by Kat Bostick
“Your middle name is Jane. Your favorite color is red. I don’t have a middle name, that I know of. No favorite color. I like them all. My birthday is in November. I’m pretty sure I’m almost twenty seven.” Jasper ran his pointer finger along the line of her jaw, stopping to trace the outline of her bottom lip. “Will you decide you hate me if you find out I don’t like those smelly, spicy noodles you eat? Or that it bothers me when you dump your dirty clothes on the floor? Are those minute details really enough to discount the bigger parts?”
Mari sipped her coffee instead of answering. For several minutes she was quiet, staring at the perfectly smooth surface of the water. “Maybe the little things don’t discount the big things.” She finally spoke. “But the big things do divide us. I’m a witch who dreamed of a coven her entire life.”
“Did you not also dream of wolves?”
A slight frown lined her brow and he wondered if she regretted telling him so much about herself. “I did. Sometimes it scared me.”
“There’s nothing wrong with fear. It’s one of our most valuable instincts.”
They didn’t speak anymore after that, which was fine with him. Jasper hadn’t brought her out here to convince her of anything. He only wanted to steal a moment with her before she disappeared back into herself, hiding from him like a turtle in her shell.
Though she did seem nervous, Mari didn’t retreat this time. She enjoyed her coffee and the peace of the forest. As the sun rose higher, she moved closer at an almost imperceptible pace until her head was on his shoulder and his arm was wound tightly around her waist.
Jasper was tempted to blurt out every thought on his mind then, confessing his deepest feelings to her and giving her all of the promises he couldn’t when he was wolf. It wasn’t in his nature to move slowly. Yet he knew he would have to learn to do just that if he was going to penetrate Mari’s thick armor.
“Thanks for showing me your secret.” She said quietly as they were walking back to the house.
“There are more. I can take you whenever you want.”
Mari chewed her bottom lip. “Maybe.”
Maybe? Damn, Jasper was really growing to hate that word.
Chapter 35
Mari
“How to Marry a Werewolf?” Clem read aloud with barely contained laughter.
“It’s not a guidebook.” Mari grabbed the book and tossed it in the pile with the others on the table. The she-wolf was supposed to be teaching Mari about werewolves and Mari teaching her about the human perception of werewolves but the collection of romance novels was proving to be an amusing distraction for Clem. “It’s a novel. A pretty good one, too. Can’t say the same for some of these.” She gave a cover featuring a half-naked man a pointed look.
“Moon Lust?” Cash scooped the book up with a whistle.
“You wouldn’t like it.” Mari sneered. “There aren’t any pictures.”
Clem’s laughter finally escaped in a howl. She beamed at Jasper, who was sprawled lazily on a leather couch in the corner, and said “I like her.”
“It’s impossible not to.” Jasper winked at Mari. Damn him and his winking and his cute dimple.
A huge collection of butterflies—or maybe a flock of seagulls because they were pretty irritating—took flight in her stomach. She quickly turned back to the table and pretended to listen to what Clem was saying. After how she woke up this morning she was too embarrassed to do more than glance at him. Tonight, she was going to handcuff herself to the bedframe and toss the key out the window if that was what it took to keep her there.
Magical dreams, Mari could handle. She’d experienced those for half her life. Sleep walking, on the other hand, was a total disaster. It might not be so bad if her body, freed from inhibitions by sleep, didn’t have one goal in mind; finding Jasper. Apparently brain and body were not on the same page when it came to getting space. Or at least that was what she had to assume since, once again, Mari woke up in Jasper’s bed this morning.
Not just in his bed but on top of him, limbs tucked around him like she was some kind of human blanket. Jasper wasn’t exactly disappointed to be blanketed by her. No, he was absolutely thrilled. And smug too. Was he that smug when he was a wolf? Or was it something about his roguish man face?
Being handsome had a tendency to make men annoying as a general rule because they knew what they did to a woman. Jasper was no exception. He was excessively confident and he’d barely uttered a single sentence to her since he started talking that wasn’t flirtatious.
