Love of the Wild

by Susan Laine

Aethelwulf had him by the throat, a strangling hold so tight Jim couldn’t draw breath. He gripped the lycanthrope’s arm, dangling helplessly a good foot off the ground.

  “It’s not a lack of love, but a lack of friendship that makes unhappy marriages.”

  If what Aethelwulf said was a threat, it was an eloquent one. Jim was educated enough to recognize the quote. He managed to whisper with a raspy voice, “Nietzsche also said, ‘Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster himself.’”

  Aethelwulf’s eyes flashed like emeralds. “Am I the monster because I’m a wolf? Or is it you because you are a human? My blood kin are not the ones who have brought this world to the brink of destruction.” He let out a derisive chuckle. “What about this? ‘Great men’s errors are to be venerated as more fruitful than little men’s truths.’” Did the man just admit to making mistakes while saying he should not be noted as having made them?

  Jim’s vision blurred, as though he were watching events through the surface of a lake, and his skin was on fire. His lungs burned, and he started to scrabble, unable to get away. It was as if Aethelwulf had grown bigger, which he probably had.

  Still, Jim fought the dizziness of imminent blackout. “No price is too high to pay for the privilege of owning yourself.”

  Next thing Jim knew was his body jolting as he landed on his feet, and from there down on his ass, when Aethelwulf released him. “You know your Nietzsche. A true journalist and writer.” There was distinct admiration in the man’s voice. Jim could faintly see Aethelwulf’s feet close to his head. “I guess I have stared into the abyss for far too long.” He sounded wistful, of two minds.

  Jim had hope.

  “Hope in reality is the worst of all evils because it prolongs the torments of man,” said Aethelwulf then, again quoting the words of another and depriving Jim of the tenuous chance for freedom as his heart shattered into a million pieces. “I’m sorry, Jim, but you must come with me. You’ll learn to love me.”

  Jim coughed, rubbing his sore throat softly. “Don’t bet on it.”

  Two pairs of strong arms lifted him from the ground, half carrying, half dragging him toward the private jet. Despair blackened Jim’s heart, and he swore he would never submit to this monster who owned his mates, but didn’t love them.

  Just as they were almost at the small flight of extendable stairs leading up to the cabin of the plane, the air filled with growls. They started low, but the pitch rose alarmingly, the sounds coming from all around.

  Jim fell painfully on his knees when Aethelwulf’s two alphas released him and took defensive stances next to their sire. Yet, there was only irritation marring Aethelwulf’s sculpted countenance.

  And then the hangar was swarming with lycans—and other beings.

  Jim had heard of the Taurs, but seeing them in the flesh left him frightened to the core, so primal was the sight. The creatures were almost ten feet tall, muscular and bulging, their hooves pounding the concrete floor like quickening drums. Their bull faces were twisted in angry snarls, and steam puffed out of their nostrils. They had huge swords and scimitars in hand, all glowing blue with some kind of electrical or magical power Jim couldn’t even imagine.

  But even above these impressive beings rose majestic beasts, as big as the private jet. These full wolves were gigantic, their fur standing on end, hackles raised, their paws apart on the floor and their heads lowered, all of them readying to pounce. They were so huge that they could have crushed Jim flat with one paw.

  There were three of them, and Jim had a feeling at least one of them had to be Dak. The big gray one with golden eyes like burning embers was his guess.

  In a blink of Jim’s eye, battle ensued.

  Unveiled creatures jumped on each other, growling and howling, sinking fangs into flesh and tearing skin to shreds. They were like rabid animals, and Jim crouched down, crawling under the stairs to seek shelter from the battle. All of them turned to their animal shapes now, and Jim could not have recognized any of them as either friend or enemy to lend a hand.

  So he stayed out of the way as mangled bodies twisted in battle, screams filled the air, and the odor of blood grew pungent.

  One of the progenitor wolves smashed against the jet, sending the big plane hurtling toward the back wall, finally crashing against it, tilting and then landing on its side with a screech and a bang. A burning smell and smoke columns rose in the air. The wolf, however, simply shrugged it off and dashed back into the fray.

