“No, no, no,” she muttered.
Taking a deep breath, she looked around as if she could see farther than a few feet into the dense forest.
“Nice day for a walk in the meadow,” she croaked, grinning again. She turned and shuffled to the edge of the path, where another, even fainter path lay. I never noticed it before, but it did point in the direction of the meadow.
She looked over her shoulder at us expectantly. On any other day, I would have walked with her, if only as protection. I hated the thought of her out in the forest on her own, but she’d made it this far in life without being devoured by monsters. I hoped that someday she would share her secret for avoiding the ravenous evils that lurked in the shadows.
“I’m sorry, Amma, but we have to get Natalie to the village right away. Will you be okay on your own?”
She squinted at me and shook her head, crazy white hair floating around like spider silk on the breeze. I blinked and she was gone.
9
Natalie
The moment we entered the village commons, dozens of angry eyes glared me down. Memories of my short time here drew a shudder and I wanted to fold in on myself, but Markon stood strong beside me.
“Natalie is here as our honored guest,” he shouted, drawing even more rough-looking male Wargs. Not a single female in sight. “You will all treat her as such, and if one of you so much as snarls at her…”
His voice grew deeper as he spoke, and when he paused, razor sharp claws sprouted from his fingers and bristly hackles emerged on the back of his neck. A spark of fear mixed with my desire for this stranger, but gratitude for his words overrode both.
“…I will make Thrane’s punishments seem like a kiss from your mother.”
Alarm flashed in each man’s eyes before they scurried off, avoiding any eye contact with me. Markon’s beast, or whatever they call it, retreated and he turned to me.
For a brief moment, it seemed as if he was going to take me in his arms. My skin heated at the thought, even as he spoke almost dismissively.
“Rikor will escort you to your new lab.”
As he walked away, I couldn’t help but feel vulnerable. I’d felt so safe, so protected in his presence. Now that it was gone, I was almost rudderless.
I shook off the silly romantic notions and followed Rikor.
“Knock, knock,” I said, poking my head into the little hut he led me to.
The place was a disaster. Bunches of dusty herbs hung from the ceiling, baskets of sticks lay scattered about, and shiny rocks decorated almost every visible surface. Not a single piece of lab equipment in sight.
“Greetings!” A short, stocky Warg jumped up from behind a stack of dried animal pelts.
He stood no taller than me and had a little paunch, both unusual for Wargs. Merriment danced in his middle-aged eyes as he skipped around the table setting a bunch of smoldering and very pungent leaves on a metal tray. He wore a full covering of quadrapede silk, decorated with sprigs of flowers and leaves. Usually only women wore full coverings, and they were rarely adorned.
When he took me in his arms in a warm and tight embrace, I nearly gagged. His long, matted hair looked as if it had never been brushed, and if he’d ever washed it, it was probably before I was born.
“I’m Bandrin,” he said, pulling back and holding me at arm’s length, thank God. “Welcome, welcome to my humble laboratory.”
Rikor snickered and left me to my new fate.
“Um, Bandrin? Where’s all your equipment?” I asked, looking around again.
Bandrin grinned and waved his arm around the filthy, cluttered hut. “All you see, my dear.”
What the hell? Suddenly Jorek’s primitive ‘lab’ seemed positively cutting- edge.
“I thought you were trying to find a cure for the Wargs’ fertility problem,” I said, pulling rough cloth off various piles, dust puffing up from each. Nothing useful at all.
“Oh, I am. See?”
Bandrin grabbed a thick pole and shook it. It rattled like rocks were inside. He jittered around the hut, shaking the stick and tossing handfuls of tiny, crimson seeds all over the floor. I watched for about ten seconds before walking out of the hut without a word.
I couldn’t work in these conditions. I had a basket full of samples to test and nothing to test them with. What kind of game was Markon playing? Or did he really think that nutcase could actually help find a cure by shaking a stick and throwing crap around? Either he was purposely trying to piss me off, or he’d inhaled too much of whatever Bandrin was burning in there.
