THIS IS NOT A COMPLETE SEGMENT. You will notice that this segment ends in the middle of chapter seven.
SIX
Paul was scratching at the door before dawn. Deacon got out of bed and threw on some pants to let him in. Paul growled at him as he picked his clothes up with his wolf mouth and went to bathroom to shift back. Paul woke me as he was trying not to yell, but failing miserably, “Do youhave any idea of what you have done?” I stayed very still, and pretended that I was still sleeping. Although I couldn't see them, I pictured Deacon rubbing the back of his neck as he answered, “I'm a hunter Paul, I'm not ignorant of the concept.” I heard Paul growl and what sounded like his fist connecting with what may have been the wall, “Exactly! You're a hunter! You know what a life mate is and what happens when the bond is first formed, but nothing else.”
I heard Deacon sigh and felt his weight as he sat on the bed next to my feet. I imagined him rubbing the back of his neck once again, this time with both hands as his weight shifted. He must have been leaning on his knees. “What about the girl,” asked Paul in quieter voice as if noticed that Deacon was aware of how serious the situation was. I rolled over and decided it was time for me reveal that I was awake. “He told me,” I said as I gathered the blankets around myself and sat up “And did he tell you that it was permanent,” asked Paul as he crossed his arms over his chest. I nodded, “Deacon told me shifters mate for life.”
“As if the two you didnt have enough to deal with,” Paul sighed as he finally calmed and dropped himself into the chair. He did have a point. Deacon and I hadn't exactly met under normal circumstances, we were on the run from his clan, we barely knew each other, and now we had inadvertently tethered ourselves together permanently. But one question still remained, “Deacon said that the tattoos are special to each type of shifter.” Paul ran his hand through his shaggy pale hair, “I've never seen or heard of a blue flame, I'm sorry.” “What about the records,” asked Deacon. “I was hoping that you had forgotten about those,” said Paul, “I hate calling her.” He stood up an pulled his phone out of his pocket, “I'll have her meet us at the ranch,” and then he walked outside.
I looked at Deacon as he sat there with his hands hanging between his knees. I could tell by looking at him that he was stressed, but I didnt know how to comfort him. I reached out and laid my hand on his arm. He lifted his hand and reached across himself to acknowledge my presence, but when our hands touched, I was overwhelmed. I could suddenly feel the turmoil in his emotions and hear his echoing voice in my head as thoughts passed through his mind. I would have wondered if he had been experiencing the same thing I was, but it was so encompassing that I lost myself in him. I could vaguely remember holding my head in my hands as my own consiousness was being overwhelmed.
Then everything went quiet. I felt like I was floating in a dark sea that comforted my rawed nerves from the experience. I could feel myslef once again, but a part of Deacon was still there. His conciousness was lingering in the background. In this state, I could make more sense of what I felt fom him before. With all of the mixed emotions flowing through him, they all added up to fear. He was afraid that our tryst would make me unhappy, tied to a man that I probably felt indebted to for saving me. He was afraid of the fact, that he somehow didn't regret what we did and afraid of what that meant. Suddenly he was overwhelmed with fear for my well being, and I felt his throat calling my name. The sound of his voice was distant. I could hear him, but it sounded distant, like I was far away. Then there was nothing.
I awoke with a start, sitting straight up and gasping for air. My chest felt like it was on fire and my head was pounding. I was in a strange room, with lace curtains and floral wallpaper. I was on a bed under a down comforter. I heard feet runing in the hallway before the door to my room flew open. Deacon rushed into the room and fell to the floor at my side. Paul stood in the hallway as a woman brushed past him and came into the room. “What happened,” I asked. Deacon took my hands in his and shook his head as he looked up at me. The woman sat down next to me and laid her hand on my forehead, “You went into shock from the bond. Some shifters can meld their minds after a pairing, your concern for your mate revealed this aspect. Take this.” She handed me two white pills and a glass of water. “It's just tylenol, for he headache,” She said as I took them from her hand. “Lila,” said Paul from the door, “Her reactoin was unprecedented, don't sugar coat it.”
“Fine,” replied Lila as she looked out the window, “Emma is lucky to be alive.” My heart dropped to the floor, and Deacon squeezed my hands. “Not because of your pairing Deacon,” she continued, “don't add that to your worries. It's because of her parentage. Hunter DNA makes you impervious to most magic, yes?” Deacon nodded his head. Lila turned around, “Emma, your very existense is impossible. Your hunter blood would have killed you had you manifested as a shifter in adolescence like the rest of us. And for that reason, a pairing beween hunters and shifters was forbidden centuries ago.” I could feel Deacon's conciousness invading my own again. His fear was increasing again. Lila's eyes flashed red, “Stop it Deacon! Before you overwhelm her again.”
