Moon Bound (The Witches' Bind Trilogy Book 2) Read online

  Moon Bound (The Witches’ Bind Trilogy #2)

  Copyright © 2021 by M.L. Philpitt

  ISBN 13: 978-1-7774731-2-9

  ISBN 10: 1-7774731-2-9

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, persons living or dead are entirely coincidental.

  Warning: This book contains mature content. Reader discretion is advised.

  Cover Designer: Sarah Hanson, Okay Creations.

  Blurb: Amy Briggs, Briggs Consulting LLC

  Editing: Rebecca Barney, Fairest Reviews Editing Services

  Proofreading: Amy Briggs, Briggs Consulting LLC

  “The Storm” by TheFatRat & Maisy Kay

  “7 rings” by Ariana Grande

  “I’m Not Running Around” by Killrude

  “Into the Woods Somewhere” by Hozier

  “Animals” by Maroon 5

  “Roslyn” by Bon Over & St. Vincent

  “Stay” by Rihanna & Mikky Ekko

  “Love Me Like You Do” by Ellie Goulding

  “Runnin’” by Adam Lambert

  “Someone You Loved” by Lewis Capaldi

  “It’s You” by Ali Gatie

  “Let Her Go” by Passenger

  “Mad Love” by Sean Paul, David Guetta, & Becky G.

  “Whenever, Wherever” by Shakira

  “Wonderland” by Taylor Swift

  “Here Without You” by 3 Doors Down

  “Hate That I Love You” by Rihanna & Ne-Yo

  “Princesses Don’t Cry” by CARYS

  “Silent Scream” by Anna Blue

  “Every Time the Rain Comes Down” by Anna Blue

  Listen here

  Moon Bound is the second book in The Witches’ Bind Trilogy. Each book is a standalone novel featuring a different couple, but they are best read in order, due to the nature of the overarching series plot. There is mention of Cure Bound’s characters in this instalment, but nothing that will take away from the overall story. Cure Bound is available for purchase on Amazon in both ebook and paperback formats, and is also free on Kindle Unlimited, if you would like to read it before jumping into Moon Bound.

  Unlike its predecessor, Moon Bound is not a dark romance, but still contains mature content not suggested for ages 18 and under. Trigger warnings include death, kidnapping, swearing, sex, and emotional abuse.

  For Mom

  1870

  The afternoon sun shines bright and hot on the witches’ camp. Its rays often encourage lengthier searches for herbs and a general contented feeling amongst the witches, but today it only overlooks the breaking of a coven, while casting shadows over the future.

  From Caroline’s arms, the baby’s shrill cry of impatience breaks through the heated and hateful glares she is receiving from the coven’s leader.

  “He’s just a baby,” Caroline pleads, shifting him in her arms, hoping the child’s face will serve as a visual reminder of his innocence. “He’s harmless.” If it wasn’t for the child in her arms, she’d be rubbing at the cramp in her neck. Instead, her teeth clench together, casting sparks of pain through her jaw, and she fights to remain still under the scrutiny of her friends and family.

  As if to enforce her words, the child’s wails die down, his gaze settling upon the onlookers in front of him.

  “He’s an abomination,” Josephine, their leader, hisses, her teeth bared. Hands fist by her side, glowing blue with magic. “What were you thinking when you took a shifter to be your consort?”

  Caroline’s lips flatten, her pleading gaze dropping into one of determination. Her chin lifts, and the ticking in her jaw settles until it stiffens. “I love him. The pack isn’t bad like you’ve claimed.”

  Her words blast Josephine in the worst way possible, and their leader trembles, her own face contorting into an ugly expression—something Caroline has never seen. Genuine anger. The look of betrayal. Her nostrils flare, eyes narrow, and the muscles in her cheek tick. The glow in her palms darken, and witches behind her shift in anticipation—or concern.

  “How many witches have they killed, hmm?” Josephine sneers. “Or have you forgotten what their kind truly is?”