  Jim had barely escaped from beneath the stairway when the jet took its unintended flight, but now he was left defenseless.

  Some beast jumped over him, just the whirl of air brushing his hair as it moved. Another barreled past him with the speed of a cheetah. The smells of blood, sweat, and animal musk surrounded Jim.

  He couldn’t take any more, and he curled into a ball with his hands protecting his head.

  “Dak. Dak. Dak!” he called out, first just whimpering, then louder with each new try, until he was shouting the man’s name, begging him to find him.

  It wasn’t until the echo of his cries rang the loudest that Jim noticed the sudden silence that reigned in the hangar.

  He opened his eyes, not even aware of having closed them.

  He hugged himself where he knelt on the floor while every man and beast present stood silent, panting, watching him.

  Then Dak was there, dropping down on his knees in front of Jim. He drew Jim into an embrace, fierce and permanent, and Jim sighed in relief.

  “Dak. Dak. Oh God.” Jim didn’t know what he was saying, only that he was in the right arms. He was held by his mate. His hands gripped hard, holding the man as close as possible.

  “Shh. It’s all right, Jim. I’ve got you.” Dak sounded gruff, but Jim sensed this was an emotional moment for his wolf.

  “Gonna keep me?” Jim asked, his arms wound around the big man’s neck, his fingers tangling in the long, thick hair, the scent of pines still clinging to his skin.

  There was no pause between Jim’s question and Dak’s answer. “Yes. You’re mine. My mate. Gonna keep you.”

  Jim could finally breathe, and his frantic heartbeat began to slow. He rested on Dak’s lap, straddling him, and buried his face in the man’s neck and hair, the earthy odor pungent now and growing more familiar with every whiff.

  My mate.

  Chapter 12

  “I REGRET nothing. One of you didn’t want him, another didn’t really want him, and the third was never going to win his heart.” Aethelwulf showed no remorse for his actions, standing in the wrecked hangar with his alphas, who were on their knees, their heads bowed in submission.

  Jim shivered. Dak’s arm tightened around his shoulders, and Jim leaned into the touch. Denver stood on one side and Crow on the other, and he felt safe in their midst.

  “Our kind are the original wolves that became men,” Aethelwulf continued, his voice composed and proud. “By nature, we are stronger than humans, more powerful, wiser. Faulkner would have been content with me.”

  “This may sound crazy to you, but, unlike you, I don’t want to live with someone in a loveless union,” Jim retorted.

  “Love is an illusion perpetuated by poets and romantics who live with their heads in the clouds. I would have offered you safety, permanency, all the great sex you could want, and the friendly company of others like you. What is so terribly wrong with that prospect?”

  The funny thing was Aethelwulf sounded serious and sincere. Jim understood that the man truly believed this—and Dak, too, had said something similar back in the cabin. But Aethelwulf was different from Dak in the sense that he had lived for so long and had so many mates that love, and in a sense, life too, had become something to own and possess, not desire and experience.

  “That’s cool and clinical. Arranged marriages.” Jim shook his head. “I don’t want that.”

  Aethelwulf smiled pitifully. “You’re a child, little man. You want things that cannot la
st. Whatever passion you may feel for Dakotah now, it will dwindle and fade away. He may have chosen you now, but if you truly believe you can live with him, you are letting your heart rule your head—and your life. When your heart will inevitably break, your life will be in shambles. I was only trying to spare you that ordeal. I was being merciful.”

  “Merciful my ass….” Jim was gathering righteous indignation like a lightning rod.

  Crow stopped him by stepping past him, silencing him with his presence. “History has shown us that it is the nature of civilizations to rise and fall—unless they learn to coexist with nature in a balanced system. Yet even today, humans do not hold dominion over nature, not the way they wish or believe. They have lost their respect for the bountiful rewards nature can grant them.” Jim wondered where the man was going with this. “It seems humans are not the only ones capable of such arrogant presumptions of power over the earth—or its denizens.”

  Aethelwulf scowled at Crow. “You have mingled with the humans for far too long if you believe they are our equals. We are better than them. Far superior. We should rule over them.”

  “Like you preside over your harem?” Dak said, his tone icy.

