Bound by Fate (Moon Bound Series Book 1) (16 page)

She had a chance for a new beginning here.  A new life.  She aught to be snatching at it with both hands, but she wasn’t.  Why wasn’t she?  “Well Mister Three R’s,” she teased, “pobody’s nerfect!”

He swept her up, laughing, and she determined – again – to start living her new life, right now.  “Donovan,” she whispered.

He kissed her.  How she loved his kisses.  They made everything feel better.  She felt safe and cherished and loved in his arms.  He didn’t smell like adrenaline and danger, just love and acceptance.  She could do a lot worse in a mate, than gentle, loving Donovan.  She kissed him back and promised herself silently that tonight she would give herself to him.  Tonight, she would complete the tie.  She was not brainless – she figured they couldn’t speak mind-to-mind because they hadn’t spoken body-to-body.  She would fix that.  He was her husband.  Her mate.  It was natural.

The Tall Grass pack had arranged their homes pretty much the same way as had the Loam Floor pack.  The huge house in the middle was, of course, the Alphas’ home, and the rest of the pack built their houses in a loose circle around it.  Weres always put their leader in the middle of their society.  He was the heart and the wisdom, and while he was their protector, he was to be protected at all costs, also.

There were the usual buildings besides the Den Houses – a store house, where all their supplies were kept.  Everything from bolts of material, to extra furniture.  There was a Common House, where they could all meet up for some casual relaxation, and a huge Herbhouse, with various bunches of herbs and flowers hanging upside down from the porch to dry.  A thick smoke that smelled vaguely like vanilla curled from the chimney, and Beth’s nostrils flared in wonder.

Things were old-fashioned in wolf society, and that was the way most wolves liked it.  Beth had been to the human villages nearby – she’d accompanied Bea in her younger years to purchase supplies.  Old-fashioned or not, there were some things you just couldn’t go without.  Chief among them, staple food stuffs, and writing material.  Marcus had even installed generators, so they had hot running water and washing machines, TVs and iPods. 

It looked like the Tall Grass pack was on an even keel with the Loam Floor pack judging by the gentle whir of several generators.  “What do you think, so far, Beth?  Could you be happy here?”

“I’m happy with you,” she replied diplomatically.  “Which Den House is yours?”  She gazed around her, seeing log cabin after log cabin, all uniform in shape, and size.  She supposed it didn’t matter which one they’d live in.  They were all the same.  She found herself missing the old whitewashed cottage she’d shared with her Den Parents.

“
Well, for the moment,” he shrugged.  “We’ll be living in the Alpha’s Great House.”  A sheepish look crossed his handsome face.  “I wasn’t supposed to return with a mate of my own.”

“
Of course.”  She’d forgotten.  How could she have forgotten that she was supposed to be the mate of the Alpha himself?  “I guess we’d better face the music then, huh?”

“
You bet!”  But his expression said more than his upbeat words did.  He wasn’t relishing the prospect of introducing his father’s supposed bride as his own.  She couldn’t blame him for that.  An Alpha’s wrath knew no bounds. 

Hands woven tightly together, they made their way through the sleepy afternoon in the village, toward the towering, three story Great House in the center.  Beth swallowed.  This was going to be awkward.

There was no feminine touch to this house, Beth noticed, as she stood in the hallway outside the Alpha’s office.  Donovan had already preceded her to an audience with his father, and even with her wolf-senses, she couldn’t pick up a word being said. 

All around her there were bare wooden floors, and dark, muted colors.  Dust settled on the less-used objects dotted around the hallway.  There, an old oak chest, carved with a wolf head atop its previously loved, and lately ignored, dusty lid.  Here, a tall mahogany coat stand, also covered in a thick layer dust.  The only things in the hall that were dust free, were the three chairs lined up outside the maroon walls of Bradley the Tall Grass Alpha’s office.  She guessed he kept people waiting quite often during his day.

Her tour of the house, such as it had been – straight from the front of the house in a hurry to the rear – had shown her that no female had lived here in a long time, although one had, in the past.  There were little knick knacks still sitting on the massive fire place of the reception room they traveled through, and there were mirrors dotted around the walls, which were, unsurprisingly, covered in a film of dust.

