by Noah Harris
Then he heard nothing—the blackness coating even his thoughts, and dropping him into unconsciousness.
chapter
Fifteen
Wakefulness stirred in him, drifting slowly to the surface of his thoughts as he tried to navigate back to the conscious world once more. Singing and the smell of meat cooking nearby drifted to his senses, though he couldn’t see to know where either was coming from. He became aware of the crackling of the fire that the meat was cooking on, and he could smell the wood burning beneath the smell of roasting meat. It was an oddly comforting smell, and the singing was beautiful—low and resonant. Words that he couldn’t understand flowed from the singer’s mouth as he lay there, soothed by the song that spoke of old pains, and ancient victories.
When his eyes finally opened, bringing into view the bright light filtering in from somewhere outside, he couldn’t hear the singing anymore. Open, bare wood spread out above him, and the softness of furs lay beneath him. He was in a small room, the open doorway mere feet from his bed. He didn’t recognize the room, with boughs of dried plants hanging down the walls, or the small paintings that seemed to hang in between each line of plants. He couldn’t see the content of the paintings from his spot on the bed, but it wasn’t hard to miss the detail put into each, and he would swear that some of them looked quite familiar.
With a suddenness that made him jump, Matalina appeared in the doorway, those familiar hazel eyes focused on his face. Seeing those eyes set in such a concerned expression made him smile, and speaking softly, he observed, “Mikael is the only one with your eyes.”
The concern eased off the woman’s face, allowing warmth to slip into her expression, “Would you believe that you are only the second person to ever tell me that?”
Dean’s eyes trailed to the small paintings on the wall, the smile still on his lips, “Let me guess who the other was . . .”
Her eyes followed his to the paintings, a delicate brow raising, “Did he . . . did your grandfather still have the depictions?”
“Depictions?” Dean asked, eyeing the tall woman, “I always just called them paintings. But depiction’s works well though, since they do tell the old stories. But yeah, he had them. I have most of them hanging up in the house right now. I’ve always loved them.”
She cocked her head, and in that moment, Dean could see exactly how much of her looks Mikael had inherited. It wasn’t just in the eyes either, though they were an exact match in color, size and shape. The similarities were also in the way the woman’s brow curled, hinting at mischief and humor, and the angled curve of her jaw that just missed sharpness. That little cock of her head had been all Mikael once upon a time, and now Dean wondered if the man had been mirroring his mother.
“He told you the old tales?” The question was softly asked, with curiosity and something else in her voice.
Dean nodded, wincing at the stiff pain that filled his face when he did so, “Yeah, he loved telling them to me. It always made me feel special when he did it, too. He always liked to tell me that even my mother didn’t know these stories, and that he was trusting me with them. When I got older, I just thought he was being his strange self. But after learning a few things about what’s on the other side of that curtain, maybe he saw that I would need those stories. Or maybe I needed them to have something to hold onto when I found out there were freaking werewolves.”
That made her smile as she bent over a nearby basin of a strange, though not unpleasant smelling bowl of water. She drew a cloth from somewhere on the other side of it, drenching it in the water while listening to him speak. When she had wrung it out and placed it on his face, the smell of unknown herbs filled his nose. But the dull pain seemed to drain from his face and into the cloth, leaving him feeling a little better.
“His sight was far, and his wisdom even farther,” she told him, her fingers gentle as she checked him over. It was only now that he realized he was naked save for the blanket spread carefully over him. He wasn’t especially bashful, but it was a strange feeling to know he was naked in front of his boyfriend’s mother.
Her words suddenly sank in, and he blinked, “He was . . . special?”
“Of course, he was special,” she gave him another small, almost secretive smile, “but in the way that you mean? I never knew, but I suspected so. Even if he were one of us, his wisdom was at times . . . special, as you put it. It was perhaps the only reason Samuel would allow him around at first—that and the fact that I treasured that ‘little human’. In time, your grandfather even won over Samuel. Both were stubborn, something you bear in common with them. Though I will admit, your temper is far more apparent than your grandfathers ever was.”
Dean gave a slight chuckle at that, “He always used to tell me that my ‘surprise temper,’ came from my mother and grandmother. I swear I’m not usually like that, but sometimes something hits me just right and suddenly I’m on the rampage without thinking about what I’m doing. You know, like challenging an experienced werewolf alpha to a fight I could never win.”
“I will give you this,” she told him, “despite all his stubbornness and pride, even Samuel was more than a little impressed.”
“Impressed? It seemed a little more like pissed at the time, no offense,” he told her with a snort.
“He’s not used to being challenged,” she said, as her dexterous fingers pressed and prodded with careful strength, watching his face all the while. “So, his anger was not unexpected. But a human, willing to stand up against him, when no others have dared try in quite some time? You may not have been a challenge in that fight, but even he will one day have to admit that your will is impressive . . . if impulsive.”
Dean gave another laugh, “If I wasn’t impulsive at the most random of times, I wouldn’t have been here in the first place. I wouldn’t have even come here to see Mikael, let alone try to hold him down like I did.” A thought occurred to him, “You said that like it’s a given that I’ll be here in the future.”