  “Withhold your judgment, Dakotah.” Aethelwulf sneered. “I have mates who fulfill my needs, and I give them as much of me as I deem them fit to deserve.”

  The growl that came from the other three progenitors made everyone else in the room shiver and shrink, including Aethelwulf’s alphas and the Taurs Crow had brought with him.

  “If that is how you treat those who have chosen to be with you, we may have to reevaluate your situation and perhaps even deny your right to claim mates.” Crow spoke with clear authority, though in Jim’s opinion there was a trace of sorrow as he said it. Perhaps being denied mates was the worst possible punishment in his mind, Jim thought.

  Aethelwulf grimaced, his wolf eyes flaring. “No wolf can take away that right set forth by the laws of nature itself.”

  “Yet you place yourself above those same laws,” Crow reminded him sternly.

  “If you try to take them from me, we will fight to the death,” Aethelwulf threatened, and his deep voice was enough proof that he meant what he said. Jim leaned closer to Dak to ward off the blatant hostility. “And no progenitor has killed another in five millennia.”

  Crow glanced at Dak and then Denver, who both nodded. Apparently they had already decided on a course of action. Jim was curious to see what their judgment would be.

  Finally, Crow spoke with an ominous, resolute voice, “It is true that no first one has killed another in ages. Yet your actions have violated the time-honored method of joining with our respective mates. Perhaps you had some redeeming aspects to your decision to abduct Mr. Faulkner, but we cannot be sure of any altruism on your part anymore. Therefore we three first ones conclude that a human—Mr. Faulkner—is best suited to determine your punishment.”

  Jim gawked and gasped. Aethelwulf sputtered and cursed. Everyone else was silent.

  “B-but I can’t,” Jim muttered defensively. “How on earth could I—”

  “He is not my equal or worthy to set judgment upon me,” Aethelwulf declared loudly. “I will refute any decision he—”

  Crow cut in, “You cannot. Not if all three of us agree to Mr. Faulkner’s judgment.” He looked at Jim fondly, with sympathy and courage in his wolf eyes. “Jim, the crime Aethelwulf has committed is against your blood kin—humanity. It is fitting that you should show him what humans are made of. Be it harsh justice or merciful forgiveness. The choice is yours.”

  His brain practically frozen, Jim couldn’t believe he was suddenly responsible for the fate of an Unveiled being many millennia his senior. How could he possibly know what to do? How could he be just to a man who had been about to make him an eternal prisoner?

  “I have faith in your ethics,” Dak whispered in his ear then.

  Jim was at a loss. After all, he had lied to Dak before about why he had come to the woods of Wyoming in the first place. And now Dak trusted him? It was all too much.

  Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Jim focused on the basics. If he could forget that Aethelwulf was an immortal lycan, maybe he could pinpoint what was relevant and be just and righteous, then. The man clearly believed he was superior to humans, and for all Jim knew, in many ways he was. He claimed to be wiser than foolish humans. Yet he had discarded his own sense of ethics and his moral backbone in favor of committing an atrocious act against a person’s free will.

  Aethelwulf glared at Jim, sending daggers his way. If looks could kill…. But Jim had questions. Perhaps that was his nature.

  So he stepped forward, in front of his abductor, and asked, “Aethelwulf, why would you even want a reluctant mate? Wouldn’t you rather have an equal partner whom you loved and who loved you back?”

  The lycan growled low. “I told you. Love is a fantasy. And we don’t always get what we want, now do we?”

  Jim watched Aethelwulf carefully, ignoring the murmur of Dak, Crow, and Denver behind him. Whatever they were discussing took a backseat to this if he wanted to be fair toward the criminal progenitor.

  Because of his scrutiny, the glance Aethelwulf made under his brow toward Denver caught his eye. The look couldn’t have lasted for more than a second, but there was longing, despair, and sorrow in his green eyes, now human again.

  A glimmer of hope lifted Jim’s spirits, and he knew what to do.

  “I’ve made my decision.”

  The others stopped talking behind him.

  Crow sounded incredulous. “That was fast.”

