THESE HIDDEN WINGS

[95.1] ORIGINS OF LUCAS BOWNE

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"I'm the last of my kind,"

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I TRIED TO take the book away from him, reaching over the table but he stopped me by raising a hand, eyes still glued to the book as if repeating that first sentence over and over in his head.

I felt uncomfortable with the whole situation.

It was never my intention to make him angry and I would gladly take my notebook back and end this whole thing.

"Ah," he finally began, turning back to me.

I quickly signed, apologizing about the question, and informing him it was never my intention to make him feel uncomfortable by any means.

He shook his head, sitting up straighter in his seat.

"I'm not angry Talanda," he said softly, eyes on me.

My eyebrows arched leaning back in my seat, signing back timidly,

't-then what's with the face?"

He chuckled at this, sharp pearly white teeth showing.

"It's just been a while since I've been asked to think about that part of my life," he began shortly.

I watched him intently, taking note of the subtle changes in his expression as if he was thinking back.

"Well, I guess I have to start from the beginning," he smirked leaning back in his chair, "Just first and foremost I want a confidentiality agreement," he began, mimicking that of a serious lawyer-type voice, fingers drumming on the table for a moment.

"Whatever I say here cannot be heard elsewhere," he added.

I cocked an eyebrow at this, unable to hide a smile, before nodding and then signing to him,

"Agreed."

He studied me a moment before nodding back a reply.

"Okay, here it goes," he began, folding his arms with a slight huff,

"I was born In Greenland," he began eyes trailing up to mine, "my mother was Brazilian though," he began with a sharp smile, "I don't remember either one of them other than their faces and scents. I know my mom died when I was little, but my father has been MIA since he left me in the care of my Grandmother."

I listened attentively, watching as he spoke each word carefully.

"We lived hidden from society for most of the time," he continued, "in a shifter pack, somewhere near the woods," he added, with a nod.

"It was the safest place for me given the hunters and whatnot," he began softly.

I raised an eyebrow at this, and he looked at me amazed.

"You do know what hunters are right?" he asked, with humor dancing in his eyes.

I shook my head, though I did recall Mr. Ogustus Class on them, something about bloodlines with an open third eye.

I was now feeling a little bit self-aware of my lack of knowledge on particularly any topic about Kingsland even after it was taught.

"Right, You're red, so you probably don't have to worry too much about them," he began, "plus you're on Kingsland, which is practically the most secure place on earth, " he added.

When he saw I wasn't getting anything from that he leaned forward, tone lower even though we were the only ones in that area.

"Hunters are just regular humans with an open third eye giving them a nack to hunt the supernatural. They are very well trained and they're also relentless," he huffed, his jaw clenching momentarily, before seemingly flushing that brief display of anger back, "they are ancient, coming from a long line of blood-thirsty humans. They were there long before the conversion, practically since the beginning. They hunt and kill any kind of deception. Vampires, werewolves are their cups of tea, but anything out of the ordinary will do for them. According to them, we aren't allowed to live, because we aren't human-"