Night Born

by Godiva Glenn

  Kyra blinked away a tear that seemed to have bubbled from her soul. You smelled lupine.

  * * * *

  “I’d like to go out again,” Kyra announced as she finished her dinner. She placed her fork on the center of her empty plate and handed it to Mikos.

  Taking it, he nodded. “Sounds like a plan. Ross thinks walking will help your recovery.”

  Kyra didn’t question that but always found it interesting that Ross was always giving advice when it was his wife, Thea, who was the healer.

  “Let me get these rinsed and how about I meet you outside?” Mikos asked.

  “Sure.”

  Kyra slowly stretched her arms up, seeing how far they could rise before her stitches hurt. She had more range today than the day before, but it still wasn’t impressive. The wound was healing on the outside much faster than it was on the inside.

  The skin would be knit back in place soon, but whatever Sierra had done past that was taking its time to get better.

  Kyra tiptoed through the house. Thea had mostly calmed her complaints, but Kyra was certain it was due to being barely seen and never heard. She was content to keep it that way. Hugging the wall as she crossed the living room, Kyra slipped outside before Thea could look up from her knitting.

  “You’ve got a little stealth to ya,” Ross chuckled.

  Kyra spun around, startled. She hadn’t seen him on the porch, sitting in his rocking chair. “I suppose I do,” she muttered. “Sorry.”

  He gave her a strange look but didn’t seem interested in her. The night had his full attention. He held up a pipe she hadn’t noticed and took a few puffs. The sweet scent held memories she could barely grasp. This wasn’t the first time she’d watched him smoke. He’d had that pipe since she was a little girl.

  Mikos joined them and glanced up at the sky. There were a few clouds strung across the dark canvas but nothing that worried her and nothing that should worry him, either.

  “Let’s head out. If it rains, I may have to carry you back.”

  She scoffed and stepped off the porch. “A little water won’t hurt me.”

  “But your stitches need to stay dry,” he replied.

  Ross creaked on his rocking chair, not saying anything. Kyra gave a small wave to him before they took off into the woods.

  The distant trickle of water found her ears. “The creek?”

  “It’s actually still the Owl River. Same as what runs through the pack’s center, but here it’s shallow enough to wade across.”

  “Looks like a creek though,” she commented.

  “Stream, creek, river. It’s all the same. All simply water.”

  She rolled her eyes. They’d had the same education, but she still had a mental image associated with the words, and in her mind, creeks were not rivers. “You have to be right, don’t you?”

  “It gives me a little tingle to be right,” he teased.

  They reached the water and sat on the edge. Kyra slipped her sneakers and socks off, so she could dip her feet into the current. The cold was a shock but a pleasant one.

  “We’ll be heading back soon,” he said.

  The words hung in the air. Not meant to be ominous, just stating a fact, but that fact held weight. He didn’t mean they didn’t have long tonight, he meant they didn’t have long before they’d have to return to the pack.

  There was a lot she wanted to say, but nothing seemed like it would be worth the effort. She wanted to mourn for this moment. Once they rejoined the pack, it would be like these weeks never happened. They’d be bittersweet memories. Unless a miracle happened, and she was beyond putting stock in such things.

  The moment they crossed a certain point, she’d head to her ransacked home and he’d head to the loving embrace of his family. In that contemplative moment, the beautiful night became somber.

  She pulled her feet out of the chilly water and scooted back. “If I knew we were coming here, I would’ve brought a towel to sit on.”

  “The dirt’s never bothered you before.”

  “It still doesn’t. But tracking dirt through your grandmother’s house is quite different,” she reasoned.

  “She’s old and from another time—”

  “I know,” Kyra insisted. “Everyone has to distance themselves from me. I’m pack but not pack at the same time.”

  “That’s not what I meant. I meant about the spotless floor.”

  “Oh.”

  He brushed his hands over the short grass. “I track dirt in all the time, and she yells at me too, I should point out.”

  “Nice subject change,” she muttered.

