by P. Jameson
“You talk to Tana?”
She shook her head again, and Owyn fidgeted in his chair.
“You tell him?”
“No. Geez. Can you get your nose back in your own business?”
Since when did Owyn meddle?
His eyebrows fell so low she could see them past his ball cap. “This is my business. I’m the one who took you out of there. If anything happens to you, that shit’s on me.”
“No, it isn’t. It’s on me. I made the decision to go.”
He leaned back in his chair. “Yeah, keep telling yourself that, princess.”
“Why are you being such an asshole lately?”
He crossed his arms, shrugging like he had a monkey on his back. “All this drama shit gives me the heebie jeebies. Why can’t people just work through issues instead of skipping and dancing around them like motherfucking fairies? Not a one of us has a set of wings. It’s ridiculous. Just call him already.”
Destiny stirred her food around her plate with her fork. She knew Owyn was right, but it wasn’t so easy when it came down to it. She must have picked up her phone to dial Diz’s number a hundred times.
“I don’t know what to say,” she muttered.
“It’s easy. ‘Hey. You knocked me up, fucker, now wolf up and take care of it.’ See? Piece of cake.”
Destiny’s face burned redder than the mountain sunset. Why was Owyn so grossly blunt? Did he have no couth at all?
“Yeah, okay. Why didn’t I think of that?” she said sarcastically.
“I’m telling you, if people could quit always beating around the bush, this world might be an easier place.”
“Or not.”
He raised one eyebrow, making it disappear behind the bill of his hat. “Or not,” he agreed. “Just do something fast, before I find my tail nailed to a tree somewhere. Feel me?”
She nodded, her appetite gone.
She watched Owyn leave before she went to the kitchen to have Eagan box up her food. She managed to avoid meeting anyone on her way back to her room. She didn’t want to deal with any more questions. No more delicate eggshell syndrome. She wasn’t going to break or starve or fade away like a wisp on the wind.
She sighed.
The clan couldn’t help it. They’d had one young in all the years since they banded together, and it was by Renner’s human mate. So of course they’d been careful with her. But Destiny knew what a werecat’s body could do. She’d seen her mother go through it many times. They didn’t have anything to worry about.
She sat on the bed, kicking off her shoes. She needed to just do it. Just call Diz and tell him that somehow, fated or not, destiny had given them a young.
She stared at the phone in her hand, trying to get up the courage for this conversation. But the truth was she was scared of the unknown. What if she ended up raising this young alone? Diz still wanted a mate. He still desired a family. Telling him was going to mess up his plans.
No, they’d messed up his plans by sleeping together in the first place. This was just more of the fallout.
Though she could hardly regret it now, with the life of their young growing inside her.
Lose me? That will never, fucking ever, happen.
Her hand fell to her belly. Diz was right about that. She’d always have a piece of him with her now.
She smiled sadly.
Whatever happened when she told him, she’d always have their baby. The thought comforted her.
With trembling hands, she dialed his number and put the phone to her ear. But it went straight to voicemail. She tried again, three more times, with the same result.
She stared at the phone. This wasn’t something she could do over a message.
She decided to call the club. One of the dogs could get Diz on the phone.
Punk answered on the third ring. “Hello.”
“Hey, Punk. It’s Destiny.”
“Destiny? Huh. Sorry, I don’t recognize the name.”
She froze.
“I only know of a certain cat who up and left without a goodbye, and if I recall correctly, her name was… oh, yes, that’s right. Her name was Destiny.” This was all said in a monotone that gave away the truth behind Punk’s words. She was hurt.
“I’m sorry,” Destiny murmured. “I didn’t mean to hurt anybody.”
Punk sighed. “Oh, fiiine. I forgive you. I can’t hold a grudge anymore. I used to be able to hold a bitch of one, but not these days. I shudder to think I’m softening.”
Destiny giggled in relief. The last thing she needed was anyone else from the pack being angry with her.
“So… what do you need?” Punk asked.
“Is Diz around? I need to talk to him.”
There was a long silence that made Destiny’s stomach quirk with nerves.
“Actually no, he isn’t.”
“Oh. Well… when do you think he’ll be back?”
More silence.
“I don’t know. He’s been out for a few days.”
“Out?”
“Yeah. Out.”
Punk being secretive. That wasn’t her M.O. Something was wrong.
“What aren’t you telling me? Just spit it out. Please.”
“Yeah, okay. Alright.” She sighed. “From what I understand, he left to go find his mate.”
The news zapped Destiny like an electric shock starting from her head and ending at her toes. That mixture of numbness and pain that she’d felt after her night with Diz had returned. It was a sick feeling she’d wished to never experience again. But here she was, reliving it like a recurring nightmare.
“Destiny?”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m here.”
“When…” She swallowed the jagged lump in her throat. “When did he leave?”
“Same day you did.”
Her shoulders sank. He’d gone straightaway to find his intended? After what he’d told her in the driveway?
So he hadn’t meant what he’d said.
