"I think it’s best if we move to my office, Raphael," the Lunoi told him as the woman worked, rising smoothly to her feet and leaving the room before he even had the chance to answer.
He followed, but as he passed his patients, murmured, "It's okay. Go and get a drink, calm down and I'll be back as soon as I can be. We'll go back to the hotel the minute I’m done, okay?"
Weak nods were his answer. Spying their tear-reddened faces, the red cheeks and eyes, the still-quivering lips, he wished he could embrace them all. Take away the pain. But while he could heal the physical, the emotional was something he couldn't control.
Sighing, he traipsed after the Lunoi, and followed her down the hall to a room that was certainly interesting. That was the only word he could use without being offensive. And even though it was only a thought, he had a tendency to blurt shit like that out.
Take the time his madre’s godmother had died. Friends and family brought all different kinds of food to their home, filling their refrigerator with enough meals to last two weeks.
He'd been the one to call the Jell-O salad something that looked like frogspawn, and had loudly told the room that the Sloppy Joes tasted like deer manure smelled.
He hadn't exactly been precocious, just mouthy. Something that had been beaten out of him by his Beta father by the time he'd reached adolescence.
Grimacing at the deluge of bad memories, he took in the white room, the silver and glass desk, and noted that the rest of the room was just space. Apart from the huge-ass black sculpture of a wolf skeleton.
Yeah, weird.
He made sure to keep his eyes focused on the Lunoi as she took a seat behind her desk and waved a hand to indicate he could also sit down.
He perched on a chair that was made from tubular steel but felt flimsy enough for him to fear breaking the damned thing. Rafe sat carefully and didn't move an inch the instant his butt was on the seat.
The Lunoi's lips twitched as she took him in. She studied him for what felt like an inordinate amount of time, sitting back, relaxing, and still keeping her eyes glued to him.
It was hard not to shuffle or fidget, only the dire threat of falling on his ass in front of the Lunoi was enough to make an iceberg look mobile in comparison to him.
"Qué raro eres."
The comment had him stiffening, both at the words and the fact she uttered them in Spanish. Of course, the entire nation knew the Lunoi heralded from Galicia, the north of Spain. Still, it was strange for her to make the statement... a statement he understood thanks to a Puerto Rican mother. ‘How strange you are,’ she’d said—talk about the story of his fucking life.
He grimaced and muttered, "You’re not the first to think it. I've heard that throughout my life."
She laughed, clapping her hands in delight. "You speak Spanish?"
He shrugged. "My mother is Puerto Rican. She didn’t speak it much at home but you need it where I am. My practice borders on a neighborhood with a huge Hispanic population. It was either learn or permanently hire a translator."
"You're the same ranking as the women in there, no?"
"I'm Gamma, your highness."
She pursed her lips. "You're also a doctor, for the pack and for humans as well, correct?"
"Yes. I'm a cardiologist at Mercy North in Austin. But my Lyken practice covers many neighborhoods."
It was her turn to grimace. "Unfortunately, there are far too few Lyken healers."
He jerked a shoulder. "I can handle it."
"It's unusual, is it not, for a Gamma to reach such a position? You had help?"
Unoffended by the question, because most people look askew when they learned of his profession and his ranking, he answered, "Of a sort. When I was seven, my principal called me into the office and told me I was to report to her office every day, not to my home room."
"She tutored you?" she guessed.
"Yes. Mrs. Doherty as well as other teachers she called in. They all agreed to keep it a secret, because my father is a Beta. She knew he'd cause a fuss if he knew. My siblings are all Betas, and he’d have demanded the attention wasted on me was spent on them instead."
"You're the only Gamma?"
His smile was rueful. "And the only son." The worst crime bar none.
"Did he ever find out?"
"One of my sisters told him I was having different classes with the head. Mrs. Doherty made out that I was having special remedial classes with a few other kids. Of course, my father found that much easier to swallow than the fact his precious Beta daughters weren’t being singled out like his useless Gamma son."
