Chapter Two
“You don't have a soul. You are a Soul. You have a body.”
—C. S. Lewis
It had been months since Ben and Ere established the military strongholds at strategic locations throughout the Yukon territories to protect the place that had become their home, as well as a refuge for Beasts of land, air and sea.
And, of course, dragons.
Thus far, there had been no signs of trouble. Not even a hint. But Ben and Ere knew from experience that they must always keep up their vigilance.
Meanwhile, they all lived their lives as if enemy shadow assassins and dragons weren’t lurking around every corner, like demons from nightmares that could claw their way at any moment into reality. The folk of the Yukon valley didn’t know any better, going about their daily routines.
Most of the residents in these parts kept to themselves. It was one of the reasons they settled here—the peace, isolation and anonymity. There was a mix of people, from those who lived off the land and embraced nature for generations, and those who came from far and wide to escape their old lives and start anew.
For Ben’s extended family, the Beasts and the dragons, this was simply their chosen home.
Other Kinds of Immortals preferred different surroundings. The Dark Ones were known for their lavishness and luxury. They typically established their modern Hives in bustling city centers, hiding in plain sight.
New York City. London. Shanghai. Mexico City. Buenos Aires. Sydney… “Vampires” were everywhere, and humans never knew, though their suppressed subconscious was well aware.
Well, “hiding” was not quite the right word. Many Dark Ones actually flaunted their existence, steeped in money, sex and power. They were creatures of the night. It was when they truly came alive.
Ramses was the one and only Dark King across the history of the race. Along with his most important ally, Jade Cicada, they ruled North America and, through a web of alliances, the world, with fairness and fear.
Fair, because they treated all Kinds equally and instituted Dark laws that prohibited the naturally aggressive predators from taking advantage of humans and Pure Ones, whom they used to enslave. Fear, because if any “vampire” transgressed, punishment was swift and deadly, and sometimes drawn out torturously to send a message to others who had even an inkling to perpetrate similar crimes.
Pure Ones also lived in cities, for many of them used to be human, though they might live in more suburban areas or smaller cities away from the glittering centers. Queen Sophia’s base was collocated in NYC, along with King Ramses. The better to keep tabs on their once mortal enemies.
Now, there was mutual respect between them, not the least due to Ramses taking a Pure Consort and Mate in Eveline Marceau, the Pure Ones’ Seer and Scribe, and Jade also taking a Pure Consort and Mate in Seth Tremaine, the Pure Ones’ Consul.
There was good reason why empires of old forged and strengthened alliances through marriage. Except in Ramses and Jade’s case, they chose it. Theirs were true love matches, which was why these powerful rulers had deep empathy for the people Dark Ones once oppressed. It also helped that both Ramses and Jade used to be Pure themselves.
Beasts and dragons, however, preferred rugged, untamed spaces where nature remained relatively untouched. Lesser Beasts, whose base form was human instead of animal, enjoyed city life. But as long as their animal spirits were strong, they always felt drawn to the wilderness where they could run, swim and fly as freely as they once did, before the advancement of human civilization.
This was why the Yukon Territories was such a perfect base for animal spirits to gather and flourish.
Twenty years ago, Ere and his phoenix Mate, Sorin, successfully defended these mountains, lakes and valleys from the Hydra’s attack. They would do so again, with their dragon contingent and Goya’s Beasts, whatever might come.
“I see Tal-Telal invited his protégé,” Ben’s “uncle” Ere said as he sat beside him on the picnic bench, munching on a crisp apple, an appetizer before the main course of assorted barbecued meats and vegetables.
He narrowed his glittering blue-green eyes, almost an exact replica of his sire’s, Ben’s grandfather’s. It was a distinct feature all three males shared, except that Tal was blind.
“There’s something off about Michael,” Ere mused.
“I can’t figure him out. He seems to know about us Immortals, but I don’t know how much he knows. The only thing preventing me from torturing intel out of him is that the General seems unperturbed by his knowledge.”
Ben thought the same. If Tal trusted a person, or at least wasn’t worried about them, it went a long way to ease their suspicions. At least, they could count on the fact that Michael wasn’t a danger to their Kind, or to the humans they protected. Despite, or because of, his blindness, Tal saw things with more clarity than all the rest of them.
As for Ben, who possessed the Gift of seeing people’s true forms, Michael was who he appeared to be. Ben could see no illusion within or superimposed on top of Michael’s physical self.
He seemed to be an ordinary human.
