Star-Crossed Mates (10 page)

A heavy slap landed on his face. Klaus’s image and the beautiful dream began to dissipate. Ross blinked and rubbed his cheek, staring at the Magistrate’s face in confusion. “W–What…?”

“Focus, Ross, Clay. Do you remember where we are?”

Ross took a look around. By his side, Clay seemed just as confused. But as the remnants of the fantasy disappeared at last, Ross recalled it all. He and Clay were not headed to a romantic honeymoon with Klaus. Klaus was dead.

“I’ve seen this before,” the Magistrate said in front of their combined silence.”You must not allow this denial to take hold of you.

You need to keep yourselves sane and whole until Klaus can come back to you.”

A few weeks back, Ross would have laughed in front of that, but now, he knew for a fact reincarnation was possible. During his stay at the Hart compound, he’d found out many things about the family, more than the Harts would probably be comfortable with. He knew Linden and his mate, Caesar, died in their past lives but were reunited and completed their bond with Ashton Hart. Would Ross and Clay have to wait one hundred years or more for Klaus? They would, no doubt about it, but it still hurt like hell.

Still, the thought gave him courage. He couldn’t break now, not if he had one thread of light in the horizon. It was barely visible, but it still existed.

“You’re right,” he said. “Thank you.”

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He realized then he didn’t have a clue where they were. He’d completely zoned out for God only knew how long. “This is Klaus’s room,” Clay explained, obviously sensing his confusion.

Wolfram nodded. “Wait here for a while. I’ll come get you once everything is ready.”

Ross started to protest. “But we have to be with Klaus. We—”

The Magistrate lifted a hand, the authority he emanated killing Ross’s words. “You’ll be with him later. Just try to get some sleep. I know it’s hard, but you have to take care of yourselves. I’ll have one of the servants bring you something to eat.”

Without another word, Wolfram left the room. Clay and Ross remained all alone. Wolfram’s high-handedness frustrated Ross, but he admitted the other man might be at least half right. Still, it felt odd to be here in Klaus’s absence. The sorrow seemed both intensified and sweetened, like the poison of a deadly drug that brought ecstasy before the kill.

Clay led him to the sleeping quarters, and they fell together on the bed. The sheets still smelled like Klaus—although how Ross could identify Klaus’s scent remained a mystery. Ross closed his eyes and cuddled close to Clay.

“Why did this have to happen?” Clay murmured. “We could have been happy together. I’d have forgiven Klaus.”

“I know,” Ross replied. “We’ll wait for him, like the Magistrate said. We’ll wait.”

True, the virus might be gone, but a hidden knowledge told Ross that Klaus’s kiss had not taken away the long life the feral insanity granted him. He didn’t know his limits yet, but for the moment, the only thing he cared about was staying at Clay’s side, and sleeping for a hundred years or more, until Klaus returned to them.

“I understand now,” Clay said after a while. “If Klaus had claimed me, it would’ve been worse. Somehow, he always knew.”

“Worse?” Ross repeated.

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Clay nodded. “The severed bond could have driven us both insane.” Clay’s stormy eyes met Ross’s. “But together, we can deal with this pain. He will return to us. We have to focus on that.”

Ross didn’t know how long they lay there trying to convince themselves they’d be able to defeat the sorrow and emptiness left behind by Klaus’s death.

At last, a knock sounded at the door. Clay got up and brought their meal into the bedroom. They ate in silence, more out of the knowledge they needed to feed their bodies than out of actual desire to do so. The food tasted like ash in Ross’s mouth, but he forced himself to ingest it. After all, he hadn’t eaten in quite a while.

After a quick snack, they washed up and changed clothes, using two outfits someone prepared for them. Once they finished, they found themselves out of activity and again falling in the realization of where they were and what brought them here in the first place.

Thankfully, they didn’t get to rationalize it too much.

Another knock announced a second visit, but this time, it was the Magistrate. “We’re holding a service for Klaus,” he said. “It’s starting now.”

In a strange way, Ross felt relieved. He could no longer withstand the wait. Even with Clay by his side, he needed to see Klaus again, if only once. He’d already been away from Klaus far too long.

