Kiera looked up at him. Her eyes were full of fear. He needed to regain a level of control. Taking a seat again, he centered his thoughts. The last thing this sweet, innocent, young witch in training needed was to be scared to death by a full-grown polar bear roaring in her face if he lost control and turned.
“I apologize for the outburst,” he added before she could respond. “My intention was not to frighten you. What I’m trying to say is this. Nine years ago, we were all willing, but we were deceived. And each subsequent year, the men were forced to be turned. Now, we want the choice to join or to abstain, and we must no longer be treated as beasts of burden. Back then, transforming men into shifters was the first solution. It worked during the Big Storm. We made our stand against the ravagers outside the Sector walls, and it has worked since then, but nine years have passed, Knowledge has advanced, yet we are still the only line of defense to support the physical barriers and the Nauru’s containment spells. What if I were to tell you that there is already a new and proven enchantment for defending our borders, one that is much more efficient, and less taxing on our resources, except that Minassus has refused to implement it?”
Kira looked down at her hands, then returned her gaze to him. “I imagine I would ask the Regent why we have not put those measures in place,” she said after some time.
He shook his head. “And if he said it was his choice?”
She shifted around in the chair. “I do not know…”
“Which is the real problem with our Sector. Why does he get to dictate what happens to each citizen? Why does he answer to no one? We had a council of fifteen witches and humans before the first shifters were turned. Or maybe you are too young to remember.”
“I do remember.”
“Then you know that the Sector was governed in a fair and equitable manner until he disbanded the council. What will it take to get rational men and women, and witches like you, to wake up and demand logic and reason? When will all men, women, witches and shifters be equal and valued for the individual contributions we choose to give to Sector Two?”
4
Xander
Xander smiled inwardly when Kiera got to her feet and put her hands on her hips.
“I’m telling you that I value you, and you won’t stop repeating what I can only call the mantra of a traitor!” she shouted.
Her chest heaved and her nostrils were flaring. The ferocity in her eyes made it clear he had gotten his point across. Seeing her so out of control helped him keep his composure when he stood to face her. “A traitor? Since when has freedom been treachery? Ah, yes. I recall. Since Minassus took away our freedom and made it so.”
“Is this why you do not refer to him as the Regent?”
“He is your Regent, not mine. That warlock bastard has shown us nothing but disrespect.”
She hissed out a breath of frustration. God, she was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.
Down, boy.
Something about her brought a memory to the surface. After Xander had first been turned to a shifter nine years ago, it took him months to control his basic urges. Every instinct and emotion were heightened, making him feel like a pre-teen boy all over again. There were inconvenient bulges, unpredictable bursts of anger, and added to the mix was the new, unavoidable act of shifting to polar bear form. It took much practice to overcome these primal, impulsive behaviors and regain control. Their first alpha, Commander Ashborn, had helped him and the other turned shifters. In the years to come, after Ashborn was killed and Xander became alpha, he and the more experienced shifters had passed the knowledge on to the newer batches that came after him. Right now, seeing Kiera this keyed up got him worked up too.
“How did you do that?” she asked with no warning.
Returning his attention to her, Xander found her staring at him with her mouth slightly open. “Do what?”
“Your eyes were glowing, and your skin…it shimmered for a moment.”
“Not to worry. I am fine now.”
“Is that what happens when you are about to…to…”
“Before I shift? Yes…among other things.”
“Like what?”
Xander leaned down toward her until his face was only inches from hers. “Are you certain you want to know?” She must have picked up on his tone, because she gulped hard, and did not dare answer. “Let’s focus on shifting for now,” he said, straightening up to his full height again. “Please, sit.”
That they had been sitting for too long, the way he saw it. They could have probably made more headway if he could just get her on her back. Naked and breathless with her legs wrapped around his waist.
Kiera nodded. “I have never seen anyone take on their polar bear form.”
“That’s because we do not make a habit of shifting in front of humans…or witches…or familiars, for that matter.”
“I am curious…to see that in person.”
“You may…if you undertake the spell in nine days.”
“Don’t you mean when I cast the spell?”
“Sure. When.”
She chewed her bottom lip again, driving his intrigue up a notch. If she kept it up, he might have a bulge to cover, or to do something else about it—something that included him and Kiera right here on this table. She did not strike him as the type, though. Looking at her now, the way she reacted to him, he was sure she had never been with a man.
He groaned.
Too late.
He crossed his legs to hide his growing erection, wishing that last thought about her virginity had not entered his mind. All he wanted to do now was lift her up on this table, relieve her of all those clothes, and be deep inside of her, taking her hard until she screamed. He could make that tight body of hers do things she had never tried before.
“Your eyes are glowing again, Commander Oslo,” she whispered.