My head was spinning with his thoughts, and fears. Lila sounded like she was yelling, “temper your emotions Deacon! Your hunter heritage holds you immune to this side of a bond, she is taking the force.” Suddenly it all stopped and I felt empty for a moment as I recovered. “Good,” said Lila, “the sun's almost set, she'll be here soon.” She left the room. “Sorry about my sister,” said Paul, she's been chosen as the next matron.” He shut the door as he left Deacon and I alone. We sat in silence, Deacon doing his best not to think too much for my sake. I could still hear him cursing himself for a fool and calling himself every name in the book. I feel the guilt weighing him down, the plea in his heart to take my suffering upon himself.
Laced with these were softer emotions, like compassion. Deacon hid himself behind a hard mask and was unfamiliar with his own reaction to me, which made the guilt he was feeling all the stronger. “None of this is your fault, so quilt feeling guity,” told him boldly. He rubbed the back of his neck with both hands, “I knew there was a chance, Emma.” I dont know what came over me, but since the moment he found me, I had felt myself opening up and becoming braver. Maybe that was it, maybe it was because I could hear his thoughts and feel his emotions, but I couldn't let him do this to himself. “That's bullshit and you know it,” I said, “Don't forget, I'm in your head now.” He looked at me seriously for a minute, and I could feel him trying to push the guilt aside. The more he pushed at it, the clearer his thoughts became. I had began to smile as his honest opnion of me started to make itself clear, then the door burst open.
In waltzed an older woman with a feral gaze. Her hair was curled and untamed even as it tried escaping from the band that held it out of her wisened face. This must be the matron that Paul had spoken of. “Wreckless children,” she spoke with compassionate authority as she approach where Deacon and I were sitting next to one another. “Well let me see them,” she pointed to our chests in turn, “A single blue flame.” She held her hands against our foreheads and closed her eyes. She stayed like this for several minutes, and while she did, my mind was blank. When her hand left my forehead, she looked down at me, “His blood seems to have forced you to carry a burden that should be a blessing upon a mated pair. To share all of who you are in an instant is a good thing for those who find fate by accident, such as the two of you.” I knew exactly what she meant. Having been inside Deacon's head, feeling what he felt, hearing his thoughts; it had taught me more about him in a single day than I otherwise would have been able to learn in a matter of months, or years even.
“You know of what I speak,” she held my hands in her palms, “and because of that you will never accept the only solution I can offer, no matter the pain it may cause you.” Instinctually, I knew that she was speaking of severing the bond, and she was right. I would never accept that. I couldn't explain it, but I think that after I had shared headspace with Deacon my lust and my infatuation had changed to something more. I didn't know what it was yet, but look in the older woman's feral eyes softened as if she did. “Even so,” she stepped back, “because of the one sided effect, it is my duty to offer a breaking of the bonds.”
My heart Shattered at the thought, and could hear a gasp from the doorway where Paul and Lila were watching. “No,” Deacon said with such conviction that I began to cry in relief. He wrapped his arms around me and held me close. The older woman nodded, “You understand us, unlike many of your peers.” He kissed the top of my head and rubbed my back to calm me. “Even as a hunter, I can feel the magic working on me. To sever the bond after the reaction Emma had to it,” he shook his head as he spoke, “it would likely kill her.” The woman smiled at him before turning around, to walk out the door. “Wait,” Deacon called, “What about the blue flame?” She stood in the door with her back turned to us as she spoke with multiple voices, “The blue flame is not in the records. Find yourself youngling, so you can then find your flock.” Then she left.
“Not in the records,” I asked Lila later that evening as I helped her in the kitchen, “what does that mean?” Lila's expression was saddened as she set aside the spoon she was stirring with, “mating marks are specific to shifter clans, and have been recorded for centuries. I can think of only three reasons why yours isnt recorded. A clan kept secret from even our hidden world is a possibility, but we havent seen that in almost three hundred years. A new mark based on a mixed mating between different clans, different types of shifters, or different types of supernaturals is more likely. That has been increasing in the past century as we have began working together more.” Lila stopped for a minute as her sad face filled with both sympathetic pain and terror at the thought, “The third would be if the clan was stricken from the records.”
