AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Perhaps it’s time to let go.
Jaemus had been fighting for so many years. Though he’d won many battles with his brother’s army, what else did he have? He had no plans, especially now that he was an abomination of nature. He had no true home, no cozy place to rest his head. He had no woman to care for him, to love him. He had his sword, his treasures, and the restless soul of a warrior.
Maybe the time had finally come to surrender.
You do not accept defeat.Flidae’s voice vibrated through his skull as he stopped moving and let the water carry him away.You fight.
But at what cost?
Finally, the cost seemed too high. He was giving more than he was getting, and he was tired. So tired. His entire body ached from the water’s abuse, and that cut on his cheek did not like the salt water’s touch. It felt as if someone had poured liquid fire into his flesh, traded his muscles for rocks, and filled his lungs with sand.
He was done.
You are not done until I say you are, warrior wolf.
Jaemus didn’t have the energy to yell back at Flidae, nor did he want to. Nothing he could say would diminish her anger anyway. He’d only make things worse.
As if things could get worse.
He was about to drown in an ocean that was all too eager to swallow him. He had no idea where he was. He didn’t know if he’d ever see the other warriors—his friends—again. He was certain his life only had mere moments left in it.
Werewolves live longer than this. Don’t waste the time you’ve been given.Where was Flidae? Why couldn’t he see her? Why could he only hear her?
Suddenly a spray of water pushed up from underneath his body, hoisting him past the foamy surface and tossing him onto an unknown shore full of hot, white sand. He coughed out a mouthful of grit followed by a gush of salt water. Heaving until there couldn’t be anything left inside him, Jaemus tried to raise himself up and realized he was no longer in wolf form. His large silver-furred paws had been replaced with rough, familiar hands that sifted through sand as he grabbed at it. Water dripped from his blond hair into his eyes, stinging them.
He wasn’t sure if he should be happy to be back to human or if that made him vulnerable. Could he shift back to wolf or had Flidae shown some mercy and taken that horrible curse away too? Closing his eyes, he pictured his wolf form and instantly turned.
Damn.
The one thing he wanted to be rid of stayed with him. He shifted back to human and sat on the sand, slicking his soaked hair back with his fingers. Hot sun overhead blazed down on his exposed flesh, and he looked over his shoulder where trees with wide leaves offered shade. Crawling on his hands and knees with what little strength he still had, Jaemus pulled himself into the shadowy relief of this strange forest. Ireland didn’t have trees like these with curvy barks that swayed in the warm breeze and large, feather-like leaves that whispered as they moved.
He propped himself up against one of the trees and touched a finger to the cut on his cheek. Wincing, his fingertip came away bloody, but he had nothing to soothe the pain.
Add it to the other scars.
Jaemus was no stranger to scars. He’d been sliced by sword blades, poked by spear tips, nearly gutted by daggers, burned, beaten, walloped within inches of his life. He’d always survived. Never doubted he’d wake to another sunrise.
Now? Well, now he wasn’t as confident that tomorrow was a guarantee. If he did live, what was his purpose? He had no army to fight with, no king to protect, no riches to count, no maiden willing to bring him physical pleasures.
His stomach growled and his survival instincts kicked in. Food. He had to locate some. Shelter. He had to make one. Water. He needed the drinkable sort. Surviving would have to be his new purpose. For now at least. Until he could figure out how to get back home to Ireland.
Standing slowly and using a nearby tree for support, Jaemus surveyed the immediate area. He gathered several fallen logs and fashioned them into a frame of sorts. His movements were slow, both his tussle with the sea and the extreme heat of this place exhausting him. Ireland was never this hot and though he was naked, he couldn’t cool down.
He paused in his laboring and eyed the sea. He wasn’t overly eager to enter it again, but its water would relieve his discomfort. After binding a few more logs together, he walked across the near-burning sand and waded into the water. The waves had calmed quite a bit and as he scanned along the vast expanse of the sea, its tranquility struck him.
Had Flidae purposely churned up the waters when he’d been submerged in them? Was she trying to disorient him? Thrash him? Kill him?
Jaemus shook his head. The Celtic goddess of wild things didn’t need the sea’s help. If she wanted him dead, he’d be dead. Simple as that.
For whatever reason, Flidae had spared his life, encouraged him to live, and dumped him here—whereverherewas. She could have sent him to a more… populated area, but at least he had the means to survive. In gathering logs, he’d noted several types of berries growing about that appeared promising, he’d found a freshwater pond that some frogs had deemed suitable, and he’d located a rock that nearly screamed out to be made into a spear tip. With a shelter, food sources, and water, he’d be fine.
But that was all he’d be. He’d be dry. Fine. He’d be fed. Fine. His thirst would be quenched. Fine.
He’d be alone.Notfine.
Unfortunately, he didn’t have any other choices. Reardon had taken all of his choices when he’d offered Jaemus a drink of that water he’d bespelled with the curse of the werewolf.
Now all Jaemus could do was exist and contain the beast residing beneath his skin.
