Shattered - Completed

37 - Precious

Gavin

My love is funny. Her inner thoughts, her relationship with her wolf, with the Knowing - it's amusing. She has a clever mind and a sharp tongue, even if she keeps it to herself.

I thank the goddess CeCe Marked me, so that I can hear it all. I nuzzle her cheek, wanting nothing else but to take her back to our makeshift den and... what was her belief? 'Fuck the preciousness out of her?' No, that's impossible. 'Fuck it into her?' No matter, same idea, same fun result.

And... she thought about the prick, so I should fulfill her sinful fantasies. It's what a good mate does.

She needs to eat more, first. I know, from sorting through our shared dream, that she has a love/hate relationship with food. I'll have to stay on top of that. In the meantime, I signal Javi to hand over more meat. Maybe some flank strips. Easier to chew though not as nutritious.

The scent of sunshine grows as she takes a bite without looking away from her father. I inhale, taking in the beautiful smell of my female. "What is a First Guardian?" she asks. "You called yourself that, once. It sounds so official." I admire her for a moment, just soaking in her happiness. Her hair is shinier than it was when I arrived here. Her skin is brighter, too. She's still far too skinny and her shift was abnormally painful, signs that her she-wolf is starved of both food and affection, but she's slowly growing healthier.

I have to make sure she stays on track. Our fucking first run together was a rushed affair back to warm her up and bring back a traitor. Fuck. It pisses me off. Worse, CeCe's feels sorrow over the failed bonding experience between our wolves. It makes the fiend's rage simmer.

"The male who is closest to you. A guard, but also someone who helps carry the burden of your Sight. Shelters you and protects you. Loves you," Uther is explaining.

"Sounds like a mate," Javi speaks up, arms folded across his chest.

"Except for the Knowing part," Sabina says. "Right, Sire?" She looks at me expectantly, but I'm busy combing the ice out of CeCe's hair so it can dry properly. I should have done this already.

"Gavin?" Dad snaps out, itching his neck with his clawed fingertips. I shoot him a side-eyed glare. Just because he's getting twitchy without Mom around doesn't mean he needs to bite wolves' heads off.

"Yes, I see her dreams," I snap right back.

"And," Malcolm says calmly, "it's more than just seeing her memories. These are dreams. The Sight. You can tell if they are the truth or not." It's not a question, but a statement of fact, and it makes the fur on my fiend's back stand up.

Agitated, I stand with CeCe in my arms, silently cursing the disruption to her meal. Tenderly, I settle her back into the chair so that I can join my father in the center of the room. The king steps back, folding his arms across his chest and scowling as fur erupts all along the backs of his hands. I'll be shocked if he can last another night without taking off to the south to rejoin Mom.

Rolling my neck, I look upward at the ceiling, noting the smoky soot covering the wooden beams. A flash of my sweetheart's memories caresses my mind as soft as butterfly wings. No one ever cleaned the ceiling, because my mate was too small even standing on a chair, and no one else in this goddess-forsaken pack would lower themselves to do it.

I hate getting those glimpses of her past. The fiend balks at the patience his sire has shown these wolves. He wants to murder someone. Before finding CeCe, I wanted to destroy this entire pack. He still does.

"Is that unusual?" I ask the entire room full of wolves. "Is it normal to be able to tell if your mate's dreams are real or not?" I lower my head to stare into the crone's hate-filled gaze. "Is it odd that I know if her dreams are hers or yours?"