Thrane's Fated

by Marina Maddix

  “That must have been so frightening for you,” Teema said, laying a cool hand on top of mine. Yara moved her chair to be closer to me.

  “You know, when I was pulled from my parents’ arms and taken to the Training Center, I thought I’d never be more afraid in my life. But when Thrane’s goons dragged us through the forest, I thought we were going to die. Or worse.”

  Yara pulled me into a hug, which I accepted gratefully, before pulling away. “And then, I’d never felt so vulnerable as when we were sitting in that damn jail of his, wondering what he had planned. We’d heard such awful things about the Hill Wargs, after all.”

  Teema frowned at Yara’s understanding nod. “But we weren’t the ones—”

  Yara smiled and grabbed Teema’s hand. “That’s all in the past, remember?”

  Teema nodded.

  “Anyway,” I continued, “I’d never wanted out of a place more, but when the guards came for me, I fought so hard to stay inside. I wanted to remain in my prison, because facing Thrane was too terrible to imagine.”

  “I’m so sorry, my friend,” Teema said through a flood of tears. “I didn’t…”

  “Shh, it’s not your fault. Please stop crying.”

  “This isn’t about me,” she sniffed, pulling herself together. “Go on.”

  “Well, none of that fear, each time worse than the last, even came close to what I felt when the guards threw me to the ground at Thrane’s feet. He was so full of hate.”

  I shuddered as I recalled the fangs which jutted out from his snarling mouth while he glared down at me, lying in the dirt of his command center. I also remembered the warmth that flooded me when his teeth broke the skin of my neck as he transformed me into a Warg, but I wasn’t about to share that piece of information with the women. They’d make too much of it.

  “But he spared you,” Teema said, looking hopeful that fact might somehow make things better.

  It didn’t.

  “Did he? You know he gave me some special kind of bite that prevents me from finding my mate, right? I think I’d prefer death to living my life alone, like Ouma.”

  “You mean Amma?”

  The two tribes each claimed as a member an old woman who lived in the forest. Some believed they were twin sisters, Ouma and Amma, each living on either side of the river that divided their territories. I had another theory entirely.

  “A rose by any other name…” I said. At their blank looks, I sighed and continued on, “Anyway, what kind of life will I have as the lone spinster of the tribe?”

  “You’ve mentioned this before, Arlynn,” Yara said kindly, “but Wargs don’t have the power to do such things.”

  “Okay, then his shaman did something to give him the power,” I said with a huff, glaring at Thrane’s brawny form towering above nearly everyone in the commons.

  Teema actually guffawed. “Are you talking about Bandrin? Bandrin can barely light a bundle of herbs to ‘ward off evil spirits’ — which really means he’s just trying to hide the smell of the butterweed he smokes day and night. Trust me, Bandrin wouldn’t have a clue how to give anyone special powers.”

  “Well, Thrane did something to me, and I hate him for it!”

  Teema raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Really? Because you’ve sure been spending a lot of time with him, considering you hate him so much.”

  I sputtered a fractured denial and jumped up from my chair, turning my back on my friends. The truth was, I’d found myself rather liking Thrane on occasion. Not all the time, but the moments he opened up and showed more of his soul, made him seem almost…endearing. Such as during his impassioned speech a few minutes earlier, or when he’d finished his gruesomely beautiful painting of the orange widow spider.

  But then I’d remember the glint off his fangs as he lowered his head into my neck, and the sheer terror that had tightened my nipples. Even now, heat throbbed in the pale scars he’d given me.

  No! I hated him. I could be civil to him, I could even let him teach me, and teach him in return, but I couldn’t — I wouldn’t — like him.

  I caught him glancing my way again and decided enough was enough. Casting my gaze around the crowd, I found a handsome young Hill Warg giving me a shy smile. I grinned back and walked right up to him.

  “I don’t think we’ve officially met,” I said, looking up at him from under my long eyelashes. “I’m Arlynn.”

