It is time for me to appear before the Council, and I am ashamed to admit that I am frightened. I have the feeling that this is the time that they will deliver my fate. Throughout this last week, I have been allowed time to recuperate in my room, and I have not seen any of the pack members or Griffin since the last time Xavier visited me.
I am perplexed at this disease I am catching. My skin still shivers at even the thought of his name, and even today I have been shamefully dreaming about him. I feel like even the sight of him will cause me to throw myself at his feet, begging once more for his touch. I have degraded myself by thinking about a man like him in this manner. I deserve the worst of tortures for acting like the worst of women.
I have heard of them; those women who lust for a man’s touch, who would die for their chosen man. They always suffer from carrying this type of sickness, although they always claim that they are better because of it. I have never understood these women and children my age who profess to truly be in love, because it seems like a troublesome emotion that everyone would do better without. Of course, except when you are trying to heal a Shifter.
And now I have been reduced to this. I feel like saying a line from old-century poetry.
It has to be because of the bonding. Why the crap did I let him kss me?
“Woe is me!” I exclaim dramatically, falling upon the bed. After a second of recollection, I jump back to my feet as if shocked by lightning. It is true—I really do have this disease—and even a touch upon the bed that both Xavier and I were in brings a wave of emotions that I would rather forget. I feel dizzy, sinking to my knees.
“Xavier, what have you done to me…” I m0an softly, putting my head in my hands. I am corrupted forever as a result of just one of Xavier’s touches.
A knock on the door interrupts my regretful thinking. Straightening to my feet, I hesitantly walk over to the door. Creaking it open, I soon am confronted with Griffin’s enchanting face. Guilty attraction tugs at me, although it is slightly different from the need that washes over me whenever I think of Xavier. Smiling brightly, he reaches for my hand.
“I’m here to escort you to the meeting room,” he says, looking dev!lishly handsome in dark pants and a black button down shirt. My hand burns in his grasp as he reaches and places a delicate kss upon it. He really is sweet. I would be better off dreaming about someone like him.
For some reason, my hand burns in a bad way, almost as if to leave a black mark on my skin that will not disappear. I frown, rubbing at the spot as we walk into the hallway.
“I’m… sorry for blowing up on Xavier while you were recovering. I’m an awful person,” he says sadly. I smile in response.
“I was never mad at you,” I acknowledge softly.
“I was just extremely jealous, Mona.” He looks at me, eyes of worry. “I lost you once… and I don’t ever want to let go again.” He seems so sincere that I can’t help but believe him.
“Were you completely serious about everything you said the day I met with the Council?” I ask him honestly, surprised to find that I am not even frustrated at him. I feel like I should be mad, but the emotion doesn’t come as I reach for it.
“That is exactly how it happened,” he answers me with a little laugh. His auburn hair glows in the light from the gigantic windows stretching from wall to wall. Silence reigns for several minutes. It feels almost awkward to me, with Griffin trying to not even look at me as I think.
“All right, we are here.”
I suddenly realize that we are standing right before the big wooden doors that I had seen once before. Consumed in my thoughts, I had not even realized that we were still walking. A twinge of sadness enters me. I would have enjoyed hearing stories from when I was young. When we were together.
“We can talk about whatever you wish later,” he laughs and touches my arm softly. “I’m glad you got to think for a minute.” The same burn as before occurs, shocking me immensely. I don’t really understand this feeling, which consists of such attraction and mild repulsion.
The guards standing by the doors push them open slowly. Fear and sadness pounds in my heart as I survey the familiar room. It is covered in vines and budding flowers—almost exactly decorated in the same way it had been before the Shifter attack—and at the same table sits the entire Council. “Come in!” a voice booms, nearly frightening me out of my skin. “We have been waiting for you.”
Markus stands up immediately as I approach, offering a heart-breaking smile. He gestures to me in a way that I have come to recognize, and I mirror the movement. “Have you recovered during this last week?” he asks genially.
“Yes, High One.”
The other council members look impatient as pleasantries are exchanged. “We have been heavily discussing this matter over the past few days,” Gizelda speaks finally of the issue everyone is desiring to hear about, “and we decided to inform you of your current situation and of new responsibilities and privileges that will come if you choose to accept the position we offer you.”
