Weylyn’s body grew lax and he slid to the floor. His vision blackened completely. The next thing he felt was his father holding him and pressing him to drink the whisky in his cup.
“I am so very sorry, Weylyn,” Kinnon said. Weylyn’s body ached and as he looked up at his father, he realized he had fainted.
“When did she die?” Weylyn asked.
“It was two weeks ago,” Kinnon answered. “I did nae ken how to tell you.”
“And the child? It did nae survive?” Weylyn asked.
“Nay,” Kinnon answered. “I am so very sorry.”
“She had a sister, could it have been her?” Weylyn asked.
“I donnae ken,” Kinnon replied. “They said the daughter of the blacksmith who was recently married. It had to be Brietta.”
Weylyn nodded. “Aye.”
“I ken I told you that I would never ask and you need no’ tell me… but with the time being so close, I must ask. Did you mate with her?” Kinnon asked. “Was the child yours?”
Weylyn’s eyes shot up to his father’s. It was the last secret he had to reveal.
“Aye,” the simple word brought with it the gut-wrenching ache that she was dead. “Aye, we mated. She is my mate. And now she is dead.” He felt it in his soul. The child she carried was not her husband’s but his. He had loved her and he had killed her. If he had never mated with her he would never have had the pain and the knowledge that he had killed her. Their child was too much for her to bear.
Kinnon held him close. “Och lad, I am so sorry.”
“I will never love another,” Weylyn stated.
“You must no’ close your heart,” Kinnon started. “You may in time, fall in love again. And it may come from the most unlikely place.”
Weylyn shook his head. He could not hold back, knowing what his father went through nine months ago because of Weylyn’s love and the soothing way Kinnon stroked his hair, Weylyn finally cried and cried hard.
He could live with the knowledge that Brietta was alive and well, even happy, and that they breathed the same air. That they gazed at the same moon and that they held the same memories. But now, she was dead and he felt the void in his heart was ready to consume him.
Wolves mated for life.
Only those who allowed themselves to love again would be able to take another mate. Or those, like Marrock, who merely desired the physical aspect of it, would be able to let themselves be with another.
Eventually Weylyn’s sobs died down to faint shudders but Kinnon still held him on the floor of the cottage as the emotions had overwhelmed him and made him weak.
“What was it? The child. Do you ken?” Weylyn asked.
“A lad,” Kinnon answered.
Weylyn’s chest constricted even more. He had had a son. He had always wanted to be a father. To be the man his son looked up to, the one he tried to mimic as a child. Weylyn wanted the kind of relationship he had with his father.
Brietta…
Even thinking her name made him hurt. He would never see her again. She was lost to him and he did not get a chance to say goodbye.
Wiping his eyes, he took a deep shuddering breath and looked up at his father. He had two paths before him. Do as Marrock did and bottle up his emotions cutting himself off from the ones who loved him, harden his heart so he never again felt the pain of loss. Or, did he choose the harder but better route and let his family in, comfort him, heal him. He would devote his life to being as his father was, a kind, loving, caring and trustworthy wolf. One the pack could look up to in times of trouble, the true Alpha leader, one that led, not by terror but by love. He never would embrace his Alpha lineage but he could instill in the future Alpha the desire to be a better leader than Marrock.
Epilogue
Weylyn gasped awake. He looked around the hotel room and had to remind himself where he was.
Edinburgh and the year? Oh yes, 1871
“Weylyn?” In the darkness of the room, he glanced over to his mate lying beside him. Eithne sat up and slid her arms around his neck. Her head rested on his shoulder.
“Is everything all right?” she asked.
He took a deep breath and realized he was covered in sweat. He nodded.
“Fine, my love, just a little disoriented,” he replied.
“A dream?” she asked kissing his shoulder.
He shook his head.
“A memory,” he answered. “Listening to the music at the hall today evoked some strong feelings in me and I was thinking of my father all evening. I’m sorry I woke you.”
“Donnae be,” she smiled. “Let me make some tea and we can talk if you want.”
He nodded. She slipped away from him and turned up the gas light beside the bed.
“Why did the symphony remind you of your parents?” Eithne asked. Weylyn shrugged. “Was it to do with the tune or the lyrics?”
“It must have been. I was remembering…” he sighed.
“What my love?” she asked.
“Donnae think that this has any bearing on you, please?”
“You were thinking of Brietta?” she asked.
He nodded.
“Why would I be upset about that? She was your first love. You have a son and heir by her,” she replied. “I donnae mind you thinking on her at all.”
“I love you,” he said. “But for some reason our story was on my mind. My parents, Marrock, Mabh, and Brietta. It was like I was reliving it all.”
“The summer solstice is upon us, Weylyn,” she said. “’Tis the time when memories are stronger.”
Weylyn stood and went to the bathroom to splash water on his face. Taking one of the fluffy towels he dried his face and looked at his reflection in the mirror.
“In all the eleven hundred years I’ve been by your side in our bed, I’ve never seen you wake because of a bad dream,” she said.
“Dinnae fash,” he called to her. “It was just… I donnae know, a long time ago. I suppose I miss my father and mother.”