Ben and Ere surveyed the gathering casually, sitting together at the picnic table. To the untrained eye, they looked like exact opposites.
Ben was a golden blond with a perpetual golden tan no matter the weather, while Ere was dark-haired and luminescent pale. Though they shared similar height, one was broad and leanly muscular, while the other was simply lean. Even willowy. One was fundamentally masculine in the cut of his features and the angles of his body, and the other was exquisitely beautiful, prettier than the prettiest female.
But their eyes were the same, even if the shapes weren’t exactly. Most importantly, they both shone with a light from within, just like Tal-Telal.
Tal was standing slightly apart from the gathering with Michael. The two men didn’t converse much, but seemed perfectly at ease with one another, occasionally making a remark about something Ben and Ere couldn’t make out.
They definitely looked like mentor and protégé, with a body language that said they were comfortable in each other’s presence, and with Michael naturally leaning toward Tal like a young sapling seeking the shaded protection of a larger oak.
Tal looked older than most Immortals, between late thirties and early forties in human age, because of the horrific torture across thousands of years that he’d had to endure. His body was mapped with scars; his face, etched with the unforgettable agony of them. His once bright, pale blond hair was now steely gray, brittle and hard looking, and always shaven close to his head.
And he remained blind, even though his other wounds had fully healed decades ago.
Despite that, or perhaps because of it, he cut an imposing figure of unfathomable strength and stalwartness, every bone and sinew seemingly indestructible, protected by muscles that appeared to be tougher than reinforced steel.
Meanwhile, Michael was slightly built, with a soft belly, the sort people with sedentary jobs had. He was average height with average looks and an un-stubbled jaw that made his age difficult to discern. He could be anywhere from twenty to thirty.
It was rare that Tal voluntarily sought out people who were not within his immediate circle of family and friends, given his past and his aversion to touch. But Michael stood next to him, the young man’s shoulder grazing Tal’s arm, and Tal didn’t move away.
Which was why both Ben and Ere took note.
“Some humans have a sixth sense about the supernatural,” Ben offered as an explanation to Ere’s earlier puzzle.
“Maybe Michael is one of the rare ones. He seems to keep his thoughts to himself. Tal’s not worried about him oversharing.”
“I’m not worried about that either,” Ere said. “He looks like a guy with his own secrets to keep. It’s those secrets that intrigue and worry me. I wonder what he’s hiding.”
“You can sense all that by looking at a person?” Ben queried with a raised eyebrow, glancing at his “uncle.”
“My dear boy, it’s one of my particular gifts, if I do say so myself,” Ere murmured with a hint of pride, if not boastfulness.
“After millennia of scheming and plotting, dissecting people and their intentions so that I can always stay ten steps ahead, I can sniff out aberrations a mile away.”
“What about Michael has tingled your spidey senses?” Ben asked, quirking his lips.
Ere started ticking off his fingers as he assessed.
“First, we know near to nothing about him. He just appeared in Tal-Telal’s workshop one day and became a constant fixture. But we only ever see him there on the weekends, very rarely during any other time around town. Don’t you think that’s strange?”
“I guess he likes to keep to himself,” Ben shrugged.
Many people who lived in the Yukon chose to live here so they could keep to themselves.
“Two, when and why did he suddenly appear? We don’t know where he lives, who his people are, what he does besides apprenticing at the shop. He’s as forgettable as they come, except that look in his eyes.”
Ere narrowed his own in calculation.
“Like he knows things. As if he can see right into you and know your deepest darkest thoughts.”
“Really?” Ben quipped. “He’s looked into you, Ere? I’m shocked he hasn’t run screaming from these mountains yet.”
Ere ignored him.
“Three, he clearly knows about us—or Immortals in general. How? The cloaking powers of dragons and some of the Beasts should have affected him like all the other humans. Even if he sensed the supernatural, he shouldn’t retain the knowledge. And why does he keep our secret if he knows? Why does Tal seem to trust him? I certainly don’t.”
“You don’t trust any strangers,” Ben said.
“Just so,” Ere agreed readily. “It’s why my enemies never get the better of me.”
“You assume everyone is trying to get the better of you,” Ben pointed out.
“And you, my padawan, assume everyone is innately good,” Ere shot back without heat or rancor.
Ben didn’t disagree.
“I think even so-called villains have reasons for what they do. I don’t think there are inherently evil souls. Just circumstances that shape us.”
At this, Ere turned to him with disbelief clearly written on his face.
“Can you say that about Medusa? After everything she did?”