  Resolve falls onto Caroline’s face and she glances at the coven around her. The witches either avoid her gaze, in preference for examining the ground at their feet, or seem angry, exactly like their leader. There’s no one on her side; no one who will help her. Her eyes drop to her son, using the appearance of his baby soft round cheeks and lids shut behind bright, blue eyes—her own eyes—to fuel her determination further. Her child needs this coven.

  “He is my son,” Caroline continues, her voice low and pleading. “Therefore, he is still a member of this coven. He deserves to be here.” She drags her gaze away, up toward Josephine once more. Her brows lift as she recalls the precise thing Josephine regularly complains about, using it to her advantage. “You said so yourself—there needs to be more male witches. I have one right here.”

  The glow in Josephine’s hands lessen and Caroline knows she’s finally gaining ground.

  “He is half-witch,” she adds, infusing more reason into the situation. “Teach him magic.”

  Silence consumes the circle as everyone bides their breath for Josephine’s decision. Tension prickles through the coven, but especially in Caroline, whose stiff muscles hold onto the small fragment of hope he is accepted.

  When the magic in Josephine’s hands completely dulls, she knows it has. The leader sighs, resigned, and her shoulders sag with the weight of the decision she’s made. With the war that’s likely going to come from this when the child’s father attacks.

  “Fine. We will raise him and teach him of our ways. But,” she continues, not pausing, “you are banished from this coven for consorting with another species.”

  The observing coven murmurs, but their surprise is dulled in Caroline’s ears. Her muscles turn slack, her arms threatening to fall, but she remembers to hold onto her child. “You are banished.” The words circle in her head, but don’t settle. They mean nothing to her. Banished… Yet they mean everything. Everything she knows—her family, her friends, her link to magic, and the Goddess… all gone.

  “Wh-what? Y-you can’t. I am his mother. I need to be here, to care for him. Josephine—” she steps forward, plea heavy in her tone “—you can’t do this. I’m a part of this coven.” She doesn’t even try to resist her body from quivering, her voice from shaking with her pleas.

  Josephine’s head shakes, fighting to keep her own mask of dismay in place. “I’m sorry, Caroline, but you broke our rules. Your actions have consequences. Consequences, I assure you, will not affect the child.” Josephine pauses, knowing she speaks the whole truth right now. “Your son will not be treated any differently than one of our own. Your error in judgement will not be reflected upon him, but you will be unable to see him. By sundown, be gone from this coven and do not return or else I will have no other choice but to kill you on sight.”

  The elder witch’s hand waves, motioning to a nearby coven member and gesturing toward the child. “Take him.”

  Caroline’s arms tighten around her son, hopeless tears streaming down her cheeks as she fights for breath through the pressure forming in her chest. Her heartbeat slows, the feeling of death creeping up; she’s not dying, but know
ing she’ll have to leave her son forever, she might as well be.

  But it’s for the best. He should be raised amongst his own kind and not in banishment with her. She leans down, pressing a gentle kiss upon his forehead. Her tears drip onto his skin, staining him with the only parts of her he’ll ever know, before handing him off to the waiting witch. Her eyes jerk away, unable to witness him be taken away as her heart cracks with every step the woman takes with her baby, her blood.

  For the best, she reminds herself.

  To Josephine, Caroline says, “The moon may call upon him. You need to let nature occur.”

  Josephine’s eyes are shadowed, unwillingness heavy in them when she says, “Fine. If the Goddess wills it, I’ll allow it.” Then she stalks away, not looking back.

  Her leave commands the rest and the coven follow behind, some with passive expressions and others sending Caroline sad smiles. A coven’s safety is always priority, and their mixed expressions are indicative of what this decision will mean for them too, not just Caroline and her son.

  Caroline lowers her eyes, unable to watch her son leave with them. When the clearing is empty, Caroline exits too, heavy limbs taking her away from the only life she’s ever known.

