Page 8 of Destined to the Lycan (The Shadow Realms #3)

“She’s poisoned and requires a rare antidote that can only be found in these mountains,” she said grimly.

“I’ll get it for her,” I said without hesitation. “What does she need?”

The sad look she gave me had my innards twisting. Misty threw the—essentially still clean—cloth into the sink and took both of my hands in hers. When she locked eyes with me, I braced for what would be terrible news.

“You must be strong, Son. The cure… It involves Ranael,” she said in an apologetic tone.

I took a step back, her words striking me like a physical blow. Shaking my head, I tried to pull away from her, but she tightened her grip on my hands and closed the distance between us.

“Hear her out, Remus. Amara isn’t foolish or some crazy lunatic pursuing a far-fetched charlatan cure,” she quickly added in a pleading tone. “You’re her only hope. I just warned you so that you would be prepared. But please, listen to her with an open mind.”

“That’s insanity, Misty! Ranael destroys anything he touches. He’s taken my parents from me, and now you want me to deliver my mate to him to be butchered?!” I snapped, yanking my hands out of hers.

“Of course not, silly boy. I want you to be happy, Remus,” Misty said in a reasonable but firm tone.

“You may not be my blood, but I’ve always loved you as if you were the fruit of my body.

The moment I saw this girl, I knew she was a beautiful, special soul.

Now, I understand why. Fate sent Amara to you.

Whatever challenges lie ahead, who better than you to see her through it?

Listen to what she has to say. And if you still disagree, then you can plead your case with her as to why a different course of action might be better. ”

I stared intently at her, torn by conflicting emotions. My every instinct screamed that she was completely out of her mind to even suggest I should entertain such a mission, let alone that my Twin Flame should pursue an obviously suicidal endeavor.

Voss timidly approaching with a large bowl of steamy spiced wine interrupted us.

At seventeen, the youngling was already a mountain of a male.

I couldn’t wait to see what a magnificent beast he would turn into once he reached full maturity.

Too bad he had too sweet and gentle a disposition. He would have made a formidable alpha.

“Thank you, darling,” Misty said warmly to her grandson, sounding relieved for the timely distraction.

She hastened to the boy and took the bowl with both hands before bringing it to me.

“Here, bring this to your mate. She ordered it while waiting for you to arrive. Go on, Son. And please, keep an open mind,” Misty urged while gently pushing me out of the back kitchen.

I almost resisted in order to argue some more, but she wasn’t the customer who needed convincing. And this gave me the excuse I needed to approach my Twin Flame without giving away the fact that my interest in her went well-beyond any business transaction.

To my shock, as soon as I exited the kitchen, I found Amara staring in my general direction, a hopeful expression on her stunning face.

The disappointment that immediately took over the moment she spotted the bowl in my hands almost made me smile.

Under different circumstances, I would have been amused by her mistaking me for a server.

But Misty’s revelations were messing with my head.

I didn’t know this woman, but she was my life mate. I’d be damned if some poison took away the one good thing to have happened to me in decades.

A polite smile settled on Amara’s sensuous lips as I stopped in front of her table.

She extended a delicate pair of hands towards me to take the bowl.

My eyes flicked to her long and slender fingers as they closed around the cup, and I couldn’t help an appreciative smile upon seeing the pearl-colored nail polish which adorned her well-manicured nails.

I always had this inexplicable obsession with nice hands, especially with well-groomed nails or claws.

Sadly, my fellow Lycans often proved to be rather neglectful on that front. They justified it by saying the minute they shifted into their wolf form to run or hunt, dirt or blood inevitably found their way underneath their claws. True though that was, it took seconds to clean.

“Thank you,” Amara said in a friendly manner.

Nine Hells! The sound of her voice sent the most delicious shiver down my spine.

It was soft and a little throaty as it glided over my skin like a warm summer breeze.

She was even more breathtaking up close.

My fingers twitched again with the need to sink into the lustrous curls of her puffy hair.

I wanted to dive deep into the fathomless depths of her obsidian eyes and explore the most intimate corners of her psyche and discover all the hidden beauties of the goddess fated to me.

