Chapter 17 #2
“I don’t care,” Drogan snapped. “Answer the question.”
The Lykaon’s sharp tone was too much for Tauren. He took a step forward, placing his body between his father and me like a shield. “She said she didn’t want to talk about it,” he growled.
“Hmm…interesting,” the Keeper murmured at the protective display before moving on. “Hannah, are you afraid of Tauren?”
“I was at first. But not anymore. Not really.”
The Keeper nodded as if he’d expected that answer all along. “And me? Are you afraid of me?”
“A little,” I answered with a shrug. There was no point in lying.
“And Drogan?”
“A little more.”
“Really?” He cocked his head to the side, whether out of intrigue or skepticism, I couldn’t tell. “But on our walk over here, Calindra and I heard that you verbally sparred with our Lykaon in front of the whole pack.”
“That’s because he was being an asshole,” I explained even as Drogan started to groan and grumble. The Keeper stopped him cold by simply raising his hand. “If you had heard the way he was insulting Tauren, I’m sure you would have done the same thing.”
But the Keeper just shook his head. “No, I don’t think I would have,” he said, then, without explaining further, continued. “You care for Tauren, don’t you?”
“Of course. He saved my life.”
The Keeper’s eyes narrowed. Somehow, he knew that wasn’t the whole truth.
“But your emotions run deeper than gratitude, don’t they?” he pressed.
I knew the answer he wanted, but he wasn’t about to get me to admit it out loud. Not when I couldn’t even admit it to myself yet. “My feelings are private.”
“I don’t doubt they are.” A half smile teased the Keeper’s lips. “Still, there are parts meant for public display. Would you turn around?”
Turn around? What in the world was he talking about? I looked up at Tauren to make sure I wasn’t about to fall into a trap, but he was quick to nod. “It’s all right, Hannah.”
If he said so. Hesitantly, I turned my back to the Keeper, and he swept my ponytail over my shoulder. There was a pause…a deep inhale…then, “Amazing.”
Amazing? What the hell was he talking about?
Then I felt the pads of his fingers brush against the raised flesh at the nape of my neck—the place where Tauren had sunk his teeth into me earlier, right before he….
Realizing what the Keeper was touching, I spun back around, my whole face burning bright with embarrassment. This night had been strange enough. The last thing I needed was for everyone to know my first time had been kinky as hell.
But strangely, there was no judgment from the other faces in the room—just amazement…and disbelief.
Not surprisingly, Drogan was the first to find his voice. “It…it’s a trick,” he sputtered. “It has to be. It can’t be real.”
“No. The mark is fresh, the flesh around it just starting to heal.” The Keeper let out a long breath. “It is real. Her body has accepted his claiming bite.”
His what? “Tauren? What is he talking about?”
“Impossible!” Drogan broke in before Tauren could explain. “You said so yourself, Keeper—the kirre and ferus are incompatible.”
“Exactly,” the Keeper nodded. “If Hannah were kirre, then the bite would be red and festering. The fact that it’s not proves that she is something else entirely.”
No! Absolutely not! This was madness.
“What the hell are you talking about?” I demanded, shouting over the alphas. “Of course I’m kirre. What else could I be?”
“That is the real question, isn’t it?” Slowly, the Keeper’s smile grew wider.
“When Calindra came to me tonight, I could barely believe the story she told—a kirre woman with ferus dreams. One who healed faster than natural in the presence of an alpha. One whose inborn fear of our kind had all but disappeared overnight. Her description sparked something in my memory. Something that I’d read long ago. ”
My shoulders tensed as the Keeper turned around and strode back toward the table where he’d placed the ancient-looking book. The leather spine, rigid from years of disuse, groaned as he cracked the pages open.
Even though every warning bell in my head was ringing louder than noon on a Sunday, I didn’t resist when Tauren pulled me toward the table to look at the book.
Drogan stayed on one side of the table while Tauren kept us on the other.
Calindra must have already seen the passage the Keeper was pointing out since she stayed still and silent on the far side of the room.
“Long ago, our ancestors were given a prophecy,” he started. “Told of a time when the old ways would fail. A time when the Wilds would grow unbalanced. When the old ways were no longer sustainable. When our kind would slowly decline.”
The memory of Calindra’s earlier words rushed back into my mind.
The ferus are dying. It’s possible that within two or three more generations, there will be none of us left.
“It was said this time would coincide with the gradual collapse of kirre civilization,” the Keeper continued.
Oh, shit.
I glanced over my shoulder at Calindra, and she met my gaze with compassion shining in her bright eyes. She’d already told me all of this…and I hadn’t wanted to believe.
I still didn’t want to, but now I wasn’t sure I had a choice.
“The end times?” Drogan guessed.
But the Keeper shook his head. “The prophecy said that during this time a new kind of being would emerge—a bridge between our two worlds. Hannah is clearly the first of this new kind. Not ferus or kirre. But something different.”
“This is madness!” Drogan shouted, his face burning bright with a mixture of rage and disbelief.
“It is the truth,” the Keeper stated plainly. “The Fates have placed the wheels of change in motion, whether you choose to believe it or not, Lykaon. From this moment on, our way of life will never be the same.”
Drogan continued to huff and groan even as he turned his back on the rest of us.
But Tauren, who’d been quietly listening this whole time, propped his hands on the tabletop and leaned forward, craning his long neck to get a better look at the writing in the book.
“Keeper,” he said, his voice respectfully low. “If Hannah has changed into something new, then what is she now?”
The older man looked me over one last time.
“It’s hard to say exactly,” he admitted. “Something brave enough to stand toe to toe with any ferus. Something strong enough to accept your bite and resilient enough to heal from grave injuries.”
“She’s a savior,” Calindra tried.
But there was no way Drogan could let that stand. He spun around with fire in his eyes. “Blasphemy! She’s an abomination.”
Funny, I didn’t feel like either one of those things.
And apparently, the Keeper agreed. He shook his head, pushing aside both those extremes.
“I’m sure all will become clear in time,” he said. “For now, all I know is that if we are alpha, then she is omega.”