Pack witch, p.1
Pack Witch, page 1
part #5 of The Splintered Bond Series
Pack Witch
MERRI BRIGHT
Copyright © 2025 by Merri Bright
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Formatted with Vellum
For the readers who didn’t get enough of the tallywhacker boys, and made sure I knew y’all wanted more. Love ya to the moon and back!
Contents
Pack Witch
1. Zinnia
2. Zinnia
3. Julian
4. Zinnia
5. Julian
6. Zinnia
7. Zinnia
8. Julian
9. Zinnia
10. Zinnia
11. Julian
12. Zinnia
13. Julian
14. Zinnia
15. Zinnia
16. Julian
17. Zinnia
18. Julian
19. Zinnia
20. Julian
21. Zinnia
22. Julian
23. Zinnia
Also by Merri Bright
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Pack Witch
Twenty-five years ago, I met my true mate. Instead of claiming me, he left me to die.
Somehow, I survived the pain, the shame, and the mate sickness, but I’ve paid the price for that rejection every day.
When the shifter I was destined for walks back into my life, asking to be healed and begging for a second chance, I’m not sure if I can give it… or if he’ll still want me when he realizes just how thoroughly he broke me all those years ago.
Can I even be his mate if I’m not a shifter anymore?
Pack Witch is the story of Sergeant Julian Rain and Zinnia Star, set a few years after the end of Pack Rage. There will be some spoilers for that series in this book. This is a second chance, later in life M/F romance with a happy ending, but it does contain profanity, violence, blood, discussions of aging and infertility, and plenty of sex.
Chapter 1
Zinnia
THE MOUNTAIN PACKLANDS
If I’d learned one thing in my fifty years, it was that change was both painful and inevitable. But today, the change that swept through my half-open window and through my small cabin was welcome.
“No more sleeping indoors,” I announced to the room with a smile. “Spring cleaning starts today.” It was the end of April and well past time. Not only was my bedroom filled with every sort of animal the mountains of Colorado had to offer—making it nearly impossible to cross from my pine-log bed to the cast-iron stove without tripping over something alive—the smell was getting out of hand.
None of the current residents responded, except for the black bear sleeping in front of the fire, who groaned pitifully as if she’d only been wounded that day. I made my way around the basket of chipmunks that had lost their mother a few weeks too early, and sent a small surge of magic into their tiny bodies. Then I stroked the red-tailed hawk, Brigid, on her shoulder, pushing her toward the window. She flapped her wings, both of them strong enough to fly now, and exited without argument.
Finally, I reached the source of most of the musky odor that had seeped into everything. I nudged her with my foot. “Come on, Marta, it’s time to wake up.”
The bear let out a loud grumble and rolled over, holding up one foot. She and I had lived together through the winter, since I’d helped pull her paw from under a fallen tree in late November. Her injury had taxed my weak magic, but I was proud of how far she’d come.
“You’re well enough to sleep outside, you big, spoiled teddy bear. Go on.” I pushed a little magic into my command, but she only sneezed and shook her shaggy head at me.
I sighed and rounded Marta to look for my oldest friend, Urchin. The old garter snake was sleeping in her basket by the fire, as she had for the past fifteen years. She was almost as much of a hermit as I was. “How about you? Want to slither through the garden while I clean?”
She lifted her head, taking me in with her glossy black eye, followed by the clouded white one. She shifted restlessly in the basket, flicking her tongue to taste the air. I’d known her long enough to tell that she was disturbed.
Scooping her up, I wrapped her around my arm and crossed to the cabin door, looking out into the morning. I lived alone on a quiet patch of land surrounded by vast pine forests and granite cliffs, above a shallow stretch of river. From my doorway, I could make out the path that wound through early spring wildflowers, then aspens and ponderosa pines, on its way around the steep mountain.
What had my little friend on edge? I hadn’t made it past the door when something invisible answered my unspoken question.
A spear of agony thrust into my heart, followed by fire lighting up every nerve in my body. Flames consumed me.
My scream filled the cabin as pain swept through me, and all the other animals woke as well, adding their voices to the alarm.
Marta stood and roared in anger, her head moving from side to side as she looked for the attacker. The smaller animals rushed out the door and windows, seeking escape.
I wished I could do the same. I collapsed on the wooden floor, holding Urchin away from my torso to keep her safe. My skin burned like it was being shredded away by some invisible hand, my heart punctured by something. Was it a knife? An arrow?
As suddenly as it came, the pain fled, the flames extinguishing and the invisible wound closing up. I panted in shock, Marta’s roaring still echoing in my ears.
What was that? It had felt like… a heart attack? No shifter I’d ever known had experienced one, as far as I was aware.