I passed more than a dozen drab little huts, similar to the ones in the Valley tribe’s village but they all had an air of neglect. Like the last thing on their occupants’ minds was keeping them tidy. Only a few curious Wargs dared to catch my eye. I tried my best smile, but their gazes darted away before any kind of connection could be established. Markon had really got to them.
The man himself stood outside a large, fortified structure near the center of the village speaking with a woman. It wasn’t the containment center they’d held me in, and since it was the only building that I’d seen a woman near, I figured it was the women’s dormitory — the koshu.
Even at a distance, I instantly recognized the way he held himself, confident yet approachable. Pretending my heart didn’t just speed up at the sight of his rippling muscles, I stalked over to him with my sternest expression.
“…time to relax our security measures,” Markon was saying when I approached. “You and the whelps are free to return to your mates and roam freely, but don’t leave the village proper.”
The woman’s light brown eyes grew round and a beautiful smile lit up her fine features. “Really? You think it’s safe? Thrane said—“
“Thrane’s no longer the alpha, Teema.”
I’d been about to lay into him for his joke of a ‘scientist’, but here he was, keeping his word about easing up on the women of his village. Warmth oozed down to my fingers and toes and my heart lurched at his integrity. A man like that was someone to admire…or more.
“Ah, Natalie,” he said, turning to me, his smile melting my insides. “This is Teema, Rikor’s mate.”
Not thinking, I pressed my right hand to my chest in the traditional Terran greeting at the same instant she reached for my hand. Realizing my error, I reached out for her hand as she imitated my first movement and pressed her hand to her chest. We both laughed at the ludicrous awkwardness of it all, and she pulled me into a hug.
“Happy day to you, Natalie,” she said as she released me.
“Nice to meet you.”
“Natalie is the one who suggested easing the restrictions, Teema. She insists female Wargs aren’t nearly as helpless as we overbearing males seem to believe.”
Teema’s warm eyes fell on me, and I felt an instant connection between us.
“I like her already,” she said. “Won’t you please come speak to us women one evening? We’ll fix you a grand meal in the koshu. You’ll be the guest of honor.”
“I’d like that very much.”
“I will make arrangements,” she said, bowing slightly and leaving me alone with Markon. I waited until she was out of earshot.
“So was it a joke?”
Confusion crinkled his brow. “Joke?”
“Bandrin. Please tell me it was a joke.”
When he didn’t laugh, my heart dropped.
“I don’t understand.”
All the irritation faded away, leaving only an acute sense of hopelessness. My deep sigh turned his confusion into concern.
“What’s wrong? Tell me.”
“I have to go back, Markon. Back to the Valley.”
Markon’s eyes grew wide with alarm. He glanced around as if he didn’t want anyone to hear. Grabbing my elbow, he guided me behind a nearby hut. When he let go, my body shuddered, missing his touch. Shaking away the sensation, I mustered as much of a scowl as I could, but my heart wasn’t really into it. The best I could do was a mild
frown.
“Now tell me what you’re talking about,” he said, keeping his voice low and eyes alert for eavesdroppers.
“Bandrin and his so-called lab are completely unsuitable for scientific research. Hell, Jorek’s lab was barely usable, but at least he had enough equipment for us to get close to the solution. Is Bandrin even remotely close to a scientist or even a researcher?”
Markon clenched his jaw, no doubt trying to will away the flush of red creeping up his cheeks. He was cute when he was embarrassed.
“Well, um, he’s technically our shaman.” He couldn’t meet my gaze. He quickly added, “But his sole focus has been reversing our drought.”
I leveled a cold, hard look at him. “And how’s that been working out for you?”
He pursed his lips, then he leaned in close to me, a hand on the wall behind me, trapping me. So close that my brain spun from his intoxicating scent. For a split second, I thought my entire body had just gone up in flames. Then all coherent thought vanished.
