by K. Rea
“What is this bond everyone is mentioning? What’s a bond-mate? A bond call?” I asked.
“Your parents should have prepared you, but perhaps no one thought to tell them. Tomorrow, your powers will mature. Your power and blood will call to all adult men, and even some women, nearby to find its equal, your equal. It will stir both their bloodlust and desire until it binds you to another. The bond you make with another person will anchor your powers,” Mistress Tessa explained.
“You’re saying I’m going to go into some sort of magical heat?” I scoffed; she had the decency to laugh.
“In a way, yes. Power attracts the worst sorts of monsters. The bond call is why we agreed to curse the Wolfrik bloodline to only have sons—Wolfrik daughters would be dangerous in exile, cut off from the rest of Court and packs with potential mates. You’re clearly no exception. Wolfrik daughters have torn this Court apart more than once,” Mistress Tessa explained. The more she patted my hand, the calmer I became.
“You were supposed to be an impossibility, but the Goddess always prevails. We cannot stop fate, only delay it a while. I wish I could take you to the abbey, but Cleo is rarely wrong. It would be your undoing,” Mistress Tessa explained. Her green eyes glimmered as she looked out the window. “You need a protector to survive in a Court like this.”
“Tonight, you’ll sleep, and tomorrow your wounds will be gone,” she promised. I barely registered the spell before I succumbed to sleep.
TWELVE
I dreamed of chains of fire, rivers of blood, and woods. Never ending woods as a predator hunted me through the night. A groan woke me from the blackest of dreams. I dreamed I ran through the woods, blood poured from my wrists, and the sound of monstrous snarls surrounded me. At least I wasn’t in a dungeon, and the bed comfortable.
I was in the guest room, alone; the blanket laid over me and tangled about my feet still smelled of Mistress Tessa. The smell of fresh blood also lingered in the air. I set about freeing my legs; she had dressed me in a plain cotton nightshirt at some point. True to her word, she had healed my wounds. My jaw was no longer tender, my leg didn’t ache, and there was a fresh bandage on the wound.
Steam slipped through the gap beneath the black bathroom door, and I could hear the shower running. I tiptoed up to the bedroom door and tested the handle; it was unlocked. This could be my chance, or it could be a trap. I opened the door and heard a groan followed by a curse and a thud behind me. I turned back to the bathroom; I hesitated with my hand on the doorknob. Deciding my curiosity would get the better of me, I changed direction and went to the bathroom door instead.
Steam engulfed me in a humid cloud when I opened the bathroom door. I don’t know what shocked me more; the scent of blood or the shirtless Aiden seated on the shower floor. He leaned back against the tile; black jeans soaked through as the shower rained water down on him. If not for the pool of bloody water beneath him and a throwing blade beside him, it could have been a damn attractive sight.
“You shouldn’t be in here,” Aiden said. “You should leave.”
“Fine by me,” I said and turned to leave. He struggled to stand, only to fall back against the wall, grunting in pain; more blood appeared on the floor. “You’re hurt.”
“Yes,” he said curtly. He leaned his head back against the tiles, his shoulders sagging.
“Why? Who did this?” I asked, coming closer.
“I’m sure you can think of a few reasons, as for who—the Blood King himself. He prides himself on doing his own dirty work when he’s in the mood,” Aiden snarled.
“He’s your father. Why would he do this?” I asked. Aiden laughed sadly.
“He may have turned me into a vampire, but he is no father. He is the king. I am his commander, his general. That is all,” Aiden muttered. “My father abandoned me long ago.”
“Is there anything I can do?” I asked softly.
“You’ve already done enough. Unless you want to offer a vein, you should leave,” he snarled. His eyes glowed softly as his fangs appeared. Even I could tell he didn’t mean it.
“Let me help you stand, at least,” I offered. I walked into the shower and offered him my hands for support. He lumbered to his feet, standing with a struggle. Both of us soaked in water and a little bloody. My skin almost blistered from the heat of the water; my nightshirt soaked through.
