Intro
This book is copyrighted material and claims all the rights and protections as such. 2016
Prologue
So I have a problem. A big problem. A huge problem! A problem so astronomical that the Gods themselves would shrink before the sight of this great beast. What’s the problem you ask; well, to put it simply, I had a vision of a girl. Not just any girl, but THE girl.
You see, for my kind, we only ever fall in love once. We get a vision of the one when they're born and then we get another vision of them when they come of age. Or, I should say when the girl comes of age since my species is strictly male. Gets annoying, but that’s the way it’s always been. And tonight, I just received my first vision of a red faced little human baby.
For me, this is the opposite of good news. This is my death sentence. Being tied down is my worst fear, and to a human of all things! Most other guys got lucky. They were paired with Witches, Spirits, or super-naturals. Okay so all guys except for a few rare exceptions got paired with Witches, Spirits or super-naturals. Only two guys in all of our history have ever been paired with a human. I am to be the third. I had no doubts she was human; when I got the vision, I also got a feeling that this girl was completely and utterly insignificant. Didn’t really do much to improve her prospects on me.
The girls were chosen based on… something. I don’t really know. A certain emotional characteristic that made them strong enough to survive in our world. No weaklings would live very long amongst our kind. Not that most females lived long in our world anyways. They had a nasty habit of tracking down and killing our mates before they could bear children, or at least more than one child. So for a human to be chosen, a nondescript human at that, it meant that either the Gods were playing some sort of sick joke, or I would just have to be strong enough to take care of us both—the latter being the more likely of the pathetic options.
Not only was being the leader, the Alpha, hard enough, but now I had to wait eighteen years agonizing over the messes this girl is going to get me in. Agonizing over the freedom I will no longer have, over the duty of having to protect her and take care of her and feed her and blah blah blah…it all makes me sick.
“Rotten luck there McArthur, you sure the girls gonna survive to mate, or you think she’ll be dead within a fortnight?”
McArthur is my sur-name but hardly anyone in the pack called me anything else. I growled a little and they all laughed. Of course they did, every single one of them had been paired up with a supernatural as a mate. And of course, I got stuck with a wimpy little human girl.
“Maybe you’ll get lucky and she’ll have the sense to fall in love with another before she meets you.” Another round of laughter.
Yeah, that was always the concern. That our mates would fall in love before the visions declared it was time to meet them. But normally once a girl meets one of us she’s besotted instantly, so I didn’t really feel too concerned about that.
“Or mibbie she'll be barren 'n' ye'll git aff th' hook.” (Or maybe she’ll be barren and you’ll get off the hook.)
More laughter, more anger for me. That’s another concern: that the girl chosen for us will not be able to carry on our line. That’s why we have the visions: to mate, to carry on our species, to ensure we will survive. Even though I have been around for more than my fair share of years and have no intention of dying any time soon, we can still die due to battle wounds. That’s where the girls come in. That’s why practically every single girl chosen is a supernatural, because they can adjust to our world since they are already a part of it, and they are never barren. But humans, gah! Humans are volatile, weak and fragile and more often than not a complication arises in the pregnancy; especially when baring our kind.
An old mentor of mine had a human as a mate. And for him, it was a living hell. The girl had been a shy weak little thing who would cry if she so much as stubbed her toe on a rock. She had died giving birth—thank the God’s—before they could finish her off; but my mentor had been heart broken. I wasn’t lying when I said we only fall in love once. And for us, who live virtually forever, once is mind-blowingly little.
“Did your vision at least show you what the name of your betrothed was?”
I allowed the boys their fun. We all teased each other, it was the only way to survive being in a pack full of other guys. And mine was a little more…lax than most of the others.
There were seven of us in all. A bit large for most packs, but all of us were buds and could trust each other with our lives; which was an invaluable asset amongst our kind. I had been alone for most of my days in this form, but after the last couple centuries I had felt restless and lonesome; and when I considered starting a pack, the Gods made it known it was the right time for me to do so.
Wesley was the first to join my pack. He was the class clown I guess you could say. Always good for a joke and with his Scottish accent he had us laughing ourselves sick most nights from the way some words sounded coming out of his mouth. He had been alive for just over three hundred years. Not particularly old, but old enough to know the ins and outs. He had been in my pack for over two centuries.
Warren arrived next. Completely new; barely a century and a half now. He’s a bit shy, still getting used to things, but he’s a good kid. Takes good orders and joins in on the jokes when the occasion calls for it. Good instincts too, for fighting.
