5

~Meara

Reluctantly, I follow Sire inside.

The place really is beautiful in a haunting, unsettling kind of way.

The architecture is from another time, and yet everything appears to have been built recently. When I step inside, plush rugs soften my feet, warm tones guiding me through the great hall.

I note the furniture I pass by, finally seeing some hints of age.

"This place is dusty..." I note.

"It's been abandoned for centuries, apparently,” Sire says with a shrug.

He pauses, looking around at the vaulted ceilings, decorative furniture and wide windows. Something flickers in his eyes as he relives memories that must have felt like yesterday for him.

Hurt, pain. I can tell he’s feeling it all.

"How does it look so good?" There’s not a hint of peeling paint, of faded furnishings. Everything is vibrant and lively, but it doesn’t feel lived in. It feels vacant and chilling.

Sire sighs through his nose. "Magic."

"You told me you needed magic to walk again, to regain your strength,” I remember.

He’s still not wearing his shirt, his skin tainted by that horrid water, hair still wet from standing in the rain. It’s starting to get frustrating trying to keep my eyes away from examining his strange tattoos.

"I did say that,” he responds. He still speaks without emotion. I can’t tell if he’s dazed from being awoken or if he is just like this naturally…

"Where did you get that magic from?" I ask warily. Images of him viciously slaughtered the nearest witch comes to mind.

My gaze drops to his hands. Not entirely spotless, but void of any blood at least.

He tilts his head. “What’s your name?”

“Come on…” I press, hating that he’s avoiding the question.

“It’s just a name.”

I sigh. He isn’t going to relent until he gets his way, which I assume he is used to getting. If this beautiful, opulent manor is any indication, he wasn’t just powerful, but a revered and successful Alpha.

“Meara,” I finally admit.

For the first time so far, his lips quirk up slightly. A smile. It reveals a deep-set dimple in his right cheek that causes my heart to stutter.

His smile quickly fades as I set my hands on my hips, tapping my foot impatiently.

"I was able to draw power from the original spell the witches cast. But I shall need to replenish my strength soon,” he explains.

He doesn’t look terribly drained or weak. He looks like a strong, capable man. But Hazel’s warning rings clear in my mind that Sire’s version of weak is not the same as ours.

"How are you going to do that?" I question. Does he have a hidden cage of witches he’s going to kill in here? Did they survive with magic too?

He raises a brow. "Would you like me to show me?"

"Not if anyone has to die."

He frowns a little. A couple lines taint his perfect skin, right between his brows. Then they vanish, and for a moment he even looks a little amused.

"They don't. Follow me."

He doesn’t wait, stalking off down a corridor that cuts straight through the house. I break off into a little jog to keep up with his large strides, curious and apprehensive about where he is taking me.

"Wow...This place is insane,” I breathe, overwhelmed by the sheer size of it.

We pass by many gaping archways that reveal room after room. Some are sittings rooms, other recreational rooms and at some point we pass a grand dining hall.

Sire doesn’t pause to examine them, though. We keep walking until we hit wooden double doors that he pushes open.

"I expected many of my Pack members to live here with me, while the war raged. So it's rather large,” he comments, leading us down a winding set of stairs.

The lighting is limited to small torches set against the wall that alight as we pass by.

More magic, I presume.

"Yeah...yeah it is.” Even these stairs are large, leading us down into the ground below the house.

Eventually we reach the bottom. Sire waves his hands, more lighting cast a deep gilded glow over a large, expansive place.

"This is the most important place, however,” he tells me, motioning over it.

My mouth dries. What is this place?

Set in the centre of the room is a massive pool. The water is clear, although the light turns it a magical orange colour. It’s shallow, with an even shallower bench around the outside of it, meant for lounging on.

"What is it?" I ask tentatively, mesmerised by the sight.

Water trickles from a space in the wall, disturbing the tranquillity of the water’s surface. It’s the only sound in here.

"A meditative pool. It's where other’s with magic can come and replenish their strength with the magic that enchants it,” he explains.

"Where does the magic come from?"

"An old spell."

I know there is more to elaborate on. He’s electing not to delve into it though, likely to protect my fragile composure. This is a lot to take in…

"My friend has scraps of witch blood, as she says, and she doesn't need to do anything like this." At least not what she has told me, although there are many strange witch traditions she has divulged to me.

"What do you mean scraps?"

"Oh...Well, there aren't any full witches anymore. They were all killed around the time you were cursed."