“You should go back to your room, little wolf,” Aiden said tersely. I stepped out of the shower, and he turned back to the scalding water. His back was torn to ribbons. Barely a finger span of skin was left unmarred. My tungsten blade hadn’t left a single mark, but whatever had been used to do this to him now was beyond comprehension. Aiden turned back to me, a fierce look on his face. “You’re still here.”
“What did this to you?” I asked. Unable to look at his back any longer, I focused on his face. He was pale, paler than I had ever seen before, and his eyes burned like embers. His blue-gray eyes were engulfed in black flames. The rugged shadow of a beard along his jaw was now darker and unkempt.
“A cat o’ nine tail, specially designed too. If you’re still planning to kill me at some point, do me a favor and just stake me in the heart,” he stated with a grimace as he stepped back under the water and turned it even hotter. The entire room became clouded with steam, and even though the water must have scorched the tender wound, he seemed to relax.
“He did this to you because of me,” I hissed. Aiden gazed at me with those ember eyes. He reached out and gently touched my jaw, tracing a finger down my neck, as if to reassure himself that the bruises from the king were gone. He smiled softly.
“Don’t worry about me, little wolf,” Aiden suggested. “Your concern is endearing, but I’d rather be the subject of his ire than you. It was worth it. Goddess help me, given a choice, I’d do it again. He knows it; it’s why he was cross with me. I’ll be healed by tomorrow morning. I’ve already summoned a friend; she is on her way to see to my needs.”
I frowned, thankful he didn’t ask me to see to his needs first. Also, a bit put out. A calloused hand touched my cheek, shaking me from my swirling thoughts. I covered it with my own. On his muscular arm was a tattoo of a wolf. Not just any wolf, my wolf form, standing at the edge of a river, howling. I grabbed his arm and tugged him closer for a better look. He grunted and cursed.
“Why do you have a tattoo of my wolf on your body?” I questioned as I glared at him. He sighed.
“A moment of existential crisis and stupidity,” Aiden mumbled.
“How long have you had it?” I asked suspiciously. Warning bells rang in the back of my mind. Aiden sighed and turned the shower off.
“Roughly six years now, give or take a few months,” Aiden said causally. His eyes faded from ember to gray-blue. Water dripped off his body onto the floor between us. He stared at me unexpectedly.
At that moment, as I stood in the steam, I realized why his eyes were so familiar. He didn’t just trigger the river nightmares; he was in them. He was the one that pulled me from the river. He was why the nightmares had come back with a vengeance. He had starred in my dreams for the better part of a decade.
“It was you in the river that day,” I whispered. “You pulled me out of the river. You saved me, then you left me on the bank.”
“Not that it did much good. You still ended up here,” Aiden said. He reached around me to grab a towel, draping it over my shoulders before grabbing one for himself and patting himself dry.
“I wasn’t in wolf form in the river or when you pulled me out. How did you know what I looked like?” I asked.
“I pried the trap from your ankle, triaged it, and I waited with you by the river. I stayed until what I assumed was your packmate and father arrived. I hid nearby while they forced you to shift, and then your father carried you back to camp. I followed at a distance,” Aiden explained. He used his towel to wipe at the fogged-up mirror, then check
ed his back. His back was an angry red color, but it no longer bled. He healed faster than any supernatural I’d met, yet he still bore a motley collection of fine scars, faint like a web of scales.
“Why were you in the woods that day? Why did you save me?” I asked hesitantly. His face became guarded. “Why a tattoo?”
“They sent me to execute a band of rogue moon shadows planning an uprising. We received word they would meet that week near the old Wolfrik hunting grounds,” Aiden stated. “I wasn’t prepared to kill a couple teenagers flirting in the woods while their elders schemed. You should never have been in those woods that day.”
“Did you lay those traps?” I asked. I felt a wave of nausea hit me, just remembering that day.