Ben knew enough about Medusa from the stories he was told as he grew older. She had been the Pure and Dark Ones’ nemesis for many millennia. She used to be a Dark Princess during the Age of Dark Ones.
In fact, she was Ishtar’s fraternal twin, and Tal’s torturer. She’d also enslaved Ere as her henchman, and called him the Creature, a thing she used to achieve nefarious ends.
Ben himself had only experienced Medusa’s machinations second or third hand as a child. But the stories were horrific. And the lasting physical reminder of the depths of her depravity was written all over Tal’s scarred body.
And even more indelibly in his psyche.
“I suppose she is truly evil,” Ben murmured. “But perhaps she hadn’t been born that way.”
Ere’s almost feral growl said without words that he didn’t give a fuck. Evil was evil. And dead was dead, after Tal ultimately and righteously ended her existence execution style.
“And Guinevere?” Ere reminded him. “I don’t care what the bitch’s motivations were, nothing can excuse what she did to Merlin, Arthur and Lancelot.”
“I’m not saying there are excuses for evil,” Ben argued slowly, his brows pulling together as he gathered his thoughts.
“I believe in justice and redemption. If a person can’t change, nor wants to change, and continues to perpetrate evil deeds, then I’ll be the first in line to serve them justice.”
He turned to his friend, “uncle,” and biological sire with what Ere liked to call his “soul-searing look.”
“But you, of all people, Ere, know that change is possible. Perpetrating evil deeds doesn’t always make the perpetrator inherently and irrevocably evil. I believe there’s good and evil in everyone. And circumstances make us choose what parts of us to bring out.”
Ere deflated slightly with a droop of his shoulders.
“It’s impossible to argue with you,” he muttered. “You always win.”
Ben turned back to face the gathering, knocking his shoulder affectionately against Ere’s.
“I’m just saying—even when we know war is brewing, and enemies may come at us from anywhere at any time, we don’t have to view everything and everyone with distrust. I always trust my gut. And I have absolute faith in Tal. If he approves of Michael, or at least doesn’t seem to guard against him, then that’s good enough for me.”
“For all we know, the General is keeping his friends close and his enemies closer,” Ere muttered, still skeptical about his sire’s protégé.
“Could be,” Ben allowed. “I think I’ll go properly introduce myself. Get to know him a little better.”
He winked at Ere as he got up from the bench.
“For reconnaissance, if nothing else.”
Ere grunted noncommittally and folded his arms, crunching on another large bite of apple.
As Ben left, Sorin took his vacant seat next to Ere, and Ere immediately leaned into his Mate’s side, his whole body practically sighing with pleasure.
Ben couldn’t help the slight hitch in his step as he witnessed True Love in action.
That was what he wanted. Why he’d never settle for less.
Michael didn’t look his way as Ben approached, but he noticed from the young man’s almost indiscernible shift in stance that he could sense him, just as there was a strange fission of awareness that Ben felt for the other man.
“Uncle Tal,” Ben greeted his biological grandfather, then nodded toward the guest.
“Michael.”
The other man jerked an awkward half nod back, as if he was trying to look nonchalant and cool but his body had other ideas. He gaze didn’t meet Ben’s fully, just skittering in his general direction before settling back on the gathering at large in that lazy, uninterested way of his.
“I’ll see if Mama Bear needs help with the vegetables,” Tal murmured with an affectionate clap on Ben’s shoulder, before silently moving away.
As if he purposely planned to leave Ben alone with Michael. Or, more likely, he’d had enough of “company” for the time being and missed the comfort of loved ones. The unconditional welcome and love of his Mate in particular.
Ben stood next to Michael where Tal used to be, with his hands in his pockets. As non-threatening as possible.
Even so, Michael tensed beside him, his entire body strung tight as a bow, as if in anticipation of someone—Ben—strumming him and setting off a slew of deadly arrows into the unsuspecting crowd gathered around the homestead.
For some moments, Ben searched around for something to say. He didn’t usually get tongue-tied with people. He could engage anyone on any sort of topic. Ere frequently accused him of being a walking encyclopedia. He was a bottomless reservoir of trivia and fluent in the language of small talk.
Yet, since his first extended exchange with Michael many months back, he’d always been strangely speechless around the man. They saw plenty of each other since Michael spent more time at Tal’s woodshop on the weekends, and sometimes even during the weekdays. And unless Ben was traveling for academic conferences or “missions,” they often bumped into each other.