Clearing his throat, he fought for control. This was more difficult with her than any other woman he had been with. But then again, Kiera was stunning. Also, Xander had only slept with the human females who would sneak into the shifter camps looking to satisfy their curiosity, to realize their human-shifter sexual fantasies or fulfill their carnal cravings. Under Minassus’ rule, shifters were discouraged from getting married or mating, but that recommendation had never stopped Xander or his men before. As he continued to stare at Kiera, he remembered another reason. He had never been with a witch. A few of his men had hooked up with familiars living in the fortress. Come to think about it, he was sure he had seen Kiera’s familiar in the camps before.
With that realization, an inkling of a notion entered his mind. Getting to his feet, he offered a hand to help her up. “I believe I have run out of time.”
She placed her fingers on his and stood as well. “We did not achieve much today, did we?”
Without breaking eye contact, Xander lifted her hand and slowly bowed his head, pressing his lips to the tender skin between her knuckles and wrist. He lingered just long enough to see her cheeks flush again, then he returned Kiera’s arm to her side.
“It may not seem that way. True, we argued, and we both almost stormed out of here, but I have faith that it is a very good start. If your schedule is open, we can get together again tomorrow.” He observed her as she appeared to consider it, then added, “I will not be able to meet here, however. I need to inspect part of the Sector’s outer walls tomorrow.”
“Do you mind if I ask what that work entails?”
“We perform visual inspections. Tomorrow will be the second time since the summer ended. If I have any concerns, I will meet several stonemasons and carpenters for an update on any repairs that still need to be done. I also get in contact with the Nauru so they can cast new boundary containment spells where needed.”
“You have a lot of responsibility, Commander, and I have great respect for the fact that you take them all seriously in spite of your belief you and your men are oppressed.”
“We are, and I do. As I mentioned before, we h
ave not been asking for freedom so we can shirk our responsibilities. All we want is for each man to be given the choice to step up…or not. My mother still lives in a nearby village, as do many of my soldiers’ families. It is no different from the way you must also put every effort into honing your craft to protect your family as well.”
Kiera looked away. She turned ghostly pale. “I …I have no family. I lost my parents during the Big Storm. My mother passed first, when the ravagers attacked. My father…he was one of the Regent’s personal guards. He was also killed that winter.”
Dammit, he did not mean to be so insensitive as to assume she still had kin. “I am sorry for your loss. How old were you?”
“Eleven.”
“I apologize for assuming…I must be going.”
“It is fine. I appreciate your compassion, Commander Oslo.”
“You can call me Xander,” he said, still not moving from his spot.
“I will try.”
“We can continue our conversation tomorrow.”
She nodded. “Well, good day…Xander.”
He waited for her to leave through the front entrance. As far as Xander was concerned, this first meeting could not have gone any better than it did.
It was roughly a two-mile ride to the camp. Usually, the first storm of the season would take place around this time, just before noon. Today, most of the villagers were outside doing last-minute fortifications to their homes, barns, and other buildings. He sensed the glances that the ordinary humans threw his way. Condescending sideways glimpses, the sort someone might give to a flea-ridden stray dog crossing their path.
Humans who did not suffer the loss of a shifter or witch in the family had a tendency to be the most scornful. The way they looked down on him and his men would be laughable if it were not so disheartening. Even with the threat of the ravagers returning within weeks, this group had no respect for the lifesaving contributions he and his troops made to the Sector. To them, they were serving a purpose, no different from trained circus animals.
Their lives were so different now, compared to all the years of his childhood. Back then, every person was equal, including the small percentage of them who bore the features that seemed to predispose them to have the 236-k gene. Villagers would say they all had the same ancestry. That assertion made sense, given that Sector Two was more of an island after the first ravagers appeared on Othala hundreds of years ago. Xander’s mother would tell him he had his father’s physical frame, height, black hair, and bright blue eyes. He had no pictures of the man, and no memories either. His father had passed away when he was very young.
According to what he had learned in school, sixteen powerful witches had come together to stop humanity’s complete annihilation. Human weapons and technologies were of no use, and in fact, did more to submerge the land under water than kill off the monsters. The sixteen witches were somewhat successful in casting spells to ward off the ravagers, but not before the majority of the population perished. This group of witches turned out to be the heroes of their day, and the surviving citizens all sought their leadership. That was the time that Othala was born, comprised of sixteen tiny land masses, called Sectors, with each witch becoming a Regent of their respective area.
Even when the Regents ruled all those centuries ago, all men, women, witches and familiars were equal. The historical accounts told that the Regents communicated for as long as they could, but satellites and land-based infrastructure eventually broke down to the point where each Sector was on its own, isolated islands onto themselves. Beyond the land masses were expanded oceans, which the ravagers ruled due to their expert swimming capabilities. Shipping, fishing and any water-based activity ceased abruptly as a result.