“My pleasure,” I replied in a gentle tone, surprised I was even able to speak, then gestured at the bench across the table from her. “May I sit?”

She slightly recoiled and stared at me with a reserved look laced with confusion.

“My name is Remus Beltaine. Misty told me you needed a guide?” I said.

Her face lighting up with both understanding and elation did the strangest thing to me. I could count on one hand the number of people who had ever displayed such happiness at finding out my identity.

“Oh, Remus! Yes! Yes, please do have a seat!” she exclaimed with a thrill in her voice. “My name is Amara… Amara Sanni. And I’m indeed desperately looking for a guide for a challenging mission. Misty had nothing but praise for you. So I’m hoping you will be willing to escort me to my destination.”

She spoke that last sentence with a slightly nervous laugh. The vulnerability with which she stared at me, and the almost pleading glimmer in her eyes had me aching to simply say yes to anything she desired.

But that would be pure madness.

As I settled down on the long bench of the booth, I discreetly inhaled her intoxicating scent.

It made me dizzy, and my skin heated a bit more.

However, the underlying sickly-sweet stench of impending death clawed at my heart, confirming Misty’s ominous words.

As shocking as her brutal admission had been, I was grateful for the warning which now enabled me to more stoically handle whatever Amara would throw my way.

“I will do everything in my power to help you achieve your goal,” I replied cautiously. “However, I need to hear more about that mission before I can commit to anything. Misty hinted that it is quite dangerous.”

A sliver of fear flitted over her features.

I instinctively knew that it wasn’t the mission itself that scared her, but the potential that I might refuse to take her when she revealed it to me.

Once again, the irrational need to simply give her whatever she wanted burned deep in my gut.

But as much as my protective instincts demanded I reassure and appease her, keeping her safe—even against her better judgment—was my new priority.

Amara nodded and ran a nervous hand over her hair.

“It is,” she conceded. “I’m sick. Or rather, I’ve somehow become infected by a lethal poison that is slowly killing me. The cure can only be found in these mountains.”

“I’m sorry to hear of your condition. But why do you need a guide to take you to the cure? Wouldn’t it be safer for you to remain here and hire someone like me to go fetch it for you?” I asked, pretending like Misty hadn’t already dropped that bomb on me.

The same hint of fear sparked in Amara’s eyes, quickly hidden.

She licked her lips and squared her shoulders before launching into the detailed retelling of the circumstances that led her to leave her peaceful life in Harmstead and settle in Willow Grove.

How the symptoms manifested a month after her arrival, and how they matched the mysterious illness that had claimed her father’s life when she was but an infant.

“Let me get this straight,” I challenged, a hint of disbelief in my voice. “You are infected by a poison, but don’t know which. You also don’t know who poisoned you or how they did it. But you know what antidote you need and where to find it?!”

Seeing Amara flinch, because of my tone as I spoke those words, the incredulous expression on my face, or a mix of both utterly shamed me. I hadn’t meant to give her the impression that I thought her stupid or reckless. But you couldn’t cure something if you didn’t know what you were fighting.

I opened my mouth to apologize, but she didn’t give me the opportunity to do so.

“I know how it sounds,” she replied in a defensive tone while lifting her chin defiantly.

“But I’m not some airhead on a fool’s errand.

A few days ago, I consulted Ronika, the best healer in the region—if not the country.

She recommended I seek out the help of the Weaver, and I did.

It is Cliona Nox herself who told me what the cure was and where to get it. ”

My back stiffened as I stared at her in shock and disbelief.

“The Weaver granted you an audience?!” I exclaimed.

She nodded. “Truth be told, it blew me away. I never expected her gates to open for me. But I had nothing to lose in at least trying…”

I continued to stare at her, robbed of words, and my mind reeling. So many times over the years I sought the Weaver’s assistance, but to no avail. Did that mean that I couldn’t be helped or simply that I had nothing to offer worth her while?

“But… what did she ask in exchange for her counsel?” I asked, shamed by the envy twisting my gut.