Chapter 4 #2
“A gift,” he says firmly, still not looking up. “Were there any others you liked?”
I blink, confused. “No, thank you. Please, let me pay.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t take your money. Couldn’t.” He bows his head formally.
I stand there undecided for an undue amount of time, confronted and confused.
“Please,” he repeats. It is like he is begging me.
I tuck the book into my deep pocket. “Well… if you’re sure.”
“I am.”
I thank him and take my leave, puzzling over the whole encounter.
As I step outside, Rosie—one of Lord Godfrey’s servants—is passing and nearly bowls me over.
She smiles. “I’m so sorry, Evanthe—” Her words cut off and her smile disappears. She makes the sign of the Goddess and points at me. “Wolf tithe.” Her expression sours. “What are you doing here, still? Get you gone, lest they kill us all!”
I shrink back.
“Wolf tithe!” she cries. There are shocked looks and hushed whispers as the few passing townsfolk stop then stare at me.
“The mark,” Rosie says, voice ringing. “It’s true!”
I press back against the bookshop door, suddenly fearful, as the people begin to gather.
“Marked by a beast,” an old man says.
“Claimed,” another adds.
I hear a young woman with a baby in her arms mutter a prayer.
“She should not be here,” Rosie says, turning to the small gathering. “I say we send her into the forest where she belongs!”
The door to the wool shop bursts open, and Mistress Nina exits, followed by Mistress June.
“What is this nonsense?!” Mistress Nina demands. “You are terrifying the poor lass half to death.”
“Witch,” a man calls out sharply from the back of the growing cluster of people. “‘Twas you brought them here.”
“Next time, I’ll let the raiders spill your guts, Tom,” she snaps back.
“We don’t want any trouble from their kind,” Master Tom replies, tone more respectful this time.
“If she stays here, the wolves will take it as defiance,” cautions an older woman, setting down her basket and planting her hands on her hips, “and bring their wrath down on all of us.”
“There will be no trouble nor wrath from the wolves,” Mistress Nina says, matter-of-factly, “so long as you remember your lore and respect. You know their ways. They will claim the lass when they are ready, and not before.”
With a few mumbled comments, people go on their way until only Rosie is left. Without an audience to support her, she proves to be no match for Mistress Nina's firm look. Tossing her head, Rosie bustles off to resume whatever errand she was on.
Mistress June watches, wringing her hands. “Better get her home, Nina,” she says. “They’re all fearful, and fearful folks are fools more often than not.” The smile she directs at me is kind, but also wary.
At least there is someone who will look me in the eye, even if her expression makes me feel worse.
The bookshop door behind me opens.
I fall back and nearly collide with Master Peter.
He sets me forward. “I was out the back when I heard shouting! What was all that commotion about?” His eyes land on me. “Ah. Evanthe.” He sighs.
“It is not the lass’s fault,” Mistress June says. “They are superstitious dunderheads. One moment, all too happy for the beasts to save them, and then acting like the wolves are unfeeling monsters the next.”
“Ah, they are fearsome,” Peter says, giving me a sideways look. “No one wishes to anger them.”
“Well, talk such as that, of casting a young lass into the forest to freeze to death, will not please them for sure!” Mistress June adds, impassioned now. “On their terms, that is how the wolf tithe works. Aside from which, Nina, you just said as they will need the mating approved—”
“June,” Mistress Nina warns.
Mistress June snaps her mouth shut.
“Approved?” I ask.
Mistress Nina grimaces. “The pack leader will need to approve any such claiming. Decide whether he deems it a fitting tribute for the pack’s protection of the town.
He may make the wolves who desire you wait or prove themselves in some way.
He may… give you to other wolves within the pack if he considers them more worthy. ”
My eyes grow wide. June and Peter are listening with undisguised interest. It would seem that being claimed is rare enough to draw everyone’s attention.
This talk of being passed off to a different wolf—or wolves—is deeply unsettling.
I remember the two wolves that saved me in the square; there are three sets of marks on my door.
That suggests a triad, which Mistress Nina has indicated is the most common configuration.
And already I am sure they are mine, and I theirs.
My throat pulses hot as I think of the black wolf with the silver flashes through his fur.
The one who marked me.
“The mark is made,” Mistress June says, into the silence, while looking at my throat.
My hand flies there, covering it. There was nothing there this morning when I brushed my hair in the mirror.
“It is changing,” Mistress Nina says. “Come, Evanthe. Let us get home out of this biting wind.”
With a nod to Peter and June, we head straight back to the house.
“I don’t want a different wolf,” I blurt out. I have been in denial, but today has moved me beyond that, into acceptance. “The people talk like they are monsters, but I don’t believe that.”
“My dear,” Mistress Nina says gently, as we arrive at her shop door, “Wolves are laws unto themselves. But you are connected to the one who marked you—and, through him, the other two of his triad. If the pack leader does not honor their request, he will likely have a fight on his hands.”
This is all so much to take in. My eyes drop to the cobbled street and then drift to my door and the marks. “Goddess,” I say. Once faint scores, they now glow with an otherworldly force. “What does that mean?”
“Let’s talk inside, lass.” She opens the door to the shop, holding it for me to enter behind her.
As soon as we’re both inside, she bolts the front door and pulls all the shutters down firmly.
I go up to my room and put my coat away, taking out the book, and putting it on my nightstand… right beside the charm. If I’d been wearing it, maybe none of this would be happening. Or would someone else be the wolf tithe?
The days are short at this time of year, and dusk is already falling over the land.
My gaze shifts to the tiny window. Outside, the wind rises, rattling the frame and sending the scent of fresh pine whistling through the cracks.
Not only pine—underneath it is a darker, more elusive scent.
For a heartbeat, I swear I hear his purr, just as it was when I sheltered beneath the tree.
A distant howl brings a quickening to my heartbeat.
I’m standing in the forest.
Slivers of moonlight pierce the bare branches. My feet are bare, but I feel no cold. The air vibrates with a low, rumbling purr and carries the scent of pine needles, fresh moss, soil—and forbidden musk.
He is there.
The black wolf approaches between the trees, lethal and silent, his coat shimmering, his breath making a cloud in the frosty air.
He circles me, paws almost silent, until he is once more before me, blue eyes bright against his midnight coat.
Mine.
Heat blooms along my throat where he licked. It is like I can feel him touching me there again.
Throb.
The heat travels lower, reaching my nipples, making them peak.
Throb.
It moves lower still, settling deep in my core.
Throb.
I ache inside my pussy, a terrible emptiness that demands to be filled.
Throb.
Two more shapes emerge, indistinct—little more than impressions.
Ours.
“Dinner is ready!” Mistress Nina calls.
The forest dissolves, and I am once more in my room, breath labored and heart hammering in my chest.
“I’m coming,” I call. Subconsciously, my fingers go to my throat.
I still. It feels different. I go to the small vanity and pick up the hand mirror… and gasp.
Three thin blue lines mark my skin like a tattoo or a birthmark. They closely resemble the claw marks on my door.
I put the mirror down with a clatter.
There is no escaping this.
This is real.
They are coming…