Their lives on Sector Two had been different, right up to the winter that Minassus had transformed him and the first wave of men with the 236-k gene. He and the first set of turned shifters had a month as heroes while Minassus was in a coma. At the time, their actions were seen as noble and brave. Unfortunately Minassus recovered, and soon after, Sector Two citizens learned the full cost of what it meant to carry the gene. All men in the central village were ordered to report to the Great Hall to be tested. Those in surrounding areas had similar experiences. Minassus dispatched units of his personal guards to accompany his scientists from one village to the next, forcing men to undergo the test. Those with the gene were mandated to report to the shifter camp for training by Ashborn, and later, by Xander. Every fall, the new draftees were transformed to polar bear shifters.
Before that first winter was over, it became clear how little Minassus appreciated the shifters. First, curfews were implemented. After that, they could only leave the camps two days each spring and fall to visit their families. Every season, it got worse at the shifter camps.
During the third winter, Commander Ashborn had tried to organize the shifter soldiers to retaliate, but Minassus was clever. He had thousands of personal guards, all of whom were well armed at all times. He was also crafty and devious, planting several of his guards in the camp under the guise of being new 236-k trainees. One of them alerted Minassus to Ashborn’s plan. No one saw it coming. The revolt was a disaster. It led to the death of over fifty shifters and the imprisonment of many more. After that time, the shifter camp became more like jails.
How could the passage of three hundred years preserve equality in Sector Two, yet only nine years under Minassus led to segregation and suffering? The answer was simple. Minassus was an evil, selfish, power-hungry bastard of a sorcerer, and deep down, he feared anyone who appeared to hold more power than him, be it witch, familiar, or the alpha of the shifters.
A sour taste rose up in Xander’s throat. It was time for a change. Minassus needed to be retired, one way or another. He had lived like royalty in his fortress for far too long, indulging in opulence while everyone else worked to the bone just to scratch out an existence. His voluntary or forced retirement would clear the way for new freedoms for all, better leadership and an improved quality of life. Before the Big Storm, there was power and running water. People lived comfortably. Sure, it was the ravagers that destroyed Sector Two’s infrastructure for the second time in three hundred years, but Minassus put no effort into the restoration of the Sector. He hoarded resources for himself, forgoing power and running water within the fortress to deceive citizens into believing that resources were too scarce to even try.
But now, change was coming.
Xander dismounted his horse at the gate and crossed the fence separating his troops from the rest of the Sector. The enclosure was made of tall logs that stood on end, with wire mesh connecting them together. This barrier was also protected by magic, a constant, unnecessary reminder of their separation from the citizens. He only noticed he had been stomping through his camp with clenched fists when several of his men stopped what they were doing to salute him. He pulled himself together. It was not the time for anger.
Especially not now.
With Kiera in the picture, Xander could see possibility again. She was the first witch Xander had met who had looked him in the eye, and set aside their differences, even if only for a few moments of this morning’s meeting. That alone was promising. Letting go of the past, he walked into camp with his mind on a new future. Kiera did not realize it yet, but her powers were not to be taken lightly. Minassus needed her to perform the shifting spell. She was stronger than him, a fact Minassus would inevitably downplay to her and to everyone in his coven.
She was fiery too, and beautiful.
And probably a virgin.
No…definitely.
She was a Chosen. She had to be a virgin.
It would be easy to show her the truth, and then seduce her.
Or vice versa.
Or both at the same time.
Whatever it took.
If it all went well, Kiera would not need convincing about the shifters’ plight. If she was strong enough, and an independent thinker, she would stand with them against Minassus. A
ll the shifters needed was an ally among the fortress witches. The leader of the Nauru had already come around to the shifters’ way of thinking, but their sorcery was limited to containment spells. With Kiera’s openness, paired with her responsibility for this year’s transformation spell, Xander had found his missing piece of the puzzle. Kiera was potentially more than an ally. Time would soon tell, but for once, there was hope.
The only thing he had to worry about was remaining subtle—it had never been his strong suit. He was always ready to go, to push forward. He had never been good at biding his time, acting or playing it cool. Thankfully, only nine days remained before Kiera had to cast the transformation spell. Less than nine days to seduce her and bring her around? He looked forward to this new challenge. One thing was for certain. He would not stand by and watch while another batch of young men became slaves.
“How was the meeting?” Liam, Xander’s best friend and most trusted advisor, asked when Xander crossed paths with him near the camp dining area.
“Promising.” It was the only answer he felt comfortable sharing. He was keyed up, filled with energy, optimistic for the first time in years. Already, he wished nine days would pass in the blink of an eye so he could see the outcome of putting his plan into motion.
“You look like you need to shift,” Liam murmured. “Either that or you need to find a human female and get laid.”
Xander smiled and shook his head. Liam knew him well enough to register the caginess in his stance. The urge to give way to his animal trembled under his skin. It had been almost a week since his last shift, so his polar bear was restless. Meeting Kiera today did not help. Right now, giving in to his beast was exactly what he needed to do.
Mystic Storm: An Adult Paranormal Witch Romance: Othala Witch Collection (Sector 2) Page 4