  “Come on,” he groaned. “How am I supposed to respond to things like that? I’m not saying you shouldn’t be honest, but I can’t change the past, nor do I wield any ability to drastically change the present.”

  “I know. Everything is...”

  “Everything is bullshit.” He lay back on the damp ground and gently touched her arm. “Which is why I think every now and then it’s healthy to pretend that it doesn’t exist.”

  “Escapism?”

  “Now who’s being the smart ass?” he snorted.

  She stared up at the sky. Distant stars twinkled beyond the treetops, and it only took seconds for most of her stress to melt away. Looking at the sky always made her feel small but in a comforting way.

  “We’re all a part of something much greater,” she breathed. “I wouldn’t mind a hint or two to let me know if I’m going about things the right way, though.”

  “I wouldn’t say there’s a wrong way to live.”

  She disagreed. The way she went about her days here, hiding from Thea and pretending not to exist, that wasn’t living. It startled her to realize that she’d been the same way before the injury. She avoided the pack. She accepted the distance.

  “Damnit,” she groaned.

  “What’s wrong? Do we need to go back?” Mikos rolled to his side, his hand hovering over her stomach. “How much does it hurt?”

  She shook her head and eased his worried arm away. “Not that. I just realized you were right. Again.”

  “About?” He leaned back but remained on his side, watching her suspiciously.

  Running a hand through her curls she closed her eyes. “About me giving up. I shouldn’t have turned the other cheek. I know that in my mind I was being obedient, and that’s a good trait. But the truth was that I was a coward. It was easier to be shunned than to stick around. To make everyone see me. Notice me. Acknowledge me.”

  “Kyra—”

  “No, I get it now. I should have confronted Ian and made it clear that I wasn’t garbage to be tossed aside. I’m Kyra fucking Brada. If it bothers them to see me existing, that’s their problem, not mine. It was nonsense to believe that allowing the pack to turn their backs to me, that hiding away from my family and friends—wanted or not—would ever help me awaken my wolf.”

  Hot tears of frustration streamed down over her cheeks.

  “It’s not too late.”

  “Maybe it is. Maybe this revelation came too far after the fact. Maybe I’ve thrown away valuable time. I should have fought to keep what was mine.”

  “You should have, but I don’t think it’s too late. You’re better now. Wiser. Stronger. And you believe in yourself, don’t you? The ancestors can read your heart.”

  He took her hand and watched her, but she couldn’t continue to meet his eyes. “The more I hope to call my wolf, the more I prepare to fail. Hope for the best but expect the worst. Except my expectations seem to negate all hope.”

  “As you said before, there’s a lot of paths and choices you can’t make yet.”

  “I know, but if my own subconscious thinks I’ll never shift, all of my stated confidence is worthless.”

  His thumb massaged the top of her palm. “What you feel isn’t something exclusive to you. We all have doubts. I have them constantly.” He wrinkled his nose and glanced up at the sky. “In this regard, I understand exactly how you feel. My futu
re isn’t defined either. And I know how I want it to play out, the choices I plan on making, but occasionally I’ll find myself expecting to fail.”

  “Then it’s not just me fucking up again?”

  “I think we all fuck up. I think we all get in our own way. But you see it, so you can fix it, right?”

  “Three years, though.”

  Kyra wiped away her tears as Mikos scooted close and slipped his arm under her neck, pulling her gently against his chest. She inhaled the scent of him, and it brought a whisper of calm to her. Any touch from the pack was like a drug to her these days, but he affected her more profoundly. Always had, probably always would.

  “You’ve got two moons. That’s plenty of time,” he promised.

  EIGHT

  Kyra didn’t know how long they’d lay together, watching the sky and not talking. Long enough that her heart had raced miles but finally calmed. Long enough that the moon was hiding somewhere beyond the canvas of shadowy leaves.

  “We should be careful,” she said to the sky. “People will talk.”

  A breeze swept between them, and he covered her hand with his. He held their joined hands up against the sky and squeezed.

