Chapter 6
VESSA
Aurora’s Belt is a secluded region I've never had desire to step foot on. Mountains shrouded by perpetual rainclouds that look upon an uninviting black ocean. At least that was my father’s account.
As I regard Axe on the flight deck, there’s an unmistakable warmth he exudes, beyond the sun-kissed skin and hair.
I almost laugh. Those are usually trademarks of beautiful people who reside along the beaches of Montrose.
The place I’d always hoped to end up, back when my dreams couldn’t get any bigger.
Back when the stars were finally aligning, when I felt so close, I could reach out and grab them.
The universe had other plans, I remind myself as I grip Axe's hand and slide into the back seat of the small charter plane. Beneath my grip, his arm goes rigid as that subliminal current flutters between us.
A handsome dark-skinned pilot in his mid-thirties shifts in the cramped cockpit. He hands me a wool blanket, which I wrap around myself to help slow the chattering of my teeth. I jolt in my seat as the engine of the plane kickstarts abruptly, swearing under my breath.
Thankfully, a water jug is within my reach.
The merciless drumming against my skull still hasn’t let up.
In the copilot’s seat, Axe powers off his phone and stows it in a compartment rubbing up against his knees.
He then hands me a set of headphones to wear and tugs on his own, adjusting the mic piece.
I turn the dial on the outside to tune into their audio stream.
The pilot’s voice rings through clearly. "All systems clear. Ready for takeoff."
Secretly, I hope there’s champagne on board.
Though I highly doubt there is. Before I have a chance to ask, I am slammed back against the cushioned panel.
My body slumps over to the window, stomach lurching as I take one last look.
Engines roar as our little plane lifts off the runway and shoots into the twinkling night sky.
It doesn’t take long for sleep to overtake me. For hours, I fade in and out of consciousness. Visceral terror swirls through my mind like a bird caught in a jet stream. The moment I force myself to blink out of one nightmare, the next one joins the queue.
A gust of turbulence tears me away. The violent bumps rattle my head, once again sending stars dancing across my vision.
Rubbing my temple, I am unfortunately reminded of the purpose for this long flight.
The pilot’s voice clamors through the headset, explaining that it shouldn’t be too much longer before we start our descent.
The Alpha clears his throat from the passenger seat and motions to his comrade to tune out.
Axe peers over the seat. "I’ve got a few questions for you."
One of my brows tics up. "That's ironic, considering you never did answer all of mine. I thought your kind was the type to bite first, ask questions later."
He snorts. "Nice bracelets. I take it you have the second sight, then?"
My eyes drop to the silver cuffs at my wrists, the smooth embellishments of amethysts bespelled to neutralize my distinct aura. I suppose if Axe truly is my intended, he would be unaffected by the magic.
"Am I going to get my questions answered or are you going to be a typical domineering Alpha that has to hijack and steer every conversation?"
The hand fisting the leather console flexes. "You aren’t supposed to know I exist, Vespera. If I am to take responsibility for your safety, that requires gathering some background information, so I know what the hell I’m getting into."
I almost scoff. Background information. Beneath his stoic expression, the wolf is screening me for indications of a threat.
Why wouldn’t he? Mate or not, I am an outsider.
My safety won’t be guaranteed until his mark is placed on my neck.
Until I can gage this pack's attitude towards humans, the best way to protect myself is to keep my secret tucked in tight.
Sighing, I uncross my legs. “What would you like to know?”
“Let’s start with how the hell you snuck into Lupercalia."
Briefly, I explain to Axe my connection to Maurleen and Wyatt, how I lived with them as a nomad for a few years, staying under the radar.
Up until a week ago, my last shelter was among Wyatt’s former pack, Glacier Meadow, where they were less than thrilled to be harboring a human.
No one more than their Alpha, Paul Childers, who happens to be a raging dick.
Axe bobs his head, taking a moment to process. "This witch, Maurleen, is also mated to one of us? What sort of magic does she have?”
"Maurleen’s gift is communicating with the dead.” Well, sort of. “She comes from a lineage of witches in Jasper Ridge. Vampires picked most of them off after the last avalanche practically swept the town away.”