He walked back to the bed as she poured the tea from the teapot in their room. He remembered when he first met her over a thousand years ago they heated a pot of water over a fire and it was not ready so quickly. He sat on the bed and watched.
“I wish I had had the chance to meet your father,” Eithne said. “I am sure I would have loved him.”
He chuckled. “And how would you be knowing that?” he asked.
“Because the man who raised you and trained you to be the man you are today, the man I love, has my absolute respect and I know he had to have been like you,” she handed him his tea.
“Both of my parents were wonderful people,” he said.
“I am sure,” she smiled.
“I only hope that I am half the man my father was,” he said.
“Oh my love,” she passed a hand over his eyes. “I donnae know the kind of man your father was, but I will tell you this, he raised a fine man and it is my privilege to be by your side. Though what would your parents have thought about your soul mate being a Druid?” she teased.
“They probably would have been surprised,” he grinned. “But you did save my life.”
“I killed you and then brought you back,” she replied.
“I was dying already,” he answered. “You saved me.”
“You were born to be an immortal, my love,” she said. “And I am so very glad to join you.”
“I love you, Eithne,” he said kissing her gently.
“And I love you, Weylyn… my wolf-man,” she winked.
He growled playfully and leaned in to kiss her. He set his teacup aside and wrapped his arm around her. Pulling her onto his lap, she giggled running her fingers through his hair.
“My Druid,” he replied. “I love ye.”
His kiss turned more ardent and he pushed her back to lay together in bed as all thought left him, save one. What would the next eleven hundred years be like?
An Deireadh
Keep an eye out for
The
Wolf’s Bane Saga: Midnight Sky
and
The Wolf’s Bane Saga: Star-Crossed
Acknowledgements
To all my readers who have made this possible, I hope you enjoyed Marrock’s story. While writing Wolf’s Bane I knew readers would either love or hate the alpha and I had to write his story. The pain of loss and the mantle of leadership fell on him at a young age and from that moment I knew his story needed to be told.
I want to thank my parents and brother for their unending support and love; I could not have done this without you! Thank you for staying up late on Thursday nights, reading night! Love you, guys!
The Wolf’s Bane Saga: Wolf’s Bane
Available Now
Legend has it, that before the Romans invaded Britannia in 55 B.C. the people of that land roamed wild and free. Once the Roman legionnaires pushed back the wild and untamed Celts, they built a wall; Antonine’s Wall. It was once magnificent, once imposing… trust me, I was there, I saw it.
But was it the humans they feared… or us?
There are so few of us left. But under the Hunter’s Moon, we lived and we died and this is the story of both.
Chapter One
Aberlyall north of Aberdeen, Scotland – 650 A.D.
Alexina’s trained ears heard it before the rest of her family. Piercing the silence of the wintery night, was a long, low wolf howl in the woods behind their house.
“The wolves are coming closer,” her father said gruffly, stoking the fire and touching the long knife tied to his leg.
“Afton was saying that the Hunter’s Moon is supposed to shine within the week. He said the wolves come down to the village and kill everyone that night. Is it true they can rip your heart out with one strike?” Alexina’s ten-year-old brother, Niels asked.
“Och nay,” their twelve-year-old brother, Harailt, said. “They are much stronger than that. They can take your head off in a single blow.”
Niels leaned over and clutched their mother’s leg, frightened.
“Harailt, donnae scare your brother like that,” their mother said as she sat knitting beside her husband.
“We have nothing to worry about,” their father said. “This town is well protected by the wolf’s bane that grows in every garden,” he indicated the purple flower that hung above the door like a garland. “Never leave the house without it,” he tapped near to where a flower was pinned to his tunic. “And never go into the woods,” their father warned just as another howl rippled from the wolf outside.
“What about real wolves?” Niels whispered almost afraid the wolf would hear him. “Afton’s father says ‘tis easy to tell them apart.”
“According to legend,” their father began, “you can tell those born naturally from the yellowed-eyed demons due to their size. If you see a smaller wolf, you should never engage with it, but you are safer than you would be if you met one of them. But, the wolf-men have killed practically all of them anyway. They are nothing but animals,” he spat.
Alexina looked down and breathed deeply. Normally their times before the fire were filled with tales and legends but with the Hunter’s Moon approaching, the only things she heard in the village were the tales of the yellow-eyed demons and their perverse ways. Even her much younger siblings had heard of them. Nearing her eighteenth year, Alexina had heard all of the stories and half of them were too fanciful to be believed.
“You are rather quiet, Alexi,” her mother said eyeing her over her knitting. Alexina looked up sharply afraid her secret was known. “Are you all right?”
“Actually, Mother, my head aches. May I go to my room?” Alexina asked.
“Of course, dear,” she replied as her daughter stood from the floor. “I have feverfew if you require it.”
“Och nay,” Alexina said rubbing her temples. Her light brown hair was pulled away from her face in a braid around her head. “Thank you, ‘tis nothing a rest will nae cure. Goodnight,” she called.
