Page 93 of Bite

It takes me a moment to realize that the Lunar Mother is crying. Dair moves closer to us and asks, “Are you alright?”

“What did you say his name is?” she asks, teary eyes rising to mine.

“Ferris,” I tell her, voice hoarse with concern.

“Like iron. Hard and stubborn, but made infinitely stronger by bonding with others,” she says, a small laugh in her voice. “A perfect name.”

Dair interjects, worried, “Am I missing something?”

“No, dear boy,” she says. “You’ve found exactly what I sent you to the Midlands to find.”

His scent burns with confusion and a hint of irritation. “I don’t understand.”

“Ten years ago, I had a dream,” the Lunar Mother begins, and turning to Dair, she says, “you’d been with the clans for four years by then, clawing your way up the chain. I knew you wanted to be Alpha of your own territory, everyone did,” she chuckles. “But you were still young, and deciding whether to give you that much responsibility was a tough decision to make.”

Dair sits down on our nest and reaches for my hand as we listen.

“I consulted the trees, and that night as I slept, the moon showed me the threads of fate,” Lunar Mother says. “I saw you going to the Midlands. I saw an omega with fire in her heart and the forest in her eyes. The moon made it clear that your path was set and I was not to impede. You would become the Alpha of your own territory, and I would send you to the Midlands where you’d meet your true mate.”

“But what about contacting the Appalachian Clans?” Dair rasps. “Was that just a made-up mission to direct my path?”

“Not at all,” she sighs. “You needing to meet Raine aligned with my own interests, but no matter how many times I asked the trees or consulted the bones, I never got an answer as to whether you would succeed. I wanted you to contact the Appalachian Clans. Dearly.”

“Why?” I ask, unable to contain my sceptical curiosity.

“Because thirty-two years ago, my daughter traveled east after having a dream about uniting the shifters, but she never made it back.”

“Fuck,” Tore breathes from where he and Ren are listening. Vale paces the small room, unease evident in her wolf’s posture.

Dair’s scent thickens with sadness. “I wasn’t able to contact the eastern wolves,” he admits, painfully. “I left Aspen and Koda there to try. If I’d known that you were trying to find information on your daughter, I would have stayed myself.”

“No,” the Lunar Mother insists. “It’s not like you knew what happened to her. Only the oldest among us even remember she existed at all. You did exactly as you needed to do, and while I hope your officers are successful, you brought me exactly what I needed.” Her eyes glide back to Ferris. “My grandson.”

[ 59 ]

FERRIS

Northern Pacific Territory

Noises break through my haze. I can hear things happening. Metallic clanking. Voices and animalistic huffs. I can feel people touching me, cleaning my shoulder. Gentle rocking. A slow stop. There is the cold, wet press of cotton cloth that reeks of rotting plants. There are endless cycles of sleep, dreams, and this bizarre in-between.

I smell them—my mates. Raine’s scent warms me from the inside out while Dair’s soothes my fractured mind. They are always near. Sometimes both of them, other times, just one, but I am never alone.

Tore’s resinous berry scent is present every now and then, usually accompanied by Vale’s wildflowers and spice. There are new scents too. Sea, salt, and sun. Something sharp and sweet, like pine. It’s familiar, but no matter how hard my brain chases the trail, I cannot catch the answer.

I am uncomfortable all the time. Sometimes my hair hurts, like each strand is attached to my scalp with needles. My skin feels dry, itchy, and stretched, like a burn. My gums ache and throb, sometimes bleeding enough that I can taste copper on my tongue.

Someone always washes it away with a slow sip of water over my cracked lips.

Something is trying to eat me from the inside out. I feel it clawing through my veins and ripping into my cells. Searching. Devouring. At first, it scared me because it fucking hurts, but the longer it gnaws, the less I feel it. I think maybe I’m dying. I think maybe I’ve already died and this is rebirth.

I think death would be kinder than this.

Exhaustion gnaws at me. I am tired. More tired than I’ve ever been, despite the frequent periods of nothingness that must be actual sleep between the dreams and the purgatory of sensing the world around me through a pool of water.

I want to keep fighting, but the thing masticates with teeth sharper than glass, and my strength to hold on cannot last. Letting go seems so much easier.

Even if I can feel Raine’s bare skin against mine as she curls into me to sleep.