by Megan Smith
She knew now what the Ascendant wanted...her.
HOURS LATER, SHE LAY tucked up against Kendrick, his arm tight against her waist. Reaching up, she trailed soft fingers down the side of his face, marveling anew that he was there beside her.
“What happened to you? How did you end up the Ascendant?”
Propping his head up on one hand, he kept an arm heavy against her waist, as though he were afraid to let go. She could understand that feeling and found herself repeatedly touching his warm skin to reassure herself that she wasn’t dreaming this.
“When your family dragged me away from you that day-“ he paused, the memory causing his eyes to darken, “I’ve never been able to forget the sound of you screaming.”
Tears stung her eyes at the confession. “Neither have I.”
“They were expressing their displeasure with fists and magic when your uncle stopped them just before they ended my life. He suggested that killing me then was too kind-that it would be more fitting to make me suffer before death. He told them he’d made arrangements for me to be sold as a runner for the Hunts. The odds of my surviving the first one was slight, it would be an ugly death and, as a bonus, they’d make some money as well.”
Horror flooded through her at what he was telling her.
“No! Not the Hunts” she denied, her stomach clenching with dread.
Held all over the Night Realm in a variety of venues from small, bare dirt arenas to intricate winding fields of obstacles, Hunts were brutal entertainments where the contenders fought to the death. Fortunes were gained or lost by rabid audiences who ringed the arenas, betting on their favorites while demanding as much blood and struggle as possible.
The contenders were all slaves, forced to compete for their very lives with no end in sight. They fought individually and in teams against not just other slaves, but predatory creatures bred to hunt and kill. It was ugly and savage, with contenders losing pieces of their humanity with each battle they tried to survive.
She’d had to attend one years before when Cadrian had sent her to the Night Realm for an assignment and even now she could remember feeling sick to her stomach at what she’d seen and angry that she hadn’t been able to do anything to aid them. She’d tried to find a way to help some of them escape since then, but hadn’t been able to find a way to break the magic infused slave bands they wore. If any of them attempted to break them, they would die with a simple, extremely painful spell.
“You survived” she stated, her gaze dropping to the twisted scar that crossed from his shoulder down over his heart and realizing just where he had to have gotten it. Reaching out, she gently traced it, a tear slipping down her cheek.
“I did” he answered simply, taking her hand and pressing a small kiss to the palm, “they tossed me in a room so crowded with slaves you couldn’t sit down. Ironically, the slavers had done their best to heal me from what your family had done-they’d get a better price for a healthy male-so at least going in I had a chance. We were told simply that if we survived our first fight, we’d get something to eat” he shrugged and Allandra had to bite back the against the sound of distress she wanted to make and let him finish. “It wasn’t the thought of food that pushed me, but the thought of somehow getting back to you. I vowed to do whatever I had to to survive.”
A haunted pain twisted through his face. “I won.”
He grew quiet, the memory of what he’d been forced to do darkening his eyes before he continued. “They put me in another room with a few less people and gave us bread. Eventually, I got my own room. I was consistently winning, so they gave me a trainer, a Healer after Hunts, several meals a day and then put several of us together for team matches.”
“Ironically, that was their downfall” he admitted with a shrug of one shoulder.
“It gave you a family” she guessed and he nodded.
“Yes. When we realized that we didn’t have to fight each other to survive-that the more we worked together, the better off we were-it changed things. We changed. Instead of looking for how to survive individually, we looked at how we could protect each other. We became Pack.”
Allandra watched affection lighten his face and tilted her head consideringly. “Declan. He was part of your team, wasn’t he?”
He smiled briefly down at her. “Yes.”
“So, what happened? How did you end up a werewolf? And the Ascendant, at that?”
He moved to curve his arm behind his head, shifting Allandra to rest against his broad chest before studying the rough wooden ceiling for a moment. His other hand began to slowly brush against her back, sending tingles of awareness through her.
“A Blaedin chose me” he said simply and she lifted her head to stare at him.
“A Blaedin chose you” she repeated, “the massive, wolf creatures from the Night Realm. The ones who love nothing more than to hunt and kill anything that crosses their path? Those Blaedin?”
One side of his lip lifted in amusement. “Well, they’re not that indiscriminate. But, yes. Those Blaedin.”
“Explain” she ordered and a full smile swept across his face in response, causing her breath to catch at the beauty of it. She’d always loved his smile, the way it would lighten his whole face and make his eyes sparkle. She had a feeling that he hadn’t really smiled in a long time, so it seemed even more beautiful now.
“We fought the Blaedin a lot. I have to admit that I liked those Hunts-there was something exciting about pitting yourself against a creature that intelligent and cunning. They are true predators in every sense. When we succeeded in bringing one down, you really felt victorious. Not like when we were pitched against people. Any triumph was hollow then” he admitted, the amusement fading from his expression.
“The Blaedin communicate with one another in various ways. It took me a while to realize that and decode their signals. I suspected they could speak telepathically to each other as well but I didn’t realize how it worked until the Hunt where I almost died.”
