Chapter 40 #2
She stayed on her knees and would not look at him as he exited, giving a terse nod to her mother and the she-wolves waiting outside.
Despite his command for privacy, the look on Katreena’s face and the fires raging in her eyes told him she’d heard every word.
It was just as well, he supposed.
He walked to the other side of the temple to where his family and the Ironcoat alphas awaited him, glad he had cleared the rest of his debts. Today, before all the wolfkin, his smoke would turn white.
The alphas were several cups deep into ale by the time he entered, raising them and cheering.
Darion grinned as his Uncle Norden slapped him heartily on the back. “So how was it?”
His grin faltered, and he chuckled. “I think perhaps you’ve drank too much… the ceremony hasn’t even started yet.”
He threw his head back and laughed, the other alphas joining him.
“No,” his father said, a rare smile on his face. “We mean the heat.”
His cheeks reddened, and his jaw set tight. Darion was already aware everyone knew exactly what he’d been doing for the past few days, but for his omega to be the subject of conversation in such a manner made his stomach churn uncomfortably.
Uncle Karn spoke next. “Once you started tending her properly, it was like the whole clan could feel it. Even my mate, long past her breeding years, was so changed by her scent she dragged me to her furs and wouldn’t let me leave all night.”
Reinn snorted, picking at his nails from where he stood, leaning against the wall. “I swear, does this clan know nothing about omegas?”
The Sabletails raised their hackles in unison, and Reinn rolled his eyes.
“The scent of an omega in heat will not only attract wolfkin wanting to breed her, but it becomes an aphrodisiac once she is tended. That is why clans have fought over them in the past—an omega can increase fertility for all the wolfkin in her vicinity.”
When he was met with confused stares, he shook his head, clicking his tongue against his teeth. “Have none of you heard about the ‘pup boom’ that occurs after an omega’s heat?”
Again, no one answered, and he pushed off the wall, muttering under his breath as he left, slamming the door shut behind him.
The echo rang uncomfortably in the silence that followed.
“Sounds like someone’s in need of a little tending himself,” Cyran snorted.
The alphas laughed again, the atmosphere shifting to something more light, but Darion still felt the weight of Reinn’s words.
The healer had given him a book on omegas, and yet he’d avoided reading it for weeks because he had not wanted to make Kyntha upset.
But if he had, he might have noticed Fern’s symptoms himself. Might have known better than to make promises to Kyntha he couldn’t keep. Would have tended her heat no matter what knowing the benefits for the clan…
No, he told himself. I cannot live in guilt, I will only move forward. Today, I start anew.
The alphas spoke amongst themselves as Darion began to dress, on his own this time. Cyran poured a fresh cup of ale, approaching him and handing it over.
“I must warn you, my sister will be in an even worse mood tonight than my cousin after you ignored her to tend your omega,” Cyran said, patting him roughly on the shoulder. “I don’t know how you’ll be able to go from the real thing to her. You have my deepest condolences.”
Darion and his wolf growled, their feelings aligned.
Why did the alphas in this room continue to speak of his she-wolves this way?
That part of them was for him and him alone to enjoy, to speculate, to even think about.
And no one, not even kin by blood or union, should ever be allowed to discuss Fern or Kyntha so casually.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
Cyran nearly choked on the sip of ale he’d just taken, wiping his mouth and staring at him incredulously. “You haven’t noticed?”
Darion ground his teeth so tightly he was surprised he didn’t crack a molar. “Speak plainly, I have no time for this.”
Eidan raised his head from where he sat nearby, and Darion noticed that he was the only alpha in the room not drinking. Not celebrating.
What in Solas’s Hells was his problem? Still sour Fern had chosen Darion over him?
And then Cyran sighed deeply, recapturing his focus.
“My cousin is more right than you even know.” He looked down, chuckling softly before his eyes rose to meet his. “You really never noticed how Kyntha mimics omega behavior around you?”
“I…”
Darion paused. Kyntha was…
Mimicking? Around him?
But…
No, no, she was so naturally sweet. So… so…
The silver-haired alpha continued. “She’s been studying omegas since she was a pup, my mother preparing her for an eventual union with a powerful alpha.
It’s why we all know so much about them.