  “Maybe I don’t care,” he replied.

  It wasn’t much, but something in his voice struck a chord within her. She blinked, and a single tear escaped her lashes. She wasn’t usually so frail, but in the back of her mind, every moment with him could be the last. There was nothing wrong with her trying to hold onto it with every ounce of her strength.

  “Promise me that when I’m gone, you won’t think about how I used to be spoiled and bratty? Could you pretend I was always amazing and strong? And worth your time?”

  “Hey,” he said softly. His finger swept away the lonely tear. “I didn’t love you then. But what I feel now, it rips me apart.”

  She felt the same, though she didn’t voice it.

  He pulled her close and pressed a tender kiss to the hand he still held. Heat flowed through him and into her, a sensation she never fully understood but knew to be some buried bond. No other touch felt like Mikos.

  The ambient noise of the woods seemed to fade away, swallowed by the beat of her heart.

  She wasn’t a lovestruck teen anymore, not that there was ever depth before. What she thought was love had been simple infatuation and confusion. As Mikos had said, again and again, they’d changed. The change had left them more complex, and it had opened her eyes.

  Her original feelings for Mikos stemmed from his impressive blood lineage and sexy looks. She’d spent countless hours staring at his face and imagining the beautiful children they’d have.

  Now she was stirred by his caring and the way he was defying the pack to help her in her time of need. While his recent actions didn’t erase the past, she couldn’t ignore the other factors. He’d checked on her every full moon and who knew how often in between. He spoke to her former friends about her. He saved my life.

  Without thought or intention, she leaned towards him. Releasing her hand, he lifted her chin and kissed her. His tongue parted her lips and released a moan she didn’t realize was waiting. This wasn’t like a kiss from their youth. There was no sweetness, no innocence. His fingers tangled in her hair and trapped her against his lips.

  Mind swimming and sinking, she took hold of his sweater and yanked, demanding more, needing him closer. He fell back and pulled her atop of him. She straddled his lean waist and bent over him, tugging his lip between her teeth. All the reasons why they shouldn’t kiss or touch tumbled away, buried under the rubble of desire. His hands gripped her thighs and traveled up, anchoring her against his grinding hips.

  Her eyes rolled back, a haze clouding her thoughts. She tore at his clothing, seeking warm flesh. He lifted his sweater from the bottom and removed it, moving so quickly he barely jostled her. Pressing her hands flat against his chest, she reveled in the connection. The dark curls on his chest tickled her fingertips and she grinned. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt this overthrown and swept away. Joy bubbled through her, igniting where he held her and bursting from her smile.

  The wind nipped at her collarbone. While they’d kissed and touched, he’d opened the top buttons of her shirt. He pulled it aside, hunter green plaid parting to rest on her shoulders. She wore no bra beneath, and his hands descended into the fabric to cup her breasts.

  His touch was careful, and she covered one of his hands with hers and squeezed, urging him to be rougher. Instead, he guided her hand down, over her sore stomach and down to his bulge pressing between her legs.

  She scooted back and unzipped his dark jeans. Impatience fueled her movements, but she froze when she freed his erection of the restraints of his boxers. She’d never seen him like this before, definitely never touched him like this before, never been kissed so passionately before.

  You can’t keep him.

  Leaning forward, she kissed his mouth while her hand slid over the silky skin of his cock, effectively pushing aside the negative voice in her head.

  They couldn’t have sex. She wouldn’t ask for it. Wouldn’t risk rejection, and wouldn’t want to cause his respectful place within the pack to fall. It was all but a crime to mate with her. So instead, she continued to stroke him, continued to tangle her tongue with his, and wryly thanked her luck that it wasn’t her dominant arm that was weak and scarred.

  Groaning, he wrapped an arm around her and flipped her to the ground. Her breath came out in a quick whoosh, and the impact to the hard, cold dirt made pain flash across her stomach, but he quickly kissed her neck, relieving the discomfort. His hand tore her jeans open, not bothering with the zipper. He dug into the gaping fabric and shoved two fingers into her wetness while he tongued her nipple. Every action pulled her sanity and self-control into thin, disposable threads.

