↠C h a p t e r   N i n e t e e n↞
HALF-BREED

❝Only a true wolf will fall in love with the moon.❞

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DYANI'S LINGERING WORDS play through the walls of my skull. The walk back to the cabin was silent as usual, my gaze flitting over the snowy scenery and its atmosphere, my mind far from the reality of the world. Arriving at the cabin was the same cycle, I rushed through the doors to hide away from the coldness the weather brought as it stationed a home within my bones. The fireplace roared with heat, swaying viciously in its signature dance of life, its essence wafting through the air to warm the chill in my body.

Arsen's build towers over mine as he follows me to the living room. Plopping on the cushion of the sofa, I allow myself to relax completely into its cushions, removing my coat from my shoulders and throwing it over the back of the sofa. A heavy sigh slips past my lips, my head sinking back as Arsen settles beside me quietly.

His gaze singes the side of my face, willing me to lock eyes, the apparent question swirling in the dark depths of his irises. I nod to the unspoken question, hoping my eyes portray somewhat the truth. He squinted but didn't egg any further with a follow-up.

Half-breed. The words strike my mind once again, plaguing my thoughts with their existence, craving for the knowledge behind them. Grey spoke the word with such disdain; it felt nothing more than an unsolicited insult. Everyone watched me with the same knowing glint in their eyes, whenever we crossed paths their noses would flare, catching a whiff of my scent; and when they did, their facades were all the same.

The front door closed with a slight thud! as Santha moved to hang her sweater on the coat rack. Marcus locks the door with a heavy sigh, keeping his focus locked on the surface of the door for a beat. Stroking a few loose locks from his face, he turns to follow Santha as they both pad their way to the kitchen. Tension rolled off him in waves, swarming above him like a thunderstorm cloud yearning to burst with its earnest fury.

My mind flickers back to the expression that painted his face as he spoke with the elders, the cause being none other than myself.

Santha clatters with a few pots, setting them on the stove. "Anyone hungry?" She asks, her eyes following Marcus as he sits at the island counter.

"I'll take something," I tell her, reaching for the television remote on the coffee table.

Arsen grunts a reply in agreement before choosing to lay his head in my lap, swinging and curling his body into the couch— curling into my side. A deep purr vibrates through his being, the sound one of satisfaction. I welcome the rush of electricity and tingles that multitude the veins within me, taking them in as a sense of comfort and pleasure washes over me.

My hand drops to his face, loosely removing strands of hair from his forehead, clearing any obstructions from my sight. He was achingly beautiful with a touch of darkness. I distract myself from the elephant in the room by switching the television on and skipping through channels, caressing and admiring Arsen while he lies in my lap; indulging in the bond that sparked between us.

Santha and Marcus's hushed whispers, as she prepares dinner, do no justice to quench the ever-growing rage of anxiety that spirals through me. Half-breed clouds my mind, intertwining with the images of Marcus's brooding expression as he spoke with the elders. My nerves even so much as conjure the false manifestation that the word falls from a mouth or two.

I subtly clench my fingers around the fabric of Arsen's shirt, where my hand rests on top of his shoulder. His eyes lazily open from their peaceful state, cutting to stare up at me.

"Sorry," I mumble, flattening the slight indent with my fingers. "I'm okay."

Breaking gazes, I switch my attention to Marcus and Santha, their hushed whispers long ceased as they blanket themselves in tensed silence. Santha moves gracefully along the workings of the kitchen, finishing the meal and tidying as she goes.

The anticipation was unbearable.

"Marcus. ." I call out, nibbling at the corner of my mouth. "Can I ask you something?"

My voice carries across the small foyer, brushing along his ears as he perks and peeps over his shoulder in response. He tries to hide the tense expression that holds his features hostage– his usual smile wavering. But it's there, etched in his being as his brows crinkle together and the lines beneath his eyes become evident from stress.

"Your troubles are about me again, aren't they?"

Marcus holds my stare before sighing, leaning up from his hunched position to push his hair away from his face.

"You aren't trouble," he settles, solemnity swarming his eyes. He swivels his chair around to face me completely. "The elders are just a bit. . stubborn."

I chew on my lip again, the feel of Arsen's stare burning its presence onto the side of my face: just as much of his body heat pressed against mine.

"What does half-breed truly mean?" I question, the words hanging heavily in the air rather than in my heart and mind.

Santha clatters together a few pots and pans into the sink, our dinners steaming on their respective plates. Their short silence propels me further.

