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Shit, shit, shit.
“Stay the fuck away from my sister,” he ground out through clenched teeth.
Tired of everything, I shoved him off. I had a good couple inches and maybe fifty pounds on him. Didn’t mean I wanted to fight him, but I was tired of him calling all the shots.
“Fuck off. I was only getting her out of the SUV that had a dead guy right behind her. No one else had made a move to get her out and make sure she was okay. Maybe you should be grateful that I was looking out for your sister,” I snarled before walking away.
I went straight to my room and fell facedown on the bed with a groan. It didn’t matter how many times I experienced my “gift,” it always shook me and gave me a headache. This time it had made my head pound like it was going to explode. The run-in with Angel hadn’t helped.
My mind wandered, and I must’ve dozed off, because I was dreaming of my mother. I was a little boy, and we were sitting by a fire in the woods as she chanted and sang. The language was a mystery to me, but it spoke to my soul. Guttural and yet melodic, she sang a song that I didn’t understand, yet I was mesmerized.
“Nico,” she said once she’d finished.
“Yes, Momma?” I asked.
Her soft hand caressed my cheek. “When you get older, there will be things you don’t understand. Things will happen that might scare you, but you must remember what you have is a gift. Your father had this gift, and it has been passed down to you.”
“Where is my father?” I asked her.
Pained, her gaze held mine. “He is with Tengri in the Eternal Blue Heaven,” she said with a sad smile.
My mother was half Mongolian, and she had taught me some of her beliefs, so I knew Tengri was the god of the sky. She fingered the howling wolf-shaped stone around her neck, then she raised it to her lips and pressed a reverent kiss to the obsidian stone. Slowly, she lifted it from around her neck and draped it around mine.
The chain was long, and the pendant hit down to my belly. The metal was warm against my skin, and I lifted the stone to look at the intricately carved wolf. When my mother spoke, I lifted my gaze to hers.
“I have to make one of the hardest decisions of my life, but if it means you live, I would do it a hundred times over. I love you so much, Nico. You are my heart.” A fat tear escaped her eye and trailed down her cheek.
“Momma? Don’t cry. I’m going to grow up big and strong. I’ll protect you, and you’ll never have to make choices that make you sad,” I bravely stated. My words brought out a laugh carried on a choked sob. She glanced over her shoulder, and I peeked around her to see what she was looking at.
In the dark shadows outside of the light of the fire, glowing spots dotted the darkness. A frown wrinkled my brow. “It’s time.” A growling voice echoed from the inky night. My heart started to race, but I tried to seem brave as I stood.
“Go away!” I yelled. My mother gripped my arm as a growl rose from the shadows followed by a snapping sound.
“Nico!” she whispered in admonishment, and I didn’t like the fear in her eyes.
She stood, and I followed, but she placed a hand on my shoulder. “Stay near the safety of the fire. When morning comes, take your backpack and walk toward the sun. Don’t forget your bag, and don’t stop until you reach the town.”
Confusion marred my brow. “But I want to stay with you,” I argued.
Her bottom lip trembled, and the corners of her mouth turned down. “I know,” she said with a sigh. “Wait here. Promise me. Until the sun rises.”
“But—” I started.
“Promise me, Nico!” she interrupted. The urgency of her tone made me want to please her, so I nodded. Relief softened her face, and she pressed a kiss to my brow.
“You can’t help you weren’t born a wolf but like your father. It was my choice to disobey the laws of my people. If I have to do this to keep you alive, I will do it. I love you to the moon and back. When you hear the wolf’s lonely cry at night, know that I’m watching over you,” she said before she wrapped me in a tight embrace. Then she reluctantly dropped her arms and turned away.
As she stepped into the shadows, I thought I saw her shed her dress, but as soon as I blinked, she was gone—swallowed up by the shadows.
“Momma?” I called as I made a full circle, searching the dark night for where she went. “Momma!” I shouted until I was hoarse and my tears had dried on my face. Then I curled up on the sleeping bag my mother had laid out when I thought we were having an adventure.
As I drifted off to sleep, a wolf howled. Instead of being frightened, peace settled within me, and I slept.
With a jolt, I awoke. Still wanting to shout for my mother twenty years later, I bit my tongue and sat up. Hand shaking, I speared it through the longer dark hair on the top of my head. Then I rasped over the shorn sides several times to shake off the dream that was really a memory.
When I joined the army and became special forces, I used the technology at my disposal to look up my mother. I knew she’d been half Mongolian, because she’d told me, but I hadn’t known she traced back to Genghis Khan. I’d never seen my mother again, and there was no record of her death. She’d simply dropped off the face of the earth that night.
Often over the years, I would think I saw a wolf hidden in the trees or at the edge of the park. Always, before I could search for it, the thing would be gone when I blinked.
I would dream of the wolf with a notch in its ear. At first, I was afraid. I’d been placed in foster care in a small town outside of Des Moines, Iowa, and there were wooded areas everywhere. I’d told my first foster mother about the wolf, and she’d laughed at me, telling me there were no wolves in Iowa.
When I’d gotten older, I had researched. There were wolves in Minnesota and people had claimed to have spotted them on rare occasion in Iowa. One had been shot in Northwestern Iowa, or so people believed. Nothing definitive though, because I couldn’t find anything that said the wolf’s body was found afterward.
It was another thing I’d never gotten an answer to—along with how I could see people’s memories if I touched them. Occasionally, I was able to get readings from objects as well, but those visions were usually muted and not as mind-blowing as they were when I touched a human.
Never in a million years had I imagined finding a woman that was my soulmate.
Yet, because of my “gift” I was damned—never able to have her.
Never good enough for her.
