Mated

History Lesson

Lyric woke up to a broad back in her face and before she could stop herself she leaned forward and kissed between the shoulder blades. Kieran hummed softly and rolled over, wrapping himself around her. She was surprised at herself. Normally, she would have had a panic attack if Kieran had been this close to her; but now she welcomed the heat from his body and the strength she could feel. He also smelled delicious. A little sweaty and like the forest. But he also smelled like a strange place.

"Morning," he drawled with a yawn.

"Oh, morning," she winced as his breath washed over her.

"Dragon breath?" he asked with a hand over his mouth.

"What? I--."

"You winced a little," he laughed.

"It's not like mine is much better," she muttered, making sure to keep her head down away from his face.

"Part of being in a relationship," he chuckled, rolling out of bed. "Do you need to pee? I was gonna shower."

"Yes," she said and hurried to the bathroom. After she was done, she crawled back into the big warm bed and snuggled down under the comforter. She wasn't ready to get out of bed for the day just yet. Kieran grinned at her and slipped into the bathroom. Lyric wasn't sure she wanted to sleep but she wanted to stay where she felt safest and right now that was in bed surrounded by her mates scent.

Kieran emerged from the bathroom half an hour later, freshly showered and shaved, but only in a towel. She felt her face flush and looked away. He apologized and grabbed some clothes before hurrying back to the bathroom. She was embarrassed but also felt tingly. He was more toned than she imagined and his tattoo covered so much skin. She wanted to trace every inch of it and that thought made her blush even more.

"Sorry about that," Kieran said as he came back into the room. "I thought you would have gone down for breakfast."

"I wasn't ready to get out of bed just yet," she said.

Too bad he's dressed, her wolf muttered and she shook her head violently to rid the thought.

"You ok?"

"Yeah. Um, I am ready to head down for breakfast now if you are," she said.

*****************

Lyric was in shock as Kieran went over what had been discussed at the Summoning. Humans were killing werewolves. Humans. With ways found on the internet and unknowingly using ways that were deadly to her kind specifically. She couldn't believe it and it made her scared for her new Pack.

"Lyric, I don't want you to be afraid," Kieran soothed her, gently rubbing her knee. "The Packs that were attacked were all small. Newly formed."

"That doesn't help me feel better," she whispered over her tea. "There are humans who know about your—our—kind. How long until we aren't safe?"

"If we have been safe for this long, I think we will be just fine," Kieran said, his hand still rubbing her knee in soft circles. She relished the touch. "Besides, our Pack knows how to handle itself and won't be taken so easily by some measly humans." She giggled. Here she was cowering like a pup scared of monsters and it was merely some humans who she was afraid of. It was nonsense.

"Kieran?" she whispered.

"Yes?"

"Will you tell me about my kind?" She blushed hard when his eyes went wide.

"You didn't take advantage of my time away and lurk in my study?" he asked, leaning forward.

"No," she murmured. "I want to hear how you tell it. If you don't want--."

"Of course I want to," he interrupted. "Let's go to the study. I'm afraid I am a little rusty on some of the finer details about Rarities."

Lyric sank into the comfy couch and Kieran fell into place beside her with an ancient book in his lap. She stared at the ornate cover; carved leather. Wolves and one in mid transformation and all the phases of the moon decorated it. Kieran smirked as she let one hand trace the fat circle of the full moon. He mistook the touch as one of love, it was one of unrelenting fear. The Moon was coming up in a few weeks and she was petrified. There were several words on the front of the cover, but they were foreign to her.

"Latin," Kieran explained. "It says 'Historia autem quod lupinotuum pectinem' or in English: History of the werewolf. It tells of the two different blood types of werewolf. My kind, the boring basic wolf," he sighed dramatically, making her smile. "And the Rarities, the most beautiful werewolf there ever has been." Now her smile turned into a flush. "So," he began, "you have my kind of werewolf: controlled by the moon, not allergic to silver or wolfsbane, faster healing, metabolism, all that good stuff. Then there are the Rarities." He paused, flipping the book open to about the middle. "They are secretive and it's still a mystery to this day what makes the blood of your kind so different from ours. Something in it doesn't give way to the moon. You can control the change which in itself is just phenomenal and we have no idea how you can do it. Don't worry," he laughed when she gave him a look. "I'm not going to ask you to change or how you do it. I just accept it as fact."

"I'm allergic to silver?" she asked. "I thought that was Hollywood bullshit."

"All bullshit usually has a grain of truth somewhere in it," he chuckled. "But yes, Rarities have violent allergic reactions to silver. It sends you into anaphylaxis shock in mere minutes. Me, on the other hand, I could eat silver for breakfast and would have nothing happen. It's just a metal to me."

"And what the hell is wolfsbane?"

"A plant. It's also called monkshood."

"Is it poisonous to me?" she asked.

"Not really poisonous as more as . . . Well, if you are exposed to it, something in the pollen forces you to turn."

It's dangerous, her wolf growled. Outs you for what you are. No more hiding. Same with the silver. You could pawn it off as a simple metal allergy but if it gets in the blood, you're done.

"So is it like an allergy too?" she asked, trying her best to ignore her wolfs voice.

"Yeah, yeah, I guess you could say that," he replied.

"How come I haven't ever met another like me?"

"Your kind are very, very secretive," he sighed, leaning back into the couch. "The Packs stay as far north as they can, sticking to cold places. Russia, Alaska, Canada," he listed. "Oh and of course the Upper Peninsula. Finding you all the way down here was more than a surprise. Do you know where your parents were found?"

"No, just that I was found with them in the winter. Is there anything else? Did we run like your family did during the witch hunts?"

"Yes and no," he said, closing the book. "According to this book, you had worse to fear than witch hunts. You had a group of people who called themselves lupus venandi. It means wolf hunter in Latin." He trailed off. "I wonder. No, they died out years ago . . . but what if?" "Kieran?" she asked. She was lost and he was now talking to himself. "I'm sorry, I have to go talk to my father. I think I know who is doing the killing downstate. Not who as in a person but . . . Excuse me," he said and got up.