If she was honest with herself, his driveway declaration was what gave her a glimmer of hope for these past six days. She’d left DTD hopeless. By the evening, she’d scented her young and started looking at things differently. She’d replayed his words over and over. The desperate way he’d chased after her. That coupled with the fact that she’d become pregnant in the first place, gave her hope that maybe she and Diz had a purpose after all.
But now that was all dashed to hell.
“Can you tell him I called?”
“Yeah, I can do that.” Punk’s voice was careful. “You okay over there? The cats playing nice?”
Destiny laughed. Actually laughed. If Punk was being sweet, it was because she knew too much. She knew, just like they all did, that Destiny had pined after Diz in the worst way. But she didn’t want their pity. She wanted to move on with her life. She’d tell Diz about the young eventually, but right now she had to look out for herself. She had to be healthy for her baby.
She had to let Diz go for good this time. No clinging to hope.
She was done.
Never wash your hands of people until the truth has been exhausted. Lest you end up with clean hands, but a lonely heart.
Chapter Twelve
Diz parked on the abandoned dirt road in the middle of the Ozark National Forest. This was his last chance to find his intended. He wasn’t going one more day without talking to Dessy. A week felt like a year, but this was the end of the road. If he didn’t get some information this time, he was done. He’d find another way to appease his wolf.
Though, his animal had been oddly quiet for this entire quest. Diz had felt more at peace with the wolf as the days came and went.
He’d been to every pack and clan he knew of within a three hundred mile radius of his home. He’d met many females, talked to alphas, handled a few dominant shifters that felt they had something to prove, but no one had any information of his intended.
There was one pack left, and he’d had a hell of a time finding it.
/> “If Ozarka doesn’t want to be found, you won’t find them.” He’d met Vesh at the Ravendale camp in the beginning of his journey. The male was a tough nut to crack, and he’d done his damndest to warn Diz away from pursuing Ozarka, but eventually he’d revealed the location of this road. Not the camp, but a road, that could, possibly, if he was very, very lucky, lead him to Ozarka.
Asshole.
But whatever. He’d take it.
He got out of his truck and stripped off his clothing, tucking it safely inside the cab.
From all accounts, Ozarka was a hardcore, traditional pack, and one of the largest in America. They lived mostly off the grid, deep in the mountains where they couldn’t be found by humans. His plan was to wolf out and run the forest until he caught wind of their hidden boundary. Or until he was attacked for trespassing. Whichever came first.
“That won’t be necessary.”
Diz jumped at the low feminine voice behind him. He turned slowly, just in case there was a gun on him or some other crazy-ass mountain man shit.
A woman stood, clothed in a robe. She was short and strong, with boy cut dark hair streaked with gray. She smelled like a wolf but she had the glowing eyes of a cat. She had no weapons, but Diz wasn’t fooled. She was dangerous.
“I’ve been expecting you,” she said calmly, her face expressionless. “You should put your clothes back on.”
He shoved his legs in his jeans, hastily pulling the zipper up but not bothering with the button or his t-shirt. “I need to see your pack,” he told the woman. “You’re Ozarka, right?”
“I am. And you are… what do you call your pack?”
“We’re the Dirt Track Dogs.”
“Ah, yes. Dirt Track Dogs.” She said the last three words like they tasted nasty. “You want to see my pack. Can I ask who it is you’re looking for?”
“My intended. I’ve looked at all the other camps in the area. Yours is the only one left.”
The woman raised one eyebrow. “You’ve looked at all the other camps?”
“Yes. Now, if you don’t mind, can you lead me to yours?”
She smiled a placating smile. “Oh, I could. But you would not appreciate it, I’m sure.”
Diz frowned.
“Our pack is currently enduring challengers. Our alpha is about to fight another one right now. If she loses… well, you don’t want to be around to witness an uprising, do you?”
She? The Ozarka alpha was a female? Interesting. Alpha females were a rare breed.
“Look, I need in. Either you help me, or I’ll go in as a wolf.”
“And you’ll die for trespassing, and never see your intended again.” Her voice was a cold shard of ice, but one word stood out. Again.
Diz squinted at her. “What… who are you?”
She pursed her lips, staring at him as though she was reading the back of his skull. “My name is Illia. I am an Elder and I have information for you. If you’re ready to hear it, that is.”
An Elder. But not just any Elder. One that guided a pack as substantial as Ozarka. And she had information for Diz. He’d be a fucking idiot not to listen.
Diz nodded.
She cocked her gray-tipped head to one side, her eyes narrowing as she examined him. Her manner was eerie. Like she skirted the edge of wisdom and insanity.
“You seek your intended mate, but you have already found her. You search the packs, but you already know where she is.”
Diz shook his head, trying to understand.
“The one closest to you can sometimes feel like the farthest.”
“What the hell does that mean anyway? I don’t like riddles.”
Illia laughed at that, her head tilting to the darkening sky. There was genuine humor in her gaze. “Neither does your mate. I’ve been trying to teach her our ways for some time now, but she doesn’t like the way I teach. She’ll have to get used to it, if she wants to be of any use to your pack.”
Diz blinked. Shook his head to clear it. “So, she is a member of your pack? I need to see her. And… you don’t need to teach her anymore. Not for me, anyway. She won’t be joining my pack. Or me. Or anything like that.”