All I can think about is the word position. Position? Are they going to force me to be in their werewolf army? I picture myself in a battlefield surrounded by sweaty, unfamiliar werewolves and shudder.
“Griffin mentioned that you were a Candidate before the Shifter attack. Do you know what he meant by that statement?” she asks me. I shake my head rather fiercely.
Please don’t let it be something bad. Please don’t tell me anything that will give me another heart attack.
“A Candidate is our term used to describe someone who is eligible to complete the prophecy that defines our existence. The prophecy has no name because of its vast importance to our race.”
“I have read it before,” I say, “although I didn’t make much sense out of it.”
“As you know, werewolves have a very keen sense of smell. They are even able to detect emotions and some can even read thoughts through the scents of others. In this way, we are able to detect a Candidate. At your birth, and the birth of several others like you, you released a smell that every single werewolf recognizes, though even we cannot describe it. It is such a compelling and powerful aroma that we are instantly able to locate the baby from hundreds of miles away. However, this aroma vanishes within a few hours, and we lose track of the boy or girl if we do not have a werewolf trailing them. Usually the Shifters somehow kill them before they reach adolescent years, despite the protection we offer. Your Guardian, of course, was Griffin.” Gizelda casts a slightly sickening glance at Griffin as he stands beside me. “And in case you were wondering, he wasn’t supposed to mate with you. That’s not normal for a Candidate and Guardian relationship.”
Griffin blushes and shrugs helplessly as a tiny giggle escapes me.
“Several years ago, you were reported to be dead by Griffin, and therefore eluded our supervision for the rest of your childhood. We do not know all of the details, but your pack member with the blue hair told us he found you in the forest a few months ago. We are also led to believe that you displayed your powers to Pack 101 while in their company, correct?”
I nod slowly. This is confusing me.
“Your extraordinary power to control the shifters, even drawing them out of humans, has proven you to be the one special Candidate we have been looking for. Before now, such an ability was unheard of. The prophecy is very vague on this matter, but we see the truth very clearly, especially after the display you put on a week ago. You are not only the last living Candidate we know of, but the Chosen One.”
“Chosen One? Is that my position?” I ask in alarm. What does a Chosen One do? Does the Chosen One have to lead an army?
Griffin notices my fear and laughs, slightly brushing against my arm. Sparks fly throughout my body.
“Not so fast,” Cyrus laughs, “we have a proposition for you.”
My heart races so fast I feel like it is going to explode. Strands of bright red hair fall into my eyes, but I am so frozen in place that I can’t even brush them away.
“We invite you to live here, at Headquarters,” Cyrus begins, “Where you will be given anything you ever desire. You will be able to learn how to master your skills under our extremely talented instructors, how to become so powerful that you are unstoppable, and most importantly, how to truly become one of us.”
There is a pause for a minute while I try to register what he said. When realization hits me, I nearly fall to the floor. Did they say anything about an army? Because it sounds a lot like they want me to undertake military training. I’m really not good at that stuff.
“This is only the tip of the iceberg,” Markus adds quickly after he notices my extremely pale face.
“In addition to these things, we would normally offer you the highly sought-after rank of being the heir to the throne’s partner, but seeing that you have… complicated circumstances surrounding your mating, we thought it would be better to offer you something slightly different.”
Please don’t grant me leadership of a werewolf army.
“If you decide to stay, we will allow you to have Griffin as a partner and he shall obtain the rank of heir to the throne. We will also be willing to conduct a ritual known as Sharuken, which is a long and difficult process that will allow you to be freed of your second mating. We have used it only once before, but we are confident in its abilities to release you from all attraction, bonds, and any feelings of love you may hold towards your mate.”
“WHAT?” Ferrars roars, jumping to his feet in anger. Griffin just looks at Cyrus in confusion.
But the thing that startles me the most is not the same thing that Ferrars and Griffin are surprised about. All of that other stuff has not even crossed my mind yet.
The dizziness expands to encompass my entire vision. I stumble and trip on air and hurtle towards the floor. This is not happening. They did not just say they could release me from him. That I could be freed from this awful, terrible disease.
I fight to escape reality once more as my head hits a hard surface, and succeed as the pain shocks me into unconsciousness.
The last thing that crosses my mind is the word free.
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