She decided they were doing all their speaking via mind voice, when the door opened a crack and she could hear the tail end of a conversation. 

“…
remains to be seen.  Show her in now.”  The deep timbre of his voice set her teeth aching and her ears flinching.  She was debating how submissive to be in her approach when Donovan smiled tightly and held out his hand.  “Father, may I introduce Elisabeth.  Formerly of Loam Floor, more recently mated into our Tall Grass pack.”

“
Ah yes, you are,” he croaked, in his scratchy voice, “quite fetching.  I can certainly see why you caught my son’s eye.”  He rose from his dark wooden desk, chair groaning from the sheer relief of relinquishing his vast, muscular body, and smiled.  It was pure predator.

You’re the kitten, and I’m the wolf,
it seemed to say. 

“
Allow me to introduce my father, Beth.  This is Bradley Tall Grass, Alpha of the Tall Grass pack.”

Power, dark and frightening roared over her as he strode forward.  She offered him her throat, which he ignored in favor of taking her dainty hand in his much larger one.  Those hands had done plenty of dirty work, she realized, feeling the calluses scrape her fingertips.  “You would have made me a fine mate, Elisabeth,” he told her, gaze roaming from head to toe.  “And borne many children, no doubt.”

“Yes, Alpha,” she whispered.  When in doubt, nod, smile and agree. 

“
Ah, but alas,” he replied, releasing her hand to her immense gratitude.  “It was not meant to be.  But I’m sure you’ll make a fine mate for my son, instead.”  His gaze captured her and she felt like a swan confronted by an alligator.  “You remind me of someone,” he whispered, so low she might not have heard him if there were any other sounds in the house.

The silence felt oppressive, and she longed to fill it, but nerves got the better of her and she just nodded slightly while Donovan shuffled his feet.  The usual sounds of a pack were missing here.  The barks and yelps of cubs, the shuffle and crackle of paws in the undergrowth.  Even the simple sounds of day to day work were absent. 

He read the question in her eyes – or from her mind, she wasn’t entirely sure which – and enlightened her.  “Most of the pack has gone hunting or fishing and all the children are with the healer, learning Herb Lore.”  The poor chair creaked again as he eased his weight into it, and she decided he was much less menacing when he was sitting down and she was standing up.

“
Do you know any Herb Lore, Elisabeth?”

“
Beth,” she corrected automatically, before slapping hand to her mouth in shock at her rude amendment.  “No, Alpha, I never learned that skill.  In our pack…” she trailed off.  “In my old pack, I mean.  We were assigned different skills that suited our strengths.”

“
Here,” he announced, all authority.  “The cubs learn every skill.  That way they are never caught short.”

She nodded.  It made sense to her, although she supposed it was an awful lot of work and learning for the cubs. 

“What was your particular strength, Beth?” he requested quietly.

“
Hunting,” she replied just as quietly.  “I was good at hunting.  I’m fast.  The fastest of that pack, and I’m quiet.  And I’m very hard to track.”

“
Good to know,” he winked, “in case you ever try to escape us.”  He roared with laughter at his own joke, but Beth was reminded of an old saying of Patina’s. 

Half in jest, and in all seriousness.

“So,” he waved them out.  “I have work to do.  I’m sure you newlyweds can think of something to entertain yourselves until sundown.  We eat here at sundown.”  He glanced back up from his ledgers and papers, amber eyes glinting in the deep shadows of his navy office.  “Can you cook, Beth?”

She laughed self-consciously.  “No, Alpha.  That was my Den Mother’s duty.  I suppose she had thought to teach me when I’d been a little older.  But as things happened, she didn’t have time.”  What a failure he must see her as.  She couldn’t cook, she couldn’t heal, and she couldn’t even make his son her official mate.  All she was good for was running away and evading capture.  A skill she’d once thought was her only requirement.

