"Jeb," Ethan called softly over a private channel. When the vanguard tilted his head in his direction, he continued. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"
Jeb murmured something to Zyga, who simply nodded but did not lift his weary gaze from his glass. Behind Ethan, the elevator door smoothly shut on Brent and Eri just as the vanguard padded over on silent feet.
Thankfully, none of Chris' men were around to overhear what he had to say. But as he stood contemplating how to phrase his question, the vast, open lobby suddenly felt too empty and cold.
"What's up? You weren't hurt, were you?" He asked, running a critical eye over Ethan's fidgeting hands and shuffling.
"No, I'm fine," Ethan hurried to assure him. "It's something else."
Jeb's forehead wrinkled, but he waited patiently for Ethan to explain.
"It-it's these headaches I've been getting. It started a couple of days ago... it comes and goes, usually starting with my teeth hurting like hell. But today, it got really bad. My whole body just felt... wrong."
As Ethan narrated his recent afflictions, the creases of worry on the vanguard's face smoothened out, his eyes widened, and his lips parted slightly.
"You know what's happening to me, don't you?" he asked, reading the recognition on the older wolf's face.
Jeb cleared his throat and glanced over to where Zyga sat before answering. "There's nothing wrong with you. It's normal. It's just... We didn't expect it to happen so soon, especially since your wolf isn't stable yet."
"What is it?"
Jeb took off his glasses and began wiping them with a handkerchief he drew from his pocket. He was a tad too enthusiastic in cleaning the corners of the wireframe that Ethan had a distinct impression the vanguard was stalling. And the wait was fraying his nerves by the second.
Ethan clenched his jaws before his anxious tongue loosened to prompt him on.
Finally, Jeb started talking. "Typically, when a Lycan finds a mate, the dominant wolf marks the other by biting the nape. They transfer a bit of their essence through this bite, allowing them to share some traits. Do you remember, after the brewery incident, you started smelling like Jan and went on the blood rage with him? We were initially confused about why, but it all made sense when we found out he had tasted your blood."
Ethan's shoulders dropped in relief. Ok. That doesn't sound horrible.
"So... Jan marked me?" he asked.
"Yes... sort of."
"Oookay, but what's that got to do with my headaches?"
"Remember, I said typically the dominant wolf marks the other?" Then, after Ethan's nod, he went on. "Well, the only instance of Lycan-non-Lycan bondings we have is between wolves and humans. And in every one of those cases, it's the wolf that marks the other."
Ethan was silent for a moment as the words filtered through his confusion. Images flashed before his eyes of Jan's skin under his teeth, smooth and flushed, ready and eager for his bite. A bolt zapped down between his legs, and heat blossomed below, climbing relentlessly up his torso and over his nape.
Ethan shifted, widening his stance, and prayed Jeb did not look down.
"Ok," he said, his voice breathless against his will. He cleared his throat before continuing. "So, what does that mean? My body is reacting this way because I need to mark Jan? Like ... my wolf wants to bite him. If I do, will the headaches stop?"
"Well... you can try that," Jeb responded, though the slight hesitation was not convincing.
"But?"
Jeb glanced wistfully towards the restaurant as if seeking help. When he turned back, the experienced Lycan's eyes did not quite meet his curious hazel ones. Ethan's jaw unhinged when he noted the slight reddish tinge to Jeb's ears.
YOU ARE READING
Blooded Mate
Fantasy[[MATURE CONTENT]] Pack, family, mate. Loyalty, respect, honor. These are the words that form the foundation of the wolf society. At six years old, Ethan had to choose between his Alpha title and his survival on the night of his father's death. As a...