I was new to this world, and a million questions were flying through my mind. I didn't understand her fear at the thought of being stricken from the records. I wondered at what consequences came with that to explain her discomfort, but mostly I wanted to know, “What would you have to do to make that happen?” Lila shook her head and went back to stirring the giant pot of soup. I didn't know that Deacon and Paul had walked up behind me at that moment and I started when Paul's heavy voice answered, “Very few things would justify it. Even the worst of us in memory haven't commited a crime worthy of such punishment. It is an exiling of an entire clan, the magic that connects us is severed, and the children of those stricken will be more human than the weakest of hunters. It isa punishment worse than death.” I couldn't imagine what exile would be like, having only been apart of this world for a few days. However, in those few days I discovered some of that magic in my bonding with Deacon. The ability to feel his emotions and sense his thoughts, turning him from a near stranger to something more in an instant. The idea of that being taken away shook me to my core. I was overcame with such a magnitute of fear and sadness, I had begun to cry and almost couldn't see Deacon falling to his knees with his hand against his chest. His face was filled with pain, and I felt it all. I felt his conern for me, but it was overshadowed by confusion and and flux of someone else's pain. “Emma,” I could hear Lila as if from a distance, but her words were jumbled and I could only think of Deacon on the floor, now convulsing. I had to get to him, had to touch him. But time was moving slowly as I threw myself down. The fall to my knees felt like an eternity as I heard comments about calming emotions from far away. I would be calm when I reached the man suffering on my behalf across from me.
My hand finally close enough to reach him, I placed it palm down, gently over Deacon's heart. The fit he had been having stopped as suddenly as it had begun, and his dark eyes opened to see my tear streaked face looming over him. He lifted his hand from the floor and placed it against my cheeck, “I could feel you,” he whispered and I nodded my head.
SEVEN
Deacon had felt everything within me for just a moment and although a part of him was permanently residing in the back of my head, the sensation had left him as suddenly as it had come. I felt his mind clear, felt no reflection of myself within him as I had while he had been convulsing on the floor. “I've never seen anything like that,” Lila whispered in shock. Paul slowly sat down in the closest chair. Deacon slowly lifted himself off of the floor and into chair, where I placed my head in his lap from my spot in the floor. We sat in silence for several moments as we all tried to process what had happened, none of us moving. We were suddenly roused from our stupor when the back door was flung open. “Lila honey,” drawled the red headed woman with pale blue eyes and the fingernails to match, “your dinner is gonna burn if you don't tend it.” Lila rushed to the stove to save the dinner we had prepped together. I looked closer at the new arrival and recognition dawned, “Auntie Rhonda?” She turned her pale blue eyes toward me, “Emma! What are you--,” she stopped suddenly as her nostrils twitched. Deacon wrapped his arms around me and Rhona's gazed turned to him, as did her twitching nose, “What are you, boy?”
“A hunter,” Deacon responded shortly. “Auntie Rhonda,” I drew her sttention back to me, “It's not him.” I extricated myself from Deacon's arms and stood up, instincually, I bore my neck in an invitation for her to smell. Confusion flooded her eyes as she questioned without speaking. “We dont know,” I told her while shaking my head. Paul finally rose from his chair, “I think we could all use a drink.” He then disappeard trhough the house, returning moments later With a bottle of whiskey, glasses, and the matron trailing behind him. Paul poured glasses for everyone, the matron included as she came straightt at Deacon and myself, hands outstretched to land on our foreheads. “He's tasted it,” she whispered in awe, “There's hope.” The matron sat and quickly began to sip her glass. Rhonda's confusion visibly grew, “Tasted what?” No verbal response was needed, Deacon and I simultaneously pulled our shirts to show her the mark.That was more answer than she had been prepared for, as Rhonda emptied her glass in one swallow. I follwed suit as I heard the rumbling of several vehicles coming up the drive.
“That'll be the pack,” Paul explained the vehicles, “Deacon, why don't you and Emma head upstairs for a bit. I'll need to explain why a hunter is here during the full moon.” He then went outside to greet his guests.
“I expect some of the older families still hold grudges,” Deacon asked.
“You expect correctly,” the matron responded, “longer lived beings are no less petty nor more wise for their added years. Change, even with one hundred years of it, is hard for some to accept.”
