Word Count: 1699

~Meara

I stare across at Hazel, feeling myself growing impatient.

She sits at her dining room table, flipping through an old book, waving dust out of her face with every page turn.

The death's currently plaguing the pack haven't come from nowhere, and it's no coincidence they have started with Sire's rising. This is the curse, and the only person I trust to figure out how to stop it is Hazel.

She seemed uncomfortable when Sire came in, shuffling back a few steps as he bent his head to enter.

I don't blame her...

"Do you have anything?" I ask, staring down at the book she also gave me to read. The words, strung together like some other language, swim in front of me. This is impossible to decipher.

She lets out a frustrated growl. "Nothing reliable."

Every now and again her gaze flickers up warily to Sire. He paces incessantly behind me, which seems to be unnerving my friend.

"We are running out of time," I exclaim. Day by day people are dying, and the guilt from knowing I unleashed this curse weighs heavily on my shoulders.

"We will be fine, we just need to be calm," Sire assures me.

I roll my eyes. "I doubt you even care about the people dying out there right now."

"Of course I care," he exclaims, sliding into the chair next to me. "A lot of these people came from past members of my Pack. The Pack I am trying to reunite."

I stare him down, my eyes narrowed. So he admits that he only cares because of their potential connection to his ancestral Pack, and not because they are people, with lives, who don't deserve this...maybe I'm reading into it too much, but I am suspicious.

"Reuniting your Pack will never happen," Hazel mutters under her breath, not raising her gaze.

"Why not?" Sire demands.

She sighs, finally deigning to look up at him. Her apprehension about his presence seems to have vanished as she stares him down fiercely.

"There has only been one Pack for centuries. I just don't see why people would want to move on from this one," she muses. I can't tell if she hates him already, or is just keen to jest with him.

Sire doesn't so much as blink. "Maybe I'll kill your Alpha, then."

"Sire. Don't," I warn.

I suppose I should be grateful he hasn't killed Alpha Carran already. He seems to be biding his time, which must be because of me.

"It's not like he doesn't have it coming," he notes.

He slides the book from in front of me to in front of him. This material is close to being from his time, so he is more likely to comprehend the material compared to me, who barely scraped through school.

"Can we just find a cure first? Otherwise there is going to be a Pack for you to take over," I remind him.

There's silence for a moment, filled only by the turning of pages.

"I know nothing about this curse," Sire notes irritably.

"It was obviously your rivals last way of ensuring that even if you were awoken, you wouldn't have anyone left to bring into your Pack," Hazel explains to him.

She seems to have found a page that is particularly interesting, pulling a pad of paper near to start scribbling on. I watch, fascinated, as she rights in an old dialectic that she claims is familiar only to witches.

"I hope his death was slow and painful." I look over at Sire, at the frown deepening on his forehead.

I don't blame him for thinking that. Honestly, I agree.

Regardless, he needs to understand how serious this situation is. "Mine and Hazel's will be if we get sick."

He raises his gaze, his deep blue eyes captivating me for a brief moment. They remind me of the depths of an ocean that I've never seen before, and yet when I look at him, I want to.

"I'm not going to let anything happen to you," he breathes.

I look away quickly, feeling my cheeks heat. I have to remind myself that nothing will be done if I spend this time staring obsessively at my attractive mate.

So, I get up, wandering over to Hazel's overstuffed shelf.

"Then help us find a cure, and all will be well," I mumble, examining the spines, trying to determine which books will have the most relevant information.

"Fine," he muses tiredly.

All of a sudden, Hazel is standing beside me, dipping her head low.

"What is going on between you?" she whispers, glancing over her shoulder for a moment. I let out a long sigh. Sire coming into my life have complicated everything, and now, it seems to be affecting every other person's life in this Pack.

And it's my fault.

"I don't know. I can't shake him," I respond quietly, tugging out a particularly thick book, wincing a little at the heavy weight in my arms. Hazel's shelves full of books rival even the most avid collector.