  She grasped his head and moaned, unable to do anything else. She was completely undone, lost to his mouth on her skin and his fingers plunging into her core.

  The moon, though mostly hiding behind the trees, seemed brighter than ever, blinding her while illuminating their passion. His pulse raced—she could hear it somehow, echoing like music. It paced with her own frantic heartbeat, speeding past restraint. His fingers curled and found the spot that made her hips lift and breath catch.

  The pleasure built and expanded quickly, bringing her to the edge and dangling her there. His sharp teeth latched around the sensitive point of her breast and her sight exploded. She came on his relentless fingers, shielding her eyes from the blinding moonlight and holding back screams.

  In the distance, thunder cracked through the sky, as if nature was warning them—or goading them on, it didn’t matter. Neither of them stirred from the trance they were under.

  Slipping his fingers free, Mikos rose and hovered over her. His fist quickly tugged his thick cock. The silhouette of him seemed more like a fantasy than the reality it was. She reached a shaky hand out and cupped his sac, needing to verify that this wasn’t a wild dream. Hot, white ribbons of cum shot forward, covering her breasts and spilling into her partially open shirt. He collapsed but caught himself on extended arms at either side of her. A mixture of sighs and groans, his uneven breath tickled her neck.

  She rose shakily to kiss him, and a laugh burst from her lips. Embarrassed, she pulled away, but his lips captured hers and relieved her. If he had regret, it hadn’t hit him yet. He licked her lips and pulled back to nuzzle her jawline as a steady mist of rain fell from the clouds and covered them.

  A euphoric fog coated her mind and she welcomed it. Sadly, with each breath and with every heartbeat her dazed mood diffused. She didn’t want to break the spell, but they couldn’t stay away forever. She struggled to focus on the moment while pushing aside worry of what they’d done, but reality won out. Everything had consequences.

  “Now I have to sneak past your grandmother while trailing rain and mud across her perfectly clean hardwood, not to mention hiding cum under my shirt?”

  “And I
tore your pants... sorry,” he grimaced. “Maybe we should sneak in through the window?”

  “The ancestors must be glaring at me,” she said, closing her eyes to the falling sky.

  “I think they’re laughing. Maybe cheering. They like a good show.”

  NINE

  Even though the full moon hadn’t yet passed, and she wasn’t fully healed, Kyra was ready to leave the seclusion of the cabin and return to the pitiful trailer she called home. Unfortunately, the weather plotted against her. Sleet beat the windows and obscured the forest. Meanwhile, she was stuck inside with quiet Ross, hostile Thea, and Mikos.

  Mikos, the furnace that heated her side even as she watched the outside world through ice beaten glass. He’d fallen asleep next to where she sat cross-legged on her mattress. The confinement had made him restless, and he’d paced until he was worn out.

  Confusion led her to absurd daydreams. That they could run away together. That he didn’t care if she wasn’t a wolf.

  Two nights had passed since they’d touched and kissed. They hadn’t spoken about of it. They’d cleaned in the rain and pretended nothing happened, but there was no keeping such a secret.

  Thea had started in on them the moment they’d returned. She could smell their disobedience and was predictably vocal about her thoughts of it.

  With every argument, Mikos grew more distant from Kyra. Though he still watched her and helped her with her bandages, there was a wall between them. Even now, even if he was right next to her, she could feel it. Amazing how much could fall apart in two nights.

  She suspected the only reason he stayed close now was to prove a point in his disagreement with Thea. He didn’t want to say he was in the wrong.

  The house creaked, and a knock on the open doorway stirred her from her meandering thoughts. Ross stood staring at her for a moment. His brow quirked, and he glanced to Mikos, who still slept.

  “Mikos,” Ross called gruffly.

  Mikos shot up, running a hand through his hair. He scrambled from the mattress. “Yes?”

  Ross waved his hand, indicating to follow, but said nothing.