The Choosing

by Annabelle Jacobs

  He has no idea how long he’s been out when he hears the faint rustling of someone entering the tent. His senses are aware even when sleeping, and his eyes snap open at the sound. His vision adjusts to the dark almost straightaway but it takes him a moment longer to register who’s standing at the foot of his bed.

  “Meren?”

  “Shh….” He puts his finger to his lips and steps closer. “Torek said we needed to talk.”

  Jerath takes a moment to catch up. His brain is sleep-muddled and he’s still processing Meren’s words when he speaks again.

  “I shouldn’t have come. It’s the middle of the night. I just… I needed to….” He looks down at the ground and shuffles his feet. “Yeah… okay. I’m going—”

  “Wait.” Jerath sits up in bed and the furs pool around his waist. His skin is pale and luminous in the dark. He has no idea how well Meren can actually see, but Jerath doesn’t miss the way Meren’s gaze flicks down to his chest. “We do need to talk.” Jerath gestures to the end of his bed, and Meren hesitates before walking forward and sitting down.

  Meren looks uncomfortable, his body tensed as if he’s going to jump up and leave at any moment. Jerath knows this isn’t going to be easy, but he feels the magic thrum through his veins as the bond settles in Meren’s presence, and he knows he has to fix things between them. He studiously ignores the fact that after all this is over, they’ll be separating for good. Although it won’t be complete, the potential bond will be strong enough to make it incredibly hard for Jerath to leave. But he’s willing to face that problem when it happens, because he might never have this again.

  Meren stares at him, and Jerath realizes he’s waiting for Jerath to start speaking.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t trust you enough to stay.” Jerath holds up a hand when Meren starts to interrupt. “There was a very good reason why we ran, Meren.” Jerath closes his eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath. “At least we thought so at the time.”

  Meren raises an eyebrow, but remains silent.

  So Jerath tells him. He explains that the men he and Serim saw in Eladir were in fact Meren’s father and some of his men. He tells Meren how they thought the men were with the raiders who took his people prisoner, and that when they saw them here, with Meren, they panicked and fled.

  “We didn’t know what to think, Meren.” Jerath itches to reach out and touch him, but he keeps his hands firmly planted in his lap. “We saw your father and our first instinct was to run away. Do you understand?” Jerath’s heart beats furiously. He’s said all he can. Now it’s up to Meren.

  The silence is heavy between them as Jerath waits for him to say something.

  “You should have trusted me, Jerath.” His voice is soft, but Jerath hears all the hurt behind his words. “I know you haven’t known me long, but I thought with the”—Meren waves his hand between them—“bond and everything, mutual trust was implied.”

  Jerath doesn’t quite know what to say, because Meren’s right. When shifters bond, the trust between them is complete and unwavering. “Yes, that’s true for bonded pairs. But we haven’t completed our bond, Meren.”

  Meren just nods as though he expected that. “I still thought you trusted me, though.” He rubs a hand over his eyes, and when he drops it back down, Jerath flinches at the expression on his face. “I trusted you enough to believe everything you told me. I brought you to my village to talk with my father, Jerath.”

  Jerath hangs his head, unable to meet Meren’s eyes, because all of that’s true. They took Jerath and Serim into their camp, with just their word for what had happened. But a small part of him still feels he had every right to be wary when he first saw Meren and his father.

  “I know you did,” Jerath answers. “And Serim and I can’t thank you enough. But when we saw you and your father together, it seemed like you’d just bought us back here to add to your prisoners.” He sighs heavily. “I’m eighteen years old, Meren. This is the first time I’ve been away from my home, and my judgment may be lacking in certain areas. We thought we were the only hope left for our village, so I think we had every right to be cautious.”

  Jerath is breathing hard by the time he finishes speaking. He’s all worked up and angry, and when he looks down his claws are out and buried deep in the fur blankets.

  “Hey.” Meren’s hands cover his and slowly ease them out of their death grip on the blankets. He’s careful not to touch Jerath’s claws, just smoothes his thumbs across the back of Jerath’s hands until his breathing slows down to a normal pace. “I think you’ve made your point.”

