Duke Charming | Craig

Twenty-Two

Blake and I stared each other down for an intense minute. I had the potion in my hand, merely five inches from my lips – so close, I could taste the copper of Craig's blood on my tongue by just smelling it.

"Don't drink it," Blake pleaded again. He stepped into my room and closed the door, and just like the other day, cast the spell that soundproofed the room. "Please, Nel. I know you believe that's the only way of fixing things, but it isn't. Lucine only ever knew how to destroy, nothing else."

"Lucine's dead, Blake," I told him, uncaring how insensitive that sounded. "She's dead and I'm still as miserable as I was when I came to her for help. This," I held up the potions, "is the only way. I don't have a choice."

I brought it to my lips once more. Blake sprang into action and charged at me, grabbing at the vial in sheer desperation. Dodging his hands, I leapt to the side, my back colliding with the dresser.

"Listen," he tried again, holding up his hands in surrender, "there is something I need to tell you. That day you came to Lucine, she said there was something special about you. I was too young to remember what she told me, but I performed the memory spell and...I remember now."

I paused for that moment to stare at him, waiting for an explanation. If that memory spell showed him an alternative way for me to break my curse, then I'm all ears. I'd try anything at this point, but alas, the potion was right here and complete.

But in truth, I was more curious about why Lucine thought I was special. I've never been special, not among werewolves at least. And for her, a witch, to see potential where I and others didn't, persuaded me to give Blake a chance to speak. Maybe there was a logical explanation why I couldn't shift, a clue that's been right underneath my nose all this time that I was too ignorant to see.

"Years ago, when my mother was still alive," he began, "a woman came to her desperate for help. I wasn't born yet, but Lucine was, and she was old enough to remember what happened. The woman claimed her newborn daughter had been taken from her by a werewolf, and she needed my mother's help to get her back. However, just like Lucine, my mother never did anyone favors that didn't benefit herself. She told the woman to bring her mate to their next meeting, where she'd obtain some of his blood to perform the ritual that would win her back her daughter."

My eyes shifted to the potion, noticing the parallels between me and that woman. We both sought out a witch in our darkest hour, and we both were told to acquire the same ingredient for a ritual.

Blake's eyes darkened when he said the following, "My mother killed that woman's mate, spilled every drop of blood he had into her twisted ritual, only to present the woman with a potion. A potion that, if taken, would give her the strength of a hundred wolves to destroy the man that took her daughter. But the death of her mate ruined her, and instead of taking the potion and confronting that werewolf, she surrendered at the hands of her pain, and was killed."

He grimaced at the bitter thought, no doubt imagining what the agony felt like for losing one's mate. "My mother knew the consequences of what she did, but then she explained the reason for it to Lucine. That woman had a mate and could shift into a creature of the night, but it wasn't a werewolf. She was something else, something that could have multiple mates in one lifetime. My mother had hoped that the pain of losing a mate combined with the potion, would double the woman's strength, thus leading her to wipe out that werewolf's entire pack – a pack that happened to track down and kill witches for generation."

A favor that benefitted her in the end.

Masking my recognition behind a scowl, I crossed my arms and glowered at him. "What's your point, Blake?"