Both Clay and Ross nodded. Wolfram led them out of Klaus’s quarters and into a large hallway. Ross didn’t remember ever coming this way, but he must have, otherwise he would have never ended up in Klaus’s room. Wolfram had a point. Ross and Clay needed to keep their wits if they wanted to live on, for Klaus.

Wolfram took them on winding corridors, explaining something Ross couldn’t quite grasp. It must be quite an honor to have the Magistrate cater to them like this, but it just made Ross even more uncomfortable.

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“…and Klaus’s family has also flown in. They’re not a very tight-knit group, so they shouldn’t give you any trouble. But if they do, just come to me, and I’ll set them straight.”

Ross almost fainted as he caught the final part of Wolfram’s words. Great, just great. Not only would he have to face the Harts, but also Klaus’s kin, who most likely blamed him for his mate’s death.

His mate’s death… God, this was real. His knees buckled and he would have fallen if not for Clay catching him.

“Shh,” Clay said. “It’s okay. We’ll be waiting, remember?”

Ross nodded. This wouldn’t last forever. Just a wait, just a wait.

He’d have to repeat that to himself until he believed it.

At last, they reached their destination. The ceremony turned out to be quite private, insofar as spirit wolves could be discreet in such things. Klaus’s parents had come, of course, but they didn’t approach or acknowledge Clay and Ross in any way. They were stern people who took in the rest of those present with cool, almost disdainful eyes.

The Hart clan was also there, and Wolfram with his mates. As the mates of the deceased, Clay and Ross took position in front of the room.

The first sight of Klaus’s body made the funeral chamber spin in front of Ross’s eyes. He lay on a pedestal bearing a wolf carving and looked so handsome, like he was just sleeping. Klaus wore a garb that seemed torn out of historical movies, with distinct spirit wolves adornments. Ross only noticed it because the top covered Klaus’s chest, the spot where Klaus’s heart once beat. Back in Paris, he’d caught a fleeting glimpse of the moment when Joseph killed Klaus, but the memory of his mate’s body—literally heartless—would never leave his mind. Ross clutched Clay’s hand and tried to find strength in the other man’s presence. Wolfram gave them a little time to compose themselves and then began to speak.

The words swept over Ross without registering. Wolfram seemed to be talking about Klaus’s numerous merits and the many people
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who’d cared about him. But what could Wolfram know about Klaus?

The two had been best friends, yes, but at the same time, they’d been king and subordinate. That barrier had never really been crossed.

Somehow, Ross knew it. He’d seen it in Klaus’s eyes, when the man told his tale in Ireland.

He fixed his gaze on Klaus’s body, taking in each inch of skin, trying to commit it to memory. He remembered those lips twisting into a smile just for him, and Klaus’s last words.
“I wish I could have
loved you like you deserve. In a way, I already do.”

Ross focused so much on the area around Klaus that the pedestal began to blur, as if an odd veil set itself between him and his mate. He blinked, trying to cast aside the effect, but it didn’t go away. In that moment, he realized he was not the only one experiencing this phenomenon.

Murmurs echoed in the room, as several spirit wolves rubbed their eyes obviously in an attempt to clear their vision. Most looked very tense, and it seemed to Ross everyone held their breath in wait of something he couldn’t understand.

Energy crackled through the funeral room and the blurring mist began to materialize in a shape. A beautiful white wolf appeared in the front of Klaus’s temporary resting spot. It was huge, so big it shielded Klaus from sight completely, in spite of the height of the pedestal. Its eyes were shining white, its fur like immaculate snow, pure light, blinding like the sun and moon in one.

Instantly, all spirit wolves fell to their knees. Ross followed their example, even if he didn’t know why. In a strange way, as he looked at the white wolf, he found the flame of hope rekindled. A friend had arrived.

* * * *

Clay gaped in disbelief. He’d always been taught about the Spirit Mother, the deity who protected and watched over them. Some of the
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younger spirit wolves questioned her existence, and many times Clay himself doubted her, merely out of spite for Klaus’s rejection.

But now, she stood right there in front of him. The White Wolf—

the one wolf in existence that lived beyond flesh, an existence of pure spirit. The Magistrate, as her chosen agent, had the ability to channel her power, as did some of the older spirit wolves, to a lesser extent.