He nods, oddly unsurprised by this. Vampires thrive on hunting in the small-town establishments beyond the enforcer-patrolled borders of the Heartlands. The deeper I go into wolf country, the better I'll sleep at night. And Aurora’s Belt is as deep as it gets.
“And your human family?"
A shard of pain twinges in my chest. "We haven’t spoken since my mother passed."
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he says, voice softening. “I also lost my mother, but it happened some time ago.”
How unfortunate that is the first thing we have in common.
“Where are you from originally?”
"Crayford.”
"The Plains? Damn.”
“Were you hoping for a more convenient match?” I quip.
"I wouldn't say this is the easiest predicament I've ever had to explain to the pack.”
Water spews from my lips. "Predicament?”
“No. I didn’t mean . . .” His jaw clenches for a beat.
“Do you think my greatest aspiration in life was to be abducted by some egotistical—"
“That is not what’s going here.”
“Says the male who left me no choice.”
“Look,” he digresses with a growl. “This sort of thing doesn’t happen—a union between a lycan and a human. But the scent of a mate never lies. Like hell was I going to let you walk out of that forest with anyone else.”
His fumbled words leave me affronted. Retreating into my mind, I stare out the window, imagining myself leaping onto each cloud that passes by.
The plane gradually tilts downwards, cutting through the wispy floaters.
Down, down we go until the night sky is wide open again and a chain of what must be fifty archipelagos are revealed below.
Then, a peninsula. A few more minutes of listening to the whirring of the jets, and finally, a runway comes into view.
Few words are exchanged between Axe and I as we drive to his territory in his pickup truck, which could easily pass for a tank.
My body jostles around as we continue along the unpaved road, but I’m relieved to be back on solid ground, grateful that the throbbing agitated by the altitude has nearly subsided.
For most of the ride, I am transfixed by the glowing celestial paint across the black sky: undulating strokes of green, yellow, and fuchsia, all bleeding into each other.
The aurora beams, illuminated before this peaceful little seaside town.
A marvelous first impression, I must say.
"It never gets old," Axe drawls.
His attention fixes on the inclining road in front of us, lined with thick conifers.
The truck slows as we approach a tall iron gate, complete with finial spikes to ward off trespassers.
He rolls down his window, punches in a four-digit code, and proceeds onward as the gate swings open, granting us entry.
My jaw drops when we reach the top of the hill, approaching what looks to be a sprawling three-story mansion built of timber and limestone.
Boulders and thriving evergreen shrubs cover the dormant flower beds, which are ruggedly beautiful even in winter.
Through the first of three slate archways, two massive log cabins appear in the near distance.
Like most lycan settlements, Wyatt’s pack lives in the heart of lush wilderness. The home he shares with Maurleen resides in a community of modest ranches not far from the Bissex border. There’s about four dozen members total, with Alpha Paul occupying the largest house with his mate and son.
The size of this estate could easily house all of them.
I admire the mastery of stonework which forms the largest arch—the main entrance—revealing a walnut-stained door with wrought-iron embellishments. A timeless geometric design that is repeated across the exterior of the impressive fortress, along with elegant lanterns.
“Tomorrow morning, I’ll arrange a tour of the pack grounds for you.”
I nod, loosening the scarf around my hair and letting it shake out over my shoulders. Next to me, I sense a faint rumble emanating from the lycan. The truck brakes abruptly. A lanky, freckled girl jogs up to the driver’s window and Axe rolls it down.
“Sorry to stop you. The boys and I were on patrol and caught a human scent at the bottom of the hill.”
He dips his head. “She’s with me.”
The young brunette scans over my bundled body. Her freckled nose wrinkles as she detects my scent, cutting her eyes back to the driver. “Copy that. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”
“You do the same, Gemma.”
We watch the young guard dart back into the trees.
The truck pulls forward towards a carport and Axe parks it in first open space.
I prop the passenger door open, shuddering at the three-foot drop.
He wraps around to take my hand, making sure I don’t stumble as my feet touch the slick driveway.
My breath catches as my fingers wrap around his forearm.
The strange current from earlier prickles back to life. Gods, is this normal?
Axe diverts his gaze towards the house, slinging his pack over his muscular shoulder.
I try to think of something that will dull the magnetizing sensation. “Did you kill him . . . ? The one who tried to claim me?”
Axe squeezes the strap with a death grip, nostrils flaring.