"I've read it briefly in the books you lent and within the treaty of fur and skin. But what does it mean to me?" I plead with my eyes. "Why does it feel wrong?"

Marcus swipes a hand down his face with a pained sigh at the same moment Santha swipes her hands dry on the front of her apron. She picks up two out of the four plates from off the counter and strides toward Arsen and me. The aroma of the food follows her as she sets the plates down before us, Arsen's body rising from my lap at her approach.

"As we've been telling you, you're not fully human," Marcus recites. "Your scent lingers with the presence of Lycan blood."

My heart spikes at his revelation, my skin prickling with goosebumps and apprehension. I swallow my fears, eagerly waiting for my questions to be put to rest.

"Our traditions align with the treaty of fur and skin, set in stone for us before our time,"—he waves between him and Santha— "we've abided by those laws and code of conduct for as long as I can remember; hammered into our teachings and practices."

Marcus's face consorts into one of pain as if it pains him to speak the new few sentences. I couldn't seem to focus on my appetite, the smell of the food failing to lure me. Envy grapples my heart in a breath-stealing grip as Arsen scrapes the contents of his plates, happily eating and basking in ignorance.

"There's a distinct difference between Lycanthropes and Werewolves. We descend from the moon, granted our existence in the form of a man-beast, roaming when the moon rose full."

Marcus glances at his hands, watching his palms in thought before glancing back up.

"And werewolves can shift at any given time, their abilities stolen from them when the moon burns dark."

Full Moon and New Moon, I let the thought birth to life, contemplating the information given so far.

"The only way this treaty could exist is if all parties agreed to never combine their genetics."

My brows twitch. "What?"

He presses his lips firmly together as Santha moves to his side, running her hand down his chest leisurely in an attempt to ease the strain that scrunched the edges of his eyes. He visibly relaxes at her touch, his eyes still holding their roughness.

"Humans and Wolves are to never mate," he clarifies, "if caught, you would be breaching the agreement."

"That doesn't make sense," the words are muttered confusingly, my eyes cutting to stare at Arsen.

His tousled hair parts down the middle, curtaining his eyes as those hazel swirls bore into mine. My chest constricts with a sick feeling, knotting my muscles and knocking the remaining air from my lungs; almost as if the thought of being with Arsen was considered a mistake.

"From what I'm aware of, you can't choose who your partner is," I conclude, looking for confirmation in his eyes.

"Correct. Unfortunately, in this case, it doesn't apply."

"Doesn't apply?"

"A government of werewolves formed in the midst of the original Lycan's passing. Our numbers began to dwindle and became scarce and soon we found ourselves secluded from the rest of the wolves as they invoked their community across the globe."

Marcus makes a move of leaving his seat at the island counter and crossing the short path to the living room; where he takes a seat at one of the single sofas, sinking himself into its cushion. Santha follows closely behind to occupy the armrest, keeping herself close to his side.

Throughout the whole ordeal, she's kept herself silent, throwing occasional reassuring smiles; as if encouraging me to listen further than what I believed I wanted to. Marcus toes off his shoes before he speaks again.

"We don't associate ourselves in their ways," he mutters, tone twinged with annoyance. "It's barbaric and conflicts with our morals, so we keep our distance."

"It wasn't until recently that they've started establishing their authority. They believe all female wolves are embodiments of the broken treaty; the action punishable by death."

My face constricts into one of surprise, then fury. "Are you serious? They're basically slaughtering innocent people."

"They are," Santha interjects, her heart crumpling before me as the sentence lingers in the air, eyes saddened at the topic.

I watch the couple before me hold onto each other, their hands squeezing each other's til the tips turn white. The topic is nothing more than another aching reminder of their past.

"Some of our elders worry that harboring you here would somehow lead them to us," Marcus informs, the corners of his lips pressed downward in a sullen manner. "There's no doubt that you're a product of a Lycan and Human mating."

"Meaning you're an immediate target."

The air around us tightens, and my breath is stolen from me as flashes of memories that have plagued my mind become a reality. Red eyes and sharpened fangs fill my vision, my side begins to tingle, and my muscles coil as if remembering through a snapshot of the memory. Slowly, my mind started to piece together the chain of events that got me to this very moment, junctures from my childhood propelling in certain aspects toward a revolution.

'I'm just here to kill you..' the creature's disembodied voice floats from my memories, rending me immobile.

