What the Howl? (Shift Happens Book 1), page 5
I closed the door to his bedroom and locked it up tight. I wouldn’t be using that door, I assured myself. Sure, the locks probably wouldn’t stop him, but it was a moral victory for me.
I sighed and paced around the room. It was really quite a nice room. The bed was made and the sheets and blanket looked soft and silky. The carpet was plush beneath my feet, and there was a huge window with beautiful blinds to draw to cover it.
And of course the window wouldn’t open.
Annoyed, I walked over to the bookshelf. It was stocked with a whole slew of best sellers of literature and nonfiction, a treasure trove of stuff to read from cover to cover. The books were from the human world. I had to admit that I was impressed.
Curious, I walked to the door to the hallway. I turned the knob and pulled on it, but it wouldn’t budge.
I needed to get out of there. I needed to go home. As nice as this gilded cage was, I couldn’t ignore the fact that it was still a cage.
Eight
Killian
I stripped my clothes off near the front of the compound, shifted, and hit the ground running. I had a bit of a journey ahead of me, but Grandpa wanted his solitude away from the rest of the pack.
It’s common for shifters near the end of their lives to give leadership to their heir and disappear into the wilderness. I’d pled with him to stay closer to the pack, told him we needed him near.
He wouldn’t listen, and I had to respect his choices. I had to give him the illusion that he still had some power.
I approached the cabin, stopping by a chest outside his door. It was a common courtesy of shifter culture. Shifters traditionally kept a chest full of clothes and footwear nearby for those who had been traveling to dress themselves with. A bunch of different sizes, usually unisex, like T-shirts and shorts. I slid on a sweater and some sweatpants, along with some flip-flops.
I knocked firmly on the door. I heard coughing and finally a “Come on in.”
I entered the cabin. It was a large, one-room cabin with a functional hearth. It had been built with some haste as one of Grandpa’s last requests of the pack. It proved cozy. A lot of my grandfather’s favorite furniture moved along with him.
“Killian, my boy.” His face was grim, and the lines were so much deeper.
Ryan sat on a stool by my grandfather’s side. He must have come up here right after he was done helping me with Daphne. But even his magic couldn’t cure my grandfather’s condition.
My grandfather was the son of a witch, and his power was the ability to channel his strength to other pack members. He could also pull strength from some and give it to others.
But over time, using his power to help us win all our battles had drained his life force. He was dying of cancer now, something that was nearly unheard of among shifters. Ryan, one of the most talented healers in the entire realm, couldn’t cure Grandpa’s condition. Ryan still visited regularly to ease my grandfather’s pain and buy him some more time.
“Just fine. I’m in no pain at all. I could be out and running with the pack right now.”
My grandmother, sitting in a corner and knitting a scarf, made a scoffing noise. “Liam, you’re turning down the help that you need.”
“Quiet, Jen,” my grandfather growled and then coughed and wheezed.
It was enough to tell me he needed some more potent relief. I approached Ryan. “Take my power.”
“No,” my grandfather interrupted. “Take my mouthy wife and leave. I need to speak to my grandson alone.”
“Not before you take my damn energy.” While Ryan’s talents let him draw little bits of latent energy from the pack as a whole, something as direct as a touch from a willing volunteer was far more potent. “Don’t be a stubborn ass, Grandpa.”
“Don’t you try to give orders to your alpha,” he spat. Despite his failing physical health, his spirit was as strong as it ever was. “You wouldn’t dare speak to me like this before I got sick.”
I shrugged, drew up a sleeve of the sweater and took a seat on the edge of the bed. “I’ll do what you say if you use your own energy to get up and kick my ass.”
The pain of resignation caught up with him. “You little bastard...” Profanity tinged with love. It was a very Grandpa thing.
Ryan grimaced, not wanting to get between the two alphas having an argument. The hierarchy was strong, and he was nowhere near the top of it.
“Do not leave. Do the transfer, Ryan.”
“Leave, I said,” Grandpa spat, not wanting what he saw as pity. “This is an order from your alpha.”
He had grown weak enough that I could simply command him to submit to me and silence him for that matter, but I refused to do it to him. Doing so would be a blow to his ego that he would never recover from.
I was forever grateful for my grandfather and all he had done. Even after my parents died, he stayed strong. He never wavered, even when the grief must have torn him apart inside. He led and ruled the pack as a tough but fair leader, which can’t be taken for granted in the shifter world.
But there were limits to everything. “If you don’t let Ryan do the transfer, I’ll see myself out. I need my grandfather, not a petulant toddler who keeps his mouth shut when he needs to take his medicine.”
I felt for Ryan too, dealing with this curmudgeon, who was still alive only because of his best efforts.
“The nerve of you, Killian. The nerve.”
“Dear, get a hold of yourself,” my grandmother called out, calm as she ever was. She was well used to him getting like this, having had decades of experience enduring it. “The faster you get this done with, the faster you can deal with the things that you claim are so important to you.”
Grandfather muttered back something profane under his breath.
