Chapter 8
Rowen
I paced the shelter, back and forth, back and forth.
Wolfe suspected the same thing that I did, that there was someone feeding information to those who were attacking us. I just didn’t know, would never think, that he would suspect me.
I was his mate.
His destined mate. Even if I wasn’t…why would he think I would ever hurt my pack or him?
Because you already hurt him.
I didn’t like the reminder. It was my subconscious talking, but I didn’t need to hear it. I carried it with me every day. I hadn’t even realized how much I carried it until I looked into his eyes again, and all I could think was home.
And now…now he didn’t trust me enough to tell me that he thought there was a traitor in my pack, and worse, that he thought it was me.
I looked up at the ceiling; despite being unfamiliar with this place, I had a sense of it deep in my bones.
I could smell his scent here. I could almost feel him here.
While I was still mad at him, furious with him if I was honest, he’d still sent me away.
Killian said for my protection, but I knew it was to ensure that I wasn’t there when—not if, when—another attack happened, and to see if it was any different from when I was there.
If this were a role reversal, it’s what I’d do to him.
Knowing that didn’t make it any better.
How long before they knew? How long would he keep me here while he, Brand, Axel, and Diesel changed my pack?
Oh my Goddess, Luna, what the hell was the druid going to do when Diesel walked into the Hollow?
The male was intimidating, but if he had old magic tied to him, the druid was not going to take kindly to another magic user on their land or in their home.
I wrenched the door open and saw the place was still empty. Of course it was. Why would they need to keep an eye on me if I couldn’t leave?
I’d only ever heard of these old tales of magic when I was a child. It’s how I knew the term legacy spell, but how the heck was Diesel not an alpha? And how in the hell did the Pack Council not know Stonefang Pack was still using blood magic like this?
Blood magic to tie someone to a territory…that was a long-dead practice. Or so I thought. One thing at a time. I could deal with this issue when the time arose; right now, I needed to find my mate’s beta.
There was no sign of life in any of the houses that I passed. I knew the pack here called them shelters, but they seemed to be their homes, though I wondered if they were allocated permanently to the same shifter or if it was on a first-come-first-served basis.
I followed the path down to the training field, but it was empty. Scanning the houses nearby showed no sign of life in them either.
Well, they couldn’t leave me here, so I decided to start knocking until I found Killian.
He was in the fifth house; the occupants of the other four were still in their doorways, watching me.
“How?” he asked me with a sigh, no longer bothering to hide his animosity towards me. “How are you even more fucking irritating here than you were back there?”
“I’m naturally talented,” I snapped at him as I pushed past him and into what I assumed was his home, but I stopped when I saw an old female shifter with loose, messy gray hair, sitting in a rocking chair, with an even older male shifter holding a wooden cane beside her in his. “Um…”
This shelter was different. There was a bed where a sofa would be, and I saw that the mezzanine, or sleeping quarter, as Killian called it, was filled with trunks. It didn’t look safe, and I doubted the platform could take much more weight.
“I scent Wolfe,” the old male grumbled, bringing my attention back to the old couple. “Is Wolfe home?”
Killian glared at me as he closed the door behind me. “No, Grandfather,” he said gently. “This is Wolfe’s mate, Rowen.”
The old male looked up at me, but I saw with a pang of sadness that his sight was gone, and unlike the shaman, I knew this old male saw nothing when he looked towards me.
“Hello,” I greeted them both softly. “I’m Rowen of Blueridge Hollow.”
“Of Stonefang now,” the old man said, thumping the cane on the floor, which caused me to jump as the wood reverberated beneath my feet. He may not be able to see, but he was still strong. “You’re our alpha’s now.”
I swallowed my words when Killian glared at me so fiercely that I knew he’d likely kill me if I corrected his grandfather. “Yes,” I said with a sickly sweet smile at Killian. “I am your alpha’s mate, and that means I am of Stonefang Pack too, now.”
Killian’s glare was so narrow I would be surprised if the grumpy bastard could see me at all.
“Has he treated you right?” the female asked, and I assumed she was Killian’s grandmother.
“Killian?” I asked, and I pretended I didn’t see the way he crossed his massive arms across his chest.
The old woman cackled, and I noticed she was also of poor sight, but she could still see me. “Not Killian,” she said, leaning forward. “He’s a good boy. I meant that brute Wolfe. Did he treat you right in the marital bed?”