I smiled grimly to think I might be the first, though I supposed calling myself a shifter was more of a habit than the truth. I waited for a few minutes to see if the pain would return, then pushed myself back to my feet, my joints creaking. I took shallow breaths, waiting to see if the worst was over.
After a few moments, I decided it must be. Marta nudged me and lumbered out the door, heading down the deer path that led to the river. Urchin settled, curling back up to sleep around my wrist.
Then the wind blew in again, and carried something else with it: yelling.
Oh no. I put Urchin down and gathered up the only weapons I allowed myself—my walking stick and my herb knife—before walking out to meet whoever it was.
“I’m too old… for this shit!” The complaint was as familiar as the voice, and I smiled.
“What shit, Ida?” I called. I couldn’t see her, but I could hear her walking noisily through the forest that surrounded my home.
“Being attacked… by squirrels. And some hawk. And a damned raccoon! In my day, raccoons knew better… than to growl at a shifter.”
Attacked? I almost laughed aloud as the only friend I’d had in decades huffed and puffed across the clearing, hauling a large picnic basket in one hand, her gray bun mussed. It did look like she’d had her hair styled by the animals who’d run out of my cabin.
I fought back a laugh. Ida Becker was my only friend, and a dominant wolf shifter. Grandma of the Alpha of the Mountain pack, with enough power in her own old bones to challenge any Alpha other than him, if she’d wanted to. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you from the raccoons, Ida.”
A few dozen feet away from me, she stopped and stared at me for a long moment, wheezing. Why would she be out of breath? Worried, I started to gather the magic in the chilly wind to me, in case she needed healing. Shifters could live to be a hundred and twenty, and she was only in her eighties…
Before I had enough power spooled to cure a hiccup, her sparkling eyes met mine, and she winked. “You can make it up to me with some of your homemade gin. Happy birthday to my favorite witch. You don’t look a day over fifty. Well, maybe a few days over. No more than a month.”
“Rude.” I crinkled my nose at her. “You’d better have chocolate in that basket.”
“Chocolate birthday cake, supplies for your medicines, and whiskey to trade for your homemade gin, though you may need that last one more than I do.” She harrumphed. “I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but you actually don’t look so good. You’re paler than usual. Except for the age spots.”
I lifted one of my hands, which did indeed have some shadowed spots, and made an appropriately rude gesture. She laughed, held up a fist, and pushed her way through the invisible web of magic I’d spent the last twenty-five years spinning around my home.
She was the only one who had my permission to do so. The web protected my privacy, keeping all but the strongest shifters out. Well, the strongest, and the occasional child who’d gotten lost over the years and stumbled through the look-away veil I’d woven.
It was almost imp ossible to hide from shifters, especially on their own packlands, but with enough small, gentle magic, it could be done. Good thing, too. Small magic was the only kind I could use without triggering devastating pain.
“You think I should use some magic on these age spots, instead of pack supplies?” I teased before I tucked my knife away and set down the walking stick. I held out my hands eagerly to take the basket, but she yanked it away.
“As if you would. I can’t even get you to wear a damned pair of jeans. You’re a spring chicken, Zinnia Star, even if you dress like you’re my age.” I glanced down at my calico summer dress. She wasn’t wrong, but it wasn’t like there was anyone here to impress.
She grumbled a few more things about youth being wasted on the young—she was a few decades older than me, so I didn’t roll my eyes where she could see—and then plopped down on the fallen log I used as a bench.
Most wolf shifters were lean and muscular. Ida was plump and short, and I was almost overcome with the urge to hug her, as usual. Hug her or throttle her, as she lectured me about how much healthier I’d be if I came down from the mountain every once in a while.
“Not that you’ll bother to follow my advice. Why do I even try? Ah, well. I brought you your usual birthday lunch.” She began unpacking fried okra, potato scones, cornbread with honey and butter, and fresh greens. There was so much food, I began to get suspicious. When she withdrew not just a slice but an entire chocolate cake and a full bottle of Scotch, I groaned and sank down next to her.
“A bribe, hm? What do you want, Ida?” When she didn’t answer, I warned, “I’m not coming down from the mountain. You remember our agreement. If you’ve got someone who needs healing, bring them to my border.” She wasn’t allowed to escort anyone across the magical shield I’d woven over the years, but I made herbal remedies for her pack every year. I’d even come out of my seclusion a few times to help in a more direct way, with my healing magic.
She didn’t acknowledge my offer, just poured a small cup of whiskey for herself and one for me. “Speaking of borders, you should know your old packlands aren’t closed to you and your kind anymore.”
My kind. She meant shifters with witchcraft, though she never spoke of my power out loud. It had been illegal for many years for me even to exist, and for her pack to hide me.
She took a sip and went on. “You can leave Mountain, if you want. Go back home. See who might still be there.” Her soft words were like claws scraping my heart.