The two of them were not fated mates. They had come together in an old-fashioned arranged marriage, hoping to strengthen political ties and keep an alliance going strong. But they had one another’s respect. And with that respect, they had forged a successful marriage. I believed there had been a natural love between them that grew, but both were too bashful and stubborn to ever admit it.
“Do it. Get it over with,” Grandpa said. “And do it before I change my mind.”
“Yes, sir,” Ryan said. His hands started to glow as he reached one of them out to my arm and the other out to my grandfather’s back. It was a slight, colorless light at first, but it soon glowed an eerie red.
The red light pulsed through Ryan’s arms. It flowed into Grandfather, the intensity of the color fading as it left Ryan’s hand.
The vibrancy returned to Grandfather almost immediately. When I came in, he looked strained, but now he had some color in his face and his breathing was easier.
“You’ve done well, Ryan,” Grandfather said. “Now get the hell out before I kick your ass.”
Ryan nodded. “I’ll be back tomorrow. Do what you can to take care of yourself till then, Alpha.”
And he hurried out of the room.
Grandma sat in her corner, knitting away, ever the quiet listener. She’d absorb every bit of it, only dispensing her own wisdom if asked.
Or if someone said something stupid enough that she couldn’t be quiet any longer.
“Now we need to talk,” he growled. He sat upright and swung his legs over the edge of his bed so he could glare at me eye to eye. “What nonsense have you been getting up to?”
“Lots of things. I’m the alpha heir and that comes with a lot of responsibilities.”
“Don’t bullshit a bullshitter, boy. I’ve heard the talk of the town. You rejected Aurora and selected another mate.”
I nodded solemnly. “I did, yes.”
“How dare you?” His eyes blazed with anger.
“I met my fated mate, Grandpa.”
“Son of a bitch…”
“And I broke no contract in taking her instead of Aurora. The contract said I was to marry Clive’s daughter. It didn’t specify which daughter.”
“You’re making no sense, Killian. He had only one daughter.”
“No. He has an illegitimate one who grew up in the human realm. Her name is Daphne, and she is my fated mate. Clive’s sons were trying to kidnap her, so they could sell her off to some other pack to be forcibly mated. I rescued her and brought her back to the compound.” I winced.
He let out a snarl of disgust. “Damn it! Don’t play games, Killian. Follow the intent of the contract, not the word.”
“I can’t. My wolf would go mad. Now that it’s met her, it can’t live without her.” I wasn’t lying.
“You moron! You’re ruining everything!” he groaned. “Do they know that she is your fated mate?”
I knew what he was worried about. If they knew, it would paint an enormous target on my back.
“I don’t believe they do. I haven’t told anyone outside the pack.”
“They’ll find out sooner or later. Be a man, get your wolf under control, and give her to them!”
Oh, how my wolf was screaming at me at the mere thought of giving her up.
“I am telling you that I am not able to do it. Giving her up will destroy me, which is not in the best interest of the pack.”
“So what’s best for the pack is to make yourself vulnerable? To weaken yourself and guarantee your own death?”
This wasn’t a tactical anger. He wasn’t angry because I was simply refusing to marry Aurora as agreed.
This was a personal one. One of pain and loss.
My parents were fated for one another. Their love was intense and incredible. But before I was even a teenager, a rival pack ambushed my mother and killed her. Not because they cared if she lived or died—she wasn’t that powerful. They did it because they knew what would happen to my father.
Once fated mates were moon bonded—once a fated mate bit his mate’s neck on the full moon—their life forces were tied together. Kill one, and the other would die.
Of course, we had our revenge for my mother’s death. The White Fang annihilated this rival pack ruthlessly and efficiently, not letting this insult to us stand. Only the children were spared, and they were taken far from the ley lines and given to human families. Far from magic, they would never become wolves. The pack was completely annihilated.
My father passed days after the deed was done. Many of the people who knew him said it was only his personal strength that kept him going long enough to attain some semblance of justice, but he couldn’t escape the inevitability.
My grandfather lost his son.
And then he lost his other son.
Sometimes the universe is just cruel.
My uncle had found the woman fated for him too. Doting, they were quick to stand in for my father and try to be the guidance I needed as I grew to be a man.
Then a car accident claimed my aunt.
My uncle followed weeks later.
My grandfather didn’t want to lose me too. From the moment I moved in with him and my grandmother, I had been warned about the dangers of meeting my fated mate. How I would be tying my life to another, and how weak it would make me. How I needed to put the pack before myself, as I would someday take over and be the pillar that it all rested on.
“Get her as far away from you as possible. Take her to another country. Another continent. For your own good, Killian.”
My grandmother shook her head. “He doesn’t have to moon bite her, you know. The bonding isn’t complete until that happens.”
She was right. There was nothing saying I had to bite her under a full moon. The magic would never take full hold of us unless we did that.
“Exactly,” I said. “If I don’t bite her, then we don’t have to worry about any of that.”
Fur bristled over his face. “Idiot.”
“Grandpa…”
“Out! Get out of here! Now!” The fur was covering him.
I sighed.
“Go, Killian,” my grandmother said, shaking her head at me with a resigned look on her face. “Don’t provoke him further.”