Mari wasn’t helping the situation. No matter how hard she tried to stay level headed, she was a blushing mess around him. And, even more annoying than his perfect handsome face, was her constant need to seek him out.
The whole thing was making her feel that much more conflicted. How was she ever supposed to make a decision about her future and where she wanted to go if she was already hopelessly attached to Jasper? It wasn’t that she didn’t think she could commit herself to him—someday—but she hadn’t been planning on a relationship like this. Then again, did anyone ever plan to fall in love? Not that she was in love with him. She was something though.
There was a serious possibility she would be lured into staying with the pack by a pair of ravening green eyes without getting a chance to pursue other options. Three months wasn’t long enough and, she realized with some anxiety, she was more than halfway through that first month. Soon the full moon would be upon them and then the harvest moon would follow. Then she would have less than thirty freaking days.
She should have left out of principal as soon a Charlie gave her that ultimatum. It wasn’t his business whether or not she chose to see Jasper romantically or, y’know, mate him. And no one could make her choose to wolf marry him. That was her choice to make. Unfortunately, it wasn’t that simple.
In theory, the pack was protecting her. There hadn’t been so much as a whiff of witch in the air for the nearly three weeks following Mari and Jasper’s arrival but if Lyse and her coven did show up with less than friendly intentions, Mari would be glad for the security. The calls from Henrick came less frequently but they hadn’t ceased entirely. She had a feeling that there was more to Lyse than she let on and Mari wouldn’t discover what that more was until she agreed on a meeting, something that couldn’t happen without exposing the pack’s location.
There was also the whole Jasper-will-be-heartbroken-forever thing to worry about. Talk about pressure. However she felt about him claiming her as a mate without her consent—well, without her full consent because apparently she started it—Mari didn’t want to hurt him. The way he felt about her was overwhelming but Jasper was genuine.
He was becoming quite endearing to her. She loved the way he laughed at her stupid jokes and listened intently when she spoke. He was as playful and lighthearted on two legs as he had been on four. Mari liked that he didn’t take anything too seriously. And fine, he wasn’t conceited about his looks at all. There was nothing narcissistic about Jasper or his confidence. The relaxed edge to his words and his posture came naturally, making it that much more appealing.
But Mari didn’t want him to be appealing. Not until she had a chance to talk to a coven or two, explore all the avenues. The old Mari might have stumbled into a welcoming werewolf pack and just rolled with. After everything that happened, the new version of her was determined not to be so rash.
She moved to get Jasper out of her peripheral vision and fixed her attention on a shelf full of leather bound books. That was one great thing about the library. It was large enough that she could avoid him while they were still in the same room. Not that Mari was avoiding him, only trying to clear her head from the haze of attraction long enough to focus on learning about herself and the pack. Hard to do when, even as she created distance, she could feel Jasper’s eyes roving over her. She plucked at one of the books that Clem recommended and tried to ignore the sensation of being watched.
That was another good thing about the library. It had more
books than Mari could read in a lifetime. Unfortunately a good many were in other languages or handwritten in impossible to read script. That hadn’t stopped her from curiously flipping through them. The scent of worn leather and old pages touched a part of Mari’s soul. Unlike her books, many in the library did have pictures. Beautiful paintings depicted witchcraft, wolfish beasts, and religious zealots on horseback. Mari had to give it to the wolves, they were very cultured.
Except for Cash, who was practically drooling over an erotic novel featuring a human woman and six werewolf suitors competing for her affection.
“What do you mean I’m not cultured?” He asked hotly.
“I didn’t mean to say that out loud.” She clapped her book shut and reached for another.
“Oh Mari, bring that one here. There’s a chapter in there dedicated to your kind.” Clem waved her to the table. Jasper squeezed Mari’s hip on the way by and she glared at him. He grinned back at her.
“Wolf Charmers?” She’d taken to using that term instead of Wolfseggner as it was far less of a tongue twister.