  The poor guy looked stunned for a moment, then recovered. “Naron.”

  I slowly wrapped my fingers around his hand and pulled him toward me, forcing him to bend low to touch my forehead. I held eye contact the entire time, doing my very best to exude charm and sexuality. Naron didn’t seem to understand what was happening. In all honesty, neither did I. All I knew was, flirting with this hapless young man would make me feel better.

  Only it didn’t. My guts cramped up and bubblyflesh crawled up my arms, just as it did every time I tried to flirt with a man. At least since Thrane had turned me into a Warg — and cursed me.

  The ground under our feet vibrated, and Naron dropped my hand as if it was on fire as Thrane thundered toward us. He didn’t need to say a word, he simply turned those blazing orange eyes on the guy and snarled a little, and Naron scurried away like a puppy with his tail between his legs.

  I spun on him, furious for so many reasons. “I knew you were full of shit! All that talk about becoming brothers was just that. You might have fooled everyone else into thinking you care about working together, but this right here is the Thrane I know and loathe!”

  Thrane opened his mouth, no doubt to shoot back some rude retort, when Jorek ran into the crowd, looking even more frazzled than he usually did.

  “I need to speak to the alphas,” he shouted.

  Thrane turned to him, but Solan and Markon were too busy chatting with their tribemates. Something was desperately wrong, I could see it in Jorek’s eyes. He took a deep breath and cupped his hands around his mouth.

  “I need to speak with the alphas! Now!”

  9

  THRANE

  “So you see,” Jorek concluded, as if any of the explanation he’d just given made a shred of sense at all, “the population bottleneck has led to a genetic drift which will change the proportional distribution of alleles, and even lead to fixation or loss of alleles. Let’s not even talk about how the smaller population size will almost certainly cause deleterious mutations to accumulate.”

  Markon, Solan and I stared blankly at the goofy scientist, wondering what the hell he’d just said. We were all crammed into the small hut which served as a lab, as Jorek and Natalie tried to explain something that sounded very important, but was complete gibberish.

  “What the fuck are you telling us?” I snapped. I loved saying ‘fuck’, a word the Terrans had brought us. It suited so many situations perfectly. Maybe Terrans had some redeeming qualities after all.

  Natalie stepped forward, blessedly taking mercy on us. “Jorek and I have been pouring over these calculations since we found the cure for the tribe’s fertility problem. I’m afraid there’s no easy way to say it—”

  “Some ways are harder than others,” I said, giving Jorek a frustrated look which caused him to wither.

  “Even if all the women of childbearing age in the united tribe became pregnant with girls today, we don’t have a broad enough genetic pool for our species to survive in the long run.”

  A long, dark silence descended on the tiny room. No one spoke. No one moved. No one breathed.

  “I don’t understand,” Solan whispered, looking as shocked as I felt.

  “It’s simple genetic science,” Natalie said quietly. “I’d been so focused on finding a cure, it didn’t dawn on me this might be an issue. But once I found out…”

  She drifted off, her gaze snapping over to Markon. At his nod, she continued, “You all should know I’m pregnant.”

  Under normal circumstances, everyone in the hut would have probably gushed and cheered — except me, because I would hav
e been too pissed that Markon had kept it secret from me — but these weren’t normal circumstances. With barely an acknowledgment, she resumed her explanation.

  “Once I realized I was pregnant, I naturally started thinking about what kind of life my child would have. Then it just sort of hit me. I couldn’t stop wondering about it, so Jorek and I started working on the calculations. Trust me when I tell you we’ve gone over every possible permutation.”

  The edges of my field of vision darkened until only Natalie’s moving lips remained. Static hissed in my ears as she continued telling us we’d be extinct in a couple more generations, despite the merging of the tribes. Despite everything.

  “So we’re doomed,” I finally said, my voice as cold as the ice at the top of the Hill.

  “I-I don’t know if that’s exactly true,” she stammered. “To be completely transparent, genetics is based on statistical theory. It’s possible we’re wrong.”

