Chapter Twenty-Three
Caleb
The next morning, I told Jay she was not to leave my bedroom. I can’t drag her along with me and need to figure out what to do with her, especially when I have an important business meeting.
The council received my mate choice and are ready to discuss it. For the most part, I expect this meeting to run rather smoothly. They hand-picked Medein in the first place, so I know they approve of her.
The only one who might not approve is my mother.
“Is she coming?” Tyler asks me.
She is absent for yet another meeting, and I’m worried the council might suspect something is up.
It hasn’t been easy, but no one has died on my watch.
Combat training is underway, buildings are being restored and food and resources are slowly replenished.
I’ve been busting my butt every day, but the one thing I haven’t been able to do is make sure she’s present.
“I don’t think so. It’s fine, I’ll just make up something,” I tell him.
But it’s not fine.
Three council members enter the conference room with Sam.
And I never thought I’d be so glad as to see Sam.
He’s been a good buffer between the council and me.
I may not stand the council, but Sam might be the least tolerant.
Judging by the scowls on their faces, they’re not too big a fan of either of us.
The slow transition of their demotion to the crown is going to take some getting used to.
“Gentlemen. Let’s get started, shall we? I have a mate in need of serving,” Sam says without the least bit of shame. He grabs the stack of papers in front of him and opens his mouth to speak.
“Excuse me, sir, but I don’t believe all parties are present,” a councilman says, attention snapping to me. “Where is Luna Kathy? Will she be joining us?”
“Not this time,” I say.
“She really should be here . . .” one says.
“Truthfully, I don’t really feel comfortable talking about the future of her pack without her present,” another says.
I shake my shirt to try to get some air flowing into it. Sweat coats my back as I think of a lie. “She is hunting for the pack. Won’t be back for some time. I am comfortable speaking on my own behalf about my future mate.”
The council exchanges glances then shoot Sam a look, clearly not satisfied with my answer.
Sam, whose mind is concentrated on getting back to his mate, waves his hand as if it’s the least of his worries. “We will proceed without her. Make sure she is present at the next meeting. We wouldn’t want to offend your soon-to-be-mate with the absence of her future mother-in-law and predecessor.”
“I will see to it that she’s here.”
“Now,” Sam eyes the council, anticipating their rejection since they often disagree with everything. “Might I continue?”
The council shifts uncomfortably under his glare, but ultimately, Sam succeeds. There are no objections.
Sam clears his throat, reading off the page. “We received your request to mate Medein Rosa the Fourth. While I do believe this is a fine match, I do have some concerns . . .”
Tyler and I exchange a puzzled glance.
I put on my best poker face but one look at the back of my shirt, and they’d know I was bluffing.
“Concerns?”
“On paper, this pairing makes sense, but I worry this match might not satisfy our kind’s . . . natural beast within.”
Surely, he can’t be talking about sexually. Can he?
Well, it is Sam.
My wolf is right. What was it Alaina called him? Oh, right. Mr. Playboy.
On the chance I might be mistaken and Mr. Playboy isn’t talking about sex, I play a curious hand. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“I mean the mating process.”
Of course he does.
“You wouldn’t get to mate her in the . . . traditional sense,” a councilman says.
“I’m not sure I understand.”
Another councilman tries sugar coating it. “You may show affection but not affection.”
I could’ve gone my whole life without seeing this old guy’s demonstration of what he looks like railing someone.
“Do you understand what I’m saying?” The hip thrusts he gyrated into the table were disturbing to say the least but clear as day.
What generation are they from that sex became a dirty word? And in what world does it make sense that showing me would be better than saying it?
The devious thought runs across my bored and curious mind . . . If I say no, will he do it again?
“Affection? I’m confused . . . Do you mean PDA?” I instigate.
The councilman face palms. He takes a deep breath and sighs. “You know, when a male and female . . .” He dry humps the table again with frustrated force, and it screeches across the floor.
I bite back my laughter and disguise it as surprise. I refuse to glance at Tyler because I’ll burst out laughing the second I do.
Do I look that innocent or does he really believe I’m that uneducated? I can only imagine how he must mansplain things to females.
Of course, Tyler comes back with, “Yeah, I still don’t get it.”