"Do you want to?" she asks.

"I guess. My life is a mess right now and I can't stand it," I tell her. "When I envisaged a life with a mate, I thought it would come naturally...easily, you know?"

She nods. "Oh yeah, I know. But at least you have a mate."

I bump my forehead against the bookshelf, huffing out a frustrated breath. It's hard to be grateful when having a mate has come with so many consequences. Plus, he is from another time completely, making it difficult for him to understand my reservations.

"We should focus on this curse first, right?" I remind her, smiling tightly.

She gives me a tense look, knowing I'm avoiding the inevitable. "It's only a matter of time, Meara. You're to be his Luna, he isn't going to be patient."

"I don't care. He can wait," I snap back, turning around.

He leans over the book he is reading, not paying our conversation any mind. His sudden focus on ending this curse would be admirable if I didn't suspect he is only doing this to appease Hazel and I.

"Come here Meara, look at this," he calls to me, pointing to something in the book

"Find anything?" I ask, sliding into the seat next to him, dragging it close enough for me to get a look at the paragraph he finds the most important.

"Have a look."

I skim through the paragraph, trying to make sense of it. As I do so, I feel him lift his hand, running his fingers gently down the back of my neck.

Gasping, I tense, feeling flutters skate across my skin. His touch is featherlight, intending to distract me from what is supposedly so important.

"What are you doing?" I grit out, feeling the heat of his stare on me.

"I'm touching you," he murmurs.

Shaking my head, I don't bother brushing him off, secretly enjoying his touch. Instead, I focus on the words before me, which are quickly revealing the topic of this book, which isn't relevant at all.

"This book has nothing to do with a cure," I mutter, pushing it away.

"I know. I just wanted you close." He smirks. I've never experienced someone so brazenly seeking my attention, my affection. It's a strange, and yet strangely enjoyable feeling.

"You're impossible," I sigh dismissively.

He brushes my hair back. "I'm having a hard time around you."

"Restrain yourself," I snap back.

"I know you're suffering as much as I am. You can deny it all you like," he breathes.

I keep my gaze trained on my hands that are braced on the table. Looking at him would leave me inclined to agree with him, so, to keep my sanity, I should focus on anything other than him.

"You know what will happen if we can't find a way to end this curse?" Hazel exclaims, abruptly cutting off the conversation between Sire and I.

She sits across the table again, brows raised, not looking impressed.

"What?" I ask.

"People will soon find out where it has come from, and conclude that in order to stop it, Sire needs to be put back underground," she exclaims darkly.

I wince, looking over at Sire. He blinks, monetarily confused before the anger sinks in. After being trapped underground for so long, there is no chance Sire will want to go back under, even if many people's lives are at stake.

"Is that a way to end the curse?" I ask breathlessly.

"There is no way of knowing, but I doubt it," she shrugs. "There must be another way, because the witches of the time would never have agreed to such a devastating sickness to sweep the land without another way to end it."

I shudder. I hope so, but perhaps we are being too optimistic.

"The witches never liked me. I wouldn't be surprised if they want me underground forever," Sire says casually.

A flare of surprise and a little resentment seems to be felt by Hazel. She has witch genetics, which means she may be expected to hate Sire with the same intensity as they apparently did.

"By letting your mate be the one to rise you, they didn't want you in there forever, trust me," she says, instead of venting any anger she may hold.

I let out the breath I've been holding. "Then we will find it, and we will be swift about it."

Hazel looks between Sire and I, raising a brow.

"You two better find a way to be near each other without all this tension if we want to get anything done..."

I refuse to look at him as I shift uncomfortably. She is right...I can't be nervous around him all the time, otherwise I'll never be able to concentrate on the task at hand. And this task is the most important.

"I can think of some solutions." I can hear the smirk in my mates voice.

I roll my eyes. "Ugh. You're insufferable."

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~Midika 💜🐼