“Sibylline Dreamers.” Clem took the book from Mari and skimmed until she found a page titled “Benandanti.” The paper was weathered and brown. This was one of the handwritten tomes. Impressive considering how thick the thing was.
“Benandanti? Wait a minute, I read about that.” Mari snatched up one of her fictional books labeled as a guide to werewolves. “According to this they were werewolves that fought witches in hell. While they were…dreaming?”
Clem’s eyes widened. “A guide to werewolves? Humans have one of these? Is it accurate?”
“Not according to Jasper. Especially not if Benandanti are witches instead of werewolves.”
Mari bent over the book and squinted to read the fancy script. Why did everything old have to be written in calligraphy? Apparently, she was a Benandante. So was her father and his family. Her grandparents on the Sowka side lived in Poland and had never so much as sent a Christmas card. They were a complete mystery to Mari. The Benandanti were psychics, capable of lucid dreaming and dream divination. They were rare before witch trials nearly wiped them off the face of the earth. Now they were practically nonexistent.
No wonder Dad’s family was so big on pure bloodlines. They could be some of the last Sibylline Dreamers in Europe. How did Mari end up with endangered and unique magic on both sides of her family?
“Anything useful?” Clem asked.
“It’s more than useful. This tells me how to have dreams about specific people.”
She reread the paragraph just to be certain. A Benandante would regularly dream magic dreams and was often gifted glimpses into the future while they slept. However, with a personal possession they could dream of someone specific and possibly see something imminent. There was no guarantee if they would see the past, present, or one of many prospective futures that might come to pass. Whatever their visions showed them was what the person needed to hear at that time.
That explained why she always dreamt of Jasper. What was more personal than his body? It would also explain why she hadn’t dreamt of him since she started sleeping alone. It was easier not to feel disappointed now that she understood. Before, though she hadn’t wanted to admit it to herself, she was starting to worry the connection between her and Jasper was waning because she’d scarcely dreamed of him at all.
“It’s fate.” Jasper startled her out of her contemplation. He was leaning over her, skimming the page and reading it much faster than she could.
She swallowed the heat of awareness in her belly that came with his nearness. “What’s fate?”
“Your presence here. Joining a wolf pack.”
Mari resisted the urge to point out she wasn’t technically part of the pack and might never be because it seemed petty to do so in front of Clem and Cash. “And why is that, Red?”
“Look.” His square finger traced a paragraph. “The Benandanti were allied with werewolves before witch trials scattered and destroyed them. Together they were warriors of justice, fighting black witches that sought to bring death and famine to punish those of the Abrahamic faiths.”
“Interesting coincidence.” She shrugged.
“You think it’s a coincidence that both sides of your family have a well-recorded history with werewolves?” Jasper clicked his tongue. “You don’t believe in coincidence.”
“You don’t know what I believe.”
He trailed his hand along her jaw then stole a quick kiss before darting back to the couch. “You’d be surprised by what I know, honeysuckle witch.”
“I wish they would just get the barney-mugging over with. The sexual tension is killin’ me.” Cash grumbled.
“Really? I can never decide if they are about to take a turn among the cabbages or throw down in fisticuffs.” Clem replied.
The two siblings had begun talking in weird old euphemisms as if it was some kind of code she couldn’t interpret, therefore making it acceptable to talk about her when she was within earshot. The Dunnes’ vocabulary was peppered with outdated words, seemingly because it made their age harder to judge and not because any of them actually grew up in a time when that language was relevant. One never knew with werewolves, though.
Mari cleared her throat loudly. “What happened to teaching me about pack structure?”
“Right! Pack structure. I’m grateful that you’ve brought these books because they confirm a suspicion I’ve had for some time.” She marked a page on her current book and set it aside. “I do believe a good amount of werewolf behavior in terms of how packs are run comes from human culture. In fact, it would seem the werewolf culture created by humans dictates a lot in the modern pack. Not surprising since most werewolves used to be human.”
