12. Hettie
Chapter 12
Hettie
R ip leads me out of the infirmary, but not before I pass through the rooms of sick and crying family members. My heart breaks a little, picturing the small girl next to her father’s bedside, crying into his chest. Pain and loss radiate from the building; I feel suffocated by it all.
And this is what Rip has been dealing with the entire time? Alone, at that. I at least had a family, broken as it was, but a family for support, nonetheless.
No one should have to carry this burden alone.
I know the pain of losing a loved one. The hopelessness that eats away at you until nothing remains but a shell of your former self. Life eventually goes on, and you are expected to adapt, but mentally you are still reliving the day that changed your life forever.
I couldn’t save my father, but maybe I can save someone else’s. And, if I’m lucky, maybe it will ease some of the guilt that plagues me each day.
Rip’s hold on my hand is firm but gentle. Curious eyes follow us as we walk through dirt paths. A few people stop to show their respect for Rip, and no matter how busy he appears, he makes sure to take the time to greet everyone.
It’s…unexpected.
Soon the infirmary is a speck behind me, and we arrive in a residential neighborhood. I frown, looking at the rows of weathered but well taken care of homes. My confusion only grows as Rip pulls me closer and leads us toward one of the houses.
“The cure is in here?” Then, because I watch too many crime documentaries: “Or did you come here to kill me so no one will notice?” I’m joking. Mostly.
For the first time since I’ve met Rip, the man barks out a real, genuine laugh. Which does little to disprove my murder theory but makes me oddly proud that I’m able to make him laugh.
“No, Dove, I don’t plan on killing you. The cure, or what we hope to be the cure, is in here.” Rip and I reach the door, and instead of knocking, he walks in like he owns the house. Maybe he does.
The house is one large room, though I suspect it had once been an actual home with different rooms. The wooden walls are dull and lifeless. The smell of burning incense fills the room, almost overpowering the rotting wood smell. Almost.
There’s a single threadbare couch pushed against one wall, and two large desks spanning most of the room. Each desk is piled high with both broken and non-broken pencils. Papers are scattered across the surface and underneath the desk. Different plants and vials take up the rest of the space, but nothing else stands out.
“The curse hit us unexpectedly, and we hadn’t prepared a space for mass production of wolfsbane,” Rip explains the hastily made lab. “All of the healers' space had been taken up with sick wolves. Out of sheer necessity, I put together a place for the strongest healers to work together in hopes their combined knowledge would help produce a cure. So far, we haven’t gotten far.”
We aren’t alone in this rotting cottage. Four other people are bent over a desk, all staring at a strange purple bud and talking at once. Lost in their own discussion, the team doesn’t realize we’ve walked in until Rip clears his throat.
All four heads pop up at once. It’s a motley crew composed of three women and a man. The group ranges from someone around my age to the oldest woman, who could be their great-grandmother.
They all realize at the same time who stands before them, and a chorus of “Hi, King Alpha,” greets us. The youngest man stares at our clasped hands. I don’t realize I’m still holding Rip’s hand, but now that I’m aware, I should probably take my hand back. And I would, but…my hand in his feels nice. Rip makes no move to pull away either.
Rip greets them, stopping at the oldest woman. “Lucielle, this is my mate, Hettie.”
Lucielle’s eyes widen. The woman makes her way over to me and bows her head. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Luna.”
That title and bowing are going to take a while to get used to, but I return the gesture. No one gasps or seems offended by my action, so I take it as a good sign.
“Lucielle’s mate was one of the first victims of the curse. She’s been the lead healer in our search for a cure,” Rip says.
At the mention of her fallen mate, Lucielle winces. I know that pain. It cuts deep and fast, even when you think you can handle it. She wears the grief, even now .
“I wish I could have met him,” I say gently. I don’t apologize because I heard so many apologies when my father died, and it didn’t matter how many times people said it. It would not bring back my father, and it’s not like they caused his death.
“Thank you. He was a good alpha. Worked in Alpha Rip’s guard team.”
“He was one of the best alphas on my team. His service will be remembered,” Rip assures. Unlike other people in powerful positions, he doesn’t sound like he's rehearsed these lines a hundred times. They feel genuine. True.
Rip cares for the pack he leads. And damn if that doesn’t make me warm all over.
“Did you need something, King Alpha?” Lucielle asks after a moment, snapping me back to the present. We are here for a reason. And it’s not for me to develop a damn crush on my mate.
“I want you to show your Luna the cure.” Rip gestures to the messy desks. “Or what we have of it.”
“Not much, unfortunately. Please come, Luna.” Lucielle gestures me forward, and I follow. I try to drop my hand away from Rip, but he holds tight and squeezes gently until I lace our fingers back together.
So, I guess we hold hands now. Cute.
Lucielle brings me to the only clean part of the desk. There’s a rack of small vials off to one side and purple petals scattered in the center. “These are wolfsbane petals. Are you familiar with wolfsbane, Luna?” When I shake my head, she continues, “It’s both death and life. Too much will kill even the strongest of alphas. But the perfect amount? That can wake the dormant wolf.”
“Has this been tested? Is the sickness contagious?” As soon as the question is out, I immediately blush. What a fucking stupid thing to ask. Of course it has been tested, or else they wouldn’t know it could cure their sickness.
“Only once,” Rip speaks up. “From what we’ve gathered, you can’t contract the sickness. It’s random and strikes deadly. But, typically, it strikes adults. So far, most of the alphas in our pack have been hit with it.