Cure be damned, I thought, tipping my head back and staring intently at his slowly approaching lips. I hadn’t admitted it to myself before, but I’d been waiting for this, wanting it, since the moment I laid eyes on him. And now it was happening.
The anticipation was sweet torture. I wondered if his mouth would be as soft as it looked, if he would slip his tongue between my lips, if I would slip mine between his. This would be my first kiss and, as juvenile as it sounded, I wanted it to be perfect. I let my eyes fall shut, savoring the sizzle between us, memorizing every sensation, the soft whisper of his breath, his unique, musky scent.
The rough skin of his cheek rasped lightly against mine until his lips stopped a hairs-breadth from my ear. His hot breath ruffled a lock of hair that had escaped my braid, drawing a breathy sigh from me as my core clenched and throbbed. This was even better than I thought it would be.
“Natalie,” he whispered, taunting my nipples into hard peaks. “You’re not going anywhere.”
Nowhere, I thought dreamily as I waited for my first kiss. When he didn’t move or say anything else, my brain started turning, slowly at first, but quickly picking up steam. It took several seconds for the meaning of his words to sink in fully. When they did, I pushed him back and tried to catch my breath.
“W-what?”
He captured my gaze with an intensity that I’d mistaken as desire. What an idiot! I thought he was going to kiss me, but he really just wanted to order me around.
“I can’t allow you to return to the Valley,” he whispered, his eyes darting around again. “If you didn’t notice when you arrived, not every member of my tribe is happy to have you here. If you leave so soon, they’ll think you’re a spy. Trust me when I tell you that, if you left on your own, you wouldn’t get very far. And forest rats wouldn’t be the biggest danger.”
“But—“
“And imagine what they’d do to me, their alpha, who knowingly brought a spy into their midst. No, I’m sorry but you can’t go back. Not yet.”
I blinked up at him, confused and mortified and furious. I kicked myself for being so stupid, for letting my emotions — hormones, really — take over. I, of all people, knew better than to let that happen.
Choking back my humiliation, I shoved all those useless and painful feelings into a tiny little compartment in my soul, never to see the light of day again. My mind cleared and rationality took over. It was cold comfort, but one thing I’d learned at the Center was to take any comfort you could find.
“If,” my traitorous voice cracked. Clearing my throat, I started again, keeping my voice low. “If you won’t let me leave, then you’ll have to bring Jorek to me. Your choice.”
10
Markon
The moment Rikor escorted our newest ‘guest’ into the village two days later, every Warg within view rushed into the commons to stare — glare, is more like it. A handful even shifted to their beast forms and advanced on the pair, teeth bared, saliva dribbling onto the ground under their feet.
After our last encounter with the Valley tribe, their hate was understandable, but it was about time they started accepting my plan. Now was as good a time as any.
“Stand down!” I roared, my voice reaching every corner of our compound. I honestly had no idea I could shout that loudly. I’d never needed to before.
Curious females peeked out of their huts, and more males rushed to the scene. The beasts that were ready to tear out Jorek’s throat, stopped moving, but stayed on point, tensed and ready to kill.
Holding my head high, I walked right up to Jorek, grabbed his hand and touched my forehead against his. His nervous eyes darted around at all the animosity directed toward him but he managed to maintain his composure. It couldn’t have been easy for him.
“Jorek of the Valley Warg, welcome to the Hill tribe,” I said loud enough for everyone to hear. “You are our cousin and honored guest, and I personally guarantee your safety and comfort.”
I stared down every one of the beasts, Rikor steadfastly at my side, until all but one had shifted back. That one remained still, his beady black eyes never wavering from Jorek’s neck. Drool frothed at his muzzle and a low rumble hummed in the air around him.
“Strabo,” I warned.
Still nothing.
“Strabo!”
Finally, his fierce gaze flicked over to me. With one last quiet snarl, he took my warning to heart and shifted back. He crossed his arms and glared at Jorek, not bothering to wrap a covering around his waist. He just let it all hang out defiantly. Thrane might have sent him to the containment center for the night, but I let it go.