Allandra reared up abruptly, shock spiraling through her. “What? You almost died?”
Reaching out, he brushed a strand of warm brown hair back from her face. “I fought in the Hunts for almost a hundred years, Allandra. I ‘almost died’ multiple times. And, from what I’ve found you’ve actually died twice.”
“That’s different” she defended and he raised an eyebrow, “it is! A Blackstar Guardian’s body just shuts down like death when the wound is too serious-we can’t actually die unless we’re stabbed with a Delphian Blade or beheaded. If you were to die, you wouldn’t come back from it” she finished with a shudder.
“Which isn’t an issue any more since we’re now Bound and Mingled. The threat of death doesn’t have any power over us anymore” he stated matter-of-factly and she gave a slight huff before settling back down.
“Finish your story” she muttered.
“It was a course Hunt that lasted several days against a pack of Blaedin. We’d wounded several of them and been severely hurt by them in return. I’d done my best to make sure my team survived but it was tough. Their leader was cunning and strong. We went head to head...and, to be honest, I wasn’t sure I was going to make it through. There came a point where he had me pinned down, but I’d wounded him badly so it wasn’t hopeless. I could hear the crowd screaming, my Pack’s voices raw and pleading with me to fight” he paused, giving an amazed shake of his head.
“Even now, it’s hard to believe” he admitted, “but, when the Hunt first started...I heard a voice in my head.”
She watched him, fascinated, despite the sick feeling pooling in her belly at the thought of how close she had come to losing him forever. “A voice? What did it say?”
“The Blaedin have an Ascendant Alpha” he informed her, “he’d been observing the Hunts for some time and recognized in me a fellow warrior and leader. Because I had beaten several of his best Alpha’s, he deemed me strong-and worthy-enough to lead a new kind of Pack.”
Frowning, she til
ted her head. “The werewolves?” she guessed and he nodded, “but, no one had ever heard of werewolves in any realm until two centuries ago. How could he have known what you’d become?”
“I don’t know that he did, exactly. He said the Blaedin were failing. After years of Hunts and Pack battles for territory, their numbers were decimated, their magic was fading and there hadn’t been any pups born in over two centuries. The Ascendant was calling them all back to their homeland in an effort to rebuild and strengthen them.”
“I remember everyone wondering where and why they’d suddenly disappeared” she remarked with understanding, “they were just there one day and gone the next.”
“Every Blaedin has the ability to send their...essence into another. The Ascendant wanted to send the essence of the Alpha I was facing into me” he announced calmly and Allandra’s face lightened with understanding.
While she’d only heard of a handful of cases in history, what Kendrick was describing wasn’t unheard of. Several of her fellow Guardians had all been altered irrevocably by an Ancient sending her essence into them in an effort to save them, altering what they were forever.
But, that had been a sharing of essence between people. A Blaedin sharing its essence with someone not of their species...could create a completely new, dual race.
Werewolves.
Two halves that worked together in tandem.
“Your wolf is a Blaedin. How does it work?” she wondered.
“They breathe a green mist into the face, the one receiving the essence takes it in and then the body...adjusts.”
Kendrick’s explanation didn’t contain many details, but Allandra could guess what they were. Altering one race into something completely different would be excruciatingly painful, no doubt leaving the one changed with a bewildering set of new feelings, thoughts and abilities.
When one became a Blackstar Guardian, they were gifted with enhanced speed, sight, hearing and strength-all useful skills to have-but also completely disorientating at first. She remembered how agonizing it had been the first few months, when the minutia of sound alone had driven her crazy until she’d learned to filter and control her hearing.
She could just imagine what it had been like for Kendrick to suddenly find himself housing a wolf with thoughts and a will of its own.
“The Ascendant said I had until the end of the Hunt to decide-if I survived and chose to accept, the change of essence would happen. I told the other’s what was happening and, after discussing it, I decided to accept.”
“You had this discussion during a Hunt?” she questioned in disbelief and a hint of amusement lifted the corner of one lip.
“We’re very good at communicating while under stress.”
“Obviously. So what happened?”
“I lost consciousness for three days. My Hunt master thought I was dead and wanted to throw me into the losers pit, but my team insisted I was still alive. When I awoke, I could feel my wolf. He has a separate consciousness from mine, but at the same time...we’re the same” he frowned, trying to explain something that only a fellow werewolf would understand.
“You weren’t out of control like the others are?” she questioned curiously.
When a werewolf was first turned, they were more animal than anything else, acting on instinct and response-often violently. Reports of werewolves running rampant, turning innocent victims at random, was one of the main reasons some of the other races were determined to hunt them down and eradicate them.
“No, I woke with complete control. When they saw what I had become, they chose to be changed as well. I was able to help make the adjustment easier for them and the first werewolf Pack was formed” he finished with a shrug, one hand sliding slowly along her arm.
Trying to ignore what the simple action was doing to her, she shook her head as she realized what he was telling her.
