“And it must be done with a solid gold knife.”
Surprised, she studied him, the formerly relaxed stance now taut with alertness. He craned his neck and stared upward. “I can’t have you falling out of the tree again.”
Dumbfounded, she watched him climb upward, as agile as if he’d been born to it. Emily forgot to breathe as he reached the limb and shimmied out. Raphael waved his hand and the Sacred Scian appeared in his palm.
Sense returned. He would cut the berries, but he didn’t know the sacred words. Everything must be perfect, and Raphael in his good intentions…
Would ruin everything.
“Stop it, stop it, don’t touch them,” she cried out, running to the tree trunk.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got it under control.”
Using his left hand to cling to the limb, he sawed at the sprig of mistletoe with his left, using the golden dagger.
“No, no, wait, no, you’ll ruin it!”
But he had already cut the leafy bough of berries. Raphael replaced his dagger and wrapped both hands around the limb, his body dangling fifteen feet in the air.
“Get back,” he ordered.
She staggered back, her heart in her throat, misery choking her as he dropped and landed on his feet as if jumping off a small rock. Raphael made a formal little bow and presented the sprig to her with a flourish. “Your berries.”
She did not take them, but stepped back, her stomach knotted. “It’s too late. You ruined them. You weren’t supposed to do it. You’re an outsider who doesn’t know the tradition. I told you not to do it, and now there’s no more left.”
His expression shifted to a guarded look. “Excuse me for contaminating your damn berries and worrying about you breaking your neck.”
He strode off, hands jammed into the pockets of his jeans, his shoulders rigid as river rock. Emily stooped over and picked up the mistletoe. A lone tear trickled down her cheek.
She ignored it as she clutched the berries and walked back to her cabin. Inside, she tried to make sense of the texts, but her vision was far too blurred. She gave up.
In less than three weeks, she would die at the hand of her mate.
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Chapter 6
D awn broke with the soft chirp of birds outside her window. Emily sat up, rubbing her eyes. Cool air drifting through her open window brushed against her cheeks.
Winter was fast approaching. The thought was a rough jolt to her sleepy senses. There was another tree with mistletoe on a neighboring, abandoned farm. Perhaps the berries had ripened there. Fresh hope filled her. It would be worth the risk of leaving the pack’s property.
A familiar, sensual scent filled her nostrils. Emily slipped out of bed, drew on her robe and belted it around her. In the living room by the river rock fireplace, Raphael sat in one of her comfortable chairs. In a long-sleeved blue shirt and faded jeans, he looked alert and watchful.
Long, dark hair curled down to his shoulders. He said nothing but regarded her with his steady gaze. The tiny gold earring swung from his left ear.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“Watching over you. With Morphs invading your territory, I’m not leaving you alone.”
The thought that he guarded her while she slept warmed her even as it made her uneasy. With him this close, he’d be hard to evade. Emily clutched the folds of her robe to her throat as she studied his impartial expression. “Would you like some coffee?”
He nodded and she went to the adjoining kitchen. As she measured out the grounds, she felt him behind her. Silent. Even with his large size, he walked with stealth like his wolf.
She hadn’t shifted in so long, she’d nearly forgotten what it was like to be wolf and run with the moon.
Emily poured the water and switched on the automatic coffeemaker. She turned, nearly colliding with him. Raphael was inspecting her kitchen.
“Got anything for breakfast?”
“I’m fresh out of game, so you have a choice of fresh fruit or fresh fruit.”
She hadn’t meant to sound so bitter and sarcastic. Raphael cocked his head. “You have fresh fruit? And you haven’t been off the property in how long?”
“I grow my own.”
His chiseled jaw dropped. “In autumn?” Raphael paced to the living room and opened the screen door. Emily felt a dim amusement.
“The garden is hidden behind a rock wall, to keep out the animals,” she called out.
When he returned, he gave her a long, thoughtful look. “Melons, vegetables, pears, peaches, even lemons, and