Clem went on to explain the Humble Springs pack and how it differed from others. Charlie was their alpha but that didn’t make him a supreme dictator. While he had final say in decisions that impacted the pack, he was happy to consider all opinions and advice from outside sources. Unlike what many books and movies depicted, the alpha was not the king in Charlie’s pack. He and his mate were matriarch and patriarch of their family.
The concept of an alpha existed long before the term. Nagamo, Ina’s mate and Mari’s ancestor, was deemed King of the Northern Lights and that was how his pack treated him. There were other terms like lords, chiefs, and captains, but the model remained fairly steady throughout history. Unfortunately, unlike Charlie, many alphas took their lead from the human depiction of an alpha male. They were domineering to a fault, usually violent and oppressive too. Clem used Nikolai, Jasper’s former alpha, as an example.
Nikolai ruled his pack like a dictator and expected his underlings to treat him as the next best thing after God. If there was food, he ate first. If a rule was decreed, no one dissented without punishment. Bitten werewolves fell to the bottom of the totem pole, often treated as lesser than born wolves. Apparently Nikolai went easy on bitten wolves compared to the purist packs that were known to kill them out of spite.
She couldn’t help but glance at Jasper as Clem spoke, wondering what life was like for him under Nikolai’s rule. Teal’s description of Jasper as reserved and mistrustful came to mind and the hatred Mari was rapidly developing for Nikolai bloomed. Jasper noticed her gaze lingering on his chest where, had he been shirtless, the pink scars from the bite that changed him would be visible, and gave her a reassuring nod.
“The alpha as we know it doesn’t necessarily exist in a standard wolf pack either. There is a hierarchy with a male and female on top but the traits we attribute to that couple is a result of personification. A wolf pack is a family but it is much harder for our kind to mesh like a family without blood relations. Born females like myself are scarce and as we are the only werewolves capable of bearing children, it is not common for new wolves to be born into a pack. Thus, most new members are bitten wolves seeking the shelter of pack life.
“Humans like my mother are compatible with werewolves and though
Cash and I only serve as anecdotal evidence, the werewolf gene appears to be dominant. Unlike you magic folk, we could easily bolster our ranks by taking human mates. Of course, most werewolves are barely tolerant of humans so to suggest mating with one would be an insult. Such pompous and stubborn creatures, aren’t we?”
Clem was in her element. Mari jokingly referred to her as the resident professor of lycanthropy but it wasn’t that far off. The she-wolf had some serious knowledge. “That is perhaps the most tragic part of werewolf life both for bitten and born wolves. Bitten wolves rarely find true happiness and stability in a pack. They are safer from other packs and hunters but most will never be treated with respect. On the other end, born females draw the short straw in packs like Nikolai’s. We are, in a male’s view, precious—“ there was such contempt in that one word “—and therefore protected at all costs.”
“And by protected I’m guessing you mean locked away in dragon guarded towers like princesses?” Mari chimed in.
“Precisely. Females have no say in how a pack is run. Even the den mother, the alpha’s mate, will usually only serve to raise young and teach other wolves how to behave. She will never be his equal because she is wolf only in spirit, not body. Her true value is in procreation. And, as I’m sure you can imagine, that doesn’t make life any easier for bitten females either. Unlike born females, they can shift, but they cannot breed and they are not considered skilled hunters or fighters.”
Clem continued her lecture on the intricacies of werewolf culture and politics for almost an hour. Mari listened with intrigue, silently thanking the divine that of all the werewolf packs in North America she ended up seeking refuge with, it was Charlie’s. From what she was learning, most would have killed her on the spot. And if they hadn’t immediately done it, discovering she was a Wolfseggner would have changed their minds.
Some of Jasper’s pack mates were less than thrilled to have Mari around—and not afraid to show it—but so far she was enjoying her time with the pack. Werewolves were fascinating and so different from anything she knew. Charlie’s pack was a family of choice, loyal to each other not because they were bound by blood but because they chose to be. Their love was never out of obligation but out of a true desire to look out for one another. Mari was beginning to think those bonds were stronger than what she shared with her kin.