Arsen's response was immediate, the threat hanging in the air like a loose vice around my neck, waiting to be tightened. His body vibrates with a growl, an unmistakable snarl curling at his lips, his height seeming to grow and shrink me into his side. The warmth emitting from him provides the same protective blanket that cocoons me in its grasp, my breath returning to me in shallow beats.

Basking in the sparks as Arsen's hand comes around to palm my hip– pulling me closer, Marcus briefly lifts his hand to hold off any further aggression from Arsen.

"But," he holds our stare, "we argued that you're mated to a member of our society and there's no possibility— not that there was any— you could leave."

He then solely focuses his stare on Arsen, his gaze hardening with authority. "She stays with you," he assures, "She's not going anywhere."

As if his words eased the rage swarming within the depths of his eyes, flaking them golden; he relaxed. The hazel returned to his irises, leaving fragments of their color before he huffed and sank into the couch with me still pressed tightly against his side. My mind wavers from the eruption of tingles that coat my nerves.

"We meant it when we said that you're our responsibility now."

My gaze flickers between the two, searching their eyes but finding nothing but the same sincerity and acceptance shining through. It built a home in their hearts the moment they found me cradled in Arsen's arms. My throat aches with the burning sensation of tears, the traitorous tears clouding my eyes; the feel of something deeper in their words stealing my voice.

The conversation swiftly ends with their lingering vow. Soon Marcus mentions venturing back to the village to speak with the elders once again, accompanied by Santha. I take the opportunity to shower while the flames in the fireplace still burn hot with the freshly switched wood. My nostrils take in the scent of rosemary as the suds lather my body in a white, silky coat; the water cascades down my hair, drenching it.

Tight muscles uncoil and loosen as I take my time beneath the glimmer of water, washing away the memories of earlier. They still torment me as I exit the shower– its forgotten lifeline in the essence of mist as I dress and smoother lotion over my limbs. The cabin's atmosphere held still as the outside world began to darken, painting the sky in a dark blue, twinkling stars glittering occasionally.

Instead of returning downstairs where Arsen waited for me, I turn for the bedroom, the heat of the fire following me. My mind reels with the undeniable notion of death following behind me, my mother's unmoving body nothing more than a reminder of the pressing fate. My breathing shallows as I stalk toward the bed, its heavy covers willing me into the depths of their fervency

I settle myself in the middle, the bed dipping beneath my weight as I drag my knees to my chest with the blankets looking around myself; drowning myself in the worries I thought to have escaped from. Thudded footfalls sound from the staircase as Arsen makes his way up to the landing, my fading presence taking a toll on his being.

He invades the threshold of the room, his mere existence cording the crevices of our reality. My gaze flits to where he stands, taking in his expression.

"I'm sorry," I glance away from him to the window, the gibbous moon waning behind the planes. "My mind is still stuck on the conversation from earlier."

"I can't help but fear the future, knowing that I may be the cause of bloodshed by just residing here," my admission instills a sense of hopelessness in my heart. "My mind is still stuck reliving the remnants of the attack that took place at my home.. my mother.."

"I'm scared.."

My lungs flood with his woodsy scent before I feel him– half expecting him to nestle his way to his familiar corner. Yet, he climbs into the bed behind me, taking the space between me and the headboard, his larger frame engulfing me. He pulls me flush against his chest, his arms and legs creating a barrier of him. His scent, the tingles dancing up my arms; and the feel of his fingers curling into my sides, his arms crossed over my waist.

The weight of him holds me in place, grounding me and stabilizing the vile thoughts that run their course through my brain. The world vanishes around us, my eyes fluttering close to submerge myself further into his furnace; the crashing waves of my worries and doubts dispersing into thin air.

~ ✎ ~ ✎ ~

Well hello! 👋🏽 it has been a while since I finally found the time to put words to paper. Proud of myself. As you can see, the book is beginning to shift, I had it planned that after 20 chapters things would start to pick, though, I'm still finding a good pace 🥲

My absence has no excuse. Life happens to the best of us, and mine is currently beating my ass 🤣 I found myself reverting back to my shell of writing and reading and I've never been happier. I hope that there is a great number of you that still find this story enjoyable; me submitting the story into the watty's another reason for this long awaited update.

"Furry Humans" is starting to rear its head a little into the storyline as mentioned before, simply by the given information. Again, this story is a standalone and you don't have to read the other one before this one.

Sorry for the long rant, I missed you all so much and I'm pleased to write my ideas down again.

Hope you all enjoyed!

Discuss Questions;

1. How do you think things will develop from here on out?

2. What do you think of Amelia's vulnerability?

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