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“I suppose it’s rather wholesome compared to most of our race’s backstories.” Elan gestured toward those of us around the fire. “So many lives sacrificed for the power we hold.”
It was difficult to realize that all of my men were in some way surrounded by death, but apparently so I was.
Elan was trying to needle and poke, to elicit a reaction about the fact that my mates were potentially murderers, or, at the very least, responsible for the deaths of people they cared about, but it didn’t scare me.
“I was a baby. I couldn’t have prevented what happened to my mother. I’m sure there are many stories just like mine. Power gained by accident.”
“And what about the ones that weren’t? Hmm?” Elan challenged, his gaze calculating. Jolon’s arms tightened around me.
“I know my mates. I recognize their hearts.” My voice didn’t waver. Hell, I could feel my men’s emotions, their thoughts. We were connected on a soul deep level. “The Fates have blessed me with good mates, and if that wasn’t enough of an answer, I trust my intuition.” I raised my chin stubbornly, sitting a little straighter within Jolon’s grasp.
Perhaps Elan had forgotten just how all-consuming the mate bonds were. Even now, through blood bonds alone, my men were picking up on my distress and sadness, and they sent waves of calm reassurance through our connection.
On the other hand, I felt their worry, stress, and anxiety over Elan’s insinuations. It was mixed with varying reactions from each of them—anger, sadness, and guilt. I covered them with all the love I could gather, letting them know we would talk about all of this later when we were alone.
I knew my mates just as they knew me. While we had a lot to learn about each other that only time would reveal, I truly believed none of them were dangerous.
They might be damaged and far from perfect, but they wore their scars like a rite of passage, and though some old wounds might still bleed, they’d emerged stronger and more resilient because of all they’d survived.
And there was no question that was exactly what my mates were—survivors.
Our scars were natural tattoos that painted our souls with the stories of our past.
Someday I’d learn those stories, but I wasn’t about to let Elan scare me into believing that their darkest moments defined them.
Dason let my thoughts flow freely through the mental link he opened between the pack, and Jolon did the same. Their worries eased, and I inhaled the leather spice of Jolon’s scent, letting it calm my racing heart until I could breathe steadily.
Elan cocked his head, studying me. “Well, who am I to second-guess a woman’s intuition? Let’s hope it serves you well, especially when it comes to officially taking mates.” He raised his glass in a one-sided toast and downed the rest of his alcohol.
“What is it you hope she’ll discover about us, Elan?” Dason challenged. I’d never heard his tone turn that cold before.
“We all have a past, but there are no secrets between mates,” Axel growled. “You’re trying to scare Lorn, and make it sound as if the shadow touched people are a bunch of murderers, though you, yourself, are one.” Axel’s harsh voice cut through the din of the crowd beyond, the fire crackling as if in agreement. “Most of us would give up this lifestyle if it meant getting our loved ones back.”
“I would,” Kota choked out. “I never wanted this.” Black fur sprouted along Kota’s arms as his hands shifted into paws with wicked-looking claws extending from the tips.
The need to wrap my arms around Kota was strong, but I didn’t move from Jolon’s embrace. I didn’t think Kota would accept the contact after pulling away from our kiss earlier in the evening.
Brick by brick, I was tearing down the walls he kept around his heart, but Kota needed time to deal with the grief he’d kept bottled up all these years over the loss of his younger brother. It was a pain I’d started to realize ran deeper than I’d initially thought.
Kota might not have wielded a weapon to take his brother’s life, but he felt responsible for his death as if he had. If he’d become shadow touched directly afterward, it would have only served to twist the dagger of regret, pain, and guilt deeper into Kota’s heart.
The jaguar retracted back into Kota’s body as he recalled his primal spirit, and Elan cleared his throat.
“Being a skinwalker may come with a price of admission, but being shadow touched is something to be proud of, no matter how we came about possessing the powers we hold. Our role is an important one among the mundanes and other supernatural races. Without us, who would keep the realms secure? I suppose a bit of loss, if it benefits the greater good, is necessary. And as for you—” Elan’s heavy gaze settled on me, and I sat a little straighter, leaning less on Jolon. The elder was trying to be polite, but I could tell he didn’t like me.
Or maybe he just wished I didn’t exist. I was living, breathing evidence that his fated mate had bore the child of another man, whether willingly or unwillingly—a theory I wasn’t ready to dive into.
Fuck, I probably wouldn’t like me either.
Then again, I wasn’t so sure I liked him anyway.
So perhaps it was mutual.
“You came tonight to ask us something,” Elan concluded.
“Yes.” Ashkii grabbed onto the shift in conversation like it was a life raft in choppy waters. “I think that’s enough of dredging up the past for one evening. Please, tell us what it is you need from us, for it is our honor to serve the veil keeper.” He nodded his head as though I was some kind of royalty deserving respect.
The reverence he displayed made me uncomfortable. I was just a girl trying to figure out how to manage running the veil one rocky step at a time. The joke was on him if he thought I had my shit together, but I decided to run with it. Like the lipstick and dark eyeliner I wore, I wanted him to buy the facade so he didn’t go searching for the truth buried below the mask.