Chester was next. He was Wesley’s lacky. The two of them would banter and joke from sundown to sunup and still have new jokes for the rest of us to hear. I think Chester hung on Wesley so much because he was from England. Not exactly the same time period since Chester was older than Wesley by two hundred years or so. With how immature Chester is though, you’d never be able to tell he was anything but a newborn.
Patrick came up with Chester. Apparently, those two were sort of an informal pack before they ran into us. Patrick is the wisest out of us all. He is always alert, always thinking with his brains and instincts instead of his nose and his balls. I am grateful for Patrick. Sure that our pack would have gotten into three times as many scrapes if he hadn’t joined us. Patrick is the oldest, except for me, being over a millennia old. Me and him, we stick together; because we alone have seen things the rest in our pack can’t even imagine.
Daniel and Curtis joined at the same time too. They are actual biological brothers, extremely rare. Daniel is older than Curtis by a few human years but both are about six hundred years old and both have their fair share of battle scars. Daniel and Curtis are what you could call our military expertise. If they’re not blowing stuff up, their planning what they’re going to blow up and how. And trust me, you do not want to be anywhere near them when they ‘show their latest invention’ which more than likely is just being tested for the first time.
Last theirs Kellen. My second in command. He joined shortly after Wesley and is as much my brother as my biological siblings had ever been, back when I was a human. Kellen had an uncanny ability of seeming to read my mind. I trusted him leading because I knew he would lead the pack exactly the way I would. I had no fear of Kellen challenging me for the Alpha though. He had been injured permanently when he was still young. He now had an ever present limp in his left back leg. But he was never bitter, never complained, which I think I liked the most about him. And he was the only not making me mad tonight. Kellen was just about to have his nine hundredth birthday in this life; and he had received his own vision not too long ago.
And then there was me. Nothin’ much to say there.
“Lahela Rose Parker.” I said glumly in response to their question about my mate’s name.
There were some ooo’s which surprised me. I hadn’t thought the name was very pretty, uncommon sure, but still, didn’t help the fact that she was human.
“Looks like we’d better get ready for some girls to join the pack eh? Chester only has three years of freedom before his girls of age.” Curtis said, reminding us, and causing all of us to groan.
Chester had received his vision first. The rest of us had followed almost directly after. It was the first time I had heard of a pack all getting their visions within a hundred years of each other. Not even Patrick knew what it meant but we all knew one thing for sure. Having a bunch of pregnant girls in our group all at the same time was going to make it harder than hell to protect them from them.
“I’m actually pretty excited.” Chester said, making us all laugh at him and pelt him with rocks. Chester held up his hands to defend himself. “What? It’ll be nice to have the pleasures you lot can’t provide.”
We all laughed again. It was so funny seeing such a huge kid with more jokes than he could fill the Pacific Ocean with seriously desiring a woman to share his sleeping blankets with. Chester threw another log on the fire, causing sparks and embers to rise up into the crystal clear night sky. We all sighed heavily.
“Here's tae th' lest guid years o' oor lives mates.” (Here’s to the last good years of our lives a mates.) Wesley said bitterly.
Wesley’s mate was next after Chester’s. Just five short years away. Kellen was next, seven years to go. Daniel was eight. Warren was eleven. Patrick was fifteen. Curtis was sixteen. And now I was eighteen. Eighteen short years away from being bound for all eternity.
“What say we go for a run eh lads? Show these girls they can’t tame what brutish beasts we truly are?”
The pack all roared their agreement and we took off, running through the trees at full speed, shifting as we went. Daniel and Curtis banged into each other, trying to knock the other off the cliff while the rest of them varied in their activities; some running to favorite lookouts, some jumping in the lake. Me though, I just ran. Ran and prayed that somehow this insignificant child would grow up to deserve to be my mate.
Chapter 1
* Indicates a change in point of view
18 years later:
*I had just finished climbing the big rock when I felt the phone vibrate in my pocket. I sighed and reached for it. “Hi mom.” I said before I even checked my caller ID. Who else would call me directly on the hour like she did every hour?
“Lahela honey, are you sure you’re being careful? When are you coming back down?”
I sighed again, taking in a deep breath of the fresh mountain air. “I’m fine mom. I’ll be down in a little. I just got to the top.” I looked around the gorgeous scenery before me, relishing in the beauty of nature.
