Chapter 18 #2
“I’m sure you will.” Stepping away from his chair in front of the fire, he moved closer. Kyre puffed out his chest as the sKeeper came to a stop right in front of me. “Though Hannah is no longer strictly kirre.”
“Yeah, I know.” I nodded. “She told me about that.”
If the alpha was trying to shock or throw me off balance, he was going to have to try a hell of a lot harder.
“Of course, her dreams started long before she came to the Wilds,” he said. “What about yours?”
“Nope,” I said, looking the older alpha dead in the eye. “Tonight was the first time I’ve ever had a dream like this.”
And it was the truth.
Before coming to the Wilds, my dreams of Kyre all fell firmly into the scripted, recurring category. Even the more imaginative and spontaneous ones I’d had since leaving LA still starred a fantasy version of Kyre. An idealized rendering that only existed in my mind.
But tonight I’d talked with the real Felicity.
And that was something totally new.
Unfortunately, the Keeper didn’t seem to be thrown off by my careful phrasing.
“But you did dream about the Wilds before coming here, didn’t you?” he asked.
“I’ve dreamed about a lot of things in my life,” I replied. “I’m sure some of them were about the Wilds.”
His smile widened, but never reached his eyes. “I believe you know what I’m talking about, Sophia.”
Yeah, I did.
“You want to know if I’m like Hannah,” I said. “You think the Fates might have decided to make me Kyre’s mate. Well, here, see for yourself.”
Spinning around, I lifted up my hair. The room went quiet as all eyes zeroed in on the sight of my unmarked neck. I let them take a nice, long look before letting it fall back down.
“Satisfied?” I asked, turning back around.
I managed to keep my chin held high as the Keeper stared down at me with those all-seeing eyes.
It’s okay, I told myself. No matter how perceptive he is, he can’t see the pile of shredded pillows next to Kyre’s bed.
“I suppose I must be,” the Keeper said reluctantly, before taking my hand and holding it gently. “My apologies.”
“It’s okay. Don’t worry about—ow!”
I hissed in pain as I pulled my hand back. Looking down, I saw a long, thin scratch along the back, and rivulets of bright red blood running down my fingers.
I looked up at the Keeper just in time to see his claws sliding back beneath his fingernails.
“My apologies again,” the Keeper said, his voice calm and controlled. “Forgive me. I seem to be clumsy tonight. It must be the early hour.”
But Kyre wasn’t buying it. His growl filled the hall at the sight of my blood, low and menacing. Whipping me behind him, he flashed his own claws at the cleric.
“You dare cut a woman? Try that with me, coward.” He challenged the other alpha with a roar.
“Calm yourself,” the Keeper said, while still taking the precaution of taking a long step back. “Certainly, there is no reason to get so riled up over an accident. Especially a scratch on a woman that is not your mate.”
Lips flat and jaw ticking, Kyre drew in several shaky breaths before his temper finally cooled enough for him to talk. When he did, his voice was tighter than I’d ever heard it.
“Punish me as the Lykaon if you must, Mother,” he said. “But Sophia isn’t staying here a moment longer. I’m taking her home.”
“But you must stay at least a few moments longer,” the Keeper interrupted. “Your mother needs to clean and bind the woman’s hand. The kirre are so fragile after all. Even a small infection can cut their life short.”
Kyre closed his eyes. The tendons along his neck stretched tight with strain. I could tell that it was taking every ounce of strength he had not to lash out at the Keeper.
“Fine,” he snapped. “But quickly.”
He walked me over to his mother’s throne and placed my wounded hand in her palm. She looked down at the cut for a long moment before raising her head. Her bright blue eyes locked with mine.
“There’s nothing to treat,” she said. “The wound has already healed.”
“What?” I snapped my eyes down and saw that she was right. Not only had the blood stopped, but in just a matter of seconds, a scab had formed. “But…but that isn’t possible.”
“It is for an omega,” the Keeper said from over my shoulder.
“No,” I protested, shaking my head violently. “You saw the back of my neck. I haven’t been bitten.”
“That doesn’t seem to matter,” the Keeper said. “This phenomenon is new to us. It’s possible that the claiming bite only cements the change. Perhaps simply being around your fated mate is enough to start the initial change.”
I spun around to look at Kyre. Shoulders taut and hands clenched tight at his side, he looked as shocked at the news as I was.
“Does that mean if Sophia leaves the Wilds now, her kirre nature will return?” he asked in a voice so strained it sounded like it was about to shatter.
“You can’t actually be considering—”
“Stop!” Kyre roared so loudly at the priest that the stones in the walls shook. “I am done being told what I will or will not do. Throw me into the pit if you like. Banish me to the Outlands. I don’t care. But answer my damn question first.”
Somewhat chastised, the Keeper raised his chin.
“The truth is I do not know,” he said. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. There is no way to tell.”
Kyre shook his head.
“You’re wrong, Keeper. There is one way,” he said, grabbing my hand and pulling me out of the hall. “It’s the one thing I should have done days ago.”