I felt a phantom of that white-hot pain, remembering how the trap snapped closed around my ankle, the crunch of bone breaking echoed in my memory. Mason had been chasing me through the woods that day while I flirted and teased him. We were wild, carefree, and careless. We forgot the risks until I stepped into the trap, and three vampires appeared intent on caging us in with the silver nets in their hands. The pain from the trap forced me to shift into human form while Mason fought them off. His russet form snarled at them and growled at me to run. I pulled the trap free from its rigging with it still clenched around my ankle and dashed away, ignoring the spreading pain. One vampire followed me. I fought him off until the earth fell away beneath my feet, and I slipped into the river, trap and all.
“I had nothing to do with the traps. I didn’t know they had placed them in the woods until after you had fallen into the river,” Aiden said. “I hunt; I don’t trap my prey. I face my enemies head-on. Not with childish games. If you were properly warned about the Court, about me, you would know this.” He leaned back against the white counter.
“My father did the best he could. If you’re such a villain, why did you save me?” I asked and swallowed the anxiety the conversation brought up. He looked at me, concerned.
“I heard you call for help, you compelled me that day, and I dove into that river without a second thought,” Aiden admitted. “You were barely even an adult, an innocent. What many people don’t know is I don’t kill innocents.”
“You didn’t know who I was?” I asked suspiciously.
“No, I assumed you were with the Faolmen pack on vacation. I never saw you in our records; you weren’t supposed to exist. Faolmen have a habit of keeping their women hidden,” Aiden explained. “It made sense at the time; your identity wouldn’t have changed my actions then.”
“Records?” I questioned.
“Justice Quarters has a record of every moon shadow, a census of sorts. Clearly, it is incomplete,” Aiden said.
“What about the club? You didn’t let me go. You didn’t recognize me?” I asked.
“Only as an intrigue—a beautiful, though a tad clumsy, woman trying to stab my brother. Not the first, might I add,” Aiden said with a smirk, his eyes glowing at the edges.
“Why the tattoo?” I asked, glaring back.
“A reminder of the innocent wolf who fought back against monsters and nature. A reminder of what can happen when the shadows and darkness spread unchecked.” He took a step closer to me. His eyes glowed like embers once again, and his fangs were on display.
“As much as I’m enjoying the view, it’s been a long day, and I’m starving,” Aiden admitted. A quick glance at the mirror confirmed my damp nightgown was nearly see-through and clung to my skin, not leaving much to the imagination even with the towel draped over my shoulders. I pulled the edges of the cotton towel around my body and refused to acknowledge the flush in my face. “Unless you’d like to do more than talk, go back to your room, little wolf,” Aiden said, his eyes still glowing darkly.
THIRTEEN
When I woke the next morning, Aiden, along with any traces of blood in the shower, was gone. A piece of paper sat on the nightstand. It had strict instructions not to open the apartment door to anyone or to leave. Lady Cleo, Mistress Tessa, and her granddaughter Becca arrived soon after, letting themselves in. I sat on Aiden’s brown leather couch while Mistress Tessa and Lady Cleo looked on as Becca spelled bands of delicate silver chains from the tops of my shoulders down to my wrists.
“These chains shouldn’t hurt. They’re merely a decoration to keep your powers and wolf in check. At the king’s request, only a Kensley or your husband will be able to remove them. Has that been done, Becca?” Lady Cleo asked. I glared at the pair of women, and Mistress Becca nodded solemnly. Lady Cleo paused, unnaturally still as her eyes faded to white. The shapeshifter never seemed to stay in the present.
“He’ll be pleased,” Lady Cleo confirmed; Mistress Tessa only grumbled. “Now, time for a dress. If you do not want to choose one, I can select one for you. Anyone interested in breakfast?” Lady Cleo asked. The women had arrived with a breakfast cart from the kitchens with waffles and fruit.
I wanted to sulk; I wanted to scream at them, but the smell of breakfast and the rumble of my stomach prevented me. When was the last time I had eaten—the morning before? I ate while the women discussed dresses and drank the steaming hot coffee. Thankfully, it didn’t sound like they expected me to try much on.
