A Howl In The Night by Lorelei Sutton (life books to read .txt) 📕

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.

 

To Be or Not To Be... That is the Question

I have never been good at making decisions. Especially important ones. Especially ones that have the potential to end the entire existence of either the werewolf or Shifter race.

"Mona, dear, you seem to be swooning on us whenever you come in this room." A pearly, magical laugh travels towards my ears. Two guards hasten to my side, and although my eyes are closed, I can sense their heavy footsteps.

It is Griffin who gets to me first, his cold hands touching my arms lightly, and then brushing across my forehead. At first his touch is icy, then filled with a heat that brands me like an iron. A scream echoes through the room, and it takes a moment for me to realize that it is mine.

Each touch seems to be getting worse. I don’t remember it hurting this bad before.

My eyes fly open and the first thing I see is Griffin's face, twisted with worry. "What is wrong, Mona?" he asks me softly.

I say nothing, reaching with one slender arm to touch my forehead. It burns. It burns like nothing I have ever felt before. A small cry escapes me.

"Is it your forehead? What are you feeling?" His beautiful brown eyes search me anxiously, peering somehow into the depths of my soul. His hand reaches up and alarm immediately enters my body. My arm suddenly is pushing him away, tears flowing from my face. What is this agony?

Griffin draws back in surprise, hurt in his eyes. I feel so disappointed. So guilty as he turns away.

"Please..." Stars are dancing before my eyes as I struggle to my feet. The two guards steady me as I start to wobble. "I'm f-fine. Where a-am I? What is-"

"Do you not remember anything?" Markus questions. I shake my head in response.

"Sorry, it is just..." Memories are swirling within my head. I grab my temples when I find that a hole seems to exist within my memories, a hole that somehow seems to correlate with the spot where Griffin touched me. I angrily grasp for it back, and faded wisps start to return. It takes a minute for me to finally recover everything that had happened. "Free," I murmur, falling back into a chair that the guards had retrieved.

"Sharuken seems to give you quite the shock," Gizelda comments, "I know it is an experimental procedure, but we feel quite confident that it will deliver the desired results."

Random thoughts are distracting me, making it difficult for me to listen to the Council. Xavier's face keeps appearing before me, his green eyes staring into my soul. I try to think of what he would tell me right now, and the imaginary Xavier's expression morphs into a face of pure despair.

Xavier melts my heart with one look as he begs, my mind flashing to that one night at the hotel. "Just please, let us be anything but this! You can treat me like dirt, or a child, for anything from you is better than nothing at all. I can be a plaything to you if you wish, as long as I am something!"

"Please... don't do this to me!"

I nearly fall off the chair when I realize that I accidentally spoke the last plea aloud. It is as if I am finally returning to reality, only now remembering that I am with the Council and they can hear my every word. Subconsciously I clutch my head in my hands and start to cry. I can't get rid of the mental image of Xavier's face as he asks for forgiveness.

"Pardon me?" Gizelda asks with a clear tone of disapproval.

"I... I, I..." I struggle to regain my senses. "I cannot follow through with the procedure, High One."

Griffin turns to stare at me, icily surveying my discomfort. "And why is that?" he asks so softly that I barely realize he is actually speaking. I turn a deep shade of scarlet red. This is it. This is crunch time.

"I just... can't," I mumble,