“Considering my own people wanted me dead before Emma and I...”Deacon let his thought sputter out. Lila placed her hand on his shoulder in a friendly gesture, “You understand.” Deacon nodded.
Lila made us a tray with two bowls of the savory stew and a handful of yeast rolls before sending us back upstairs. Deacon and I sat close to one another on the bed and ate in companionable silence. I set the tray on the bedside table when we were through, and slipped my hand into his as I rested my head on his shoulder. Deacon lifted out entwined hands to his lips and pressed a chaste kiss upon my knuckles, “I think I can feel you better now”. I lifted my head and looked at him. He frowned, “Not like I did downstairs, so don't worry.”
“I'm not. But what you got downstairs it closer to what I experienced at first. Its more gentle now. I think stress makes it too strong,” I mused. Deacon released my hand and wraped his arm around me to pull me closer. “It feels as if it's just out of reach for me, but I think having you closer helps make things clearer,” he whispered, “I can feel turmoil beneath the calm.” Alot had happened in less than a week. Somehow, in the midst of losing everything that I had, it felt like I gained so much; A new life, a new world. Deacon kissed the top of my head and squeezed me reasurringly. “Deacon,” I said as looked up at him, “You are my calm,” and I kissed him. As our kiss deepened, so too did the bond. I could feel it. The more Deacon's mind was able to feel of mine, the lesser my burden felt. He held me tighter, and the more he did, that much more of the bond opened up to him. It expanded, strengthened and stabalized with every second. He could now feel my exaustion, so Deacon broke the contact and tucked me into the bed. I had just felt his body spooning up against mine as I drifted off to sleep.
The morning came with the smell of coffee and fresh cut fruit. I was acutely aware that Deacon was still sound asleep, so I gingerly get out of the bed and rumaged thrugh my second hand clothes for something clean. I quickly donned a pair of tight jeans and plum colored halter-top and made my way downstairs with my boots in my hand. I followed the smell of coffee and fouond myself in a kitchen full of women. Including Auntie Rhonda, there were about a dozen of them seated around the large farm table. Lila was at the counter prepping three seperate coffee pots, the fourth had already begun to percolate. “Morning sweetheart,” Auntie Rhonda greeted me, “come sit down and meet the girls.” I slowly took the open seat between her and blonde girl about my age, “I smelled coffee.” Lila smiled as she rested a hip against the counter, “The coffee shoud be ready in a minute,” She turned her gaze from me to the table at large, “Girls, this is Emma. The oldest at the table, a wizened women probably older than a hundred crossed her arms like a petulent child and informed us, “Smells funny.” Two girls close in age with raven hair seated on each side of her raised their eyebrows and exclamied, “Granny!” Rhonda laughed, “that's 'cause she isn't a wolf Thelma, now drink your juice.” Thelma went back to her juice and the rest of the women around me continued to grogilly await the coffee.
Lila began to place mugs in front of each of us as the first pot began to sputter, she them placed a baset at each end of the table with cream and sugar before sitting the coffee out for us. As we all began to ceffeinate our systems into gear, Rhonda looked at me over her mug. “When did you find out?” she asked.
“About which,” I challenged, “What I am, what's in the world, or what my mother did for a living?”
“All of it,” she responded.
I took a deep draw from my mug and felt it pass through me as I collected my thoughts, “The short answer, this week.” Rhonda studied me, but I wasn't done yet, “The longer answer involves warring vampires, a rather handsome hunter, and a lot of loss.” I had to gather myself before I could finish, so I took a deep breath as I set my mug down and placed my hands palms down on the table. As good as I was doing keeping myself going, I still let out a quiet sob when I spoke the words, “Mom and Jimmy are dead.” The heartache swept through me and centered in my chest like an anvil slowly cracking my ribs with the weight. Some of these women pitied me, others merely accepted my pain, while those closest realized Rhonda's pain as well. I woudn't mind crying in frond of Rhonda, or even Lila with the single day I had known her, but the others? I couldn't let them see me vulnerable, so I got up and went to the counter, filling my mug as well as another. I could feel that Deacon had woken up and was on his way downstairs. When he paced into the kitchen full of women, He had only eyes for me, and they were red rimmed from the tears I wished I had had the privacy to cry a few moments before. “What's wrong,” he asked as he gathered me into his arms, “You're sad.”
“She just told us about Joan and Jimmy,” Rhonda supplied as she wiped tears from her face.
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