  When Jerath’s fingers are human again, Meren links their hands. “I’m sorry for the way I behaved when we found you. I was hurt, Jerath.” He sighs, and Jerath watches the tension seep out with his exhale. “I couldn’t understand why you didn’t trust me enough to stay. Especially after… what we’d done. But I understand now.” He tugs on Jerath’s hand until they’re much closer. “You were just protecting your people.”

  Meren leans forward and tentatively presses his lips against Jerath’s, as though checking that he’s still allowed to do this. Jerath moans in answer and slides his free hand around the back of Meren’s neck so he’s left in no doubt. He pulls Meren closer still and slowly leans back until he’s lying flat on the bed with Meren on top of him.

  “I missed this,” Meren mumbles between kisses. He pulls back and strokes along the edge of Jerath’s jaw. “When you left… I don’t really know how to explain it, but there was something missing. From me.”

  Jerath can’t answer; the words catch in his throat because Meren shouldn’t feel any of that. The growing bond between them is definitely the cause for his feelings of separation, but Meren’s not a shifter. It shouldn’t affect him like that at all.

  “When we found Serim”—Meren carries on speaking when Jerath remains silent—“I couldn’t see you anywhere, but I had this feeling that you were close.”

  “It’s the bond,” Jerath whispers. He rests his hands on Meren’s hips, keeping him close.

  “How?”

  “I don’t know.” Jerath’s mind races as he struggles to think of anything that might explain it, but he can’t. “I just….” Meren dips down and mouths along his throat, and Jerath tilts his head, his eyes falling shut as Meren bites and licks at his skin.

  “I don’t care why it’s happening,” Meren says. His warm breath tickles over the dampness left by his tongue, and Jerath shudders. “Feels so much better now.” He stops touching Jerath long enough to sit up and take his shirt off and goes to carry on, but Jerath stops him with a hand on his chest.

  “Everything,” Jerath whispers.

  Meren pauses, and Jerath tugs on his breeches to show him what he means. Meren grins and hurries to comply. It’s cool in the tent, and Jerath pulls back the fur covers, ushering Meren inside as soon as he’s naked.

  Jerath gasps as Meren’s cold body brushes up against him.

  “I’m sorry,” Meren murmurs, but Jerath hears the smile in his voice. “You’re just so warm.” Meren slides a hand around Jerath’s waist, hooks a leg over one of Jerath’s, and nuzzles into the crook of his neck.

  Meren’s lying half on top of Jerath now, and Jerath feels the hard line of Meren’s cock as it presses into his hip. He eagerly slides his hand up Meren’s thigh, higher and higher until his thumb brushes the coarse hair of Meren’s groin. Jerath didn’t get to touch Meren last time they were together. His claws came out as his body struggled with the shift, but he’s determined to control it this time. He moves his hand a little farther and wraps his fingers around Meren’s length. The skin is soft under his fingertips, and Jerath strokes lazily up and down.

  Meren moans. He leans up on his elbow, and when he looks down into Jerath’s eyes, Jerath knows he should stop this. They’re getting dangerously close to the bond becoming permanent. It’s already starting to affect them when they’re apart, and he fears it’ll get worse the more intimate they are with each other. But then Mer
en kisses him. His warm, wet tongue pushes into Jerath’s mouth and the magic hums between them, flowing through the kiss, and Jerath doesn’t have the strength to stop.

  “Like this.” Meren kisses the words into Jerath’s skin. He takes Jerath’s hands in both of his and lifts them above Jerath’s head so he can move fully on top of him. They rut against each other in a delicious slide, and Jerath bites his lip in an effort to keep quiet.

  Meren shifts slightly so Jerath isn’t supporting all his weight, and rests on his forearms. He slowly rolls his hips; they’re both slick with precome and Jerath can feel it on his belly, sticky and warm. He reaches for Meren and pulls him down into a kiss. It gets a little messy as their rhythm falters, and Jerath struggles to keep his mind on the kissing as Meren reaches between them and takes them both in his hand.