  Present

  From the edge of the sand, Mary regards the darkening ocean. Alec’s castle looms in the shadows and nestled inside is Alec and Harlow, her first task. Harlow is now trained in the art of immortality, having learned quickly, after only a few short months. She’s also proficient in the art of fire, and getting better at the other elements as well. Alec’s life changed in ways he never wanted, but it’ll be better for him.

  I prefer my fire, she had said earlier that day. As Mary knew she would.

  A vampire and a witch…the most unlikely duo, but one that will one day—

  Good job, child. You did well.

  “It will be an interesting millennium.” The same thought she had centuries ago. “I did not tell them what their future holds.” Flashes of Alec and Harlow fill her mind. “They will do great things for both species, but the witches especially. Having such a combination will prove to be valuable.”

  A soft breeze brushes her. A thank you.

  Your second task is ready for you.

  The waves in front of her still, creating placid water, and an image appears in front of her: a witch and a shifter, locked in an embrace.

  “And so it continues.”

  She transports away, situating herself into the life of the next pairing.

  Present Day

  Small beams of sun cast light through the dark clouds overhead. The sun wants to shine bright, but the gloomy clouds threaten rain—a direct reflection of my mood. After the morning’s events, despair weighs down on my shoulders while my stomach curdles with the unknown.

  The door to my father’s cabin opens and I jerk to my feet. What comes next will either enforce the grey clouds or allow the sun to peek out freely.

  Marissa, one of two pack elders, steps into the doorway, her eyes scanning the camp until finding me near the fireless pit. The souring in my stomach explodes into a full-blown punch, stealing the breath from my lungs at the sight of her expression. I focus on breathing, on my heartbeat pulsing sluggishly.

  Because the look of hopelessness in her eyes could only mean one thing.

  “Ryder, you should get in here.” Her low, gravelly voice sends chills down my already stiff spine.

  I inhale once more and hold the breath in my body, knowing I’ll need it to get me through what happens next. As I stride past other pack members, some working, some waiting for news like I am, the sun’s beam is overtaken by the clouds.

  The small shard of hope I was hanging onto disappears with the sun. It doesn’t get lost though, just lodges itself deep into my soul as I step into my father’s cabin, shutting the door and any daylight beyond behind me.

  The breath I’m holding in isn’t enough to help me handle what I see. Father—my alpha— in bed with a small blanket stretched across his body. His familiar dark hair is plastered to his forehead, damp with sweat hanging above pinched eyes. The blanket moves with his rapid breaths—breaths that seem to stab my heart until injury. His large body consumes the majority of the bed tucked in the corner, his limbs spread wide, twitching.

  “Oh my god,” I breathe. There are no other words.

  This morning, Father and I were out on patrol, and mid-run he fell to the ground, convulsing before he stared back at my wolf form from a human body. No matter what he tried, no amount of focus would allow him to shift back.

  Something I have never seen happen to any wolf in the pack. For that exact reason, dread laid in my stomach—dread that hasn’t dissipated yet.

  I glance away, unable to look upon his form any longer. Already, he seems frailer. Sicker. Shifters can’t get ill, so his symptoms send chills down my spine.

  I try to focus, instead, on the space around me. The cabin seems larger without Mother and her constant desire to fill the room with flowers and homemade crafts she’d do in her spare time. It’s been three years, but now the table that often held a fresh bouquet is bare and pushed into the far corner. A chest of her clothing sits beside it, along with items Father hasn’t yet been able to part with, still holding onto anything reminding him of her. Thinking of her, while in the cabin with my sick father makes the room begin to spin. This small, simple area has seen so much death in recent years.

  “Son.”

  His broken voice yanks my attention back to him. Father’s hands fist in the blanket and the corner of his eyes go damp.

  “Son, never shed tears. Tears mean weakness.”

  When I was a pup, learning what it means to be pack alpha, he repeated those words to me often. An alpha should never show tears because tears mean weakness. They mean I care about something or someone and that can be used against me at any time.