Clay had never seen it happen, but his brothers told him all about the manifestation of power. Still, he doubted anything Wolfram could do compared to this.

The Magistrate himself knelt, bowing in front of the White Wolf.

“Please rise, my children,” a female voice said, echoing through the large room in a thousand cadences, both warm and strong.

As one, the spirit wolves obeyed. Clay dared to look at her, and to his shock, noticed her staring right back. It almost made him avert his gaze, but he simply could not move.

“Do not fear me, my children,” she said. “I would never hurt those I love so dearly.”

She turned to Wolfram. “Hello, Magistrate Wolfram Rozenstadt. I trust you don’t mind me intruding like this.”

“You honor these halls, My Lady,” Wolfram replied.

The wolf chuckled, her tinkling laughter sweeping over them like the delicate touch of a snowdrop. “Oh, Wolfram… Always so formal.

How long have we known each other now?”

For the first time in his life, Wolfram looked completely lost for words and unable to hide it. After a moment of hesitation, he asked,

“My Lady?”

The White Wolf shook her head. “No matter. There has been so much pain in the past centuries, but at last, it will come to an end.

Klaus’s sacrifice will not be in vain, I assure you.”

Clay didn’t know what made him speak out. It just seemed to him that everyone used Klaus, from the Magistrate, to The Spirit Mother.

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Angrily, he glared at the deity he worshipped. “But why him?

Why did he have to be sacrificed? And for what? It’s not fair. Surely, you could have found another way.”

His father’s voice reached out to him in a whisper. “Clay, what are you doing?” Grant asked.

“Don’t worry,” the White Wolf answered. “You are in your right to question me. He was chosen for a reason. His heart held enough affection to support an entire nation, just like Wolfram’s holds strength. As for why… This war has gone on for long enough. Dead and living, all must understand the weight of what you have done.”

Wolfram looked more puzzled than ever. “My Lady… I don’t understand. Have I wronged you?”

The White Wolf shook her head. “You have done as your predecessors decided, although in your heart you always hated the killings, the losses, and you doubted yourself. But no longer. There is another solution, and one which can finally be set into motion. Doctor Blunt?”

From the crowd, Andrew’s voice piped up, “Yes, My Lady.”

“Expect a visit from me, and your son, too.”

Paul Blunt made an unintelligent noise that sounded a lot like an

“eep,” but the White Wolf changed the topic. “But the reason I am here is different, and I will not delay it any longer.”

The bright glow around the Spirit Mother grew even more, until Clay could no longer see anything. When at last, it began to dwindle, Clay saw a figure standing next to the White Wolf. It was there for a mere moment, but even so, Clay identified it as Klaus.

He reached out, desperate to touch his mate, one last time. But Klaus’s silhouette disappeared before Clay could reach it.

Clay just stood there, frozen, wondering at the cruelty of the White Wolf, when all of a sudden he heard a moan and a gasp. He instantly recognized the tonality of the voice uttering them. From behind the Spirit Mother, Klaus got off the pedestal, beautiful and alive.

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* * * *

Klaus did not understand much about dying. He recalled Clay and Ross’s faces, the pain twisting their exquisite features, the tears he ached to dry, but could not. But after that, it all turned into a blur, a world of dim shadows, flights of black, white and gray, confusing, some warm, some chilly. In the void of souls he lingered for what seemed to be an eternity, until at last, something pulled him out. He heard a strong, familiar voice calling out to him, the same voice that sometimes sounded in his dreams.

“You’ve done your duty, Klaus,” the Spirit Mother said.

“Everything will be all right now.”

Klaus followed the sound. “The balance is finally set,” she continued. “There is no one to exploit the evil in the virus, and with that gone, our world can at last be at peace.”

“But how can ferals and spirit wolves ever get along?” Klaus asked, in confusion.

“You’ll find a way,” the Spirit Mother replied. A white wolf appeared in front of him, and Klaus recognized her in an instant.

“Now come,” she added. “Your mates are waiting.”

Klaus couldn’t have said “no” if he wanted to. A force too strong to resist propelled him out of his current location—wherever it might be. He opened his eyes to a wide, cavernous room. After a few moments, the dizziness dissipated and he recognized it as the funeral chamber in the Magistrate’s Den.