Chapter 14: Chapter 14
Unknown
He was in the bathroom, deftly sweeping shower-damp, dark hair across the pointed tips of his ears when he felt it. Grey eyes turned to steel, cutting through the mist fogging the mirror.
Alongside the steady thumping of his own heart was the beat of another. This was a feeling he had grown used to, one normal, natural, even, for his kind. For two long years, he had learnt to live without that feeling, that echo. Her cruel words had taken its place, pumping through his veins and turning his heart to stone so as to lessen their sting.
Until he had seen her eyes in that dappled wilderness, and felt the purity of love’s kiss all over again.
This was different. This was not the steady, reassuring beat of her heart alongside his. His gut clenched, and his hands felt too light for his body. His eyes unfocused, until he was no longer able to make out the familiar shape of his face in the mirror. The scar blurred and faded, and the memories of the wound’s infliction dissolved along with it.
The mirror became a window, and he could see right through it. He could see her.
His knuckles turned white where they gripped the sink. His breath barely touched his lungs before being shoved out once more. Weak knees broke beneath unsteady legs, and he was falling.
Snapshots of dark woodland and crawling death’s ivy and a man – a man with a wicked smile and danger churning in his dark eyes – flashed before him. Her terror flooded his body, and he cried out, his throat suddenly raw with her screams.
The stars were above, he knew, but they could not break through the heavy cover of foliage blocking the girl and the man away from the world. Brown eyes were wide with terror, the dim light glinting off the sheen of her unshed tears. Wavy hair tangled and knotted at her forehead, at her temples, at her neck, straining free of a messy braid.
She kicked and scratched and bared her teeth, but the man would not – did not – relent. He could scent her terror, and he revelled in it. She schooled her face into false calm, but her eyes belied her fear. Her throat bobbed; her elbows narrowed into fine points; her heel aimed to kick. But then her face went slack, her eyes closed, and she fought no more.
Stumbling back, he blinked once, then twice. The image in the mirror solidified, until he could see only his reflection through the streaks of steam and condensation. She was gone, though his heart thudded as surely as though she, and the horrors of her world, were right beside him.
He dressed quickly, forcing still-damp limbs into too-formal clothes. He had to look every inch the Alpha he was if he wanted his pack to follow him on this.
Not that it mattered if they didn’t. He could do as he pleased, and he’d already made his mind up.
* * *
Ithia snorted, and flicked her golden hair out of her face. Her eyes were bleary with sleep, but her mouth was tugged up into a look that was somewhere between complete astonishment and acceptance. “You must be joking,” she said.
“I’m not.” His voice was flat, leaving no room for argument. “I’m going to find her.”
To Ithia’s side, his Gamma, Caslein, rolled his eyes. “You don’t even know this girl exists.” He scrubbed a hand across his short, textured hair; the rings adorning his dark-skinned fingers gleamed in the too-bright lamplight.
“This is a tense time as it is,” Ithia interjected, leaning forward in her seat and bracing her hands on that ugly, ugly desk. “Blood Moon are rampaging through Eldda, and this new pack sounds as though it’s hot on their heels. You disappearing off into the no man’s land between territories to hunt down a woman who may or may not exist won’t help matters.”
Caslein folded his arms across his chest, his strange, pale yellow eyes following Ithia’s movements. Begrudgingly, he agreed. “Ith is right. Let one of us go, if you must. But it seems unwise to leave Sea Pine without their Alpha.”
“Sea Pine shall cope.” He brushed his hair over his ears, making sure their tips were covered. It was as much a nervous tick as it was a way to keep his heritage hidden. “I know what I felt,” he continued after a moment’s pause. “Such things are not unusual for… for someone like me.”
“You can say it, you know.” Ithia clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “We both know precisely what it is you speak of.”
“Yeah,” Caslein chimed in, resting first one booted foot and then the other on the edge of the desk. “It’s not such a big deal as you think.”
He rubbed his temples and sighed. “Perhaps not to the two of you, but the other wolves – even wolves in my own pack – would not feel so kindly towards me if they knew the truth. It is easier if I do not say it, even to you.” He smiled half-heartedly. “I do not even say it to myself.”
Caslein nudged Ithia with an elbow. They shared a look, its meaning inscrutable to anyone but them. As one, they turned to face their Alpha.
“We cannot command you,” Ithia began, “but we are here to advise you.”
“Do you have any idea where she is?” Caslein interrupted. Ithia shot him a glare, but he brushed it off. “Because, if you don’t, this is little more than a fool’s errand.”
“I do not,” he admitted slowly. “But there are ways of finding such a person.” He swallowed, unwilling to admit more of the truth, even to them. His Beta and Gamma were his most trusted council, and yet shame clutched at his throat every time he tried to open up about his mother, about her lineage, and about what her past meant for him.
Caslein sighed, his shoulders sagging. “Is there nothing we can say to change your mind?”
“I shall not be gone long,” he vowed. “I trust the two of you to command in my stead. Keep watch over the pack, and send word if any news arises – regarding either of the packs we now must keep a keen eye on.”
“And what of you?” Ithia asked, unusually gently. “There are many weeks between us and the next full moon. You will be alone, and unable to shift.”
Drawing himself up to his full height, he grinned. “Are you underestimating your Alpha?”
Caslein coughed to cover his laugh. Ithia prodded him with a sharp fingernail.
“It will be easier to move unnoticed without the hindrance of the guards, and I will feel far happier knowing they are here to protect the pack in my absence.” He eyed his Beta and Gamma knowingly, and tension unfurled throughout the room. The lightness of their jokes dissipated, and an agonising understanding took its place. One by one, Ithia and Caslein bowed.
“As you wish,” Caslein said, his voice, for once, devoid of any teasing notes.
“Be safe,” Ithia urged as she rose. “It would be a shame if something were to happen to you. Sea Pine would be lost without its Alpha.”
He rolled his eyes at her, but he was grinning broadly. “Of course. I appreciate your understanding on this matter. Now,” he added, nodding to Caslein, whose mouth was gaping open in a wide yawn, “get some rest.”
Unable to take his own advice, he took a long route back to his private quarters. The walk pulled pleasantly at his muscles, though it did little to settle his nerves. Thoughts churned through his mind, pounding rhythmically against his skull, one after the other. The echo of her heartbeat soothed him momentarily, but every time it lulled him he was reminded of her, of what he was planning to do, and a fresh wave of anxiety crashed against his withering shore.
He could feel it building. With every moment that had passed since he’d seen her again, his palms had tingled with the urge to allow flame to build, to pass through his skin and to burn.
It was an urge he had to keep secret. Walking helped.
Even Ithia and Caslein were not aware of the full extent of his… condition. He had told only one person before, the one person he had trusted above all others. He shoved the memory of her aside, stepping out into the cool, abrasive darkness. It did little to clear his head, but as he focused on the glittering stars, he remembered what it was to have hope.
The clouds parted, their soft haze drawing across the swirling, inky swathe of navy darkness. He picked out constellations, holding onto the feel of her echoing heartbeat. He saw her eyes among the stars, not as they were earlier, but as they had been before: brown limned with gold, shining, determined. She was beautiful, all gently curling waves of long, blonde-brown hair, full lips parted on an exhale, but beneath it all was a fire, different to his own, literal gift. Hers was a fire of steel, shimmering and unyielding.
For wolves, it shouldn’t be possible. But, perhaps, his dual heritage had afforded him that which most wolves could only dream of – a second chance.
And, if he struggled through the brief with his pack as the sun rose, letting them know that he would be gone for some time – how long, exactly, he could not say – he did not let it show. He held the vision of her close, allowing her steel fire to burn alongside his own.