I cover my mouth with my hand. I can’t with him. Tyler was always the class clown as pups. Although juvenile then, I welcome it now. Sometimes my job is just too serious.
Sam doesn’t find our reaction amusing. When the councilman rises and grips the table for leverage to dramatize his point, Sam saves Tyler and me from bursting into laughter. He explodes, “It means you can fuck her, but you can’t mark her!”
The councilman’s face turns a deeper shade of red as he sits, scooting his chair back in.
“Which means you can have heirs, but your wolf won’t reach its full strength. And I don’t need to remind you that in your position, you need your people to be behind you without a shadow of doubt.”
My laughter fades. No heirs for my ancestral powers? No marking? Weakness? None of this works for me.
“Why is that?”
“No one knows with complete certainty, but there is no indication that the marking process would do anything but cause a witch to bleed to death. Not to invalidate a witch’s immortality, but their genetic makeup is almost entirely human.
Their life expectancy is the same, their build—unless they use magic to alter it—too.
They don’t have longevity like a vampire, or our strength to withstand such a process. ”
“So you’re saying, if I were to bite her, she’d die?”
“Most likely, yes.”
Fuck. Marking, pups, immortality—all of these things are important in leadership, to wolves. How could I give up any of these things? And why would the council suggest it and let me explore that damned list, knowing this?
A councilman chimes in. “Correct. It’s different from when the king and queen mated. Both species have the same mating instinct. A bond is completed with a bite. A witch’s mating ritual is more of a spiritual bond than one of true, bodily entanglement.”
“So how would they become one—a wolf?” Tyler asks a good question.
My pack is wavering in their faith in my family as it is. They need a strong united front. A Luna they can believe in.
“You wouldn’t. Your partnership would be one of a human standard,” another says.
My wolf growls. We have a mate. And we have a bond. Anything else won’t be enough.
“I gotta be honest with you, I’m concerned my pack won’t take to that. They need a bond they can believe in. What if I find my fated mate, and I haven’t marked anyone?”
“The urge to mate her would still be there. Unless she were mated as well, you’d have to resist them.
A spiritual bond requires your strength and loyalty.
You would be expected to devote yourself to the bond, but the Moon Goddess would not make that easy for you.
Now, if you act on those urges, the consequences could be dire. ”
Not that I’d ever think of cheating, but kings and queens have been known in the past to have agreements to benefit them both. It’s good to know my options. Specifically, ones I would never take on. “Dire . . . how so?”
“Well, it’s a spiritual bond you’d be breaking.
Can you imagine what would happen if you upset centuries and centuries of ancient witches?
” The councilman snorts. “I mean, they’d probably curse you, and I can’t imagine they’d stop there.
I imagine your pack would suffer at their hand as well.
Now, that is, unless you and your partner can agree to some arrangement . . .”
“Arrangement? Like a mistress?”
“Essentially, yes.”
“That’s not an option,” I say.
My wolf would never forgive me, and I couldn’t forgive myself.
“Then, a witch it is. You should know that witches have a funny way of doing things. You’ll have to go through various trials.”
“What kind of trials?”
“Witches are deeply connected to the elements in nature. You will undergo a detox of impurity, a fast, a declaration to protect the elements that usually involves a night in the forest naked and other various witchy trials.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. This is all starting to sound more complicated than it’s worth.
“It’s unorthodox but a wise decision. One the council really approves of,” one of the council members says, while the others nod eagerly.
Odd. I know they heard the same information as I did. “Why?”
One uncomfortably clears his throat at my questioning of him. “The line she comes from is one of great reputation. They have connections that could benefit your pack—”
Got it. Money.
“—Magic that stems from generations that could help rebuild your lands—”
Power.
“—And many connections to the dark witches that could be beneficial not just to your pack, but the crown as well.”
Control. Of course, it all makes sense. They’re corrupt to their core. Do I really want to help them achieve this partnership?
“I need time to think.”
Sam stands immediately, more than thrilled to end this meeting early. He rushes the meeting to a close, and the council appears miserable.
When they leave, Tyler and I remain, mulling over everything. He wipes his face with his hands. “What’re we going to do?”