“Ah, forgive me,” she breathed, seeming almost embarrassed. “You have missed a few things, and I am too busy talking the time away.”
“No, it’s alright. I like hearing you talk,” Dean told her in pure honesty. She had spoken so little when he’d first come here it was hard to learn much about her. It was nice to see the personality behind the beautiful face. The impassivity that she gave off reminded him strongly of Lucille, but when the emotion came into her face, he could see her son as well.
“You’re too kind,” she told him, leaning to check his side, “and yes, I suspect you will be around here more often, much like your grandfather was. Whether what you did was foolish or simply daring, it had quite the effect on my son. In one move, he protected you from Samuel’s wrath, fought his father physically, and then demanded his rights.”
“I remember hearing something about rights, blood rights, before I passed out,” Dean told her, watching her hands move, “but I didn’t know what that meant. I didn’t see the punch either, which seems kind of a shame. Uh, sorry.”
That made her chuckle, “It may not seem like it, but I do love Samuel. He is good to me and he is a strong leader, but I will be the first to admit that he sorely needs to be hit a few times to keep him balanced and grounded. In this case, he was reminded by you that there may be others who will do what the rest of us have not done. Then his son reminded him that he is not the only one capable of fighting, and that his son has his own strengths, even if they are different from his own.”
Dean wrinkled his nose, “Sounds prettier than what happened.”
“Now I’m sure you know how heroes and warriors felt after tales of their deeds were passed around,” she smiled.
“Mmm, good point, but uh, what are these rights?”
“Our son is both our eldest and Samuel’s heir,” she explained, fingers moving a little more quickly than before, “which is not exactly like the human concept. Mikael has that status so long as he can prove to everyone that he is deserving
of being next in line. He has been challenged in the past, and kept his position. One day he will need that strength, as he will have to challenge Samuel in earnest to earn Alpha status. Until that time however, the heir has certain rights accorded to him by position. One of those is that he may choose . . .”
She trailed off, looking up to Dean’s face with a searching expression that had him frowning, “Choose what?”
“A mate,” she told him simply.
Dean raised a brow, “Okay, that doesn’t sound bad to me. But you’re making it sound like a big deal. Is it because we’re two guys?”
That brought a smile, “You may or may not have been told, but we’re not actually too picky about that sort of thing here. If it were any other werewolf, even one of my daughters, it would not be a concern. But the fact that Mikael is next in line for Alpha, and has held onto his Heir status despite not being here consistently, is . . . troublesome.”
“Because we won’t have kids,” Dean stated bluntly.
“Precisely,” she told him, eyeing his face with a troubled expression, “without children, the line is not continued.”
“You have daughters,” he pointed out.
“Yes, but these are old laws, the same ones that now prevent Samuel from turning you away.” She shifted, now kneeling so she was closer to his face, “Being a mate is not simply a matter of being a boyfriend to my son, Dean. By proclaiming you his mate, he means for life. Time will show if the claim is true, for those things work in their own time. Yet to Samuel, and thus the entire pack, he has proclaimed that you are the one who will be his mate for life. That when and if he takes Alpha status, you are the one who will be there with him.”
Dean blinked, “Wait, I would be in your position?”
The corner of her mouth quivered, “You would be Alpha Bitch, yes.”
Dean stared at her, seeing the barely concealed humor sinking into her features, “Would we have to fight?”
His deadpan expression made her laugh, the suddenness of it surprised him, but he liked the sound. It was melodic and clean, her eyes dancing as she covered her mouth in an attempt to stifle her laughter. It didn’t really surprise Dean to see that she wasn’t succeeding overly much. In the span of this short conversation, he already detected more of a sense of humor from her than he had sensed in all the days before this.
“Do I want to know?” A wry, familiar voice asked from over her shoulder. Dean shifted enough to spot Mikael standing in the open doorway, looking bemused. Though he couldn’t see his own face, he felt himself brighten at the sight of the other man. He looked unhurt, which meant that Dean hadn’t missed anything after he had passed out. There was something about him that was different, but Dean couldn’t put a finger on precisely what it was.
“Dean is simply learning the ways of our world,” Matalina responded, standing up straight, “he is also going to be okay. Sore for a few days, but he is tougher than he appears . . . for one soft from years of city living, in any case.”
Mikael snorted, eyeing his mother, “I think Father might need you, not that he’ll admit it.”
She sighed, still smiling as she reached up to pat Mikael’s face, “Of course he does. Though I’ll have to fight him to accept that, as is his way.”
Dean scoffed, “Well, at least I know where someone gets it from.”
That drew another soft laugh from her as she brushed past Mikael to leave, alongside the indignant protest by her son as she brushed past Mikael, “Oh, you two are too cute.”
“You know,” Dean said, watching Mikael approach slowly, “I think she likes me.”
“She liked you before,” Mikael informed him, eyeing the bed Dean lay upon, “but even she watches herself around Father. She’s not afraid of him, but she’s always been very good at picking her battles. You ask me, I think he’s more scared of her than she’s ever been of him.”
“Makes sense,” Dean patted the bed beside him, scooting himself over to make room, “I get the feeling that she could be pretty scary when she wants to be.”
