Prophecy Accepted: Prime Prophecy Book 2 (Prime Prophecy Series)

by Tamar Sloan

  This time, I start the melody. It doesn’t matter that the thundering rain is a steady drumroll; I know he’ll hear it.

  Nature’s song lilting and rolling through my mind calms me enough that bile is no longer stinging my throat. But will it calm him, too?

  The wolf stops, one paw extended in mid-air, grey eyes growing.

  He hears it?

  I step up the volume, even taking a step forward myself. What do you say to a Were that you aren’t supposed to know exists, that doesn’t know Changelings exist?

  Think about it, the consequences.

  His broad head sucks back a little. And then dips again, his muzzle serrating, showing those deadly canines. I stay still, hands relaxed by my side. I can feel it; he’s not angry at me. He’s frustrated, but it’s a frustration born of confusion. Stormy grey eyes look at me, undecided.

  Please don’t do this.

  The decision is made for him when a wall of white muscle spears through the air, slamming into him. Noah’s momentum shoves them both toward the trees, rolling over each other, grey, white, grey, white.

  When they come to a halt, both wolves jump to their feet, facing each other. They stand, water and mud running down their bodies. You don’t need to be a Changeling to see Noah is angry. Fury ripples up and down his back, pulling at his muzzle, shaking his muscles.

  The grey wolf copies Noah’s stance, but I can feel what Noah can’t see. He’s scared. The wolf’s eyes dart to me, and I start running. But Noah sees the opening for what it is. An opportunity. He powers forward, head down, a white battering ram.

  The grey wolf is propelled backward, like his size is insignificant. His grey body rams into a tree, a yelp carrying up to the trees. His body crumples, back arched against the trunk.

  Noah, no!

  I leap in front of the grey wolf, hands out, arms straight and tense. I reach them just as Noah, mouth open, teeth blazing, aims for the exposed throat.

  Noah has to rein in his trajectory, his massive body compresses as he breaks, his paws ploughing into the pine-littered mud as he comes to a stop. Chest heaving, teeth disappearing, he looks at me in shock.

  “He wasn’t—”

  Those teeth reappear as another round of growls rumble deep in his throat.

  Okay, maybe initially, but he changed his mind.

  I step forward, bringing myself eye to eye with the heaving mass of anger that never got to discharge. It’s only when I bring my palm to his jaw, fingers feeling his throat suck in big breaths, thumb stroking his velvet muzzle, that he looks at me.

  I’m okay.

  A big breath exhales, but Noah’s eyes dart behind me when there is a shuffling behind us, and I know the grey wolf is rising.

  I turn to see him watching us as he slowly, carefully, creates distance between us. I feel rather than hear the growl deep in Noah’s throat.

  Let him go.

  Noah wavers, anger warring with the need to protect, the desire to pummel fighting with the question of the right thing to do.

  I love you.

  Blue eyes connect with mine. Now that’s not fair.

  I smile a little. I turn to look into the trees; the grey wolf is gone. Noah let him go.

  That’s when I sink to my knees. Legs collapsing in the mud, water streaming down my face, I sit there. Shocked. Overwhelmed.

  In front of me, Noah changes in an instant. Unblinking eyes get to see that sculpted chest, ripped abs. His mark flashes for a millisecond and is gone.

  I blink, once, twice, three times. But my mind is full, overwhelmed with adrenalin, the implications of what could have just happened.

  “Eden…”

  I look up into concerned azure eyes. “I was so frightened,” I whisper.

  Noah engulfs me in his arms, my face to his wet t-shirt, even the smell of rain not dampening his sandalwood scent. “I’ll always protect you, Eden.”

  That’s what I’m scared of.

  Because Noah just attacked another of his kind. For me. And the rapidly beating heart thumping against my cheek sounds out the truth. He would do it again.

  “He wasn’t expecting to find me.”

  “But he attacked you.”

  “No, he changed his mind. I could feel it.”

  “I wasn’t waiting to find out.”

