Chapter 16
Chapter
Sixteen
Tauren’s father. Drogan. The Pack Leader. The Lykaon. The man who had disowned his son over a dream.
The alpha who wanted me dead.
I didn’t need an introduction. I recognized the man in an instant.
He shared Tauren’s dark hair and eyes. The same wide nose, the same square jaw. His brow even wrinkled the same way Tauren’s did when his eyes narrowed in anger.
The only difference was that Tauren had never focused that death stare on me.
A primal kind of fear took root deep in my belly as the alpha took a step toward us. Every instinct in my body screamed for me to turn tail and run, but before I could act on the urge, Tauren squeezed my hand even tighter, making it clear he wasn’t about to let me go.
Stay at my side. No matter what happens.
I guess it was time to see just how good Tauren’s promise of protection really was.
“Father,” Tauren said, his voice loud enough for someone on the edge of the village to hear. “This is Hannah.”
A low murmur wound its way through the crowd. Apparently, everyone here knew about me. About Tauren’s dreams and his family drama. They even knew my name.
That was…unsettling.
Tauren’s dad let out a frigid bark of laughter. “So you finally went beyond the wall and caught yourself a kirre. And now you’re here to do what? Show off your new toy?”
Some in the crowd laughed, and I felt Tauren’s muscles tensing and coiling, preparing for a fight. His jaw ground, and a low growl of warning rumbled from his throat.
Sensing the threat, those who weren’t laughing moved back a step.
I desperately wanted to do the same, but couldn’t.
“Or do I have it wrong?” Clearly playing to the crowd, his father continued to taunt him. “Maybe you brought her as an apology. A peace offering. A sacrificial log for the bonfire. If so, go ahead and toss her into the flames, and you can be back by my side tonight.”
Holy shit.
The man actually wanted to burn me alive?
“Please tell me he’s joking,” I whispered to Kyre as the crowd’s laughter grew louder.
“He’s not,” the alpha replied.
Tauren stiffened. “That’s never going to happen.”
“No?” Drogan’s smile took on a malicious edge. “Then one of us will have to do it.”
“Are you threatening my mate?” Tauren snarled.
Anticipating a fight, he let go of my hand and curled his fingers into his palms, readying his fists.
Instantly, the crowd went silent again, everyone understanding that a wrong answer could trigger a bloodbath. But Tauren’s father was prepared for the trap.
“She’s not your mate, boy,” he scoffed. “It’s impossible. The laws of nature are clear. The ferus and kirre are incompatible. We always have been. We always will be.”
“What about the Fates and their sacred laws?” Tauren countered. “They are the ones who decide what is possible and impossible. To deny Hannah is to deny their power.”
In a flash, all mirth drained from Drogan’s face. His whole face darkened as his eyes narrowed into slits.
“Careful, boy,” he warned. “I may have been lenient with you in the past, but I don’t tolerate blasphemy in this village.”
Now it was my turn to laugh.
I couldn’t help it. Couldn’t hold back the bubble of bitter laughter that forced itself up the column of my throat.
“I’m sorry,” I muttered as every eye in the crowd—even Tauren’s— zeroed in on me. “It’s just too damn ridiculous.”
“Tauren, control your plaything,” Drogan snapped.
At that point, I half expected Tauren to clap his hand over my mouth or pull me behind him—anything to shut me up. Not out of any desire to obey his father but because it was the smart thing to do.
I was a five-foot-five kirre woman surrounded by seven-foot-tall ferus alphas, half of whom apparently hated the idea of me. If ever there was a bear I shouldn’t poke, it was this one.
But instead, Tauren curled his hand over my shoulder in a gesture of support.
“Why?” he asked. “As my mate, she is a part of this pack and as free as anyone else to speak her mind.”
At that simple show of support, a cold kind of courage poured into my veins. I crossed my arms and returned Drogan’s stare. After all, if there was one thing I couldn’t stand, it was a guy telling me to shut up.
“How about this?” I offered the Pack Leader. “I’ll close my mouth the second you stop being such an asshole to your son.”
A gasp rose up, clear and loud.
Drogan squared his shoulders, raising his chin as he tried to save face in front of the bonfire crowd. “Don’t talk about things you don’t understand, outsider.”
“Sure—but first, tell me when exactly you were lenient,” I demanded.
“I know you disowned your own son over a dream—one he couldn’t control.
One your kind believes came straight from the gods.