My mom always freaked out whenever I took off on my own. It had been that way since what happened when I was sixteen. But I couldn’t help it. I was a tree hugging, granola eating, deer loving, nature chick through and through—always had been. Mom hated it, because I had the unfortunate tendency of tripping a lot and more often than not, I came home with a bloody bandaged tied around some part of my anatomy. More often than not, those cuts that I didn’t think were that bad, my mom deemed ER worthy. She was always right of course, but I hated how the stupid stiches hindered my hiking. I now personally knew almost all the nurses and every single one of the pediatrics doctors at the local hospital.
“Well okay then, but please be careful. You barely got your stitches out a week ago. The doctor says you’re not supposed to take it too hard.”
I shifted my right leg. Feeling the six inch cut along my shin from where I had fallen a couple weeks ago and had to get eight stitches in.
“Yeah mom, I’ll be careful.” I hung up then and returned to gazing out over the beautiful scenery of Mill City, Oregon. It was a short drive from Santiam National Park, which is where I did the majority of my hiking. But Mill City offered some pretty scenes in and of itself.
I grudgingly pulled myself away from the scenery and started back down the massive hill I had just climbed. The cut on my leg had bothered me but I didn’t care. This was my first time back on the mountain since I had fallen a couple weeks ago. I wasn’t about to let anything spoil it.
Ever since what happened when I was sixteen had happened, I had shied away from anything social. I used to just sit in my room all day and be more or less depressed, but then I just couldn’t take it anymore. People with my condition don’t really like to sit still very long. And so I ran, I ran as fast and as long as my legs could carry me and then I started hiking. It was the beauty of nature that had healed me of my non-physical wounds that would always be there in my life. But this was a therapy I could live with for pretty much forever.
I twisted one of my rings on my finger. A habit I had because my hands wouldn’t stay still, even if I was hiking. I wore four rings on my hands. Each of them symbolizing something. The ring I wore on the pinky finger of my right hand I got when I was twelve, it was from my sister. She had gotten it from my mom, who had gotten it from her mom and so on and so forth. It was Celtic and it was simple; which I loved.
The ring I wore on the ring finger of my right hand was a Claddagh ring. My dad had gotten it for me of course on my sixteen birthday. It had my birthstone in it. An Aquamarine little stone set to symbolize my birthday in March.
The ring I wore on the thumb of my left hand I got when I was seventeen, it was my favorite, first because it had real diamonds in it, and second because it was a church ring.
And last, the ring I had gotten for my eighteenth birthday two days ago was a thick ring I wore on my middle finger of my left hand. It was a Celtic knot puzzle band ring.
In case it wasn’t obvious, my family is proudly Irish. Both of my parents are. My mom had the famous red hair and green eyes but I took after my dad and had his light hair and grey eyes. We didn’t have accents or anything. We had lived in the US for too long to keep our accent, but we were still proud of our heritage and loved showing it.
My sister had gotten Celtic tattoos the moment she turned eighteen and my brothers had followed suit. I didn’t think I wanted a tattoo. Mostly because, even though I got hurt a lot, I wasn’t masochistic; and in my opinion, anyone who willingly got stabbed with a needle hundreds of times was.
We all looked alike. My family I mean. Even though some of us had red hair and some of us had golden blonde, we all resembled each other. All had button noses, big eyes, naturally red cheeks, strong jaws with sharp chins, thick hair, and broad shoulders. My brothers were tall. All five of them over six feet, even my little brother, my sister and I were pretty short: about five foot six or so. I don’t know where we got it, especially considering our dad was six foot four and our mom was five foot ten.
Out of me and my sister, I had the long legs, but she had the long torso. My torso was short. I had the bubble butt while she had no butt at all. And she had the big boobs where I was lucky if I had enough to find a sports bra necessary.
We were all physically active. Always had been. My brothers and I were all into soccer, my sister Volleyball, and me and my older brother Scott were the hikers. Scotty was my favorite brother. We were the closest in age, only being nine months apart, and we were practically twins with how alike we were and how well we got along. Scotty was my best friend.
Scott had recently gone away to college, so it had been hard trying to find something to occupy my time besides pinning the loss of my brother, he was supposed to be on break right now, because he took classes during Summer and Fall but he stayed on an all year track. It was hard being without Scotty but gratefully hiking had done its trick. I went out every day, except if I was injured, and never tired of it.
I had just made it down about half way when the cut on my shin started to reopen.