  Noah pulls me away, intense blue searching, hands roaming as if to confirm that I wasn’t hurt. I wait, knowing he needs the reassurance. That done, he stands, pulling me up with him. “We need to get back.”

  “Yeah.”

  The Were attack has cut the possibility of waiting out the rain beside a warm fire. Noah turns and shifts, white pelt already wet. I jump on, sinking into the damp warmth, suddenly tired and keen to get home.

  As we power forward through the trees, all I can feel beneath me is steely determination. The rhythmic tempo of Noah’s run lulls me enough that I can ignore the cold trying to pierce deep into my marrow, that I can disregard the icy water that runs like rivers over and under my clothes.

  And allows me to avoid the feelings I can’t process right now. Not until I have some distance from Noah.

  Then I have a decision to make.

  25

  Noah

  I’m trying so flipping hard to get the anger under control. The feeling of Eden so scared, a feeling I haven’t experienced in ages, hit me with the force of a sledgehammer. The image of that wolf, that big, hairy, lucky-to-be-alive-Were standing over Eden is a hard one to shake.

  Winding back the fury, the burning desire to grab his throat between my jaws, to feel my teeth pressing into his fast-pulsing jugular wasn’t easy. All I’d wanted to do was sink them into his rotten, vulnerable throat. It had been so close, so tempting. It would have shown that Were he doesn’t mess with my mate.

  Whoa.

  I check myself before these emotions get out of control. I focus on the rhythmic pumping of my legs, out and in, out and in. I channel that anger into the energy to get Eden home and warm. And safe.

  I use the weight of the body clinging to me to remind myself that she wasn’t hurt in the end. And once I get past the horror movie in my head of Eden in danger, I start to see the Were hadn’t attacked despite the opportunity. That Eden had been the one to make sure I didn’t leave him lacking a trachea. I blink the water from my eyes. To be honest, I think Eden is the only one who could have reached me through that red curtain. Tara was right. Eden is the Doolittle of Weres.

  I already knew she’s everything I ever wanted, but I just realized Eden’s everything we need right now. And after our talk, the passion that almost combusted us both, Eden’s told me what I needed to know.

  I keep my feelings checked. Being happy right now wouldn’t make sense. Eden needs care and comfort. Not more revelations. But hope and anticipation lightens my step, until I am practically flying over the wet soil. Eating up the miles. Getting us home.

  At the Glade, we find my truck sitting in a puddle in the Glade parking lot.

  Eden slides off, and I morph quickly and discreetly, looking forward to the moment I won’t have to hide. “Mitch and Tara?”

  Eden shrugs shivering shoulders. “You said they owed you.”

  I snort. “I’ve been calculating the interest.”

  In the truck, we’re both quiet. Both thinking. I can hardly sense anything from Eden, probably still in shock. I’m glad I can get her home and warm. A good night’s sleep, and tomorrow we can talk.

  The moment we’re out on the highway, my phone rings. I sigh when I see Tara’s number; it didn’t take long for reality to intrude.

  I’m tempted not to answer, but I press the button anyway. “Hey.”

  “Hey, thought I’d give you a heads up. Your dad wants to talk to you.”

  As if to provide corroboration, my phone beeps then beeps again. I glance at the screen, eyebrows raised at the amount of missed calls. Eden glances at me, curious.

  My hand tightens around the phone, wondering what this is all about. “We’re on
our way now. We left early, thanks to the rain.”

  “That’s what we figured. You heading straight here?”

  I glance at the shuddering body beside me that looks like it’s about to hit seven on the Richter scale. “I’ve gotta get Eden home and defrosted first. I won’t be home till a bit later.”

  There’s a pause, a long enough space of time for a frown to consider tightening my forehead.

  “I’ll head over; I reckon what that girl needs is a bestie, a hot chocolate, and a warm bed.”

  I arch a brow even though Tara can’t see it. “After you ask for a bedtime story.”

  Tara giggles and some of the tension that her call has triggered eases. “I gotta get the deets!”

  I hang up and know Eden is looking at me. The prospect of no more secrets has my foot pressing on the gas even though we’re practically there. I grasp her hand. “FYI, Tara is meeting us at your place.”