“But,” he continues, blowing out a deep breath, “a couple of weeks ago, a child fell ill. The first one. Our stash of wolfsbane is limited. You’re looking at what’s left.”
“But these are only a few petals.” Horror seizes me at the thought of all the sick bodies back in the infirmary. I’m looking at the flower that could save them, but isn’t enough to save them all.
“We had more, but we used most of our stash on the pup. Within a few days, she was completely healed, but it took up almost everything we had,” Lucielle explains. “Michael and his rogues have cut off our access to wolfsbane.”
“We can only assume they are working with the Nephilim,” Rip interjects. “I don’t understand his angle. Michael isn’t stupid. He should know that whatever the Nephilim promised him, they don’t intend to keep it.”
Michael hadn’t seemed completely sane when he ambushed me in the forest, but from our brief interaction, I know the man is smart. Smarter than he lets others believe. And he said he wanted me, but for what reason?
“King Alpha, we have been unsuccessful at growing wolfsbane. Our last few batches have died before they’ve bloomed. We were going to discard the remains?—”
“No, keep them,” Rip interrupts.
“Keep them?” Lucielle pursed her lips. “But they are useless.”
“Perhaps. But I want nothing thrown out. We keep everything. I won’t risk the chance of accidentally tossing a key ingredient away.”
Lucielle doesn’t look convinced that anything they save will be beneficial, but I see Rip’s logic. There’s no harm in keeping something that may be deemed useless. It would be devastating to realize that the ingredient you threw away was needed in the end.
“Of course, King Alpha.” Lucielle nods. “Is there anything else we can help you with?”
Rip shakes his head. “No, but please note your Luna has access to this room. If she wishes, she will come for updates when I can’t.”
I snap my head in his direction, unsure if I heard him correctly. “Really?” I can’t keep the skepticism out of my voice. “You’d let me come here without you?” I don’t know why the words shock me as much as they do. Maybe a part of me thought I would be little more than a decorative piece in this relationship. I never believed I would actually be a partner in this pack. Only an outsider.
Rip narrows his eyes at me, sending a mixture of fear and arousal through me. How can this man elicit two vastly different emotions? I want to simultaneously run away from him, but also feel his hard body against mine. These are not the thoughts I should have right now.
Rip pulls me out of the makeshift lab. Our hands are still firmly clasped together when he shuts the door behind me. I still know very little about shifters and their world, but I know they have superior hearing, judging from my few interactions. This is only an illusion of privacy. The four people inside can probably hear us if they care enough to pay attention.
“I want to make one thing very clear, Hettie,” Rip says, voice low. In the early afternoon glow, he looks like a ravenous god, beautiful and strong, with his eyes set on me.
“You are my Luna. Not my employee or a mere human. You’re my mate, and with that comes certain privileges. You’re to help me take care of our pack. You are smart, charismatic, and kind, when you want to be.” He smirks.
“You were doing great until the last part.” I glare, though I sound slightly breathless. His words hit me. Rip has known me a grand total of a couple of days and is already placing trust in me. He sees me as capable and not less than.
The breeze picks up around us, and goosebumps form on my arms. My nipples harden, easily noticeable through my thin top. I’m not sure who thought this outfit would be warm, but it’s definitely not. My hair, which I attempted to tie back in a bun, comes loose, and a strand of it blows into my eyes. Rip reaches out and gently tucks it behind my ear.
The gesture is far more intimate than it should be.
And I don’t flinch.
Our eyes meet, and the bond sparks to life, begging me to move closer. To press my body against this man I barely know but am drawn to. How much of this is the mate bond, and how much of it is my need to have him close?
Rip also appears to be fighting a silent battle. Slowly, far too slowly, he drops his hand back down to his side. When he speaks again, his voice drops an octave. “You’re here to save us, Hettie. What you want, you’ll get. You’re my partner. My Luna. I will not stand in your way. Do you understand, Dove?”
“Yes, Alpha.” The words tumble out of me before I realize what I’m saying.
Rip sucks in a breath as he takes a step forward. There’s something feral in the way he looks at me, something I know I should feel scared about, but heat pools between my thighs instead.
“Say it again,” he growls. His hand reaches up, but this time it circles my neck. It’s the first time I don’t flinch away from a male’s touch. A needy sound leaves me involuntarily. How did things change so drastically, so fast? His thumb brushes my bottom lip. “Again, Dove.”
The command in his voice weakens my resolve. “Yes, Alpha,” I say automatically, and his hold on me tightens.
“I like it when you call me Alpha,” he says as if the hand on my neck and thumb on my lip isn’t a dead giveaway. I can’t help but feel smug knowing that, as crazy as he is driving me, I’m doing the same to him.
Because I’m feeling particularly bratty, I lean into his touch, nearly choking myself. It only makes this exchange hotter because I love a good hand necklace in bed. Rip’s nostrils flare, and I swear he’s seconds away from snapping. Do I want that?
“Only good boys get called Alpha.” The flash of anger and desire that flashes across his features leaves me feeling victorious as I step out of his grip and turn my back on him. It takes everything in my power not to turn my head to see his expression. The overwhelming feeling of lust coming from the bond tells me all I need to know.
“Let’s go, Alpha. I’m sure there’s more you need to show me.” I keep walking, and for a long time, I don’t hear Rip follow me. I think I may have taken it a step too far when I hear the crunch of grass behind and the heat from Rip’s body as he catches up.
“Just remember, Dove. Naughty girls get punished,” he says .
This time I’m the one left stunned, mouth slightly ajar.
“Come,” he calls again, and I find myself following orders for once.