But they never really bantered again. Not since, with a few pointed words, Michael had made Ben’s body flush with a strange sort of awareness. The confounded color and heat lasted hours. Even after Michael left, Ben’s family noticed and teased.
Later that day, when Ben was alone, back at his own cabin, he’d masturbated in the bed, in the shower, on the couch…pretty much nonstop until he finally passed out from exhaustion. His body had been emptied of fluids, and yet his hands still tugged on his undying erection, squeezing almost painfully his swollen balls. Because his body simply wouldn’t stand down.
And when he dreamed at night, he dreamed of bodies rutting.
His body.
Their body.
A faceless entity that was both man and woman. The gender didn’t matter. It was how they made him feel.
Tangled together. Inside each other. Covered with sweat and steeped in sex. Every time he thrust and felt the convulsing clutch of that hot, wet, sinfully tight glove, he felt a burning steel rod move within his own channel, lighting up his prostate.
As if he was fucking himself.
Endlessly.
And when he opened his mouth to scream with equal measures frustration and euphoria, his mouth was filled with the taste of honeyed dew and salty cream. Suffocated with slick, swollen lips and stuffed full of pulsing cock.
It had been the most rapturous hell he’d ever endured. And it seemed like years before he finally blinked open gunk-caked eyes and rolled out of bed, flopping bonelessly onto his cabin floor.
Since that day, he’d avoided Michael whenever the other man came into view. His fit of sexual insanity probably had nothing to do with the man, but Ben wasn’t one to gamble.
However, Ere was right.
Ben trusted both Tal and Ere implicitly. Tal seemed fine with Michael, but Ere was suspicious. And although Ben always gave people the benefit of the doubt, he would be remiss if he didn’t keep an eye on Michael and seize the opportunity to get to know him better.
As much as the other man allowed, in any case.
“Glad you could come out,” Ben said quietly, a harmless opening.
Michael hummed noncommittally, turning his head slightly away to look at something else, giving Ben a view of the back of his ear.
At this rate, Ben thought this get-to-know would be over before it started.
But, then, Michael angled his jaw toward Ben without looking at him and said begrudgingly, as if he was forcing himself to engage in conversation, however stilted—
“It’s free food.”
Ben nodded.
“The best, if Mama Bear is cooking.”
“Yeah,” Michael agreed, this time wholeheartedly.
Ben glanced at his profile, wondering where to go next.
“Do you like to cook, Michael?”
The dark-haired man slid a suspicious look his way.
“If it’s that or going hungry, I’ll cook. Wanna ask me where I do my cooking next? Need a street number and zip code?”
Ben shook his head at the other man’s defensiveness.
“Just making small talk, friend,” he said easily.
They were silent for a few beats, simply taking in their surroundings.
The cookout was in full swing. Quite a few of Goya’s Beasts were in attendance, as well as the employees of Drink of Me, in addition to Ben’s extended family and their Mates. They were joined by two warriors sent by King Ramses—Maximus, Ramses’ Commander and Goya’s son, and his panther Mate, Ariel.
The other Immortal leaders stayed at their designated fortresses on the northern and southern coasts. Ben had no doubt they held gatherings of their own to celebrate togetherness, and just loosen up and have some fun.
Tomorrow, he planned to travel north toward the Beaufort Sea to visit Sai and Brigid and the other dragon and Beast warriors. It had been months since he last saw them. While all three strongholds shared information frequently, nothing replaced seeing in person.
“I’m not your friend,” Michael muttered, his voice almost too low for Ben to hear.
Louder, he added, “You’ve been avoiding me.”
He looked up at Ben through his lashes, a sly glint in his eyes.
“Ever since I made you blush.”
Helplessly, Ben felt his neck heat yet again, burning toward the tips of his ears. He seemed to do this only around Michael, and it was confounding as hell.
Ben rocked a little on his heels, a nervous energy shooting through his body like a sudden electric shock. He looked full on at Michael, and surprisingly, the other man was looking back at him, his stare unblinkingly intense.
Ben held that stare just to make a point. He didn’t know what game Michael was playing, but he wasn’t backing down this time.
Except, the longer he stared, the hotter he burned. Until his entire body began to itch, as if he was suffering from a heat rash. Absently, he scratched at his biceps through the soft cotton of his Henley.
Everything felt hypersensitive, and his breath was coming in short bursts, as if he couldn’t get enough air in his lungs.
A secretive smile slowly unfurled across Michael’s lips as he stared, never moving his eyes from Ben’s.
“You’re blushing again,” he observed casually, though the glint in his eyes could only be called triumphant.
