Falling In Love With The King Of Beasts

Chapter 39:Our History - Part 1

ELIA

"Reth?" she said, her voice too high. "Grateful for what?"

He sighed heavily and sat back so there was more room between them. Inside she cursed—he'd been about to kiss her!—but that feeling inside her was churning again. As if she'd been here before. As if she'd seen him in the dark before.

"Reth, what's going on?"

He still held her hand, and his fingers trailed up and down under her wrist, lighting shivers and goosebumps up her arm. It wasn't fair, really, that he could make her tingle just by touching her so lightly. So she pulled her hand away so she could focus.

Even in the dark she could see his silhouette. His shoulders sagged.

"Elia, there's a reason the wolves chose you."

"Yes, but there are many weak, virginal orphans in the human world. They looked for you personally because they knew it would unsettle me."

She frowned. "Why?"

Reth ran a hand through his hair, then his shadow lifted as he got to his feet and stepped down onto the floor. Elia didn't move, but she pulled the furs closer around her, suddenly cold.

"When I was a child, there was a battle for the crown. My father's," he said. "I was only eight years old and I hadn't reached physical adolescence. I was a weak point in their armor. They feared our enemies would use me against them. So… they sent me to the human world with a guardian to keep me safe. To hide me from the Anima until the mutiny was defeated. They thought it would be a few months. It was almost two years."

He swallowed and clawed his hand through his hair again. "It was a very difficult time for me," he said. "Anima live in family groups, especially when there are still young in the home. I was used to being surrounded by people I knew and who would help me, teach me. To be suddenly planted in this cold, distant world, with only two teachers and… the customs were very different. I was old enough to know I must not tell people what I was—not show them the differences between us. But I wasn't yet old enough to truly understand the differences. Or the impact my instincts would have on humans. I was… noticeably different. I frightened people, though they didn't know why."

He stopped pacing and turned to face her. "Except one person. One girl. A neighbor. She shared my love for animals. She was two years younger than me, and still interested in games—she would pretend to be animals and in an odd way… it comforted me. She always admired how well I could mimic animals. The sounds I could make. She didn't question my instincts, she admired them. And when others became suspicious or uncomfortable… she defended me. Even to her own parents."

No. It couldn't be. Elia's mouth dropped open. "Gareth?!" she said in a strangled voice.

He nodded. "A few weeks before I left the human world—I was ten, by this time, and she was eight—there was an… incident. We were playing in the forest behind our homes. Just the two of us, as usual, because the other children didn't like to be around me. I frightened them. But that day we weren't alone in the forest. But she didn't know that. She didn't know that I always scented other living things when we were playing—always. Usually just wildlife, or the occasional dog. But that day, I smelled humans. Males. Older than us, though still adolescents themselves. They watched her. And I could hear their whispers. I knew what they wanted to do—though I was still too young to understand why. I could smell the predator in them. And the desire. I heard how they planned to split us up. So I grabbed her arm and pulled her out of there, despite her protests. She didn't understand, and I was too immature to explain—in Anima, when someone warns you, you understand their instincts and follow. Assume they have scented something you have not. But she fought me, and it made me angry because I was trying to save her from the youths.

"But I was about to hit my own maturity season. I was far stronger than her. So I ignored her fighting and pulling, and just dragged her out. By the time we got to the backyard of my home, she was crying. I'd taken her there because I knew my guardians would help—would go find the youths and make sure they didn't harm anyone. But she was so upset, she started screaming at me, calling me names, accusing me of hurting her. And she was holding the wrist I'd used to pull her out.

"I hadn't realized. I'd been so afraid for her, and frustrated that she fought me… I had almost… I'd left cuts on her wrist with my nails." He swallowed.

Elia's head spun. This was a side of the story she'd never known.

"I've always been an Alpha, even back then. I was often aggressive and commanding—I'd been raised to rule. But humans don't appreciate that in a child. She was used to me ordering her around, but I was usually gentle. I'd never hurt her. She'd always been able to tell that to people when they voiced their suspicions of me. She was… proud of me. Of my strength. And the fact that I'd never used it against her."

He turned then, and his eyes seemed to glow in the darkness as they met hers. The intensity in his gaze stole Elia's breath.

"She ran home crying and her parents came to my guardians that evening. They… set boundaries. We were never to be alone again. She was never to be at our house, and I would only be allowed at hers when the parents were there to supervise. The cuts on her wrist weren't deep, but they bled. She stood, red-eyed, next to them, her little wrist wrapped in a white bandage that made my nose wrinkle because it had a very sharp smell."

"The iodine," she breathed.

He nodded. "But her parents thought I was making faces—that I disrespected them. I'd been completely unaware of how I looked. I'd only been trying to scent if she was okay. I tried to explain about the youths, but my guardians—understanding better than me at that young age that humans would never believe I'd known the plans of people we never even saw—interrupted me and made apologies for me.

"To say that angered me is… an understatement. I was confused by the entire episode. I'd been working to help her, to protect her. Why was everyone acting like I'd done something wrong? Like I'd hurt her? I cared about her—and I knew she cared about me. She was the only person in the human world I could confidently say that about. To see her crying and accusing me… to see her unable to meet my eyes… it frightened me. I didn't want to lose her. But I was also arrogant and angry. I knew I'd done the right thing. I couldn't understand why no one else saw that." He swallowed hard.

"It blew over, mostly. But the rules remained. We were never alone. So I could never explain. I missed her a great deal. Before, we had played together every day when she returned home from school. But often now her parents said no, or only allowed us to play for an hour—and never outside. I struggled to stay always between the cramped, unnatural walls of human houses. So… sometimes I didn't go to her anymore. Sometimes I went into the forest on my own." He paused and took a deep breath. "But I always wished she was there."