"I'd like to say I'm sorry, Raphael, but I know that is the way of the Lyken world."
She sounded as though the fact was still hard to understand, and he remembered she was half-human. Not Lyken born and bred. "It's just the way the dice rolls, Lunoi. The extra classes meant I was years ahead of my class. Mrs. Doherty continued to teach me, even when I should have been graduating early. She knew my father would never support me if I were to graduate early and go to college soon after."
"Do you know why she took a chance on you?"
He shook his head. "I have no idea. I can't deny I wish I knew. When I was a kid, I revered her. I wouldn't have dared ask. But now... now, I'd ask and I can't. Her mate died in a car crash about five years ago and she perished soon after."
The Lunoi made the sign of the cross—yet more proof of her unusual upbringing—and murmured, "A horrible fate for any one."
"She was like a second mother to me. In fact, she gave me more affection, more attention than mine did. She never had children of her own, and whatever it was that made her single me out, she poured care into me."
"So, you're a Gamma who is also a cardiologist, as well as a rare carer for the Lyken sick. I think it's easy to understand why this local Beta is targeting you."
"Unfortunately, yes. My success causes him grief, so he comes at me with the only thing he can: his rank. And his fists," he added with a grimace.
She frowned, and it deepened into a scowl as she asked, "Why do you think he targets the women?"
"Because he can. For no other reason. He's protected by pack laws; he's untouchable if the status quo continues on as it is. I find it hard to believe that you don't have more queries about this. There must be countless packs with Betas who overstep the mark in this way."
"If there are, then they don't come to me about it." She pursed her lips. "I shall support you as much as I can, Raphael. Your story is unusual. I can't deny that, and I’m hoping it will garner my mates' attention."
"All I can ask is that you try, your highness. And I thank you for that."
"Do you fear for your life, Raphael?"
The question made him feel like he was suffocating. When hadn’t he feared for his life? Even before Torres had finally become an official Beta for the pack, there had been countless other skirmishes, attacks. Torres was just more blatant than the rest. More focused.
Pups were born and the minute they shifted for the first time, the ranking their father had assessed at birth was measured again by the Alpha in an official ceremony before the pack—their version of a baptism. He wasn’t sure how the Alpha knew or how it was measured, Rafe was just aware that that was how it was done.
From the moment they knew their pack position, children were herded together according to their rank. Those higher up made to look upon those lower than them with scorn and dislike.
Since the moment Alpha Stevenson had confirmed him as a Gamma in a Beta household, he’d been in danger. He’d feared for his life.
But how could a woman like the TriAlpha’s mate understand that? A female who’d been cosseted since she’d mated? Who was joined with the nation’s strongest males?
Though he wanted to say more, urge her to understand, he settled on clearing his throat to release the tension gathered there, and murmured quietly, "I can't lie, I do."
She nodded, a look of firm resolve on her pretty features. "Then I shall petit
ion the TriAlpha on your behalf and do my best to aid you."
3
Prostrate before the Elder's feet in the council chambers, Thalia knew the time had come. A moment she'd been waiting so many years for.
In all the years of her exile, she'd never cried. Not when her beloved nanny, Marta, had been fired or when she'd been denied contact with her grandparents. Not when she'd been allowed out of the palace grounds only in her wolf skin, and not even when, that first time, she'd felt one of her mates fucking someone that wasn’t her.
She'd endured, she'd hardened her skin against it. Refusing to cower, to bow down to the shit the Fates had handed her.
But now, beneath the Elder's gaze, she felt like weeping. She felt like hugging his bony knees to her chest, and begging him to do something, say anything to improve her life.
Stuck in this fucking palace, she'd never meet her mates. Ever! And they were more vital to her than any other wolf could understand. She needed them like she needed water and food. It was more than just a soul-deep need, it was a basic function. Without them, she was slowly dying, and no one understood that.