“Shoot.” I muttered to myself as I stripped off my fleece shirt and settled into my tank top. It was still cold. In Oregon, winter didn’t really end until May, if we were lucky. There was still a bit of snow on the ground, so I gathered up some, tied it in my shirt and then wrapped my shirt around my shin, hissing as the coldness first irritated and then soothed my inflamed cut.
I rubbed my arms for warmth and jumped up and down a couple of times before I started back down the mountain. I had come to the tricky part. How I had gotten up it was by nearly doing the vertical splits as I stretched on my tippy toes with one foot and hooked my heel in to a rock ledge with the other, since there wasn’t another foot hold until the top, only tiny cracks my fingers could barely squeeze into.
I felt for the foothold I had stuck my foot in near the top and put the toe of my boot into it, testing its stability before lowering myself over the ledge. My fingers stayed locked around the ledge until I started feeling for another handhold, keeping my foot firmly in the hole, to hold me up. Until of course, the stupid hold crumbled.
I let out a shocked gasp and clung to the ledge with all my strength, my legs dangling a good ten feet from the ground and a new cut on my cheek bleeding from where I scrapped it against the rocks.
My feet frantically felt around for some kind of hold but I knew there wasn’t one, not until I got to the bottom. I tried to lift myself back up but my arms were shaking so bad from the cold it took everything I had to keep holding on.
“Go ahead and let go, I’ll catch you.”
I gasped again and almost dropped as a sudden voice startled me senseless. This voice was deep and rough and very male. I looked down and saw a beast of a man standing below me. His face looked… well, not entirely pleased. He looked like I was some unfortunate person he didn’t want to save but knew he needed to.
He had a thick head of dark brown hair, eyes to match and was tall and broad. Not as tall as my brothers but at least twice as broad, with muscles showing from his neck to his calves. His clothes looked warn and his face was a little dirty. He looked intimidating. Like someone you don’t want to see angry. I didn’t like him.
“No thanks. I’ll find my own way down.” I was glad my voice sounded strong and I tried again to lift myself back up over the ledge.
The guy below me chuckled to my surprise.
“Is that before or after your fingers fall off?”
I looked at my fingers. They were nearly blue from the lack of circulation and the cold. I groaned. My options were not very pretty. Either I could allow myself to fall and hope an intimidating stranger caught me, or I could hang on until I couldn’t feel my fingers and hope an angel of mercy flew down and saved me. Well, this sucks….
“Look, just tell me if you see a foothold, or a handhold, or something okay?” I could feel the skepticism in the silence but I waited while he looked.
“Nope, nothing big enough to hold your foot, and nothing strong enough to hold your body weight.”
Ouch. It wasn’t like I was fat or anything, in fact hiking every day had gotten me into seriously awesome shape, so I tried not to take his comment personally, knowing he meant that since the foothold couldn’t stand against my weight, nothing else would either.
I groaned. “Are you sure?”
The guy chuckled again. “Are you really that scared I won’t catch you?”
I looked back down at ‘Burly the Buff Boy’ and shook my head. “Nope, I’m pretty sure you’ll catch me.”
He looked confused then. “So what’s the problem?”
Ha! As if I’d tell a perfect stranger. I was the Queen of repression and I wasn’t about to let go of that title any time soon.
“Nothing. Fine I’m letting go. In three…” I steeled my nerves, and my self-control. It was the only way down. “Two.” Maybe there was another option. Maybe I could find a branch or a root or something. “One.” My fingers gave out because of the cold and the strain and I fell.
The feeling of falling was unpleasant and yeah okay, it scared me a little bit, and then I hit his body and my breath was knocked out of me. I landed in his arms, but since I jumped pencil like he had to catch me around my waist before my feet hit the ground and I broke my kneecaps. So, he caught me hard.
“Can’t… breathe…” I gasped as I shoved him away from me hard and landed on my feet when he dropped me. I put my arms above my head and locked my hands just below my ponytail, opening up my lungs and hoping for air. It came after not too long but still it was difficult.
The guy had been solid. I had felt that much just by the few seconds he had held me. His muscles were definitely hard-core, and he was so warm! It was hard to pull myself away from him while I was shivering in just my tank top.
He surprised me by taking what looked like a handkerchief out of his pocket and pointed to the cut on my cheek, only when I grabbed it did I realize it was toilet paper.
“Unused I hope.”