Lady Cleo left to retrieve a dress she thought would suit me for the occasion. I was curious to see what kind of dress would suit both a marriage and a concubine contract, but I didn’t mock her. I paced around the room, stretching my legs. Unlike before, I could still sense my wolf; I wanted to run. I wanted to claw the walls and escape.
“If you continue to do that, you’ll wear a groove into the floor. Did you know it will be a blue moon tonight? It seems fitting,” Becca said, watching me pace. I stopped and sat down on a plush chair.
“I suppose,” I said tersely.
“All the heads of the families are meeting to determine a suitable groom. From what Lady Cleo has said, they’ve decided a merman is too contradictory to your nature; neither you nor the merman would be content,” Becca said. She sat on the couch with a bowl of yarn that she was crocheting. She tossed me a skein of cream-colored yarn, and I looked at her questioningly.
“Roll it, knot it, whatever you’d like. I find it helpful to have a stash of yarn whenever I’m at Court; it keeps my hands busy and stills my mind,” Becca explained. “Being around so many vampires always puts me on edge.”
“Another shifter’s magic is not compatible with your wildness. A werewolf would be the most compatible with your nature, but it is out of the question, unfortunately. The High Council fears the possibility of another wolf uprising, so they will not reach out to the last of the moon shadow packs,” Becca explained, as she added another row of stitches to her project. Her lap was covered in the beginnings of a cream blanket. “Though at this rate, even the werewolves may revolt on principle. Being denied the opportunity to add a Wolfrik bloodline to the pack has their fur all ruffled. The more moon shadow blood in the pack, the less the moon shadows are a threat.”
“If they’ve ruled out moon shadows, werewolves, mermen, and shifters, there won’t be many choices left,” I stated. “So, it will be a witch or vampire for a husband unless I choose the harem.”
“Would you prefer a husband or a master? There is a difference, you know. Grandmother told me you have a choice between honoring your blood debt or a marriage. Did she tell you about the bloodlust that can happen around an unbonded wolf, witch, or mermaid?” Becca asked.
“Yes.”
“I can already sense a change in your aura, even with the silver bands masking your powers. You’re growing stronger. If you’re not bonded in the next twenty-four hours, you’ll be a beacon of power even with the silver,” Becca mentioned. “At least if you married, the threat of violence against you would be less; to harm a bond-mate or spouse is usually a fatal offense.”
“Do you know who they’re considering?” I asked; Becca frowned.
�
�Grandmother is recommending my Uncle Quinn, but they probably won’t approve of him. He’s a good man,” Becca said. “Otherwise, I’ve heard some folks suggest Erik McRyan; he’s a Viking druid, not exactly a normal witch. He is handsome, though stern. He can possess and control a multitude of animals; his powers are substantial enough to rival yours. If you bonded with him, you would make a powerful union. It would be good for the coven,” Becca explained flatly.
“Why do you not seem convinced?” I asked. She looked away before answering.
“Just rumors, and he already tried to convince my mother to accept his wedding proposal for me. I’ve heard he has a tendency to be rough toward rebellious creatures that do not bend to his will. He’s more likely to break their spirit rather than earn their loyalty. It may be hard for you to submit given your nature,” Becca whispered. At least she answered one of my questions. “Perhaps the vampire choice would be better.”
“Who’s the vampire?” I asked, bracing myself. A lifetime of marriage to a druid or a witch had to be better than a concubine to the Kensley family or married to a vampire. I could escape a druid, I think.
“Grandmother didn’t say, someone from their major houses for sure. They’ll be older, stronger, and not concerned with being married to a wolf. The Council is being careful in the selection process. They do not want to choose someone that would kill you outright. Perhaps—” Becca started but was cut off when the door flew open with a bang as it hit the wall.
The words would not kill you outright, still ringing in my ears. My choices were blood concubine, a druid that would attempt to break my wolf, or a vampire that could kill me. This birthday was shaping up to be my last.
“Evelyn, I have your dress. No more of your tales, Becca. She needs to make up her own mind. The Council has found acceptable suitors. It will be alright as long as she marries the right man,” Lady Cleo said as she walked into the living room, carrying a garment bag across her arms.