  Eden’s eyebrows push up into a ‘why’ position.

  I shrug, determined to end this memory-making weekend on a high. “I gotta duck home for something.”

  “Oh.”

  “But I suspect it was all a ploy to start the Tara Inquisition sooner rather than later.” Eden’s smile is weak, half-hearted. I give her hand a squeeze before releasing it as we turn into her driveway. “As soon as I know, you’ll know. I promise.”

  Eden climbs out of the truck without another word, meaning she doesn’t see my smile die. The cold and that dufus-head Were has gotten to her more than I realized.

  Under the porch Eden turns to me, and as I step in closer, her slow, glorious smile catches my heart. “Tara’s right, a hot shower followed by an even hotter hot chocolate and I’ll be fine.”

  “Were hearing wearing off, huh?”

  Eden snorts. “Let’s say she could never work in a library.”

  “Maybe I should stay?”

  Eden shakes her head. “Go see what your dad wants. I’ll be here getting warm, thanks to Tara’s grilling.”

  I bend at the knees, bringing myself eye to forest green eye, not convinced, and maybe not ready for today to end. Eden pushes up and presses her lips to mine. I feel her love, the other emotions muted by tiredness and probably cold. I smile against the soft red pressing against mine. “Okay, okay, but I can’t be held accountable if I’m back here later on.”

  Eden pulls back, her smile matching mine. “I’ll be a whole lot warmer and drier by then.”

  I brush a strand of wet hair that sticks to her cheek. Eyelashes wet and dark, hair sticky and darker, Eden looks like a soggy waif. A beautiful soggy waif. “That was the most amazing weekend.”

  “That was an unforgettable weekend.”

  “I’m not sure how we’re gonna top it.” I lean closer, whispering over her lips. “But I’m looking forward to trying.”

  Eden’s response is a feather light kiss. I can practically taste the love it holds, but she pulls back before I can respond with my own. “I’ll see you later.”

  I’m gone before I can change my mind, keen to find out what Dad wants so I can get back. The rain stops like Mother Nature hit a switch the moment I turn onto the highway. Typical. I turn down the heat and amp up the music as I have to remind myself the son of a cop shouldn’t be caught speeding. It’s only a few miles when Tara passes me, Dana waving from the passenger seat beside her. I shake my head; Eden is going to get a double dose of Channon cheer.

  As I head home, Eden’s brush of love still tingling my lips, the words we shared last night are whispering through my mind.

  I think it’s time.

  26

  Eden

  The scalding water rushing over my skin feels like heaven.

  As the cold washes away, so does the numbness. And with the privacy of isolation the emotions come.

  To begin with, there are too many to wrap my defrosting brain around, but like my mind is sorting it all, the highlights start to come to the fore. The day of running. The night of promises. The waking to a future my heart has ached for.

  As the scent of soap catches on the steam, I remember the wolf. The grey Were that for terrifyingly long seconds considered attacking me. I watch the suds wash away as I remember Noah, furious and protective.

  I bring my hand up to shut off the water, and it freezes. I freeze. The kaleidoscope of memories fade as one plays like a movie thrown onto the glass shower screen.

  Noah stepping back, his anger dissipating, my relief turning my legs to jelly. Noah changing there and then, his chest, muscled and beaded with water, flashing so much closer than I've ever seen it.

  His wolf tattoo a black imprint so close I could touch it.

  His mark.

  “Hello! I come bearing a curiosity that must be appeased.”

  Tara’s voice slices through the shock. I slam the water off, swallowing whatever thing was creeping up my throat.

  “You in there, Edes?”

  I clear my throat, trying to rattle loose the lump that’s too big to be in there. I have to try again before I can respond. “Just finishing up. I’ll be out in a sec.”

  “Cool cucumbers, we’ll get onto the hot chocolate assembly line.”

  The click of my bedroom door tells me I’m alone. With no time to process what I’ve seen. What it means.

  I wrap my robe around me, knowing I need to face Tara and hot chocolate before any implications can be drawn, decisions made.

