse. I mean, it might make a difference.”

Alex frowned thoughtfully at her. He’d set up camp, made the fire, found his precious pack which had given him a great sense of satisfaction she’d noticed, then he’d warmed a soup for them—from dehydrated vegetables—and had sat near her, not speaking. For hours, it’d felt like. She’d sensed him watching her the entire time. She’d nearly messed up the ingredients simply from his stare.

“Will you be able to break it, like you did before?”

She sat back on her butt and crossed her legs, before meeting his gaze. “I don’t know. Like I said before, if someone else made it they might have fouled it up—”

“You told me you broke it down by ingredients. Won’t you know the ingredients now?”

Surprised, she examined his logic. It was sound. She knew what she’d put in the pot, but still, a potion made with magic wasn’t generally broken merely by the recipe, but with magic. She had done it, but how had she done it? She’d been angry, so outraged at the witch using the child she’d nearly been unable to keep herself still. The witch had

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