Mikael gave a snort as he sat down, “Oh, like you’ve got room to talk.”
“Me?” Dean asked incredulously, “I’m about as scary as a bunny.”
“A bunny who called out and tried to fight a wolf, and an alpha at that,” Mikael replied, long fingers trailing up Dean’s arm.
“Sounds like a stupid bunny,” Dean huffed.
The corner of Mikael’s mouth twitched, “Maybe, but you’re pretty scary when you’re mad. I still can’t believe you knocked him down like that.”
Dean frowned, “He was off balance when I hit him, and I guess I still had enough adrenaline left in my body to get a good one in there. Doesn’t hurt that he probably wasn’t expecting it.”
“No,” Mikael agreed, “he wasn’t. But you left one hell of a mark on his face, you know. ‘Little Farmer’ is still your nickname around here, but it’s not sounding like an insult so much anymore. Crouched or not, you still managed to knock him onto his back with a punch while you were hurt. You may have lost the fight, but you certainly earned some respect around here for that, and for even being in the fight in the first place.”
“Nice to know getting my ass handed to me counted for something good,” Dean chuckled, reaching up to coil his fingers with Mikael’s. “So . . . I hear I’m your mate now.”
Mikael flushed, though the pleased expression on his face told Dean it was from more than embarrassment, “Yeah, so it’s official now. You’re stuck with me.”
That made Dean smile, “Thank you.”
“For . . . saying that you’re my partner for the long haul?” Mikael asked, still looking a little shy.
“For standing up to your Dad. And for telling him that we’re important to one another. It’s nice to hear that these past few months have been as important to you as they have been to me,” Dean explained, squeezing his fingers warmly, “I know it wasn’t an easy thing to do, even if in all my yelling at you I didn’t tell you I knew that.”
Mikael looked down, “You were right though. I shouldn’t have to give up everything just for the pack. And you shouldn’t have to suffer for old traditions.”
“You made your life harder for a guy you’ve only known for a few months,” Dean finally said, voicing worries he’d had for weeks.
“Yeah, and you told a man you’ve known for just a couple of months that you loved him,” Mikael grinned, leaning gently against Dean, “I guess we’re both crazy. Though, if it makes you feel better, werewolves do that a lot.”
“Fall in love quickly?” Dean asked.
Mikael nodded, “Like we keep telling you, we might be human in a lot of ways, but we still have the wolf inside of us. We operate on instinct in many ways; seems like that’s the best way to put it. But that only explains me, you’re just a weird human.”
“Who fell in love with an even weirder werewolf,” Dean teased, glad to see the warmth back in Mikael’s face.
“Say it again,” Mikael told him, his tone was probably meant to sound confident, but there was a slight shake at the end that betrayed his inner turmoil.
“That you’re a weird werewolf?” Dean asked innocently.
“No,” Mikael answered seriously, bringing his other hand up to cup Dean’s face. “Tell me what you told me when you thought I was asleep.”
Dean’s heart raced as he understood. When he’d first said it, it had been in the moment, the words slipping from his lips before he could think about what he was saying. Words that hadn’t left his mouth since his family had died, that had never been even considered in connection with any person he had been with before. Yet, in the span of just a few months with this crazy man, who also happened to be a wolf at times, he had found those words easy to say, and easy to mean.
So, he tried it once more, “I love you.”
Mikael’s eyes crinkled happily, as he bent forward to mumble against Dean’s lips, “I love you too, Dean.”
chapter
Sixte
en
Mikael hadn’t been joking, there was a nasty bruise on Samuel’s face. The low light of the torch lit room didn’t do much to hide it, either. Dean supposed it looked even worse in direct light, and he thought it was almost a pity that he didn’t get to see it completely. He was still a little amazed that his desperate, defiant punch had caused that much of a mark on the man’s face. He took a great deal of satisfaction at the sight of it.
He had to give the big man some credit though, Samuel certainly seemed to be in better spirits about the whole thing then he would have expected. Dean also knew that the mark wouldn’t be on the man’s face for long, either. His aching body was a reminder that werewolves healed considerably faster than humans did. Well, except for wounds given by other werewolves or those caused by silver. Pity he didn’t think to have the necklace around his fist when he’d punched him.
As if sensing Dean’s thoughts from his sitting position across from them, Samuel looked at him. The stony expression that Dean had come to expect from the other man was back in place. None of the fiery anger or stormy frustration was evident in the slightest. Dean did his best to mimic such impassivity as he looked back at the man without flinching.
“I see you are recovering well,” Samuel said, finally, his tone so unreadable that Dean couldn’t detect what he assumed was probably disappointment.
“I’m told that I’m tougher than I look,” he replied, keeping his tone light without being flippant, “I guess that’s truer than I thought.”
“Good,” the man grunted, eyes moving to Mikael who sat calmly next to Dean. “Since you’re both so rigidly sticking to this, you had better be tough to face what’s ahead of you.”
“I’m not planning on backing down now, not after all of this,” Dean moved his jaw, drawing attention to what he had gone through for them already. If you couldn’t stick with someone after getting your ass beat by their dad in what was essentially ritual combat, when could you?