  As I step into the lounge room, I discover I’ll be facing Tara and Dana. Before I’ve stepped into the kitchen a sweet smelling, steaming mug is pushed into my hands. Tara’s eyes are eager, her red hair practically crackling with questions. “So, was it amazeballs?”

  I tighten the belt on my robe a bit more, allowing myself to relish the feeling of being dry and warm. The only true emotion I let show is the tiredness, the exhaustion that has crept into my bones along with the cold. “It was amazeballs and then some.”

  Tara looks at Dana, all big smiles, and Dana smiles back. “I knew it. Tell me everything.”

  She breaks ‘everything’ down into each of its syllables, her chin and tone dropping an inch with each.

  Don’t blush. Don’t look at Dana. Don’t blush. “We were dropped off in the reserve. The run was amazing. There were so many animals, hares and squirrels and warblers and butterflies, and the first calypso orchids were coming into bloom—”

  Tara makes a cutting motion through the air. “I’m not here for a biology lesson, Attenborough. Where did you camp?”

  There’s that drop of tone on the last word again.

  Don’t blush.

  “We found this pretty little clearing by a stream. Lovely honeysuckle amongst the willows—”

  “You’re doing it again. Were you cold?”

  How can one’s eyebrows go so suggestively high?

  Dana is quiet, watching us like she’s at the movies.

  “Ah, yeah. Once the sun went down, the temps dropped quite a bit.”

  I glance between the two sisters. I have no doubt Tara shares just about everything with Dana. But I’m not sure I can be that open. Tara’s eyebrows clearly communicate ‘and?’

  I think of Noah’s words, Noah’s hands and lips, Noah in the morning. “It was very…special.” The understatement doesn’t feel like it captured last night, but it’ll have to do. As uncomfortable as it is, this part of the weekend I’m happy to focus on, to relive.

  Tara slaps her thigh. “I knew it!”

  The blush that’s been building up bursts like Krakatoa across my face. I can feel its heat all the way down to my toes. On second thought, maybe I’m not so keen to discuss this. “Nothing happened.”

  “Nothing?”

  “Well, not…you know.”

  “Not that you have to worry.”

  Tara and I turn to Dana. They’re the first words she’s said for a while. She’s staring at some watercolor on the wall, mouth pursed a little, fingers twirling her red hair.

  “What do you mean?”


  Dana startles, hazel eyes shooting to us. “Oh, nothing.”

  “Yeah, don’t worry about it, Edes.”

  Something tingles down my spine, telling me to ask. Telling me to shut up and let it go. “What?”

  Tara stands, all business, flapping her hand at Dana to do the same. “You need R and R, not something that isn’t even relevant right now.”

  I grit my teeth. I don’t know why, but for some reason, I clench them hard as I squeeze out that word again. “What?”

  Dana looks at Tara. There’s a warning in Tara’s eyes, but Dana turns away, those identically colored eyes turning to me. They’re filled with pity. “Weres can’t have children with humans.”

  I don’t move a muscle, an eyelid, a sodden piece of hair. Despite the words hitting me, rocking me, shredding me. Despite the emotion that grows within me. Now is not the time to process this. Not now.

  Tara shoots an angry glare at her sister, before turning earnest eyes to me. “It doesn’t matter, Eden. What you and Noah have is special, we all know it.”

  Dana steps forward, hazel eyes big and round. “Yeah. Noah chose you.”

  But instead of making me happy, something big and sharp lances through my chest. I still don’t move, pushing the pain away. Not now.

  I look at the two sets of hazel eyes watching me. Tara’s worried, Dana’s indecipherable. I really hope only a few seconds have passed. “I suppose that’s something Noah and I will have to figure out.”

  Tara lets out a breath. I don’t have the energy to see what Dana thinks. I make a show of stretching taught tangled muscles, hoping they don’t snap. “I’m pretty tired.”

  “How about we watch a movie or something?”

  My stomach tightens; I’m not sure how much longer I can hold this together. “I think I might catch up on some lost Zs; you might as well head home.”

  “You sure? I could hang around, annoy Caesar or something?”