From what Hazel told me, it’s because witches were allied with Sire’s Pack, his people, and none other. They were seen as a threat at the time, although nowadays what’s left of them are integrated into our current Pack.

Too little too late though, I say.

"But some still exist?" He asks. The hopeful spark twists at something into my stomach, in my heart.

"Some. My friend knows more than me."

He smiles tightly. "I will have to speak to her."

"Just don’t kill her…” I warn. I doubt he would, but I don’t know him, and I can’t be certain that a mere friendship of mine would mean anything to him.

His eyes widen, both disgusted and surprised I would even mention such a thing.

“I would never kill another with magic. It’s forbidden,” he says softly, as if the thought makes him sick.

I stare at him for a long moment as the information he has fed me starts to click into place. Hazel never told me this straight up, but I think I know what I failed to consider before.

“So your magic-“

“My great grandmother was a witch. At the time it was the most horrdenous act to occur, so when I came along, people didn’t know whether to fear me or respect me,” he admits gravelly.

Oh.

I can’t seem to scrape together much or response, and I’m not sure I want to until he lowers his attention to his pants, untying the knot that keeps them secure around his hips.

“Woah…What are you doing?” I blanch, taking a step back.

He frowns, staring at me like I’ve done insane. “Getting undressed.”

“Why?” I ask nervously. His fingers are poised on the hem of his pants, ready to tug them off the moment I stop protesting.

“I’m going to bathe and mediate. Do you have objections to this?” He sounds genuinely baffled. How am I the crazy one here?

“No…You could have given me warning that you were gonna…” I motion stupidly at him with my hand.

He looks between me and his legs. “What? Get my cock out?”

I wince at his vulgar terminology. “Yeah.”

I didn’t realise ancient Alpha’s spoke with such shamelessness. His ease about baring himself to me is a trait I’m going to have to snap out of him before he walks the streets…

Oh great. I entirely forgot that at some point he’s going to venture out into the public. How can I explain away a guy who looks like that?

“You’re my mate. You should not fear my naked body,” he tells me, as if he suspects I’m being coy for his sake, and not because I don’t want to see a strangers private parts.

“Don’t expect me to get undressed like that so easily in front of you,” I tell him, wrapping my arms around myself. Whatever customs he’s grown up in will not be one’s I’m willing to be introduced to.

He can keep that to himself.

“So you’re a virgin, then.” He says it so blatantly it rattles me to the core.

“No! I mean, would it matter if I were?”

“I suppose not,” he muses, his gaze shifting back to me. “But when I look at you, I want to violently fuck you until you cannot move for days.”

My mouth falls open.

He says things so decidedly and yet those cool blue eyes do little to reveal any accompanying emotion. It’s how I know he’s being entirely serious.

“Ah…”

“Speechless?” A smirk plays at his mouth. A smirk.

“The men I know don’t speak like this.” I pace back and forth, trying to exert my nervous energy.

He’s looking at me like he wants to eat me alive. He will not be making his early statement true…I will not be lured into bed by an Alpha who may have seduced an army of women before he met me.

“The men you know are not your mate.” His voice deepens a little at the mention of other men.

I slap my hands over my face. “We are not having sex.”

“Why not?” His confusion would be endearing if we weren’t talking about sex. He can look at me with those deep, curious eyes all he likes, it’s not changing the reality.

“I hardly know you. You’re a cursed Alpha and a murderer.” I nearly shout the words as if it may convince him further.

He stares me down for countless seconds before he releases a long sigh.

“I’m going to mediate now.”

In one swift move he tugs his pants all the way down. I see flashes of skin before I squeeze my eyes shut and turn around, focusing on the far wall.

“Ugh…” I groan.

“There are many rooms for you to pick between upstairs. The magic of the manor should supply you with anything you may desire,” he assures me.

I can hear him step into the water, sinking down into its magical depths.

I roll my eyes, starting toward the stairs. “I’m not even going to ask…”

“Meara,” he calls out once I reach the foot of them.

I risk a glance back.

His waist is above water, with the rest of him concealed by the reflection of the light on the water’s surface. He looks truly magical standing there, the orange glow tinting the sharp lines of his face and the bends of his curls.

“And I’ll scrap my previous intentions to come to your room tonight, like I initially desired. I will respect your wishes.”

He turns away from me, sinking deeper into the water.

Ignoring my dry mouth and the tightness in my chest, I start up the stairs, trying not to imagine what the night he had planned for us looked like.