  “Divine inspiration,” Jim countered with a weak smile as he tried to be strong. After clearing his throat because he was certain he sounded squeaky, he declared his intent. “Aethelwulf can’t stop being the progenitor. Right?” He gave the others a questioning look, which was confirmed with amused nods. “But I think… I think he could use some retraining.” He quickly leaned toward Aethelwulf. “That’s not the start of a doggy joke, I promise.”

  While Aethelwulf glared, baring his fangs, the others chuckled.

  Jim went on. “With retraining I mean relearning what it means to be a progenitor. Not just the privileges but the responsibilities too. You have taken your mates for granted, and that is a kind of abuse. That is why I think they should be freed from their mating with you.” Aethelwulf was about to object, judging from his expression, but Jim raised his voice as he continued. “I think you need to show your dedication to them by asking them if they wish to be with you. To reclaim them.” Jim bit his lower lip, anxious. “Or not. If you don’t really want or need them. Because if you can’t be all for them, they shouldn’t be obligated to be all for you. You know?”

  Aethelwulf frowned. He seemed bitter but also pensive.

  Jim took that as a sign that he had reached a part of Aethelwulf. “Just so you can’t unduly influence them and seduce them back with no intention of truly changing your ways, I think another progenitor should stand watch over you. I nominate Denver.”

  Shock was visible on both Aethelwulf’s and Denver’s faces.

  Jim didn’t let those reactions deter him. “From my admittedly limited observations, I’ve found Denver to be a good and honorable man. An ethical progenitor. If anyone can remind you, Aethelwulf, of what your role in this world truly entails, I believe it’s him.”

  It wasn’t Jim’s imagination that Aethelwulf’s eyes softened slightly, as did the harsh lines of his mouth. Nor did he imagine the gratitude that flickered in the depths of the ageless beast. Jim had a feeling he had made the right call. If Aethelwulf harbored any emotions for Denver, then this situation might bring him answers or closure, or both.

  “To remember what it means to be a progenitor, it might serve you best to not have your collection of mates, and your other wealth and privileges there to remind you, so I think you should spend some time at Denver’s ranch. Amidst the horses and bulls and cows and chickens and ducks….” At that Jim had to stop since h
e didn’t know the first thing about what Denver had on his farm or ranch, or what any cowboy had on their lands.

  Denver chuckled, bowing his head. “A worthwhile judgment, Jim.” His sky-blue eyes turned to Aethelwulf, whose jaw seemed to have developed a nervous tick. “I will show Aethelwulf the old ways of our kin. The ones he has forgotten in the city with his money, power, obedient alphas, and submissive mates. At my ranch, living will be no lap of luxury. Only good hard work with the soil and the animals.”

  If Aethelwulf had a problem with the arrangement—and Jim seriously doubted it—he didn’t let on, merely stayed silently sullen. But Jim had a feeling it was an act. Aethelwulf wanted to be near Denver. He couldn’t help but wonder why Aethelwulf hadn’t made a move on Denver before. Was the mating of two progenitors prohibited perhaps? Jim made a mental note to ask Dak later.

  “The verdict has passed, and the decision made,” Crow interceded, his tone allowing no room for objections. “Your wealth and property shall be seized, your mates given their freedom, and your reeducation will take place on Denver’s land, on his terms. This will be a temporary arrangement. If and when you are considered rehabilitated, all that you had will be returned to you—save your mates, who you may or may not desire any longer.” Crow’s stare was aimed at Aethelwulf, but even from the sidelines it made Jim quiver with instinctive fear. “Will you accept this judgment? It is your right to contest it, in which case the Rite of the Blood Moon will take place at a designated hour and—”

  “No. I accept the verdict.” Aethelwulf growled his words, as if angry, but Jim was sure he was relieved. Perhaps all that he’d had, owned, and possessed, and living in the city had become a burden to him. What he needed was to learn humility and retouch nature—and perhaps to pursue someone he really desired.

  Time would tell if Aethelwulf would succeed in his endeavor.

  “May I speak with Mr. Faulkner alone before we leave?” Aethelwulf asked suddenly, his diamond-hard glare aimed at Jim, who gulped down a primal dread. “I swear I shall not run, maim, or eat the human.”