  His long fingers glide easily up and down, and it only takes a few strokes before Jerath arches his back and comes with a muffled cry against Meren’s shoulder. He holds on tight as Meren fucks into his own hand. The urge to bite him is almost overwhelming, and Jerath feels his teeth elongate, the sharp tips brushing along his bottom lip.

  Meren stutters above him as he climaxes, and Jerath turns his head to the side to avoid the temptation of Meren’s throat. He breathes in deeply and tries to calm himself down, but the scent of sex hangs heavy in the air, and Jerath hisses as his claws extend into the blankets once again.

  Meren must sense his distress and lifts up to plant soothing kisses along his jaw. “Hey… it’s okay, Jerath.” He cards his fingers through Jerath’s hair and scratches at his scalp. “It’s okay.” He leans down to the floor of the tent and grabs something to wipe away the mess. Jerath hopes it’s nothing of his because his available clothing is extremely limited at the moment.

  When they’re as clean as they’re going to get, Meren throws the article of ruined clothing to the far side of the tent and settles back down beside Jerath. The scent isn’t as strong now, and Jerath begins to relax, his teeth and claws disappearing with each deep breath.

  “It’s going to be worse,” Jerath says into the darkness, unable to help himself. “When we have to part after all this is finished.” He turns to face Meren and finds dark eyes looking back at him. “If we keep doing this, it’s going to hurt so much more.”

  Meren doesn’t say anything. He just places his fingers over Jerath’s mouth, and Jerath doesn’t need him to speak to understand: Don’t say any more. Then Meren pulls him close. I know.

  Chapter 12

  WHEN Jerath wakes the next morning, he stretches out his hand and frowns when he feels an empty space next to him. He sits up and rubs the sleep from his eyes just as the tent flap rustles and Meren ducks back inside.

  “Morning.” Meren’s smile is infectious and Jerath grins back at him. “Come and get something to eat, we’ve got a lot of planning to do today.” Meren passes him his clothes and watches as Jerath throws back the furs and dresses quickly. “My father and the others are waiting for us by the fire.”

  Jerath swallows thickly. When he originally thought about asking Meren’s father for help, he wasn’t involved in a potential bonding with his son and heir. “Um… Meren?” Jerath leans down and pulls on his boots. “Have you… does your father know about us?”

  Meren’s smile falters a little but doesn’t disappear completely. “I haven’t told him.” Jerath sighs and slumps back on the bed. “I just didn’t see the point in bringing it up, since we’ll be parting ways after this is finished.”

  Oh, of course.

  Jerath understands, he does, and he knows it’s the only option for them. It just hurts to hear it. “Shall we go?” he asks instead.

  “Jerath—”

  “No, it’s fine.” Jerath stops and takes a deep breath before pulling Meren into a fierce kiss. “I understand.”

  They take a moment to just breathe each other in, and Jerath fists his hands in Meren’s shirt. He wants to rescue his people more than anything, but at the same time he wants to drag out the time he and Meren have together. Things are moving far too quickly and Jerath feels it all slipping away. He steps back and manages a small smile. “Come on, then.”

  Meren looks as though he wants to say something, and Jerath raises his eyebrow expectantly, but Meren just shakes his head and leads the way out of the tent.

  THERE’S a roaring fire going in the middle of the temporary camp, even though it’s the middle of the morning, and another huge roast is turning slowly over the flames. Jerath scans the faces gathered around the fire, and he tenses when his gaze lands on the older-looking man at the center.

  He’s dressed like Meren, and Jerath sees the strong family resemblance—the same build and blond hair, except for a touch of gray around his temples. “I assume that’s your father, then?” Jerath gestures over to where the man is sitting, and Meren smiles.

  “Yes. Let me introduce you.” He strides purposefully over to him, and Jerath swallows his apprehension and follows after.

  “Father.” Meren places a hand on his father’s shoulder in greeting. “This is Jerath.”

  He doesn’t say anything more than that, and Jerath gets the distinct feeling that this isn’t the first time they’ve talked about him. Jerath resists the urge to fidget as Meren’s father turns to face him fully and looks him over before speaking.