“Yes, you were a little…ah…young, to be mated.”  His eyes seemed to twinkle, letting her know he knew she was capable of being a bad girl.  “But now you’re here, I’m sure you can learn what you need to from the other females.  Donovan will introduce you to some of them who remained behind today.”  His giant hand waved them off again.  “No rest for the wicked,” he teased.

She wondered if he was talking about himself, or her.

Donovan led her toward a small cottage more like a hut than a home, and knocked lightly on the door.  A wizened, old woman with a cotton-ball puff of white hair cracked the door and peeked through the gap.  “Yes?”

“I apologize for interrupting your work, Weave Mistress, but the Alpha suggested I bring my mate around and introduce her to the women not out with the cubs today.”

“
Mate, eh?” she squinted at Beth, as if trying to see better.  “I see.”  The door creaked as she opened it a little wider, affording Beth and Donovan a broader view of the room beyond.  It was little more than a room full of yarn and a spinning wheel, with various instruments of the craft hanging on hooks on the bare wooden walls, or perched upon shelves.  “Come on then,” she snapped, not unkindly.  “You’re letting the heat out.”

Donovan shrugged at her, indicating it was her decision.  With one last questing look into his bright molten gold eyes, she lifted a shoulder in a what-the-hell, gesture and stepped forward.  “I’m Beth,” she told the woman.

“And I am cold,” came a reply from behind the door.

“
Don’t mind that one,” the cotton-ball puff said.  “She’s always cold.”  With that, she closed the door in Donovan's face and led Beth to a stool by the fire, where she made herself useful by pouring tea for the ladies, at their suggestion.  “That’s Marybell,” cotton-ball puff said.  “And I’m Margo.  We’re the ones in charge of dressing the nation,” she sighed, in a martyred way, and then grinned mischievously.  “So you’re Donovan’s mate, then.  How did that come about?”

“
Yes,” Marybell leaned forward eagerly.  “We thought it was Bradley wanted a mate, not the youngster.”

Beth glanced from Margo, with her cotton-ball hair and her face a mass of wrinkles, squinting at a piece of cloth she was weaving, to Marybell, somewhere around middle-age, with salt and pepper hair, and the brightest blue eyes she’d ever seen.  They both labored over their work, bodies still lean even though they must have spent most of their time in this hut.  “I’m not entirely sure,” she replied.  How trustworthy were these women?

“Seemed a little fishy to me,” said Marybell.  “Bradley been on his own up there in that Great House for more’n twenty years.”  Her eyes glinted in the firelight.  “Why all of a sudden would he want a mate?”

“
Great Mother alone knows,” replied Margo, hissing as she stuck herself with a needle.  “But he’s too old to want cubs at his age.”  She peered at Beth, her rheumy eyes seeing far more than they should have.  “Lucky escape there, if you ask me.”

Beth burst out laughing.  “Well,” she told them both, feeling at ease for the first time since they’d walked into the oppressive atmosphere of the Alpha’s house.  “I can’t argue with you ladies there.  He’s very…intense.”

“Ha!” barked Margo.  “Our Alpha was intense twenty five years ago.  Now, he’s…” she slowed, seeming to consider her words carefully.  “Frightening, I suppose,” she continued in a hush, her face wearing a sad and lost expression.  “For those who haven’t changed his diapers as a baby, that is,” she sniffed.

“
Margo, Bradley never wore diapers.  None of the cubs do,” jeered Marybell.

“
Tsk, you know what I mean.”

“
Hmm.  Anyway, Beth, isn’t it?  How are you finding our Donovan?”  Marybell winked, fiendishly.  “Quite the looker, eh?”

“
Oh yes,” Beth breathed.  “He definitely is that.”

“
Oh!” gasped Margo.  “She’s not sold yet!”  Grimacing as she pricked her finger yet again, she continued in a kindly voice.  “Give him a chance, dear.  He really is a sweet boy.  I don’t know how Bradley managed to have such a wonderful son.”  She cocked a wisp of white eyebrow.  “Not that I’ll ever admit to saying so.”

An hour later, bursting with tea and with a rear end numb from sitting on the stool, Margo informed her that she might find some younger company in the Common House.  “All the young ones seem to hang around there.”