Shuddering at the thought and praying the Elder could understand, she whispered, "Humble Elder, we cherish your presence on North American soil. We are blessed to have you here to counsel and guide us. We pray for your safety and offer our lives to protect yours and the wisdom you possess; wisdom that will nourish countless souls. Blessed be."
The formal words were hoarse, loaded with the tears she was fighting back. A gentle hand on her head, stroking through the white blonde locks, had her sliding from a kneeling position and onto her feet.
It was either focus on the Elder or start blubbering, and for the first time, she realized the colors denoting his heritage. A bright scarlet with a terracotta-colored tribal pattern on the hem; he was from African soil. The robes were long, to the floor, and shrouded him within their folds. A hood covered his head, hiding him from the rest of the world’s interest. Only from her angle, directly in front of him, could she see the wizened features, the papery black skin that had turned gray with age. Black spots dotted his face; they too were tribal, and on the fleshier parts that made her cringe with the pain they must have caused.
An Elder was a Lyken who the Gods allowed to live past three hundred and fifty years. The average Lyken experienced middle age at one-hundred twenty. Most died around their twenty-fifth century, so the longevity of an Elder’s life was a precious gift.
Elders were blessed with wisdom, usually in a certain field. They had the ability to hold countless tales in their head; their mission to spread the word of Lyken past to any and all that would listen.
Some were healers, renowned for their knowledge of herbs or of ancient techniques blessed by the Mother. Others maintained a nation’s traditions and taught their values. Regardless of whether they were one or the other, they were the Lyken community’s version of a priest. They nourished the heart, the body, and the soul.
Elders flooded to the festivals held by the different packs, and as the NALP, the North American Lyken Pack, was due to celebrate its Centennial festival this coming week, it wasn't unusual to have Elders in the palace.
But never so early.
That meant he was here for a reason. And considering she was here, that reason centered around her.
"You have suffered, little one."
Her chin trembled at the sorrow in his eyes; turning those chestnut orbs a murky brown. "Suffering is a strong word, Elder. I have been in a gilded cage, kept from exploring the world, from finding my mates. That is my one source of agony."
His grin was wry; the facial gesture odd on one so old, and on one so wise. His coffee-colored eyes were rheumy with age, but they held a knowing glint. One that beckoned her to speak freely with him. She smiled in return, totally uncaring that her fathers were probably glaring at her, that the council was undoubtedly gawking, and she was wearing a kimono and not a lot more.
"The Elder is here to discuss your situation, Thalia." Damien, her papa, said, his voice soft. He was the only one who was ever gentle with her. Spending most of his time looking at her with sadness in his eyes because, to him, she was visual proof of his failure to his kind.
Somehow it was easier to deal with the obvious disappointment on Adam, her dad's face, and an emotion that bordered on distrust and dislike on Luca, her father's.
She nodded. "I'd gathered that, papa."
It went unsaid by her that Damien's words spoke of the fact the Elder had come to them, that he hadn't been sought out by the North American Council.
They'd never believed her. Never.
Almost as though seeing the Elder was a trigger, sobs caught in her chest and burned as she tried to withhold them.
To have someone look at her with understanding, with care and concern. For there to be no rejection, no hatred for spoiling the long and fruitful legacy of the TriAlpha heritage. To not be an outcast was more than she could have ever imagined.
She hiccupped, still fighting tears as the Elder whispered, "I know some details of your situation, Thalia. But I would like to hear it from you, in your words."
She nodded again, expecting nothing less. “Must I speak in front of these idiots?" she asked, hearing the bubble of outrage as she waved a hand that encompassed the council.
He grinned, and for a second, looked like a cheeky little boy. "Unfortunately, the council must be aware of what you have endured thanks to their incompetence."
His words quietened the fury her own had caused. There was silence, a throbbing peace as he chided them for ignoring her. Her fathers included, she thought with no small degree of triumph.
"When did you experience your first heat?"
Even though she knew she had to talk about this, and had spoken to countless healers over the years, it never grew easier. Mostly because they never believed her. Thought it was some kind of psychosomatic bullshit she spat to excuse her rebellious behavior.