Ben looked away first.
It was that or pop a boner.
Because the heat simmering beneath his skin simmered there most of all. Filling his stones, cock and ass with broiling blood, making him swell uncomfortably behind the zipper of his jeans.
“You shouldn’t stare at people like that,” Ben rasped, an animalistic growl vibrating in his low voice. He looked anywhere but at the man beside him.
The nonchalance from Michael’s demeanor had completely disappeared by now. He was standing closer to Ben too, his arm brushing against Ben’s.
“Like what?” he asked, as if he didn’t know.
The devil.
“Like you’re plumbing the depths of their soul,” Ben bit out, growing increasingly agitated, though he didn’t know why.
“Why not?” Michael batted back.
“What’s more interesting than seeing into a person’s soul? All the complicated and simple beauty and ugliness in the universe can be found there. It’s my favorite thing to do.”
A distant part of Ben couldn’t believe they were having this strange minefield of a conversation. It was surreal. And yet, he was so into it, he didn’t want it to end. Even if he imploded from sexual frustration.
He met Michael’s gaze once more, his own stare equally intense.
Probing.
“And if someone did the same to you? How would you feel?”
Michael shrugged.
“They can try. Not sure what they’d find. Probably just a quagmire of mud and debris. Maybe an old shoe buried way down in there if they look hard enough.”
Ben forgot his own inexplicable embarrassment for a moment and really studied the man.
Michael looked steadily back at him, still unblinking.
Unlike Sophia, Ben couldn’t see the colors of a person’s soul. But he could “see” their emotions. He could feel the resonance of their desires and experiences.
But in Michael, he saw nothing. The man was completely opaque.
“Who are you?” Ben murmured.
He had to fist his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching for the man. To hold Michael’s face between his palms and stare even deeper. Maybe rest his forehead on Michael’s and simply breathe him in.
What the ever-loving fuck?
“Trust me,” Michael replied, finally ending their staring match, looking away.
“You don’t really want to know.”
~ * ~* ~ *~ * ~* ~ *~ * ~
Only five minutes passed since Ben came to stand beside him. Michael had a good sense of human time now, though he didn’t wear a watch and didn’t have a smart phone.
Well, Eve had one. A second-hand device Mike gave her. But Michael and Ruth didn’t carry it. It would be strange if all three of Seven’s unrelated personas shared the same phone.
Despite that, Michael knew very little time had passed since Ben came into his orbit—like a juicy fly sticking in a spider’s web.
But it felt a lot longer.
For those three hundred seconds or so, Michael felt as if he’d been transported back to the Celestial Realm where time didn’t have meaning. He could lose all sense of place and time, all sense of self, staring into Ben’s brilliant aquamarine eyes.
There was so much light in them. A mesmerizing array of glittering fractals that seemed to harness the heat of the sun even in shade and darkness.
But what lay within Ben, beyond the translucent windows of his eyes, was even more fascinating. It was like staring at the swirling cosmos beyond the clear dome in the Celestial Palace. An entire universe was burgeoning within him, comprised of infinite possibilities.
The shape and depth of his soul couldn’t be pinned down. There were no boundaries. No constraints.
Staring into Ben’s eyes, Michael felt free.
In ways he’d never felt before in the whole of his existence, as Seven and countless other incarnations. It made him excited. Made him greedy and impatient for more, more, more.
And because that desire was so strong, he could see it affecting Ben as well. There was an inexplicable chemistry between them. It wasn’t exactly physical, though there were clear physical effects. Ben’s full-bodied flush was evidence of it. And Michael himself wasn’t immune either.
He turned slightly away to adjust his junk in the loose trousers he wore. It was humiliating how little control he had over his own body. And being in this male form at the moment didn’t help.
Thankfully, they were saved from a prolonged awkward silence by the approach of a particularly curvaceous female with honey blond hair. She moved with the gracefulness of felines, and there was an energy about her that Michael could tell right away what she was: a Beast. Probably a Lesser Beast whose base form was human instead of animal.
“Hi, Ben,” she greeted with a wide, toothsome grin, showcasing two longish incisors. Playfully, she tucked a long strand of hair behind her ear and peered up at Ben through thick, curly lashes.
“Hi, Aimee,” Ben replied with his own friendly, but not-too-friendly smile.
She didn’t even look in Michael’s direction, which he took in stride.
Because, come on. If a magnificent mortal god was standing right there, he wouldn’t look at himself either.