  A belief he holds strongly, having not once cried in front of others, including me. There was one time, three years ago when we lost Mother, that I had seen him cry. After her funeral, I found him crying in the woods. But now, in front of Marissa—someone who’s been a friend for his entire life—and me, his tears flow freely.

  I regard Marissa, standing nearby. “What’s happening to him?”

  Her weathered gaze flicks to my father before settling back on me and her shoulders sink with her sigh. “He won’t be able to shift anymore.”

  Her words punch me in the stomach, stealing what’s left of the air still contained in my lungs. “At all? How?”

  Shifters don’t just lose their ability. It’s impossible… I think. We’re ingrained into nature, so unless nature stops responding to us, someone did this.

  “Someone had to do this, Marissa.” I scrutinize her, hoping she realizes what I do. I wouldn’t put it past the coven down South to be responsible.

  Witches and shifters have been at war since the beginning of time—or at least that’s what the books make it sound like. While we’ve ignored the nearby coven, being hours away from one another, I also believe all this time they could have been lying in wait. Witches are sneaky like that.

  Marissa shifts. “Maybe...”

  “Tell him.” Father’s voice rises from the bed. He coughs once, clearing his roughened voice, before repeating, “Marissa, tell him. Tell them all.”

  “Tell me what?” I demand, my stare whipping between them both. The weight in my stomach expands up my chest, tightening around my heart until I gasp. “Tell me.”

  But they ignore me, stuck in a silent battle of their own. After a long, hard stare from Father, Marissa lets out an accepting breath. “Fine, I will gather the pack then.” Her hopeless gaze flits to me. “When you’re done here, come outside.” She leaves before I can say more.

  Father lifts his arm, reaching for my hand. It’s a sluggish, frail movement and something in me snaps. I fall to my knees in front of him, ignoring the spark of discomfort shooting up my legs from my landing on the wood flooring. The emotional pa
in tearing up my soul lessens the physical one and I wrap my hand in his reaching one.

  “Father, I—”

  “Ryder, I’m dying.”

  I blink, glancing away from his passive face while my insides crack. An outcome he’s clearly accepted, but I refuse to. My breath comes out shallow as I focus on it, resisting the urge to cry in front of him.

  As a son, I want to cry for my father, but as a wolf, I want to howl away my sorrow.

  “You’ll be alpha.”

  I shudder under the weight of his words. “No, Father.” I knew eventually this would be my role, but it’s too soon. I’m not ready. With a shifter’s long lifespan, it should have been many more decades at least. Father is fifty, though he appears much younger, but if the magic in his blood is hindering his shifting, then how long will it keep him from aging?

  “You must, Ryder.”

  “No,” I repeat, voice hardening. Saying yes to him means he will leave me.

  His weak hand tightens, as if trying to hold mine. “Ryder, you’re a smart boy. You know what will happen.”

  My jaw clenches. “What do you know? What is Marissa going to tell me?”

  What he says next, I feel in the depths of my soul. “Something I won’t be able to.” He draws in a deep, shuddering breath and adds, “You’ll be a great alpha. You’re twenty-four, for fuck’s sake. Take a mate and lead the pack well, and one day—” His voice cracks, and when he speaks next, it’s rough, as if forced. “One day… teach your own pup the ropes. Teach him everything I taught you.”

  Mate. Pup. He wants me to have the happy ending he and Mother did. Wolves mate for life, so choosing a strong female is important. Love sometimes accompanies the union, but not always. Most often, it’s a way to link packs together. It’s what mine will likely be, even though what I genuinely want is that rare connection; the thing elders refer to as a bond—when matehood chooses you. A shifter finding their true mate is rare, and I’ve only ever heard of it happening once, but it was before I was born, so I doubt I have one. It would be nice though. Or at the very least I’d like to take a mate and actually fall in love with her, like Father did with Mother.