You have to find that place
That brings out the human in you.
The soul in you.
The love in you.
-r.m. drake
“No,” Altan said, eyes staring down his alpha. He would not do this, would not submit on this.
“There is nothing you can do about this Altan. It is done, they are coming here.” Rhys corrected, sinking into his office chair with a rare show of weariness. Atan scoffed and rolled his eyes.
“It is my house, not yours, you cannot ask this of me.” He ground out, Emily squeaked at his rage-filled voice and scooted closer to Andi. Hazel eyes flashed with gold at his mate’s fear, Rhys growled lowly in his throat, to remind this vexing wolf his place.
“I am not asking, I am telling. The Skinwalkers will stay with you while we deal with their problem.” Rhys’ tone left no room for argument, but Altan didn’t care.
“Rhys, I don’t see why the brats have to stay with me. Can’t they shack up with Charles?”
“No, Charles and Andi are going to New York to hunt the wolf, Samuel is escorting them without their knowledge up from the reservation and they are to stay with you. You’re the only one I can trust with two Walkers.” Altan growled threateningly and looked away from his alpha’s eyes, the gold had not left completely.
“I don’t want them too.”
“Tough. It is my fault they are in this position in the first place.” Rhys admitted, sniffing the hand his mate had given him. Emily had went to him to calm him. His thumb ghosted over her smooth ring finger, she had yet to say yes to his question. He would have to fix that before she left.
“What do you mean?” Andi asked, brows dipped in concern, Charles hadn’t told her that.
“I knew Frederick was sick, but I let him go, now he is hurting others.” Rhys relented, growling lowly at his own foolishness. He met with Frederik thirty years ago and saw the growing madness in his eyes, but he did nothing. He thought he still had time. Now Frederick had imprinted on some young girl and half terrorized her for a half of a year.
“Why must she stay with me?” Ah there it was. Rhys smirked at the old wolf. He didn’t mind the visitors, only the girl bothered him.
“I am busy with this dumb and pointless fae treaty and cannot entertain guests.” Emily made a sound and brought the attention back to her.
“I can take care of them.” She mumbled, shying away from the attention.
“Emilia, you are not going to be here, remember? You’re going back home for your father’s birthday.” Emily made a soft sound, a curse in German.
“I forgot, dang, I was hoppin’ to meet her. She went to Julliard too.” Atan threw his hands up in exasperation.”Although, she was in a different department than I.”
“Are we to save every troubled girl to come out of Julliard?” He asked. He softened at Emily’s flinch, sometimes he forgot where she came from, what led her to them. “I am sorry Little Wolf, my anger got the better of me.” Emily smiled and gravitated towards him.
“It seems like it huh? I think you’ll like her.” She kissed his cheek and left the room to pack.
“From what Samuel has texted me, they are quite sarcastic and witty. You’ll get along with them fine.” Rhys said, standing up to follow his mate. He yet to properly say goodbye to her.
“I don’t care if she is the epitome of sass herself, I don’t want her in my house,” Atan repeated, following after his alpha.
“As you have said many times, Altan. Move on, what’s done is done. Now hurry up and get ready; you are to pick Samuel and the twins up from the airport.”
Which is what led Altan Hussan, better known as the Moor, slayer of men, standing in a crowded airport terminal with a cardboard sign in his hand reading ‘unwanted guests.’
He hated big crowds. There were so many smells that they clogged his nose, so much noise that he caught bits of a hundred different conversations without trying, but could miss entirely the sound of someone sneaking up behind him. Someone had bumped by him on the walkway as he left the main doors and he had to work to keep from bumping back, harder. Flying into Stevensville in the middle of the night had at least avoided the largest crowds, but there were still too many people around for his comfort.
He hated cell phones, too. When he'd turned his on after he had reached his destination, a message from his alpha was waiting. All he had was a first name, Rhys hadn't seen fit to give him a description of her. Of them, he corrected himself. He couldn’t fathom why he was so worked up over some dumb girl who flirted with the wrong man and got herself into trouble.
“Pull yourself together Asim.” He mumbled to himself, he rarely, if ever, called himself by his true name, he had no idea what led him to do it now. Altan shot a glare at a woman and a small child who looked at him like he was crazy. He was only partly insane.