  “How possible?” Markon asked.

  Natalie and Jorek exchanged an unnerving glance. “Not very,” he answered.

  I’ve experienced my share of rage in my life — more than my share, if I was being honest— and I’ve had more than my fill of loss, but never before had the two consumed me more than at that moment.

  Images of my dead parents and tribemates flickered through my brain, interspersed with rare, treasured moments of peace, such as walking in the meadow, which had held the key to our salvation…though it apparently had been for nothing; running free and wild with Markon as beasts, chasing some small creature or another, and half the time, he’d bump me just as I was about to clamp my jaws shut, giving my prey a chance to live another day; painting with Arlynn.

  All that annoying emotion boiled over, until it had to be released in a deafening roar. Wood splinters shot across the room when I pounded my suddenly fur-covered fists into a table, sending little pots and vials flying, and turning the piece of furniture to rubble. When my frantic gaze scanned the room, searching for the next thing I could crush with my bare fists, Markon stepped in front of me.

  “Thrane! Enough!”

  Gone was my quiet, thoughtful second-in-command. He’d been replaced with a competent and confident alpha, who wouldn’t put up with any shit, even from his older brother. My lips peeled back in a snarl, and I felt the froth dripping from my elongated fangs. For a moment, I considered tearing into my own brother for insubordination, but then I caught sight of Natalie’s wide, terrified eyes.

  Arlynn’s comments about depending on one another whispered behind the rage. Even the simple memory of her voice acted like a balm to my raging beast. Still, emotion consumed me. I lunged at Markon and pulled him into a fierce hug. He resisted for a moment, as if he thought I was about to gnaw on his ear or something, but then he finally relaxed and returned my embrace. We poured our anger and fear and love into that one single hug. Releasing him, I retreated to a corner where I could observe, without interfering.

  “So what do we do?” Markon asked, drawing everyone’s attention back on him.

  Jorek frowned. “There’s nothing to do. The data is clear. Within two generations, three tops, we will essentially be extinct.”

  As they prattled on about possible solutions — of which we already knew there was none — I sank deeper into the vise-like grip of despair. I’ve never taken a mate, never sired a whelp, never shown my whole heart to another person on all of Thracos. Now, even if I did manage to accomplish those things, what did any of it matter? My grandchildren would be drooling inbred simpletons incapable of feeding themselves, much less defending themselves against a Terran attack.

  The urge to tear the shack to pieces swept through me, then back out again, like a hot, desert wind through a misty field, leaving me feeling wilted and weak. The anger withered away, a scorched seedling in my soul. Not even the thought of training with Arlynn later to teach her to fight could lift my spirits.

  Even after I’d been ousted as alpha from my own tribe, the tribe for which I’d sacrificed nearly everything, the blackness in my heart had never threatened to drown me in despair. Every death, every battle — hell, every birth — had been for naught. As a species, we were all running downhill toward a cliff, and nothing could stop our momentum. I started awake many a night from such dreams, but I’d never imagined they would become reality.

  “So I guess the next thing to do is tell everyone,” Markon said.

  Solan nodded his agreement. “We’ll hold a meeting to explain the situation. They need to know.”

  Standing abruptly, my elbow knocked a cup from a shelf. The crash of it shattering on the floor drew everyone’s startled gazes, almost as if they’d forgotten a rabid beast had been sitting in the corner all this time. Except…all the fight had drained out of me, along with any hope I might’ve had.

  “We’re not going to tell them,” I said, my voice hoarse, my gut in turmoil. “What’s the point in that?”

  Markon and Solan exchanged concerned glances. They’d developed a silent language between them that I couldn’t understand. I never felt more alone.

  “We have to, Thrane,” Markon said quietly. “They need to know.”

  “Why?”

  He blinked rapidly as he tried to figure me out. “Because…because they just do. We can’t possibly keep this from them.”

  “Again, what’s the point?” I asked. “Why be so cruel?”

