Page 12 of Fated to the Alpha Warrior (The Wolf’s Forbidden Mate #1)
“We should go to their municipal building,” he says, jerking his chin toward the broad two-story building near the center of town. “Any survivors will have gathered together. They’ll likely be there.”
It’d be better to go along with his suggestion, I know. But I can’t help blurting out, “But wouldn’t you want to go where the emergency supplies are? That’s the clinic. Anyone with any medical knowledge or emergency preparedness would be there.”
Kieran’s ice blue eyes meet mine for a moment, and a shock goes through me, like a live wire stretching from head to toe. Damn the bond. “I suppose you’re right.”
Grudging though it is, I’ll take it. I don’t even rub his face in how right I am when we show up to the clinic to discover it is, in fact, where the remaining members of the pack have been hunkering down.
Unfortunately they’re less than thrilled to see us.
“Who goes there?” The gruff voice belongs to the tallest woman I’ve seen in a while, standing outside the propped-open doors of the clinic with her arms crossed over her chest. “This is not your land, shifters. Go home.”
Her nostrils flare as she takes in our scent. I observe her for a quiet moment, then take in the clinic behind her.
The clinic’s waiting room has been turned into a sort of triage center. People are sitting in all the chairs, a nurse going from patient to patient. I notice that one of them, a man, is handcuffed to his chair, his eyes wide and wild. My shifter nose picks up the scent of antiseptic and sedatives.
“We’re here from Pack Jade to help,” Kieran tells the woman, his voice commanding. I can feel, as well as hear him, push his wolf’s dominance into his words. “One of your people came to get us. He told us what happened to your alpha. If you just?—”
“Get out.” She bares her teeth in a snarl, her wolf clashing with his—and from the way Kieran winces, she’s strong. “We don’t need help from outsiders. For all I know the fae sent you.”
Things must be dire if shifters are suspicious of each other now. Working for the fae is unheard of—but the look on the warrior’s face makes it clear she has a reason to suspect us.
Kieran is about to open his mouth, no doubt to put his foot inside and chomp on it for a bit. I clear my throat and step up, cutting my eyes at him so he shuts it.
“I understand why you’d be suspicious. The fae are tricky. This is just the sort of thing they’d do, and this Neanderthal’s attitude isn’t helping.”
“Hey! I was just?—”
I bulldoze past Kieran, giving the warrior a friendly I’m-not-with-that-guy smile.
“But we’re not here with them, and I can prove it.
” Reaching under my shirt, I draw out my cold iron necklace, the teardrop-shaped pendant swinging from a long silver chain.
“I was raised by a Pack Granite hunter. She taught me about cold iron, fae bargains, and faerie rings when she warned me about the fae so I could hunt them if needed. I promise you that we’re just here to help. ”
I can see from the warrior’s eyes that I’ve swayed her a bit, but she still shakes her head. “I have clear instructions. We don’t have the resources to share?—”
“Aurora!” The voice, tired but elated, comes from behind the warrior’s shoulder. “Mercie, let her in. She’s a friend from Pack Jade, not a fae soldier.”
I recognize the exhausted-looking young woman who appears in the clinic’s open doors, her black hair tied up in a messy bun, dark circles under her eyes.
Farroh is one of Alpha Tylin’s children—his youngest daughter, and the most outgoing and rambunctious of his heirs.
She used to go exploring in the old ruins to the east of these lands, where she’d often find trinkets to sell to Dana.
“I’d heard you’d gone missing,” I tell her, relieved as she motions for Mercie to step aside. “You, your sister, and your brother were all supposedly nowhere to be found.”
“Well, you found me!” Farroh’s eyes slide to Kieran. “And who is this?”
To Kieran, I say, “This is Farroh, Alpha Tylin’s youngest daughter. Farroh, this is Kieran—our alpha’s son.”
“We’ve met,” Kieran says, his tone grudging, “though I spent more time with Waylon than with either of his sisters.”
Of course. Right before our mate bond formed, Kieran had been gone for two years, traveling to other packs to meet their alphas and heirs. He would’ve stayed in Alpha Tylin’s house at least briefly to get to know them.
The thought of him, young and outgoing, sitting across from sweet Farroh and beautiful Yvette—Tylin’s middle child—makes my stomach churn uncomfortably. My ribcage pricks with the pain of the bond, and I have to force myself to pay attention to what Farroh is saying as she leads us into the clinic.
“I’m glad you’re here. We could use the extra hands—and eyes and ears.
