Greykin Valley

| 66 | Talk of Ancestors

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| Jackson |

The pain lasted exactly an hour. Jackson writhed and fidgeted beside Damon, trying his best to cope with it. The comfort of the bed did nothing to help, and neither did his mate's embrace. Everything that usually helped soothe his discomfort was useless, and he suspected that whatever Lucian did to him was the reason.

He didn't want to be around these people anymore—no...he liked the wolves, but the demons? He didn't want to be a demon. He didn't want to be a part of demon society. He wanted nothing to do with them. But did he even have a choice? Did he get to decide whether or not he wanted to be part of a society that let higher ranks torture someone? He pouted and buried his face into Damon's shirt. Wolf walkers were the same, weren't they? At least they were supposed to be. He remembered what Julian told him about packs and how they treat Omegas, and that was pretty much how Lucian had treated him, wasn't it? Lucian was the Alpha...and he was just the lowly Omega.

And Raphael. Jackson hadn't taken him for a whiny snitch, but he was wrong. But he didn't exactly blame him; if he was part of a royal bloodline, he might end up using his status in the same way. If he'd had bloodline armour back when Aysel and Elias and everyone else were bullying him, maybe he could have avoided everything that happened. But then again...he wasn't a whiny bitch, and if those things hadn't happened, then he might not be where he was now; he might not be Damon's mate, and he might not be taking part in a mission that would save not only wolf walkers but probably the entire Caeleste world.

He was just glad that Wilson didn't have to see him get dragged across that floor and treated like a worthless insect. Yeah, it was embarrassing, and he hated that Damon and the pack witnessed it, but for some reason, he felt as if his best friend seeing it would have been a whole lot worse. Not only would it make him look weak and stupid, but Wilson would have likely tried going for Lucian, too, and unlike Damon, he wasn't as strong and would have definitely had a bone or two broken if he was thrown against a wall.

And he hadn't forgotten about what Wilson said to him before he escaped Kane's arena, either.

"Are you feeling better?" Damon suddenly asked.

Jackson snapped out of his thoughts and exhaled deeply. The pain was finally withering, but it still felt like his leg was on fire. "Not really, but it's fading."

Damon huffed and muttered, "If that white-haired piece of shit wasn't some demon heir, I'd tear him apart."

"Yeah, well, karma will get him someday," Jackson mumbled, although he wasn't entirely sure that was true. As much as he hated to admit it, Lucian had some sort of demon right to do what he did. "I just...wanna get out of here. We need to get to the lab."

"I'd leave right now if we could, but Cyrus said he's holding a meeting later regarding our mission, and we've all got to be there. As much as I want to get this over with, Kane is still out there, and we can't risk running into him again. I assume this meeting will tell us what the plan is and how we deal with this shit."

Jackson sighed heavily. "This pack is like...super strong, though. They have vampires and demons and wolf demons—why can't they deal with Kane while we get to the lab?"

"I guess we'll find out."

With a deep exhale, Jackson rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling...which was painted with murals. He frowned curiously and eyed the hand-painted artwork of dragons, wolves, and humanoid Caeleste; it reminded him of the paintings he saw in that ice cave when he first travelled with Damon's pack, only the images above him had much more detail. Feather-winged men and women, and some with dragon-like wings, too. And in the very centre was a huge white dragon with an almost-white-blue furred mane. It was like something out of the Book of Lore—something someone might find in a Lethidian church.