  Doubt flickered in my brother’s eyes, then I saw it repeated in Solan’s. The old me would have reveled in the win, but I took no pleasure in being right this time.

  “What do we do then?” Markon asked.

  “We behave like alphas and protect our people. We lead our tribe as best we can, for as long as we can. If our fate is to die out, we take on the burden of that knowledge and allow our tribemates to live the rest of their lives in peace and happiness.”

  “But don’t they have a right to know?” Natalie asked, worry etched on her otherwise glowing features.

  “Are you happy knowing?” I asked.

  “Of course not! I’m devastated. What future does my baby have?”

  I turned to my co-alphas. “Precisely. Everyone will feel the same, and instead of dying out in two or three generations, we’ll implode within weeks. We might as well walk right up to the Terran’s damnable walls and beg them to shoot us with their fancy weapons.”

  “May the Elders be with us,” Solan breathed, his hands clenched into fists.

  “They’re not. They deserted us at the Great Split and left us to fend for ourselves ever since.” I couldn’t breathe inside the cramped space any longer. I needed some air, but before I stalked out the door, I turned back. “If any of you in this hut love your tribemates, you will remain silent and allow them to hold onto hope. As false as it may be, from this point on, it’s all they have.”

  10

  ARLYNN

  The commons bustled with activity. Five humongous guards had been recruited to train the women in battle techniques, not just self-defense. The ones who took to it naturally were quickly moved to an advanced class, while the others continued punching and kicking and grunting like warriors.

  And then there was me.

  I stood on the other side of the great fire pit, waiting on Thrane to teach me remedial fighting, because I was too lame to join the others. Another glance at the sun told me he was at least ten minutes late, which wasn’t like him at all. It was more like me, and in fact, I’d only arrived at our meeting spot five minutes earlier, but Thrane had a bug up his butt about punctuality.

  “Aunty Arlynn!” squealed little Eileah, who’d almost choked to death during our initial welcome feast so long ago. Sienna had jumped down and saved the little girl, earning the trust of the entire village, not only for her, but for Natalie and me as well.

  “Eileah!” I squatted and swept her up in my arms, twirling her in a circle. “How are you, my darling?”

  “Good, but Krit hasn’t heard the story of how you and Aunty Sienna and Aunty Natali
e crashed your skybird into the forest.”

  A shy little boy, the son of Rikor and Sheema of the Hill tribe, peeked around the corner of a hut, his gaze hopeful. I motioned him forward and set Eileah down.

  “I’m sorry, little ones, but I can’t right now. Maybe after dinner. I’m waiting for Thrane to give me a fighting lesson. What do you think about that?”

  Eileah giggled. “You? Fight?”

  “Thrane can teach anyone to fight,” Krit said, defending his alpha. “One day, he’s going to teach me how to be a warrior!”

  “That’s right, and I expect you will be the fiercest one of all, Krit,” Thrane said as he walked up to us.

  The child’s eyes widened as he craned his neck to meet Thrane’s gaze. The entire scene was so adorable, I couldn’t help smiling — until I saw the darkness in Thrane’s eyes.

  “Now you two run along,” he commanded, and without a word, the children scampered off before I could blink.

  Drawing myself up to my full height, which still only reached his pecs — his bronzed, scarred, chiseled, rock-hard pecs — I gave him a mock scowl. “Thanks for keeping me waiting.”

  He looked away, scanning the activity on the commons, then shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Nothing matters.”

  “Um…okay.”

  Weird, Thrane always seemed to have a fire burning deep inside him. Passion, he called it. I admired him for it…grudgingly. Today though, the smoldering heat which never seemed to leave his eyes had been extinguished.

  “What’s wrong?” I’d never seen him anything but completely confident and committed to whatever he was doing at the moment.

  “Nothing,” he snapped.

  I knew when to back off, though I had every intention of discovering his secret.

  “So what are you teaching me today?” I asked brightly, playing his little game of denial.