The guy chuckled. “If it was used do you think it’d be in my pocket?”
I was about to say ‘I’d seen worse’ but I figured the less words that passed between us the better. I dabbed at my face, surprised by amount of blood that showed back on the white toilet paper.
I stood awkwardly, trying to keep from letting my shivering show but then realized a lot of the blood was coming from my scraped up hands as well. The guy was looking at my shirt wrapped around my leg, a kind of sick look on his face I couldn’t place.
I started getting angry. “Uh, I’m fine now. So, you can go.”
His head snapped up and his brow furrowed. “What?” He asked confused, like he couldn’t believe I just said that.
I imaged that with his good looks he had been rejected by very few girls in his time.
“I said you can leave now. You know, carry on with your hike and all that. I was just heading back down. So…thanks.” I started walking away and I made it about five steps before the guy came running after me.
“Wait wait wait. Are you… did you just reject me?”
Awkward anyone? I gaped at him. “Um, I don’t know you. Hence, rejection.”
His face looked stricken and then a half smile crept on his lips and his eyes lit up, amused. “Hence?”
I rolled my eyes and started walking again, and what do you know? The big idiot followed.
“Hey I’m sorry, it’s just that, you’re the first girl I’ve met in a long time, it’s weird figuring out how to act around them again.”
I kept walking and refused to look at him, not really believing anything he said. “What, did you live in a cave?”
The guy chuckled. “Pretty much.” He mumbled, which caused me to stop and look at him my eye brows shooting up to my hair line.
“I’m sort of a professional back packer. It’s what I do. Travel from place to place living in nature.”
I had to admit, I was pretty jealous, and from his warn clothes I could almost believe him.
“Where’s your backpack?” I asked, not bothering to hide the disbelief in my tone.
The guy hooked his thumb over his shoulder. “A few miles that way. I was on a day hike when I ran into you.”
I couldn’t stand still for too long, I got too cold. I started walking, choosing to halt our conversation instead of carrying it on. Apparently, this guy wasn’t one to take a hint. I subtly reached my hand into my pocket and wrapped my numb fingers around my swiss-army knife.
“You have to be freezing in just that shirt.”
Suddenly a warm jacket draped itself around my shoulders. That wasn’t really the problem. The problem was when his thick fingers swept my ponytail off my shoulders and lingered on my back. I whipped around and pulled out my knife, holding the blade inches from his face.
The guy jumped back immediately and held his hands palms up. “Lahela what the hell? I was just giving you a jacket.”
My eyes widened and my breathing hitched. “How do you know my name?”
The guy swore under his breath, and then looked at me, eyes pleading.
“How the hell do you know my name!?” I screamed at him. Then I didn’t give him a chance to explain. I threw off his jacket and booked it down the mountain, not stopping until I was in my Jeep gunning it down the dirt road, not even bothering to notice my blue fingers or bleeding leg, and ribs, and cheek, or the fact that I now had a knife blade stuck in my palm from where I had clenched it.
Chapter 2
*“Shit.” I swore again as I watched my terrified mate running down the mountain, blood dripping from her hand. I hadn’t meant to scare her; it was just a slip up. When she pulled that knife out on me she’s just lucky I didn’t shift on her. Yeah, she’s very lucky I didn’t shift on her; it’s no wonder what she might’ve done—probably pass out or have a heart attack or something.
I followed her back to her Jeep, making sure to stay out of sight; just making sure she got back okay. She must have been gripping that knife pretty tightly because there was an awful lot of blood on the ground; she had tripped a lot too. I had no idea how she managed to stay on her feet the entire way down.
Once she was speeding away, I sighed and then jogged back to the campsite. Wesley and Warren were there waiting for me. The rest of them were back at our main campsite protecting their mates. We were lucky. So far no one’s mates had been killed by them and even a few kids had been born. More than most packs ever had in fact. Chester’s mate was poppin them out like daisies. Wesley too had a couple and even Kellen had a son. That was the problem with supernatural mates though. They always bore children but the gestation period was usually longer than average humans. Daniel’s, Warren’s and Patrick’s mates were all pregnant. Daniel’s mate it seemed had been pregnant forever, and she was so huge it was a miracle she could stay standing up and not fall over.
It had been weird adjusting to girls in the pack, but after we got used to them, they made a fine addition. Who else would have cleaned up after us, cooked our meals, and laughed at all of Wesley’s and Chester’s lame jokes. They also weaved bowls for food and water and shelter for tents, and the wood nymphs really knew their stuff when it came to finding medicinal herbs in the forests.