I nodded and stood. There was nothing to be gained by further conversation. Not when Grandfather was like this.
As much as I loved him, I couldn’t avoid the fact that my mind was filled with visions of one thing right now.
Daphne.
Nine
Daphne
I set down the crime thriller I’d been reading. It was excellent, but I just couldn’t focus on the words right now. Kidnapped, Killian, magic, fated mate, I’m a witch, the world has gone crazy…I could barely think straight.
And I was hungry. This room had everything but snacks.
My stomach growled and I wondered if they were going to bring me food. Would Killian try to starve me into submission? Feed me gruel and water?
The aroma of burning charcoal in the distance certainly didn’t help things. I could go for a good burger.
I walked over to the door and pounded on it. “Hey! Is there dinner service here? Or maybe a nice bowl of gruel?”
No answer, so I returned to the armchair where I’d been reclining and picked up the book. I stared at it, then set it down again.
Moments later, the doorknob turned, and I leapt to my feet. The door swung open and Killian walked in, wearing his sexy uniform of jeans and T-shirt. And now I was hungry for more than just food. It was ridiculous that I was still attracted to him despite everything that was happening, and yet there we were.
He grinned fiercely at me. “Sorry to leave you alone so long. Are you hungry?”
I felt suddenly contrary, which was how I always felt around him. Almost as if I enjoyed our push and pull. “Nope.” My growling stomach gave me away.
“You’re a lying liar-pants,” he said cheerfully.
“And you’re a criminal kidnapper-pants.” But I’d need strength to figure out how to escape. “Okay, I’m starving. What are you offering?”
“Our chef Max is one hell of a grill master and is making kebabs tonight. I’m thinking I’ll get us a big plate of those and we’ll just spend some time together. Just the two of us.”
“I will consent to dinner with you on one condition. I want answers. I want information.”
“Like what?”
Seriously? I’d just found out that magic existed, I might be a witch, three guys claimed that I was related to them and they basically owned me, people could and did turn into wolves…I didn’t even know where to start.
So I picked one at random—but an important one. “I want you to explain this whole fated mate thing. Why do you keep insisting I’m your mate when you don’t even know me?”
He shrugged one burly shoulder, stalked into the room, and stared down at me, his mouth curving up in a smile. His eyes gleamed with heat and hunger. “I just know.”
“There’s more to it than that. Do all wolves have fated mates? What is it that tells them when they meet their mate? Etcetera and so on. Spill it, Killian.”
“I’ll explain it as well as I can. After dinner.”
“Seems we have an agreement then.”
He nodded and left. It wasn’t long before he returned holding a large plate stacked high with meat and vegetables skewered on bamboo.
“We’re not joining the rest of the pack for dinner?”
He smiled and sat down on the bed, setting the plate on a side table. “I want you all to myself for now. I can share my new toy later.”
I got up and sat down next to him, looking at him warily. “We’re eating on the bed? Where are the forks and knives?”
“Nothing here needs utensils.”
“Do shifters even use utensils?”
He snorted. “No, Daphne, we just tear the throats out of our prey and stick our faces right in.”
“Thought so.”
His eyes gleamed with challenge. “You keep riling me up, Daphne. I might show you what happens when I’m provoked. And I mean that in a way where I think you’re going to like it.”
The thought filled me with a strange heat, and I quickly crossed my arms over my chest to hide the swelling buds of my nipples.
“There’s only one plate,” I pointed out.
“We’re sharing. We’re mates.” He picked up one of the kebabs and slid a chunk of chicken off of it. He brought it to my lips.
“Open wide.”
“Really? You can’t trust me with a bamboo stick? Do you think I’m going to use it as a weapon?”
“Oh, I think I can hold my own there.” He grinned fiercely. “This is part of the bonding ritual between fated mates.”
“That you hand-feed me food?”
“Yes.”
The chicken did look salivating. And the man holding the chicken looked just as salivating. So I indulged him. I opened my mouth and let him push the tender morsel in, sucking it out of his fingers and chewing it thoroughly. Every bit of sauce on it was wonderful, sweet and savory, and I enjoyed every little chew of it.
He followed that up with a piece of cauliflower. Well seasoned and the perfect balance of crispy and chewiness.
He kept feeding me until I finally protested. “You need to eat too.”
And before he could stop me, I grabbed a morsel of meat and held it out to him, pressing it up against his lips.
He leaned forward, seizing my wrist. He ate the chicken and then kissed the tips of my fingers.
“Oh,” I said, a soft sound of surprise.
He kissed the palm of my hand, his full lips so sensual and soft that I couldn’t help but imagine them on other parts of my body. And he looked up at me, his eyes gleaming with heat and promise. He knew exactly the effect he had on me.
My belly was full, but I was hungering for other things.
He returned the favor with the chicken, pressing another morsel into my mouth. And I found myself sucking his fingertips, licking every drop of sauce off, and the sound of his pleasured groan was so satisfying.
He fed me another morsel.
He growled in anticipation for me as I suckled his fingers. The food was quickly becoming second to this so-called ritual between us, us staring into one another’s eyes as we went on.
