This Dark Wolf (Soul Bitten Shifter #1) - Everly Frost Page 0,109

predicting their objections. Iyana will tell me she can take care of herself. Danika will insist she won’t be spotted in the sky.

“They will sense you and strike you down,” I say. “Even you, Danika. There are only so many times you can outfly lightning. Whereas…” I take a deep breath before I continue. “Tristan and I won’t try to hide. Isn’t that right?”

I turn to him for confirmation. It’s a guess on my part, based on what he’s told me in the past: that he would give me the tools to destroy my enemies and that it would be up to me whether or not I used them. He also told me—on the first night we met—that my scent would drive them wild.

I’ve put two and two together and formed a picture that is breathtakingly dangerous and could go horribly wrong. It’s the destruction that Tristan originally planned for his enemies. What I don’t know is whether or not our relationship has now changed how he perceives the future.

“We’re going to walk in the front door,” Tristan says, confirming my suspicion.

Jace’s chair scrapes loudly as he pushes it back, nearly knocking it over, his eyebrows drawn down. Without a word, he prowls to the far window, a silent objection.

Iyana hooks her thumb in his direction. “I’m with Jace.”

I reach out, briefly placing my hand on Tristan’s knee as he moves to go after Jace. “May I?”

Tristan gives me a stiff nod.

Quietly crossing the room, I’m aware of the silence behind us as I draw level with Jace and consider the rain beating against the window. It’s a perfect day for Iyana to go outside, not a ray of sunlight to be seen.

“You’re walking blindly to your death,” he says, his voice low.

I continue to focus on the window, even though Jace’s fierce gaze burns into me. “Don’t count me out so quickly, Jace.”

“You don’t know whose bed you’re keeping warm.”

I meet Jace’s eyes, deep green, reminding me of the forest on the mountain. “Then enlighten me.”

Jace is tense. He presses his palm against the window, but he answers my request with a question. “Has Tristan told you what happened to Ella?”

I shake my head. “No. Will you?”

Jace returns his stare to the window, following the raindrops zigzagging down the glass.

I bite my lip, my mouth dry. “She’s your true mate. Isn’t she?”

Jace flinches. “Was. Until she was broken.” He squeezes his eyes shut, a rare sign of pain. “That’s why I don’t shift anymore. I can handle the pain of our broken bond if I don’t shift.”

His response is more open, more honest than I was expecting, an unexpected trust.

Carefully, I ask, “How do you break a true mate bo—”

His warning growl cuts me off. “Only with extended violence. The kind of violence that only a few supernaturals are capable of inflicting.” He grabs my shoulder, his gaze level with mine, his voice low. “The three-headed wolf is coming for Tristan. When he gets here, you’ll witness firsthand the kind of violence that broke a beautiful, strong-willed woman like Ella.”

The pain behind his eyes is almost too much. I remember the way he told Helen that the last thing Ella needed was to see him. I remember Ella’s long, blonde hair and empathetic brown eyes, her ability to perceive my moods, her instant understanding that I was both wolf and human. I remember how broken she is. But I also recall the white wolf and the surprising moment of fear in his eyes when I leaped at him with my dagger.

“No,” I whisper. “I’ll kill him before he hurts anyone.”

The muscle in Jace’s jaw clenches. “I hope you’re strong enough to do that, Tessa.” His gaze flickers beyond me, pausing on Tristan. “I believe Tristan is gambling our future on you being strong enough.”

His grip on my shoulder eases to a firm squeeze. “Stay safe.”

With a formal nod, he turns on his heel and exits the room, leaving me to return to Tristan’s side.

“We’re going alone,” I say.

Iyana and Danika exchange a glance, but they don’t renew their protests.

On the morning of the birthday party, I wake alone to find two boxes sitting side-by-side at the end of Tristan’s bed.

One is a large, ebony box tied with an ivory ribbon. It’s well-wrapped, a beautiful glossy box, the kind that comes from an expensive shop.

The other is a smaller box lined with red velvet and wrapped in a violet ribbon.

I take hold of the black box first, tucking my legs