I reached the temporary campsite in good time and prepared myself for the jokes that were about to come. I knew Wesley wanted to get home to his kids and Warren was worried about his pregnant mate but from the incredible progress I had made today I was guessing this was going to take a while.
“Oye, McArthur, where’s yer girl?”
Wesley already looked grouchy. Out of everyone, Wesley was a natural born father. He absolutely loved his two little boys, and they definitely had their fathers touch. Always whispering to each other and then laughing hysterically at what one of them said.
“I uh, I sort of messed up.”
Warren looked up from where he was roasting the turkey leg on the fire. It was rare that we had found a turkey so late in the season. I thought that had been a good omen. Apparently not.
“Ye… sort o'…. messed up? How th' feck dae ye mess up mate? Ye gang in, say: 'you're mah eternal mate', sweep her aff her feet, 'n' drag her bahookie back tae camp. Simple. That's a' ah hud tae dae wi' Lillian.” (You. Messed. Up. How the fuck do you mess up mate? You go in, say ‘you’re my eternal mate’, sweep her off her feet and drag her butt back to camp. Simple. That’s all I had to do with Lillian.)
Wesley had been lucky enough to get a water nymph as his mate. They were always honored to be mates to our kind. All he had to do was pretty much show up, announce who it was his vision showed and waltz Lillian back to camp.
“It’s a bit more complicated when it comes to humans Wes.” I said angry and frustrated.
Wesley cocked his head to the side and gave me a puzzled look. “Keep the heid. How dae ye mean?” (Don’t get upset. How do you mean?)
I sat down on a log next to Warren who handed me the cooked turkey leg. “Well for one thing, they don’t know our kind exist.”
Wesley looked sheepish. “Och richt, forgot aboot that. Weel wasn't she struck in awe or something whin she saw ye? Ah thought humans wur bonny receptive tae oor kind whin we shawed ourselves.” (Oh right. Forgot about that. Well, wasn’t she struck in awe or something when she saw you? I thought humans were pretty receptive to our kind when we showed ourselves.)
I snorted, I thought that had been true as well. “Apparently not this human. She couldn’t get rid of me fast enough. It looked like she wasn’t even affected in the least by my presence.”
Wesley was about to say something snide an evil grin lighting his face but Warren interrupted him. “How did you mess up?” He asked.
The kid had a deep voice for being so shy.
“I called her by her name, even though she technically hadn’t told it to me.”
Both Wesley and Warren ‘Oohed’ in a bad way and I took another chunk of the tender meat between my teeth and tore it from the bone.
“Sae whit urr ye gaun tae dae noo mukker? Tell her ye hud a vision o' her frae whin she wis born, 'n' noo she's destined tae gied the pitch wi' ye 'n' be th' mither o` yer bairns; if she even bides that lang that is.” (So what are you going to do now mate? Tell her you had a vision of her from when she was born and she’s destined to run away with you and be the mother of your children; if she even lives that long that is)
I snorted. It had taken awhile to hear all Wesley words behind his Scottish accent, but after a few hundred years, you start to get used to that sort of thing.
“No telling what would happen if I did that. I even placed my jacket on her shoulders and the next thing I know she’s pointing a pocket knife at me.”
Wesley took one look at me and then roared with laughter. Even Warren smiled. I was just remembering how unbearably soft her skin was; I couldn’t help my fingers from lingering. It had been like feeling a cold rose petal. I rubbed the pads of my fingers together, remembering her impossibly soft skin but then I remembered that fierce look of distrust on her face when she had turned to face me. It had made my stomach curl to see it.
“What’d ye dae then?” Wesley asked between bounds of laughter.
I ducked my head. “That’s when I called her Lahela.” Lahela. The name that had once sounded so unappealing was now the most delicious collection of letters the universe could ever create. Funny thing was though; I hadn’t thought that until I had seen her dangling off that small cliffs ledge. In nothing but a tank top and jeans with her smooth golden hair pulled back in a ponytail and a plaid shirt wrapped around her leg.
“So what are you going to do know?” Warren asked quietly, taking a small bite from his turkey.
It was funny when I thought about Warren’s mate. She was a Witch, a strong one, and one of the most brass and outgoing women I had ever met. She was pretty much the opposite of Warren. But Warren loved her and it was extremely clear that his mate felt the same way about him.