  “Good to finally meet you, Jerath.” He stresses the word finally, but Jerath is grateful when he doesn’t bring up anything about them running off. “Won’t you join us?” He points to the empty space beside him, and both Jerath and Meren sink to the ground, accepting the plates of meat, bread, and fruit that come their way.

  Jerath glances around as he eats, and catches both Serim and Mahli smiling at him from the other side of the fire. They look far too knowing and happy, so he deliberately shrugs as if to say, “What?” Serim shoots him her Really, Jerath? expression back. She pointedly looks between him and Meren and waggles her eyebrows. Jerath sees Mahli wink at him, and he’s unable to stop the blush that covers his cheeks. He sometimes wonders why he has them as friends.

  Jerath’s still glaring at the two of them when Meren nudges him in the side, and he suddenly realizes Meren’s father has asked him a question. “I’m sorry, sir, what was that?”

  “I was just saying that your mothers asked me to keep a lookout for you both. I only wish I could let Helan and Kinis know that you two are safe.”

  Jerath startles a little at that. “You know my mother?”

  “I knew your father too.” He reaches out and clasps Jerath’s bicep. “He was a good man.”

  Jerath blinks furiously as his eyes tear at the unexpected mention of his father. It may have been five years since his death, but the pain is still as raw as it ever was. “Is she okay?” Jerath manages eventually. His voice sounds a little rough, but at least he keeps the tears at bay.

  “Yes, worried about you, but otherwise unharmed.”

  Jerath feels the barest touch of fingers against the back of his hand as Meren offers him what comfort he can. It’s enough. The warm touch radiates throughout Jerath’s body and eases the tightness settled in his chest. He flashes Meren a small, grateful smile and finishes off the rest of his food.

  As soon as everyone’s finished eating, Malek—as he insists Jerath call him—calls for quiet, and they start to plan the rescue of Jerath’s people.

  Malek explains again, for the benefit of Serim and Jerath, that there were rumors concerning one of the southern villages. Some suggested they were heading to raid the northern lands for shifters, in order to sell them as slaves. Others suggested the raiders wanted to use them as some sort of sacrifice. Whatever the reason, it was wrong and Malek took a small group of his men to try to warn Eladir and the other villages. But they were hours too late.

  Jerath knew most of this from talking to Mahli, but he hadn’t realized they were after shifters specifically. He clears his throat and everyone turns to look at him. “Not all those taken have the ability to shift.”
A feeling of dread settles in the pit of his stomach. He doesn’t want to think of what might happen if and when the raiders discover this.

  Malek nods, his expression grave. “Which is why we need to act as soon as possible.”

  “Do we know where they are?” Jerath asks. He can feel his jaguar lurking under his skin, wanting to get out and avenge his fellow shifters. He quickly glances down at his fingertips, and lets out a relieved breath to see that they’re still clawless.

  “Yes.” Caleb cuts in, and Jerath senses his animal is just as desperate to be let out. In fact, as he looks around at the other shifters, they all look tense and eager for action. “We tracked them to a village three hours west of here.”

  Jerath is about to ask what they’re waiting for and why they haven’t rescued them already, but Caleb speaks again as if he can tell what Jerath’s thinking.

  “There were too many of them for us to attack, Jerath. We needed to wait for Meren and the hunting party to get back first. The plan is to attack at dawn tomorrow.”

  Malek stands and walks among everyone as he talks. There are as many women as men seated around the fire, all dressed in breeches and tight tunics, and Jerath wonders how many of them will be going in the morning. “They’re seasoned fighters,” Malek says. “And there are a lot of them.” He looks over at Meren. “It won’t be easy, and there are bound to be casualties on both sides, but we will get them back.”

  Jerath listens to them talk and plan and wonders, not for the first time, why Meren’s father has agreed to help them. He could very well lose some of his people in the fight, and although Jerath is beyond grateful for all their help, he doesn’t really understand why they’ve offered.

  Malek is in deep discussion with Caleb and some of the other shifters, and so Jerath takes the opportunity to ask Meren. “Why is your father doing all this?” he whispers.

  Meren turns to look at him and frowns. “What do you mean?”