Only this time, she wasn’t there.
No, she wouldn’t think of that, she couldn’t think of that. It would break her, and for all the shifters back at the compound, and for the two beside her, she had to stay strong. They needed her to find a way out of this, and that meant that she couldn’t stop to care for those falling by the wayside. Not now, not this time, no matter how much it killed her to leave them behind.
12. Dean
Holy fuck. What the hell had Melody been through? Dean’s mind reeled with the possibilities.
He could feel it in the bond, every time she lied, every dip of her heart, every crack in her soul. All the pain that she was hiding behind that monotone that she spoke in. Fuck, did she even realise she was doing it?
Dean cast a look at Asher, seeing the confusion and pain there in his bond-mate. The stupid bastard was only just beginning to realise how bad this shit was. How much danger they were in. At least Dean had had a bit longer to get his head around it before he was hit with the details.
“That’s a very organised way of doing things,” the provost said, choosing her words carefully. “Did it happen often?”
Melody flinched.
Inside, his beast roared. Already they knew the answer. Yes; yes, it had happened more times than anyone could ever imagine and she blamed herself. He could see it. She was helpless, as much a victim of the abuse as the shifters were, but she saw herself as the cause.
She wasn’t, Melody was merely the tool, but he knew that the differentiation would offer her no comfort.
His witch was suffering, soul-crushing wounds, and there was nothing he could do to ease pain. How could he, when she was inflicting most of it herself?
“It is the way all of our shifters are bonded. It’s the best possible thing for the coven,” Melody said, a tear trickling down her cheek. “It means that witches who are more suitable, but not as strong, are able to bond with and watch over shifters who need it most.”
She looked at them all, helplessly, and a tear fell down her cheek. “I didn’t know they were suffering. I didn’t know how to help them. I’d always thought that they were strong, that they’d survived the death of their witch. But there were too many of them for that to be true.”
Another fat tear joined the first.
“No, how were you to know? I bet you rarely left your compound before you came here,” Mrs Hardinger said, looking sadly at her.
Dean startled. She hardly …?
“Before I came here,” Melody almost whispered. “I’d never left the compound.”
Shock ricocheted through him. The Apex had chafed at being locked in the academy until they found their witch, but at least they’d had their childhoods with their packs, or with witching families. But Melody had never known anything other than the hell she’d lived in. How on earth was she even sane?
“You can’t mean never,” Asher scoffed. “I mean, you’ve probably seen a human doctor at least once in your life. Or, you’ve gone shopping, or hunting, or something.”
Melody pulled up the sleeve of her shirt, something she rarely did. Dean wasn’t surprised, he’d seen all her scars when they were caring for her. But Asher hadn’t, and neither had the two women, who hissed at seeing her story carved into her skin again. He knew they’d seen some, but not everything. In her skin were divots, where entire chunks of her flesh had been removed. Scores, burns, slashes. Her arm was a tapestry of terror. He could only imagine how she had suffered in her life.
Dean wasn’t sure whether he wanted her to tell him, to trust him with her pain to help her find closure. Part of him wanted to be there for her. The rest of him cowered at the thought of knowing. Of being haunted by her past.
His lion surged forward. He wanted to tear out the throat of whoever had marked her. The only marks she should bear were the ones left by his teeth when he claimed her as his mate.
Dean froze, only half listening as Melody assured them that she’d never been allowed out of the compound, for the good of the fucking coven. He was starting to hate those words.
It was what his lion was chanting, however, that held his attention in a way that nothing else could.
Mate. Mate. Mate. Mate.
The beast was relentless and resolute. Melody was his, and Dean needed to claim her.
Dean sat there, shocked, thrilled, horrified. She was his mate. He’d found her. All this time, and he’d finally found her. And she was his witch! His witch. The woman who had conquered his beast, and then stolen their hearts. But she was in so much pain, so much fear, so much danger. He needed to protect her. He needed to pull her into his arms and hold her there, never letting her go.
“Finally twigged, have you,” Mrs Hardinger said, looking at him.
Dean’s gaze snapped to hers, his beast growling. She was challenging him.
“Mine,” he growled, more lion than man in that moment.
“Yes, I know. I’ve known for a while. What took you so long to get there? Hmm? She needs you to man up, Dean.