I know you pushed him out of the village, forced him to the edge of your land away from everyone else.
Even now, you’re trying to mock and belittle him in front of the pack.
So which one of those actions do you think is lenient? ”
Drogan’s eyes narrowed. Even with the space between us, I could feel the rage pouring out of him.
“How dare you talk to me like that?” he growled. “I could kill you in an instant.”
“True,” I conceded. “But that doesn’t make what I said wrong, does it?”
Drogan lifted his chin, looking down on me like I was a bug.
“Tauren’s dreams couldn’t have come from the Fates,” he said. “They were blasphemy, plain and simple. My judgment spared his life. I could have sentenced him to the pit for the crime. I could have stood back and watched as he slowly succumbed to starvation.”
“Or you could have swallowed your pride and believed your son,” I countered. “You could have kept him as your heir.”
“Impossible!” Drogan boomed, playing to the crowd. “The law is clear—no unmated alpha may rule in any capacity. That’s the way it has always been.”
“But…why?”
“Because our ancestors understood that being gifted with a mate was the Fates’ way of marking those who were worthy of leadership.”
My jaw tightened.
Good God.
I’d heard that logic before.
Those who had more than their fair share were always making excuses for their excesses. God had blessed them with trust funds and legacy university admissions, not realizing (or caring) that the implication was He’d cursed the rest of us.
“That’s a great philosophy if you happen to be one of the chosen few,” I countered. “But what about everyone else?”
“What about them?” Drogan asked as if the question had honestly never occurred to him.
“Why should they have to suffer because of some accident of fate?”
“The Fates don’t have accidents. They don’t make mistakes.”
“You sure about that?”
“Positive,” he answered.
“Then what about Tauren?” I asked. “According to your ancestors, the Fates sent him me—a kirre. Was that a mistake?”
Drogan stiffened, his top lip curling up slightly as the corners of his eyes twitched. “It was a punishment.”
“Yeah, that tracks,” I joked with a self-effacing chuckle. “Or maybe it was a sign that the old ways had failed and a new day was dawning.”
Drogan’s face grew red with rage. “You must have a death wish, kirre.”
Not hardly. In fact, the only reason I was willing to say any of this out loud was knowing for a fact that this wasn’t the day I was destined to die. I had two weeks left to make terrible decisions before that bill came due.
“Just an intense hatred of bullies,” I said.
Tauren’s father ground his jaw as a beat of awkward silence descended over the open area.
For the first time, there was no quick response.
No witty comeback. And the crowd noticed.
I got the sense that no one had spoken up like this before…
or maybe those who dared were already reduced to ashes at the bottom of the bonfire.
There were more murmurs as the crowd began to shift on their feet, pressing forward to get a better look at the show. About half of them were scowling at me in anger and disgust, but the other half actually seemed receptive to what I was saying.
Drogan must have noticed the shift in the pack’s energy as well. They were pulling away from him. He was losing control.
His dark eyes flashed over the crowd before he squared his shoulders and lifted his chin.
“Enough!” he declared. “This is a night of celebration. And while this conversation is far from over, I see no reason the whole pack should suffer for one outsider’s insolence. Let the bonfire continue, and I’ll deal with you two soon enough.”
Tauren’s father turned his back, and the whole crowd watched as he returned to a massive, carved wooden chair on a raised dais near the fire. The moment he was seated, a half dozen older alphas circled around him.
“Drogan’s advisors,” Kyre explained without me having to ask. “They must be planning their next steps.”
“Then we should do the same,” Tauren said.
Even though I could still feel the weight of Drogan’s stare, my shoulders started to relax a little as the sound of the festivities kicked up again—music and conversation and laughter. I let out a long breath and gave in to the urge to rest my head against Tauren’s hard chest for just a moment.
“Does that mean we can go home now?” I asked with my ear pressed against his breastbone, the relentless, comforting hammer of his heartbeat pounding in my ear.
“I’d advise against it,” Kyre said at our side. “Some of the kegs are already empty, and there were some angry faces in the crowd. Someone who had too much to drink might get it into their head to follow you home.”
“I’m not afraid of anyone,” Tauren said. “Drunk or not, anyone who comes for Hannah will die.”
It wasn’t a boast, just a simple statement of fact.
“Even so, I think it would be better to stay with the pack until my mother can tell us what she learned from the Lore Keeper,” Kyre argued. “Besides, it will give everyone a chance to get used to the sight of you two together.”
“Agreed.” Tauren nodded.