She stepped right up to Ben, her round boobs thrust toward Ben’s torso, perky butt thrust in the opposite direction in an exaggerated S. She was tall for a female, but still at least a head shorter than Ben.
Michael wondered if she was in danger of toppling over with the way she was leaning so far forward. Maybe she was hoping Ben would catch her if she took a tumble. Squash those squeezable melons right against the rock-hard planes of his pecs.
Diabolical female.
“Will you come to the training grounds tomorrow?” she asked eagerly. “I was hoping to spar with you.”
Yeah, Michael thought. I’ll bet you want to “spar” with him.
Naked.
His black, narrow-eyed stare willed her to go away, but alas, she still didn’t look at him. Likely didn’t even know he existed.
“I’m actually taking a trip to the coast tomorrow,” Ben said readily, that friendly smile still gracing his lips.
“Maybe some other time.”
“Oh! Maybe I can come with you,” the hussy invited herself, leaning farther forward on her tiptoes, necessitating Ben to lean back slightly to maintain a decent distance.
A strange growl rumbled in the nearby vicinity, making both Ben and the hussy blink with momentary confusion. When Michael realized he was the one emitting the noise, he cut it off immediately.
It wasn’t as if he was territorial or anything. Just annoyed by the blonde’s shameless overtures.
“Actually…” Ben floundered for a moment, clearly looking for another excuse, his slightly panicked eyes betraying the fact that he hadn’t anticipated her persistence.
“…I’m going with him,” Michael supplied smoothly, stepping between the buxom blonde and Ben with enough forcefulness that she had to step back.
It took some doing, and Michael had to put his back into it. She was a solid female, not only curvy but also muscular. She probably didn’t weigh much less than him (after all, muscles weighed more than flab), and she was far stronger.
Nevertheless, he was motivated.
“It’s a guys’ trip,” he added for good measure, stretching up to wrap an arm around Ben’s shoulder like the way he’d seen some men do when they were buddies.
Ben didn’t say anything, but Michael could sense his gaze on the side of his face. He could practically feel the question marks shooting from Ben’s eyes.
“Oh…” Aimee said, finally settling back on her heels instead of invading Ben’s personal space.
Michael was probably invading that space himself, but at least he didn’t do it because he wanted to jump Ben’s bones.
(Or so he told himself).
He was simply cutting short a distressing display of throwing oneself at an uninterested party’s feet. Really, Goya should keep his animals on a tighter leash.
Speaking of whom, the Tiger King himself joined their group just then.
Aimee, please help make sure everyone has enough to drink. I think another trip to the store might be required.
Humans wouldn’t have been able to hear what he said telepathically to the female, but Michael could. He wasn’t entirely sure if it was some remnant of magic he still retained or because of his…connection, however tenuous now, to Goya in particular.
Whatever the female saw in her alpha’s eyes made her duck her head like a chastised child. She murmured goodbyes and bounced away (yes, bounced, because the round parts of her jiggled most attractively, even Michael had to admit).
“Aimee is…” Goya started to address Ben, then flicked a glance at Michael and revised whatever he was going to say.
“…the type of woman who goes directly after what she wants. She’s used to pursuing males who catch her interest. She’s what some might call…a lioness.”
“I appreciate that,” Ben said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.
“I’d avoid sparring with her, if I were you,” Goya continued. “Unless you’re certain of winning. To females like her, if she defeats you in a tussle, she gets to take you home and…”
The tiger shrugged eloquently, letting Ben decipher the rest.
“Got it,” Ben murmured. “Thanks for the head’s up.”
“Probably won’t be the last time she tries with you,” Goya warned with a quirk of his lips.
Ben’s slight wince said that it also wasn’t the first time.
He caught himself quickly and gestured to Michael.
“Have you met? Michael, this is Goya. He leads the village militia and resides at the base of Mount Wilson with his…extended family and friends. Goya, this is Tal’s apprentice. Michael has been helping a lot at the woodshop.”
The tiger Beast didn’t extend his hand for shaking like the average human. He simply inclined his head regally at Michael like the King of Beasts he was, and pinned him with that icy blue stare.
Michael mirrored his action and stared back.
Goya.
He looked so much like his sire, even in human form. His own son, Maximus, looked like Goya in turn.
Something sharp panged in the vicinity of Michael’s chest. An unpleasant twist of his innards that made him blanche.
He thought he’d buried those millennia-old memories. Filed away their sharp edges with time and compiled experience.
And yet…
If there was one thing that rivaled the pain of losing his Twin, it was losing his constant companion…
Byakko.