He didn’t know how long he’d have to wait, so Altan drew into his thoughts. His dreams, they still bothered him. The talk with Emily this morning left him with more questions than before. What if she was his mate? What if she was his? Altan shook his head to clear away those thoughts of betrayal, Hala was his only mate. He did not need another.
But her eyes. Those eyes of the earth’s unfettered beauty. Soft pools of bronze that smiled to him, that soothed him. He yearned to memorize them, to lock their piercing gaze in his heart and never let go. They were soft as fur, but within a moment they hardened to the shards of rock ships shattered against in a storm.
They were their own sunset.
“Really Altan? Since when am I an ‘unwanted guest’?” Samuel Edevane’s welsh tinted voice startled Altan back to life. Damn it, he fucking hated airports. They were a cesspool of idiocy.
“All guests are unwanted, even you, Samuel.” Altan droned, face a relaxed deadpan. Altan’s angry gaze drifted to the man standing next to him. He was striking, a long, lean body. His shoulders were broad and strong. He was corded with muscles that flexed as he held two black duffle bags.
His face was long and narrow, with thick lips and high cheekbones. On the top was flawless teak skin and eyes that shone brightly. Altan watched him move, there was something of the warrior in him combined with a gentleness that confused him.
“I take offense to that Altan.” Samuel bantered.
“You were supposed too. Are they it?” He asked, not caring for pleasantries. The native man was hunched but Altan knew it wasn’t from the weight of the bags. He was trying to appear non-threatening. As if this little pup could fight him and win.
“Yep. Altan meet Jacy and… now, where’d she go?” Samuel questioned, spinning once to try and locate the girl. Damn girl, she should know to stick close.
“Sunny?” The tall man, Jacy, called, not looking particularly worried. Altan didn’t care, he was about to drag the girl out by her hair, manors be damned.
“Great, we now have to play search and rescue for a child.” Altan sighed, tucking his sign under one arm. “Are they aware you are coming with us, Samuel?” The Welshman nodded but Altan could tell his attention was not on him.
“Sunny?” Jacy called again, dropping their bags with a huff. “I swear to the lord above if you ran off I’ll kill you.”
“I didn’t run off, asstown. I was helping an old lady with her bags. She couldn’t get it off the mover thingy. Whatever the hell it’s called. I’m pretty sure, like 89.67 percent sure she had a dead husband in that bag.” She grumbled, her eyes locked on a frail old woman struggling with her bags. Her voice was rough and deep, nothing like the musical lilt of Emily’s, or the smoothness of his Hala’s. He wanted to run his tongue over the throat that housed that voice. Altan raised his brow at the word 'asstown' and spun on his heels to promptly lose all the breath in his chest.
It was her.
The woman from his dreams, the woman who had been visiting him for nineteen years. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
She appeared in the room with the fall air billowing around her skirt as the sliding door opened. Most did not pay attention to her beauty, but rather her color. Burnt sienna never looked so beautiful on a woman. With short black hair thick like wool tipped in bubble gum pink and her head held high, she waltzed on with an effortless saunter. The clicking of her combats boots added rhythm to the soft music of a busy airport that played onward without pause. Her eyes scanned the room with determination in search of someone when her eyes met Altan’s she smiled. So beautiful it was like the stars themselves decided to rest behind the soft cushion of her lips.
Her emotions were not easily hidden on her innocent face. Her pain was evident in the crease of her lovely brow and the down-curve of her full lips. But her eyes, her eyes showed her soul. They were a deep pool of restless gold, an ocean of dreams.
As he looked into her eyes he knew, all the beauty of the universe could not even hope to compete with this simple thing: passion. Passion turned her eyes into orbs of the brightest fire, and in them, he read clearly that she would fight to the very last tear for her life. She would not let the world break her. Sure she could cry, but she would never let them take her true self from her. She clung to it with passion.
A passion that made her beautiful.
She was a warrior in every sense of the word and Altan was struck blind with her.
“Only 89.37 percent Sun? I thought you’d be able to smell better than that.” Samuel said, strolling forward to take her elbow in his. Her legs were still weak. Altan wanted to know why.
Something deep awoke in Altan. Something old and dormant. It whispered to him. A word he had not heard in five hundred and sixty-five years.
Mine.
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