“Markon?” Jorek took a step forward, but stopped when several still-suspicious males growled. He pointed to a small keg strapped to a sledge loaded with his gear, anxiety rolling off him in waves. “Solan asked me to deliver this gift from the Valley tribe. It’s a cask of our finest reet spirits, brewed by our shaman.”
The crowd murmured, some convinced the spirits were poisoned, some excited to drink it. My brother had banned intoxicants after the three females were slaughtered, insisting they dulled the senses. The strict prohibition didn’t settle well with everyone, but it had the desired effect to keep everyone hyper-vigilant of any potential threat. Perhaps this gift could bridge the gap of trust between the tribes.
“The generosity of our Valley cousins is greatly appreciated,” I shouted, “and thank you, Jorek, for coming so quickly to help with our shared goal of bringing more female whelps into our tribes. To celebrate the future, we will host a grand feast in your and Natalie’s honor tonight, where we shall share a drink with you!”
Nearly everyone cheered at the announcement, with only Strabo and a few of the crankier Wargs scowling. I couldn’t help but notice that their eyes kept darting over to the cask of spirits, though. They’ll be there, if only to drink. At this point, if they didn’t kill anyone, I’d consider it a success.
As the crowd dissipated, I walked with Rikor as Jorek pulled his sledge of equipment behind us. Looking over my shoulder, I wondered if I’d done the right thing by sending for him. After Natalie’s demand, part of me wanted to show her exactly who was in charge here, but a bigger part of me knew she was right.
Bandrin was no scientist, as much as he claimed to be. I had no frame of reference before, but after meeting Natalie, the distinction was clear. Our shaman might serve a purpose during ceremonies and rituals, and he certainly had a knack for herbal remedies, but generations of chanting, spell-casting shamans before him had failed to find a cure. It was time to try something different.
“That went better than I expected,” Rikor said as we crossed the commons. “Good idea with the feast.”
Rikor didn’t dispense praise easily, so I took his compliment to heart.
“I was just relieved to see that you didn’t kill him on the trail.” I was only half-joking.
“Well, you told me you’d gut me and hang me in the trees for the forest rats to eat if I didn’t,” he
shrugged, trying to keep a straight face.
“Why, Rikor, was that a joke?” I grinned, slapping him on the back. His flicker of a smile turned into a smirk.
“Close as I get.”
We arrived at Bandrin’s ‘lab’ and Natalie rushed to open the door. I sucked in a lungful of air at the sight of her. Rikor shot me a sharp look.
After she’d demanded Jorek’s presence, she remained cloistered in the hut. Loud clunks and scrapes could be heard well into the night, and the next morning, piles of plants and carcasses were neatly stacked outside. Yet the door remained firmly closed. Only the sound of a softly whining Bandrin drifted out all day.
Even though I barely knew the Terran, I found myself missing her exuberance and curiosity, as well as her wit. The last time I saw her, I’d been so close to her that my head spun. Her hair had been wrapped around her head in a tight braid, with only light wisps having worked free during a long day’s hike. I still remembered how they tickled my cheek.
Now she stood in the doorway, her long, blonde hair hanging loose around her shoulders in soft waves. An image of her lying naked on my bed, those gently undulating locks splayed around her head and a naughty smile on her lips, nearly dropped me to my knees.
But instead of throwing her luscious body into my arms, as I half hoped, she flew into Jorek’s embrace. Flames of jealousy licked at my heart, and it took every ounce of strength I could muster to hold back my beast. I felt Rikor’s eyes on me but I couldn’t stop staring at Natalie and the way she smiled at Jorek.
“Jorek, I’m so happy to see you,” she gushed, setting my teeth on edge. For his part, Jorek looked slightly bewildered, but he returned her hug. “Did you see all the new flora along the trail? I think I managed to get samples of everything.”
“We’ll have two sets then because I did, too,” he said, pulling a basket full of plant material from his sledge.
Markon's Claim: A SciFi Shifter Romance (The Last Alphas of Thracos Book 2) Page 5