Illia’s mouth pulled up on one side. “You misunderstand me, wolf. Of course she won’t be joining your pack. She’s already part of it.”
Diz’s eyebrows shot up. What the hell kind of game was the woman playing? “Do you think this is fucking funny?”
But Illia didn’t laugh this time. “Not at all. Your intended is hurting right now, and that’s hampering her abilities, not to mention affecting the young her body is trying to grow. You’ve put us in quite a position here, you stubborn wolf. Now, listen to me.”
Diz was battered by her words and he still didn’t understand. His mate was with young? Already part of DTD. Abilities? It was random pieces of a puzzle his mind struggled to put together.
“Your mate is the one called Destiny. She was intended for you to bond with.”
Diz shook his head, his voice choking out a denial. “That’s impossible.”
“The problem came when your pack was decimated by the fire. It took your Elders and left the five of you, barely more than young. Your pack became a hybrid of human and shifter traditions. You don’t know the old ways well enough to recognize an Elder in training when you see one.”
“Destiny is… an Elder?”
Illia nodded. “She will be.”
“But…” Diz gripped the sides of his head. Turned in a circle, looking for anything that made sense. Dessy was his intended. How could this be true?
“If you’d known the mating laws for Elders, none of this would have happened. You could have progressed with your mating in a normal fashion. But once again, ignorance has hampered the future, and now you’ll have to find a way to adjust.”
“But… my wolf,” Diz cried. “He won’t accept her. I… I tried. I wanted her.”
Illia shook her head. “The wolf is more ignorant than the man. It’s always the case that one learns from the other.”
“Please,” he ground out. “Get to the point.”
“Your wolf won’t recognize her as yours because she doesn’t belong to you. Not yet. She belongs to us. The Elders. Until you claim her, your wolf won’t know.”
“But he wouldn’t let me claim her.”
“It’s often a battle of wills. It’s painful. It’s never easy to go to war with yourself. Many Elders remain unmated for this reason.”
“This is insane. The animal doesn’t know his own mate?”
Illia tipped her head. “Somewhat. There are signs, and you’ve recognized them. But your wolf is loyal to a fault. He couldn’t bear the idea of betraying his intended. Not even for the female he desired the most. But tell me, how did your wolf react to her leaving?”
His animal whimpered at the memory, and Diz clutched at the ache in his chest. It was the most painful thing he’d endured.
“Your animal might not have recognized her as his intended, but he recognizes the sliver of a bond he has for her.”
Her explanation unlocked something inside him. His animal rumbled deep and sure, tasting her words on the air and realizing their truth.
“But Dessy, how could she not know? She couldn’t see it in her visions.”
Illia nodded. “She tried. Desperately. It was sometimes painful to witness. But see, the cats… they have no Elders. She was just as much in the dark as you were. And Elders can’t foresee their own mates. That gift can only be used for others.”
“Are you telling me she doesn’t know what she is?”
“That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”
“She belongs to the Elders,” Diz scoffed angrily, “but you just left her to muddle through this shit on her own? What kind of people are you?”
His poor Dessy. She’d been through a fuck-ton of shit and now all this unnecessary hurt. All because of what she was. All because of the role she was to fulfill in the pack.
“She was never alone,” Illia
barked. “I was with her always. When she slept for weeks to heal her body and mind. Through the water, and even in her worst moments. Even when you weren’t.”
When he wasn’t. Like the night they’d made love. Like the last seven days. Diz took it like a punch in the gut.
“Tell me how to fix this,” he breathed.
Illia’s face returned to its expressionless state. “I cannot. I can only tell you what I know, and I do not know how you and Destiny will reconcile. Or even if you will. ”
Diz grew quiet.
“If you manage to, you must know your bond will be different than other shifter mates. She cannot heal you, and you cannot heal her. An Elder is often tempted to take fate into their own hands, as I have today. It is a dangerous gamble, and the reason why we have rules to abide by. Why we cannot foresee our mates, heal them, or otherwise interfere in their destiny. Think of it as a fence. These slight… handicaps, shall we call them, keep us from altering our own future and therefore the future of others.”
That explained why he couldn’t heal Destiny when she was so badly injured.
“But your bond is not without power. Indeed, it could be one of the strongest I’ve seen… if the two of you will let it happen.”
“What power?” Maybe if he knew, he could use it to their advantage. Getting Dessy to believe him was going to be a challenge. She was too far convinced she couldn’t be his because their relationship didn’t follow the normal mating pattern.
Illia eyed him. “If you succeed, you shall see.”
Diz glared at the woman. Why couldn’t she just tell him?
“Fine. Don’t tell me. But I will succeed. Even if it takes me a hundred years. You can bet on it.”
Illia quirked an eyebrow. “The only thing I’d bet on is that it would take you a hundred years. Especially the way you two keep your feelings bottled up, building and building under the pressure, so that when thing get a bit shaken up… they just explode into chaos.” She nodded. “Yes, it should take you approximately one hundred years to sort this all out.”
Diz scowled. “Thanks for your faith in us.”
“Faith. If I didn’t have faith in you, we wouldn’t be talking right now.”