She didn’t mean to be cruel. She didn’t know. She was my closest friend, but I hadn’t shared anything of my old life with her or anyone.
“There’s no one there for me,” I finally managed. She made a sympathetic sound, and I straightened my shoulders. “Not that traveling alone across the country would be a good idea.”
“That’s true,” she said, her expression far too calm. Ida’s face was always moving. She was hiding something. “But staying put for too long may be just as dangerous.” She stared at the sky as we ate, watching Brigid circle the valley. “We have a few shifters going that way, back toward your old home. They’re from what was the old Southern pack.”
“A group? How many?” Were they coming near my mountain?
“It was a dozen unmated shifters and their Alpha.” I blinked in surprise. Alphas almost never left their packlands, not for long. Ida smiled slightly. “Only three unmated ones now. The rest met their true mates here a few days back, at our full moon pack gathering.”
“I’m glad for them.” I held still, waiting.
“The Alpha is an old friend. I’d like you to meet him. Meet him, and maybe help him.”
I was having a hard time breathing now, but managed to ask, “He’s injured?”
“Not exactly.”
My heart was racing, though I didn’t know why. “Just him?”
“Well, him and the last two without mates. They’re practically children, though.” She muttered something about little shits, but I ignored it.
“What’s wrong with the Alpha?” I asked, my voice trembling.
Her eyes met mine at last, and hers were filled with a terrible knowledge. “He needs your help. His name is Julian.”
“No.” The word was a whip crack, and Brigid screamed out an echo of my denial above.
Her gaze hardened, but her voice was still soft as she replied, “You know our agreement. This Alpha is a friend of our pack. A relative of our Alpha. He needs help, or he’ll die.” The air went still, as if the world around us was holding its breath while I considered the cost of helping this man. “Will you at least meet him and see what you can do?”
I didn’t answer. I didn’t even breathe, the stabbing pain in my heart returning as it had on the mountain.
I didn’t need to meet Julian. I already had, years before. Met him, touched him, and discovered who he was to me.
My true mate. The one who had left me to suffer alone, for all these years.
As Ida shared more about Julian’s plight, I slipped from the log to the ground, letting the solid earth support me when my legs could not. But not even an entire mountain could keep my mind from flying away, back to the night I met him.
Chapter 2
Zinnia
TWENTY-FIVE YEARS BEFORE
Come to me, little star. Come find me, now.
I will. Today. I sat up in bed, my magic coursing through me with a drumming yes, yes, yes. I’d never had much magic or hope before, but now my veins filled with a pleasant, liquid fire, and certainty.
I’d never shifted, a late bloomer even for my family, but for the past week I’d been dreaming of a tall, broad, dark-haired male who called me his little star. I’d felt my wolf beginning to wake up with every dream, until it seemed like my hands might become paws and my teeth lengthen into fangs at any moment. I could even smell a trace of him in the breeze that wafted through the open window from the northwest. Fresh cedar and the unmistakable scent of wolf.
I half-tumbled out of my bedroom, magic and hope moving through me in twin rivers, my wolf rising and howling in triumph that he was near enough for us to find. He would draw her out, and she would run under the moon with her mate.
The house was empty as I ran through it to the door. My mother had vanished the year before, crossing into Northern packlands with my aunt to beg for peace. They’d butchered our elders and children just for living near the Blue Mountains. No one ever came back.
Why the other packs had punished us for Occidens’ crimes, I’d never understand. We were healers, not warriors—a small river pack who’d kept our heads down for generations, whose magic came both from our wolf natures and from the earth itself, our witch heritage.
But it hadn’t mattered. They came for us anyway.
My father and brothers were killed before they could speak their truth. Everyone else in our family had either been slaughtered or vanished. My mother, my aunt, my cousins... The only ones left were me and my older sister Aster, and she was half-dead herself. Her wolf had been slipping away for the past week as she mourned the death of her true mate, the other half of her soul.
She was already outside, working in the light of the full moon. Dragging a fallen cedar limb across the clearing in front of our small house, and stacking it with a dozen others. I was almost certain it was her own funeral pyre she was building, but I didn’t dare ask. She’d shaved her hair in grief, and the light shone on the smooth, pale brown surface.
I stepped closer, but she didn’t turn to greet me. I spoke anyway. “I felt him, Aster. I think… I think he’s close.”
She didn’t ask who. Her chin dropped, and she pulled in a long, shuddering breath. I stepped toward her, careful at first. But the words burned in my throat, and excitement pushed me closer. She was a shadow of the sister I’d grown up with. Still, she was my only remaining family, and I wanted her to feel this with me. For me.
“Did you hear me?” I said gently. “I think my mate is calling me.”
She didn’t turn, just stared straight ahead. “I hope not.”