"When I was sixteen."
He nodded, seeming unperturbed at the unnaturally early heat. "Do you know what triggered it?"
She frowned. Thought about that first time. Gods, what a nightmare that had been! It had been so long ago and so damn traumatic that she'd buried it away.
Thalia remembered being in the family room, her parents on the sofa watching some program while she was working at the table doing her studies.
Her lips twitched as she actually remembered what homework she'd been doing; had Alpha Jonas Eastwick been correct to challenge Beta Egon Harwich during the Beadwych Blue Moon of 1845?
She'd sat there, thinking what a pointless fucking question it was.
Lyken kids could shift from birth. After actually greeting the world, they spent the first few weeks as pups, because those weeks were so fraught with dangers, in their wolf skin, they could endure them better.
The problem was controlling the shift, not shifting. Most kids were around nine by the time they could actually control where and when they changed. The first time she'd managed to hold the shift, she could recall the sensation of her She-Wolf panicking; of choking at not being able to free herself.
As she'd been studying, that sensation had just popped out of nowhere. It felt like she could burst, and was unable to stop it. The next thing she knew, she'd been on the floor, her fathers restraining her. They’d always been uneasy around her, unforgiving of the fact she was a single girl child, but at that moment, uneasiness had turned to distrust.
Over the subsequent years, that distrust had morphed into hatred.
"I don't know what actually triggered it. I just remember feeling like something was trying to break out of me."
The Elder nodded. "That seems natural. What you probably can't remember," he murmured in his gentle, singsong voice, "is the actual trigger. A Lyken's She-Wolf decides when she's ready for mating. Society says no younger than twenty-four. But the She-Wolf is the one in control."
Thalia nodded. Still confused.
"Ca
n you communicate with your mates, Thalia? Or do you have visions?"
Before she could answer, Luca butted in with: "Are you trying to tell me that she's right? She has mates? Plural, not singular?"
The Elder didn't even turn to look at her father. He kept his attention on Thalia who did the same—even though she’d have loved to flip Luca the bird. How many times had she told him she had more than one mate? A thousand? Ten thousand? Sweet Gods, validation tasted bittersweet.
"That is correct. She has three. Once she finds them all, this nation will have another TriAlpha. We have a people, a world on the brink of change thanks to your daughter, your highness. She is your salvation, not your ruination."
Thalia blinked at his words, then, feeling uneasy, stared at the floor, nibbling her lip.
"Child? Do you have visions?"
"I can't communicate with them. If I could, I'd have told them to come and get me out of this damn place!"
"Thalia!" Adam barked.
The Elder smiled.
She shot her dad a mulish look, then gritted out, "But yes, I have visions. Usually of them with another woman. Usually when they're having sex." She whispered the word sex like it was a dirty word. And around her fathers and the disapproving councilors, it felt like it.
"Yes. It is like I imagined. Your She-Wolf had repressed those visions from you until she deemed you old enough. Unfortunately, the animals mature at a younger age than humans, and so, you have endured much suffering because of it." A papery hand popped out of the enshrouding robes and he patted her cheek. "You are a harbinger of a change that has been a long time in coming."
Luca grunted. "Elder, you know how grateful we are for your being here. But please can you explain this to us further? I know you would only discuss the situation with Thalia, but it would have been useful to help us understand before we sent for her."
The reprimand was clear, and unusual. Her father was a stickler for ceremony. But the Elder ignored it.
"A thousand years ago, when wars were being fought in Europe, land being conquered by avaricious warlords... in Africa, a child was born. A girl child from a woman who had been raped by three Alphas." His smile was gentle at the tension that overset Thalia, making her stiffen up before him. "Three different packs, each with their own markings. The Alphas were cruel, as ruthless as the Kings invading others' territory in Europe. They mistreated their packs; failed to protect the weakest. Mother Nature deemed it so that change was needed and Abula's mother was the unfortunate vessel through which this change was brought.
Trinity (The TriAlpha Chronicles Book 1) Page 5