I sighed. “I don’t know. I just hope I can make her understand I’m not some psychotic stalker.”
Wesley chuckled. “Bit ye sort o' ur mate. Ah mean, whit dae ye ca' a body who's bin keeping tabs oan someone sin thay wur born?” (But you sort of are mate. I mean, what do you call a person who’s been keeping tabs on someone since they were born?)
‘Mate, destiny, fate-ed to be together’, I wanted to spit out at Wesley, but if being the Alpha had taught me one thing it was that arguing about useless matters got you nowhere but a headache and swollen pride.
“So we’ll be here for a while then?” Warren asked, his voice neither enthusiastic or disparaging, just asking a question he had every intention of obeying the order to.
Gods I liked that kid.
I nodded my head and Wesley groaned.
“If it takes more than two weeks I’ll have you lot substitute with the others so you can get back to your families. As it is Daniel is supposed to be giving me weekly reports of how the pack is doing.”
The two nodded, Wesley staying uncharacteristically quiet as we all settled down for the night.
I couldn’t stop thinking about Lahela. When I had gone searching for her, I had done so grudgingly. I had resisted searching two days after she had turned eighteen, but the longer you wait to find your mate the more chance they will find them instead.
It wasn’t until I had actually seen Lahela that I had felt that one true love thing our kind gets when we find our mate. I had seen it happen with all the others. They would go out searching, and then when they came back with their mates hanging on their arms something in their eyes was…changed. It was like a light that they couldn’t put out. And for the first few days it was like gravity was constantly pulling him to her. I could feel it now. I could feel the pull of her getting farther and farther away from me. And the farther it went, the more it caused me actual pain. I winced against the sharp stab at my lower stomach and tried to sooth myself with deep breathing.
Lahela had been nothing like I had expected, and then again, everything like I had expected. I knew relatively what she looked like, the vision of when she turned eighteen showed me that much. But I hadn’t expected her to be outside hiking, by herself, in March, without a backpack or water or a first-aid kit, or walkie talkies or anything! I hadn’t expected her to refuse my help, I hadn’t expected her to be so almost disgusted with me, and I definitely hadn’t expected her to pull that knife on me. But I had expected she would be a weak, reckless, fragile human. All the scars I had seen had proven that. And how she was dangling from a cliff with her shirt wrapped around her leg to stifle the bleeding of yet another cut—that had proven it as well.
Sure, I had been upset and annoyed that my suspicions that this girl was going to cause me more trouble than she was probably worth were confirmed. But the instant she had turned to me and I had seen that beautiful face of hers all I felt was a warmth spreading across my chest as my heart and soul were permanently tied to her; for the rest of my life.
I sighed deeply, stretching my arms above my head and laying one of my hands in my hair. A usual night time ritual.
“Hey McArthur?”
“Yeah Warren.”
Warren’s voice was quiet. Always was, but Wesley’s snores made it even more so. “What happens if your mate doesn’t choose you back?”
My breath stalled. Never before had a mate not chosen the guy. Never before had a guy been rejected. I sucked in a breath from the pain in my lower stomach and my chest. “I don’t even know, but from the feeling I just got when I considered it, I really hope I never have to find out.”
Warren nodded gravely. My brain fled through scenarios about how I could see my mate again. I had to do something to let her know I wasn’t going to hurt her. I had to do something to make her understand that I couldn’t leave her alone, that I now belonged to her and her to me. I had to do something to make her trust me. I sighed again and tried to close my mind to sleep; hoping tomorrow would bring another option than the one I was considering. But even I had to admit it was most likely the most valiant sacrifice a guy could possibly make for a girl. Braving high school...
Chapter 3
*I tried to calm my breathing before I went inside the house. I knew my mom was going to freak out already about my injuries, but I was too worn out to worry so much. I stripped my flannel shirt from my leg and put it back on, grateful that the blood was on the inside and that the fabric was reds and browns and russets. I wiped my cheek once more and then took one last deep breath before I jumped out of my Jeep and ran for the door.
I wasn’t really worried that the guy would follow me but I still ran just in case. That had been the most disconcerting thing that had happened to me in a while. How had that guy known my name? I was almost completely positive I had never met him before. But what unsettled me even more was that he seemed to think calling me by name was a slip up
Impressum
Verlag: BookRix GmbH & Co. KG
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 02.03.2016
ISBN: 978-3-7396-4086-0
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