Lily
Lily felt as though her bones were rattling. With shaking fingers she removed the crumpled letter from the crumpled envelope, smoothing it out on the desk as she lowered herself into the chair behind it.
She lit a much-used candle that had dripped and oozed wax down itself onto the tabletop. Shards of moonlight cut through the hastily-closed curtains, peering through the gaps as though it was as interested as she was by the contents of the letter that her mate had gone to such lengths to keep from her.
Her breaths felt too quick, too shallow. Elijah gave her everything she’d ever needed but never known how to ask for. Though the sting of Atticus’s rejection had long since been soothed, the gut-clenching fear that this was all a fallacy, ever intimate moment they’d ever shared, made the pain of not being good enough wash over her anew.
“Sod it,” she whispered, forcing herself to read the words printed in neat ink lines on the wrinkled paper.
To Alpha Elijah Egon Pine, Alpha of the Sea Pine pack,
I must offer my most sincere condolences –
Lily blinked. Condolences? For what? Shaking her head, she read on.
I must offer my most sincere condolences for what will come to pass under the light of the next full moon. It has come to my attention that you are harbouring my true mate, Lily Cole, Warrior Wolf of the Blood Moon pack. Should you not return her to me before the moon’s rise, I will wipe out your pack to reclaim her as my own.
However, I will accept her return with good graces, and you have my sworn word that no attack will be made on you should she return home in a timely manner.
Once again, my condolences,
Alpha Atticus Alvarn Alvaro Andras,
Alpha of the Blood Moon pack
“He has quite a way with words, doesn’t he?”
Lily jumped, her cheeks flushing with guilt. Elijah was leant against the doorway, the throw blanket from their bed wrapped around his shoulders.
“Elijah, I–“
“I don’t know what to do,” he cut in, coming over to her and enveloping her within the blanket too. “I’ve read it and read it, and I don’t know what to do.”
Lily pressed her body against his, allowing his body heat to permeate through the thin fabric of her t-shirt. “I’m sorry for reading it.”
“I would have told you about it anyway, soon enough. I just did not wish to come to you without any answers.” He squeezed her shoulders, and Lily could have sobbed. She had doubted him – had thought him guilty of hiding something, of hiding this, and yet here he was, struggling to think of ways to keep both her and his pack safe.
Lily turned to face him. The candlelight flickered across his face, warm orange softening its hard planes. The bond pulsed, emotion flowing freely between them. It had moulded to fit them, as they had grown to know one another. It was the gravel crunching beneath their feet on a cold, bitter morning, and the first beat of warmth from the rising sun. It was hands shoved into pockets and rosy cheeks, and the comfort of a roaring, crackling fire in the hearth. It was tears and laughter, unadulterated joy and flaming sadness; it was wet lips and throaty moans and the press of sweat-slick bodies against one another. It was life itself, their life, irrevocably joined by the shimmering strands of fate.
Though Lily had doubted Elijah, she had never once doubted their bond. Her doubts, she was sure, were a reflection of herself – of her past, of her insecurities. They could be rationalised. They made sense.
But Atticus’s words did not. Tearing her gaze from Elijah’s handsome, kind, caring face, she picked up the letter once more.
“You are harbouring my true mate,” she read aloud, squinting to make sure she’d read it correctly. Even in the dim lighting, however, her eyesight was superior to many of the magical creatures werewolves shared Eldda with. His words were no mistake.
“It’s a ploy,” Elijah sighed. “It must be. Blood Moon have been desperate ever since White Oak retaliated and destroyed their crops.”
When the news had come, a spiteful part of Lily had been glad that White Oak had stood up for themselves. A peaceful pack or not, they deserved their retribution. It seemed that they’d got it.
But at what cost?
“They often travel further than most to prove a point,” Lily hummed thoughtfully. She stood, and pushed Elijah down into the chair so that she could settle herself on his lap. He wrapped the blanket around them both again. The days were hot, now, hotter than Lily had ever known in Blood Moon’s land, but the sea wind was bitter, and the nights still bit exposed skin with the cold.
“So many packs are fighting freely, without the code of the moon to bind them.” Elijah rested his head on Lily’s shoulder. Idly, she combed her fingers through his hair. He tensed a little when she moved close to his ear, so she worked her way to the nape of his neck instead.
She’d seen glimpses of his ears, usually when she awoke in the night and his hair had spilled away from their tips. They were longer than hers, and oddly shaped. He’d never spoken about them, but she knew from his body language that he didn’t like anyone seeing them. Lily wondered if they were another mutilation from the day his parents had been killed, another shameful reminder – in his eyes – that he hadn’t done enough, hadn’t been enough, to save them.
Fearful of hurting him further, she’d never broached the topic. She saw the way he smoothed his hair over them and, though she was eager to let him know that she loved him in his entirety, past and scars and every inch of his beautiful body, she hadn’t ever wanted to push him to reveal them fully. She hoped that he would, given time and trust and reassurance. Until then, she would respect his unspoken wishes and avoid his ears just as he did.
“I’m surprised Atticus hasn’t joined them,” she said.
“Perhaps his pack is too weak to fight without their wolf forms. Or he’s holding onto our traditions in the hope that his stance will appeal to others. Despite everything that has befallen them, Blood Moon still has a reputation, and some standing within the wolf community.”
Lily snorted. “Somehow.” But then she shook her head. Her hatred of Atticus did not extend to every werewolf in his pack. Her mixed feelings towards her father had settled into a background burn, a pining that never quite let up fully. This was often tempered with rage that he had never stood up for her before, never helped her, never took her side over Atticus’s.
Then she’d see the garnet ring on her finger, and she’d remember the birthday cakes, the quiet, kind words, the shared pain they’d endured after her mother’s death. Even in the mirror she’d see parts of her father looking out at her: the same olive-toned skin, which darkened every day she spent in the sun; brown eyes, limned with gold, though his were set into harder sockets and edged with crow’s feet; the same hard, straight jawline and prominent chin.
She often despised his inability to fight for what he thought was right, and his loyalty to the wrong people, but she loved him a hundred times more than she could ever hate him. He’d been broken by the loss of his mate, and now that Lily had met hers, she understood him, and his pain, in ways she would never have been able to before.
Maybe this was her chance to get him out. He’d be happier in Sea Pine; she knew it.
Elijah was tracing mindless patterns across her knee and up her thigh while they both considered their options. He kept opening his mouth as if to speak, only to close it again.
Lily felt just as lost as he did. “I could always go–“
“No,” he snapped. Softening immediately, he apologised. “I’m sorry. But I can’t even consider it, Lils.” His arms tightened protectively around her. “Besides, if it is a ploy, he may not be true to his word. Your safe return may not mean we avoid a fight, and then he will have you back – to bully, to belittle. I can’t let that happen.”
Lily picked up the letter again. There had to be something, anything, in it that might tip them off.
“That no attack will be made on you…” she read. “It says nothing of our pack, though. Just you. It could be a mistake, I suppose.”
“Or it could be clever wording. Though I see no reason why he’d attack my pack but not me.”
Lily shrugged. “Perhaps to make you feel as much a fool as he does. Look at him, Elijah. He’s desperate. They often travel a matter of two or three days, but Sea Pine is so far from Blood Moon. It took me weeks to walk here. Detours aside, he’d have to leave – well.” She swallowed, realisation striking. “He must have left as soon as he sent this letter.”