Figuring out what’s going on with our pack has been…
difficult.” Farroh’s tone speaks volumes.
“All we know is that the fae have something to do with it, because some of our people have reported sightings, and at least one warrior made a bargain with the fae before he went mad.”
“So it’s true,” Kieran says, looking at the man in the corner who’s been handcuffed and sedated. “The fae are behind the madness.”
“As far as we can tell. That’s where my sister and I were, actually—we tracked one of them for miles before he disappeared back to his realm. And my brother was dealing with…” She trails off, clears her throat, and finishes in a flat voice, “He killed the shifter who murdered our father.”
Her words strike a chill through me. “I’m sorry, Farroh.”
“It’s not your fault.” Her answering smile is tight. Glancing over at Kieran, she asks, “What help are you going to be, anyway? It’s not as if you can cure the madness. I’m sure you would’ve led with that.”
“We’re here to gather information, so we can find the source of all this and end it,” Kieran says, sounding more confident than I now feel. “Aurora is an expert in fae lore, and I have a nose for their magic. If they’re behind it, we’ll find them and put an end to all this.”
Farroh looks at him for a long, searching moment, then nods and motions toward the corner. “Be my guest then. Although you may not get many answers from him.”
I finally truly look at the shifter in the corner.
He’s a young man with tawny brown skin and auburn hair, his head hung low toward his knees, a vacant expression in his golden-brown eyes.
He’s been tied to the back of the chair with massive lengths of rope, and not only are his arms handcuffed to the armrests, but his ankles are handcuffed to the chair legs as well.
“Gage is the source of it,” she says in a bitter voice, “at least as far as we can tell. He’s the only one who hasn’t gotten better at all.
He showed signs weeks ago, long before any of the rest went mad.
And the worst thing is, we didn’t realize it, even though it should’ve been obvious—he can’t even shift. ”
Her offhand words, so easily spoken, are like a punch to the gut. I’ve been accused of being mad myself more times than I can count. Teasing by my classmates, sneers from fellow shifters, “concerned” murmurs about whether or not I was contagious—all because I don’t have my wolf.
Seeming to realize too late what she said, Farroh throws in a tired, “Sorry, Aurora. But he’s not like you. He’s been saying the craziest things.” She glances toward the back of the clinic, then breaks out in a smile. “My brother is here.”
Kieran sees Waylon before I do, and strides across the waiting room to greet him.
They share a big, manly bear hug, their deep voices reminiscing, and I distantly hear Kieran share his condolences.
But I can’t take my eyes off of Gage, his shoulders curved with defeat, his eyes barely showing any emotion at all.
If it weren’t for a dozen things going a certain way in my life, that could’ve been me. Worse, it still could be.
Waylon—Alpha Waylon now, if the self-assured dominance rolling off him is any indication—walks up to me and gives me a small nod of recognition. “Aurora. I’m sure we’ve met, but my apologies for not remembering. Kieran says that you’re a bit of an expert in fae lore.”
“He’s overestimating my abilities,” I tell Waylon, feeling self-conscious. “Although I do know more than most. The woman who raised me insisted that they were going to come back one day—that we hadn’t hunted them to oblivion or forced them back to their realms as was claimed.”
“I’m afraid she was right,” he says sadly. “I’ve seen the evidence with my own eyes, although I have no idea what motivates them.”
“Power. Greed. Pure, unchecked desire,” I tell him. “The fae aren’t like us, or humans, or even witches. They don’t feel shame, guilt, or regret. Gran always said that they were hungry things, half-wild and mindless.”
“And their spells? Their bargains?” Waylon’s eyes, a deep hazel, are intense with desperation. “Do you know any way to counteract them at all?”
Dozens of ways, but none that apply here, as all of them are only useful to the bargainer themselves.
Most fae bargains aren’t meant to be undone by an outsider—and they’re almost always impossible to break.
Usually there are loopholes, but only in favor of the fae making the bargain, and I’d have to know the words that were used to make it.
But if the hopeless, heavily sedated shifter in front of me wasn’t the one who made the bargain, just a bystander—it’s happened before in other packs, Carrie said that a poorly-worded vow, one of her fellow hunters made, resulted in three spontaneous pregnancies and two star-crossed mate bonds—just being near a fae bargain as it’s made can result in runoffs of magic, although usually it’s those who meddle in the bargains who find themselves on the wrong end of an unbreakable curse.
Kieran and Waylon are looking at me expectantly, and even without a wolf inside me, my shifter side is desperate to please both dominant men.