Filed to story: The Wolf Prince’s Fated Love
But as I settled into an extremely comfortable settee, I found myself grateful for it. I did at least resist the urge to pull up my feet and curl into a protective ball, but only just barely.
I felt like one giant, exposed nerve, walking around frayed and vulnerable. The last thing I wanted to do was be polite and social when I really needed quiet and solitude after getting manhandled.
So many memories were fighting to drown me, tugging at my clothes and pulling me under the surface until my wolf came out and saved me.
Because that was what she did. She guarded me as closely as my friends and wasn’t afraid to take control if I froze up.
She’d done it before.
A server pressed a cup of steaming coffee into my hand, and I accepted it. The first sip had me closing my eyes, willing the world to fade back just a little bit so I could grit my way through this. It’s funny how something as small as a cup of coffee can ground you with its familiarity in times of stress. But after a few sips, I felt marginally better.
Jada settled on the couch across from us that was oversized and large enough to hold her entire sleuth comfortably, though only one of them sat.
To my chagrin, I realized Dirge was hovering a few feet away as well. I was a woman divided; part of me wanted to drag him close, bury my face in his neck, and let him shield me from everything. The other part-the scared little girl who’d been hurt by bad men-she wanted to be alone. Safe. Untouched.
I didn’t know which part was bigger, even though I was certain Dirge would never harm me. At least not on purpose. When the server had finished his rounds and bowed to Jada, he backed out of the room and one of her mates shut the door behind him.
Once we were alone, she didn’t waste any time.
“So, is your fae wolf the one who’s brought you here, High Alpha? I may have misunderstood, but when Inuksuk contacted me I thought he said it was your own mate who had power troubles.” She let her gaze linger on Brielle, then flicked it back over to me in question.
There was curiosity there, but all I felt was confusion. She’d said that before, when I shook her hand, and I had no fucking clue what she was talking about.
“I’m not fae,” I blurted. I immediately regretted it, as every eye turned in my direction. I was getting really friggin’ sick of feeling like a bug under a microscope today.
Belatedly, I realized it might be construed as rude to argue with this leader we’d come to beg a favor from. But… she had to be mistaken. I was a garden-variety wolf shifter, with nothing but a terrible childhood and excellent friends to distinguish me from any other.
She arched one eyebrow, as imperious as any queen while she sipped her coffee and stared at me. Stared into me, more like.
“You are fae, in part. Greater fae, not a lesser. But it is curious that you don’t know it. The relation would have to be close, for you to be as strong as you are. A parent, grandparent at the absolute least.”
I was stunned into silence. She thought I had a fae parent?
It wasn’t really possible for me to argue the point since I didn’t know my parents, but if I wasn’t a wolf shifter-
fully a wolf shifter, I corrected as my brain tried to process what she was saying-wouldn’t someone have noticed before now?
Unease filled me at the idea of not being who or what I thought I was. Wouldn’t I have known?
“How is that possible?” Bri asked from her position seated next to Kane.
Jada shrugged, while one of her men chuckled. “The usual way, I suppose. Fae wander into this world eager to mingle with all the different species. They are a sexually curious race. Wolves are often highly physical. It’s not the worst match I’ve ever heard of.”
I really didn’t want to think about my existence being started by a randy fae and a lonely wolf’s one-night stand. If that was true, why didn’t I know at least my wolf parent?
No, there had to be more to the story, surely. I stayed silent, not eager to hash out my childhood trauma for this stranger’s perusal. Besides, we were here for Brielle, not me. Although
…
“If I were part fae, would that explain why everyone thought I died and then I came back? Or why a wolfsbane bullet wound would heal too quickly?” I forced the words out through gritted teeth.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Dirge tense, focus fastened onto me, instead of Jada. I couldn’t return his gaze, though. Not yet.
Guilt gnawed at me because I knew it had to be hurting him, this distance. I hadn’t meant to flinch when he tried to touch me. I truly hadn’t. But sometimes instinct just took over. And if anyone could understand that, surely it was him?
I made myself a promise to tell him that as soon as we had some privacy for a real conversation. It would suck, but… he was my mate. He deserved the truth.
She pursed her lips and squinted at me, then turned to whisper something in one of her mate’s ears. He whispered something in return, and anxiety began to crawl up my throat like a spider. I could feel the flush spreading through me under their scrutiny.
She contemplated long enough that I was on the verge of self-combustion by the time she finally spoke again.
“Not much is known about fae-wolf hybrids, frankly. But yes, I think it’s possible. But more than that, it’s possible you may be immortal, as are the fae. A strong enough sire or dam, the right circumstances… that mortal wound may have triggered your fae side to finally express itself after a lifetime of latency.”
My brain was running slower than nineties dial-up. It was all static and off-pitch screeches up there.
Immortal?
Surely not. Wolves were long-lived, yes. But did I want to stay the same while everyone I knew got old and died? We’d just seen Inuksuk in his frail later years, so the image of the future was very fresh. Hell, one of my besties could die in childbirth. It happened more often than anyone would like to think about.
Did I want to stand by and watch that, unable to grow or change myself?
And my mate… was a wolf. A wolf who would also grow old one day. How could I be immortal if I was spirit-bound to a mortal being?
I couldn’t even begin to comprehend that possibility. So, I did what every sane, twenty-something woman did in untenable situations. I packed that shit in a mental box, duct-taped it shut, and stuck it on a shelf for another, less insane time.
I was going to live close to a thousand years anyway; I’d deal with year one thousand and one when I got there, if I got there. Besides, there was so much unknown. She could be wrong.
Right?
I finally broke down and let my eyes flick to where Dirge stood, still as a statue, but gazing at me with shock and awe.
Shit.