She walked slowly to her room and closed the door. The second the door was closed, she hurried to her bed and placed the pillows under the furs to show her outline. Then she rushed to her chest and took out her brown cape. Pulling it on, she raced to the window and threw open the shutters. She eased out of the house and pulled her hood over her head. Running toward the edge of the woods, the sound of the dead leaves that had fallen earlier that month, crunched beneath her soft leather clad feet. Every step and sound made her flinch, thinking it would give her away to her family.
The snow blanketed the ground and made the Highlands glow white under the moon. She hardly felt the chill as she walked. Reaching the edge of the woods, Alexina looked back to the cottage. The smoke from the peat fire still billowed out of the chimney. There was no movement inside, her family did not know she had left.
She ducked into the forest just as another wolf howl ripped through the silence of the night.
***
Weylyn’s yellow wolf eyes flew open when he heard the door to his hut creak and close softly. He stayed exactly how he was, resting on his side, his back to the door. Sniffing the room, the familiar scent of his pupil filled his nostrils.
“Where have you been?” Weylyn asked softly, not moving.
“Gods above, Weylyn, you startled me,” Tristan breathed. “I thought you were asleep.”
Turning over, Weylyn sat up and looked at him, his eyes back to the brown color of his human form.
“I ask you again, where have you been?” Weylyn asked.
“Out in the forest,” Tristan answered simply, not meeting his mentor’s eyes.
“You were with that human lass again,” Weylyn said standing.
“Nay, I was no’,” he replied shuffling towards his own bed.
Weylyn took a deep breath, smelling the scents that surrounded his student.
“Donnae lie to me, Tristan,” he replied gently.
“So what if I was,” Tristan turned to his cot and pulled off his cloak.
“She is nae of our kind. She will nae understand,” Weylyn said.
“She does. She does understand,” Tristan replied finally looking up at him.
“A relationship with a human is nae a good idea, trust me,” Weylyn stressed. “When your father finds out—”
“You are nae going to tell him!” Tristan stepped towards him, panicked.
“Nay,” Weylyn replied calming him. “No’ as long as I have your promise that you will never see her again.”
Tristan stared at him for a long moment, searching his face for something. Finally, he lowered his head and nodded once.
“I promise,” he swore.
“You are lying,” Weylyn replied simply.
Tristan locked eyes with his mentor. “I love her,” he breathed.
Weylyn closed his eyes for a moment, an unpleasant memory coming back to him. When he opened his eyes, he looked at his young student. Tristan, his dark blonde hair was not quite long enough to be tied back, his deep brown eyes were pleading with him. The man looked twenty-five, but was actually seventy years old in wolf years and was still a boy in so many ways. In human years, he would have only been nineteen.
Weylyn breathed deeply. Dear gods, is this what my father felt? He wondered. Hating that he had to advise Tristan away from a love Weylyn knew first hand was stronger than any other bond; he could not let Tristan go through the pain that he had felt all those years ago… Weylyn shook his head clearing it. Donnae think on it, he thought to himself. It is in the past… there is nothing you can do but save him from the absolute heart wrenching ache that you felt.
“Does she ken what you are?” Weylyn asked treading lightly.
“Aye and she does nae care,” he answered.
“Have you mated with her?” Weylyn asked.
Tristan looked at him, sharply.
“Nay,” he breathed truthfully. “We have no’.”
Weylyn breathed a sigh of relief.
“All is no’ lost then,” he whispered.
“But w
e plan on getting married,” Tristan replied. “Human married, no’ wolf, with her family’s blessing and with witnesses. She thinks she can convince her parents to meet me and rid their cottage of wolf’s bane.”
“If you do this, you will be cast out of the pack, or killed. You ken what that means?” Weylyn asked. “Is she really worth it?”
“You tell me,” Tristan replied heatedly. “I ken you loved a human once. Was she worth it? You left her!”
“You donnae ken of what you speak,” Weylyn said feeling an old wound reopening in his chest.
“Do I no’?” Tristan asked harshly. “I am no’ a child, Weylyn! I ken what I want and I am more of a man than you are! I willnae let anything stand in the way of my love! You left yours out in the cold and she died carrying another man’s child. Can you honestly tell me that your course is better than mine? Alexina and I will be married. We will mate. And we will live together forever! She will be mine! She is mine! And I love her, which is more than you can say!”
Weylyn’s hand swiped across Tristan’s face in a hard slap. Tristan turned back to his mentor; his eyes yellowed, his hair falling in his face, his teeth barred, his body growing taller and his muscles tightening ready to pounce in a half-phase. Tristan’s upper lip was pulled back as he growled and snapped at him.
“Calm down,” Weylyn ordered still in his full human form.
Tristan’s lip lifted on one side as he snarled.
“You cannae stop me,” he said his voice rough, the sound vibrating in his chest in a half-phased growl. “Face me.”
“I willnae,” Weylyn replied calmly.
“Coward,” Tristan roared and pounced on him.
Even though Weylyn had not phased, he was still able to throw Tristan off of him. Tristan attacked in anger and even though Weylyn’s heart was breaking again after so many years, he still was able to remain calm.
Lonely Moon (The Wolf's Bane Saga Book 2) Page 20