“I…” It wasn’t just the fact that Killian was very much not a boy—and not, as far as I’d seen, someone anyone would describe as good—that threw me. It was the stranger asking about my sex life like we were old friends. I blinked, completely confused. “Um…”
“He’s not sealed the deal,” the old man said knowingly. “His scent is on her, but she isn’t marked, still smells too free. Why are you here? Where is Wolfe? Why aren’t you in his bed?”
“I thought this pack was modern?” I accused Killian, who was now openly grinning at my discomfort.
“We are,” he told me, pulling out a mobile phone tauntingly. “The Grumps are just too old to change.”
The Grumps? Suited them.
“Not too old for manners though,” I said loudly enough to be heard. “Old age does not give you the right to be crass, either of you.” I tutted.
Both of them laughed, not in the slightest bit bothered that I was scolding them.
“Come sit,” the old man gestured to the table. “I’m Grandfather, this is Grandmother.”
I looked at Killian in question as I took a seat, and he nodded as if to say, yes, that’s their names.
“Are you Killian’s grandparents?” I asked cautiously.
Grandmother cackled again, and I recalled my mother telling me a human story once about a witch who lived in a house made of candy to lure human children inside so she could cook them and eat them.
In her rocking chair, with gray hair and that cackle, Grandmother met my expectations perfectly of the witch in that tale.
“Killian’s, Cody’s, Gwen’s—you pick.”
Killian sat down on the edge of the bed. “The Grumps have been part of the pack since anyone can remember,” he said with a fond smile at them both.
“You’re druids?” I asked doubtfully.
“Bah.” Grandfather scowled. “Charlatans. That’s what druids are. Nothing but hot air and tricks.” He shook his head. “We’re just shifters. Plain and simple.”
I looked at Killian, my eyes wide in question, and he shrugged. “They’re the pack’s grandparents.”
Because that wasn’t a sentence that needed dissecting at all.
“Anyway,” Killian said to me. “What did you want?”
“Your phone,” I said, pointing to his pocket. “I want to talk to Wolfe.”
“You should call him Alpha Wolfe,” Grandfather corrected me.
“I should do a lot of things when it comes to my mate.” I held my gaze steady on Killian. “May I use your phone?”
“No.”
I blinked in surprise. “Why?”
“He said you would ask, and he said to tell you no until you’ve calmed down and talked to me and Cody.”
“I’m perfectly calm. I want to talk to Wolfe first.”
Killian was immovable. I let out a sigh of frustration and turned to look at the door. When I turned back, Grandmother had moved and was in my face. I yelped in surprise. “What the fuck are you doing?” I gasped as I leaned back.
She sniffed me.
“You smell odd.”
“You smell like death,” I snapped back, “but do you see me acting all weird and creepy?” I shoved the seat back and stood. “This place is batshit crazy. Killian, tell me how to get out of here, or let me call him. I want to go home.”
“You are home,” Grandfather reminded me. “We’re not batshit, you just smell wrong.” He gestured to Killian. “Killian, boy, did you search her? She’s got something foul on her.”
I was on my feet. “I’m leaving.”
I left to the sound of a pair of old shifters who should be long dead—sorry, Luna—arguing over what I smelled like.
Soap perhaps? And then I felt guilty for disrespecting my elders.
“They don’t mean any harm.”
I jumped in surprise when Killian spoke beside me. “Why are you all so fucking creepy?” I looked over my shoulder. “And they are insane. You know that, right?”
He didn’t say anything for a while, as I marched determinedly back up the hill, a lot steeper on the incline than I thought, and Killian kept an easy pace beside me.
“My mother died in childbirth,” Killian said suddenly. “Dad was already dead. Lightning hit a tree when he was out hunting. The storm was so loud he never heard it fall until it was crushing him.”
I looked at him, but he was expressionless; nevertheless, my steps slowed.
“There was an uncle, a worthless bastard, who wanted nothing to do with me. The Grumps took me in. They were like you see them now. Ancient. Old. Withered. Sharp as the smell of winter before the first snowfall. One couldn’t see, the other almost as bad, yet they fed me, changed me, raised me, taught me everything about who and what I am. ”
“They’re your family,” I said with understanding. “It explains a lot.”
Killian grinned. “They’re also hundreds of years old; they have to be. No one knows of a time when they weren’t…that. Isn’t that amazing?”
“They’re…” I stopped. What they were or weren’t wasn’t my issue. “He thinks I’m a traitor, Killian. He thinks I want to hurt my pack, hurt him, why?”
“Well, you’ve not been easy on him, Rowen.”