“You’re the first” she stated in amazement, “the very first werewolf.”
“Yes.”
Her mind reeled as she tried to fit everything he’d just told her into what she already knew about the werewolves. She’d known they were a newly visible race, but she’d always assumed that they’d originated in some corner of the Night Realm eons before. To think that they were a completely new race, seeded in the man next to her...she could hardly wrap her head around it.
Why had he done it?
The question whispered through her mind and made her pause to examine it. Choosing to change yourself into something unknown couldn’t have been easy. He wouldn’t have known what to expect or even what he was going to be changed into. He was trusting the Alpha of the Blaedin he’d spent a century fighting against with his very life.
The Blaedin he had been fighting was already dying-he could have finished it, went to the Healer with his team and fought another day.
So, why take the chance?
Turning, she found Kendrick watching her with a perceptive gaze, reading the thoughts floating across her face.
“You” he said simply, “if there was even the slightest chance that it could help free me to get back to you...I’d take it.”
Tears stung her eyes, blurring his face and she blindly reached up to tug him down to her. And, as their lips met, something broke inside as she realized just how much he’d gambled, how much he’d sacrificed just to find her again.
Chapter 4
KENDRICK SNAPPED AWAKE, sending out with a sweep of all his senses before allowing himself to relax his tense muscles. The sharp werewolf senses he’d woken with after being changed had helped to assess whatever situation he found himself in quickly, but years of conditioning had taught him to wake at the merest hint of movement and to open his eyes ready to fight.
In a perfect world, escaping to the Light Realm should have allowed him to soften his guard, but he’d quickly learned to be as vigilant as ever when werewolves had been deemed an abomination that needed to be destroyed.
That vigilance had saved his life more than once and had only cemented his determination to create a place for his Packs amongst the other races. A place where the others accepted their right to live, and live freely.
Finding his way back to Allandra had been his driving force for most of his enslavement, but once he’s been changed and had seen the beginning growth of his Pack, his focus had split.
He’d realized quickly what the Blaedin Ascendant had tried to tell him in the moments before he’d accepted the Alpha’s essence-that to be an Alpha meant a total commitment to the Pack.
An Alpha was compelled to protect them at all costs. And an Ascendant felt the same need a thousand fold. Every werewolf alive traced their beginning back to him and he, in turn, felt the bond, the responsibility toward each other them.
He’d felt a tie snap into place each time a new werewolf had been made, an unbreakable bond that made them his, no matter if he knew them personally or not.
Having that hold had become vitally important when his Pack had escaped to the Light Realm and began searching for the scattered werewolves that slave traders had tried to create using an injured Packmate they’d abducted.
They’d dragged him to the Light Realm where they’d forced him to transfer his essence to multiple captives before he’d died of his wounds. Their plans to present a selection of werewolves to sell to Hunt masters disintegrated when the newly changed went wild, turning and killing the slavers before running rampant through the countryside, changing anyone they came across.
Kendrick had done his best to calm and settle them from afar, working through their bond to balance their new animal instincts with the people they’d once been. The Pack had spent years searching for the missing werewolves, bringing those they’d found back to Kalvara and mourning those who’d been senselessly killed by those who saw them as a threat.
He’d wrestled their new race into smaller Packs with laws, territory and a sense of commonality. Their search continued even today, identifying and pulling isolated werewolves into Packs that provi
ded much needed connections. Wolves thrived best in communities and more than one werewolf had sobbed after realizing that they weren’t alone after all.
Kendrick had never lost sight of his ultimate goal though-reuniting with Allandra. He had doggedly searched for her after discovering that she’d left her Naethyrian Domina right after he’d been taken and had never returned. She’d cut herself off completely from everyone she knew and disappeared into the woods without a trace.
It had taken him long, frustrating years to discover that she had become a champion of slaves-slipping in to secretly talk with Domina princes about changing the practice while also working to help them escape. Her courage and conviction had brought her to the attention of Cadrian, who asked her to join the elite and mysterious Blackstar Guardians.
That had been over two hundred years ago.
It had nearly killed him to wait after he’d finally found her, but he’d forced himself to think of the newly developing werewolves-making sure that Kalvara was secure and the Packs were stable-before finally reaching out to make contact.
He’d felt his heart stop when she strode confidently into the lodge, her features achingly familiar. It had taken all the control he’d had to remain seated and not rush through a reunion centuries in the making.
He’d intended to take things slow, to feel out how she felt after all these years. If she’d thought of him at all.
But the Creators had taken things into their own hands and he’d been just as surprised as she to see the marriage mark appearing on their skin, binding them together.
The werewolves had found out quickly that the Creators were very much aware of them. They had Seraphins, just as the other races did, but unlike them, the Creators had taken the additional step of automatically marrying them as soon as they touched the one who held a small piece of their soul inside them.
It had been a shock the first few times it had happened, but, as with all Seraphins, the pairings were perfect and their wolf half had accepted their mate without question so Kendrick had added it to the growing lexicon of information on their new race.