It’s supposed to strengthen the bond if the she-wolf can trick the alpha into thinking he’s courting an omega. ”
Then he looked off and snorted. “Imagine her surprise when a real one showed up.”
“Trick?” Darion asked, still not believing what he was hearing.
“The high voice, the soft touches, the whimpers… have you ever met a she-wolf like that before my sister?”
When Darion didn’t say anything, Cyran’s brows pinched together, a mocking smile growing on his lips.
“I had my doubts any alpha would be ignorant enough to fall for it, especially when presented with an authentic omega to compare the two. But I guess my sister really lucked out with you, didn’t she? ”
And then he laughed, walking away.
Darion couldn’t speak or move, struck dumb as he was.
Sixty days he’d been with Kyntha, and not once had he ever suspected anything but sincerity in all of her manners. Not a fleeting moment where he thought he heard a duplicitous word.
“Cyran,” he called.
The alpha turned around.
“What do you know of omegas and willow bark?”
Cyran raised an eyebrow in confusion. “It is used to ease the suffering of an approaching heat.”
Darion closed his eyes, trying to remember exactly how Kyntha and Serich had worded it all.
“I read about it a long time ago, that omegas could bring their heat early by chewing on willow bark…”
“… Omegas didn’t chew on willow bark to induce their heats, but merely to relieve the symptoms preceding them…”
“And your sister… she would know this?”
“Of course. Why, I saw her re-reading that chapter of ‘The Compendium of Omega Nature’ just last week.”
His mouth dropped open, and before he could even form a reply, a gong sounded from somewhere deep in the temple.
“Hurry and get dressed, son,” his father warned. “Your mate awaits.”
* * *
The culmination of sixty days of rituals, rites, and traditions was here and now.
A process he’d learned far too late was supposed to approximate the instincts he’d had with Fern.
Instincts Kyntha had convinced him were wrong. Instincts he should ignore. Instincts he should fight.
And he’d allowed her to do it, all because he’d been distracted by wide hips, pretty eyes, and pale thighs that parted whenever he looked her way.
He was every bit the fool Cyran had called him.
He knelt alone in front of the altar, the priestess chanting in the old tongue.
“Lur shae ta devaris.”
May the light of the moon cleanse you.
He was so deep in thought, he almost forgot the response, and tripped over the words quickly.
“Tuun shae-min koren devaris.”
I am cleansed by her holy light.
A crown of chrysanthemums, crocuses, and pomegranate blossoms was placed on his head. Another, smaller crown was waiting for Kyntha.
His… his mate.
A liar.
A deceiver.
And it was too late to deny her.
To halt the ceremony now would be to invite war with the Ironcoats again, and he could not risk his wolfkin’s lives over his own ignorance.
He could only try to forge a path forward. Manage Kyntha more carefully, and protect Fern from her scheming.
Darion knew all too well what the consequences of a she-wolf’s unchecked jealousy could lead to.
Eidan knew them better.
The doors to his right opened, and Kyntha stepped through.
The moonlight she’d exuded earlier had dimmed considerably, and where he’d once seen pure beauty was now tainted by the ugliness of her machinations.
She knelt beside him, and the priestess began her piece again, invoking the gods while Kyntha responded, the pronunciation of the old tongue rolling off hers effortlessly where he had tripped.
Once, he would have marveled at such oral skills, but now he recoiled, knowing her mouth was not trained so much for pleasure as it was for twisting lies to sound like truth. To fool him into believing she was something she was decidedly not.
At last the priestess had them stand and turn to face each other.
Her hair had been styled to one side, to keep her neck clear.
The priestess sprinkled her skin with moonwater, speaking in a liturgical chant as she circled. “Dra Lurei thie Solas, mai oka-vekh en gekish dran ta ka-vekh.”
As Lurei claimed Solas, you will claim your mate before the clan as witness.
Kyntha tilted her head, and Darion leaned down.
He cupped her cheek in his hand to keep her steady, and his lips brushed her ear.
“I know what you did,” he whispered.
She stiffened in his grasp.
“Do not think being my mate will protect you from my wrath, Deceiver.”
Then he kissed her on the cheek, bent further, and sunk his teeth into her neck.
She whimpered in pain and in fear.
And this time, he knew the sound was genuine.