The Lost Token

Chapter Eight

The wooden swing hung limply from the thick, swollen oak's limb. I lay propped up on the side, my head tilting, my eyelids closed to take in the warm, bright sun-rays. My fingers absently trailing across my belly.

I've taken to rubbing it when I think about a topic, especially ones that involve my pup. It was a weird thought; I'm going to be a mother. I flush at it.

I allow my mind to drift back to the forbidding males in my life. When the pack learns of my state, I'll be banished, won't I? Cast out as a disgrace to the pack.

So now I play the waiting game. I stay sitting there, propped up against the old, wooden swing, for hours on end. What else could I do? I was subjected to whatever future the pack would grant me, and I knew some wouldn't be light with their punishments.

It was when I heard the car door slam hard that my pulse quickened, or maybe it was when my dad's voice screamed at me, pushing me to move, to run.

"Clay!" He bellowed, knowing I wasn't far. I scraped myself off of the seat, pulling myself towards reality.

"Coming," I mumbled, tottering towards the porch with guilt etched into my features. He stands there, his back to me. I can tell he already knows what I had done, why wouldn't he? Jae would've told him by now.

A twig snaps beneath my barefoot and I wince in pain. Dad spins around, his icy hues narrowing in on my face.

"We need to talk," he said, pulling open the front door and waving me in. I follow orders, walking into the house. It felt foreign, it was as though I was looking through someone else's eyes.

The same warm colors littered the wall, but it felt different; wrong. I take a seat in the farthest chair from dad's, careful not to scrape it against the hardwood flooring.

"Yes?" I ask meekly, not meeting his eyes. I hear him sigh and catch him rubbing his temples.

"Your mom wanted me to wait for her, but she's working a late shift tonight." I nod at him, waiting for him to continue. With another grunt he said, "We've been meaning to talk to you about your heritage."

"Our heritage, you mean." I correct him, meeting his eyes. Pain and stress wears them. He shakes his head at me.

"No, your heritage." I stare at him like he's grown three heads. "Trust me when I say we wanted to tell you earlier, Clay, but we can't keep it under wraps anymore, not with the Royal Ambassador visiting tomorrow."

My eyes bug out, shock running through my veins. "Why would that matter?" I manage to squeeze out, but I figured I knew the answer.

He offers me a sheepish smile. "You hold what they're looking for." That was not the answer I was expecting.

"I hold what they're looking for?" He nods at me and the confusion muddles my thoughts even more. "What do you mean?"

Dad sighs, rubbing his forehead with his long fingers. "When you were little, we found you in the woods by a stream." He watches my face for a reaction. "Back then we didn't know who you were and as beta I was ordered to take you in."

"So I'm not your daughter." I state awkwardly. "Not by blood, anyway." I correct myself. Dad was dad, that didn't matter if we were related by our blood.

He nods, "Not by blood, in any other way, you are." I smile at him, tears threatening to spill over.

"When you were fifteen and didn't change, we knew that you were special." He stops, almost like he was deciding whether or not to say the next part. "So we sought out help. The only other pack that would consult with us about a human was the Royal Bloodline, which is only because we're their subjects."

I knit my eyebrows together, my lips pursing in confusion. "What'd they say, exactly?" I dare to ask.

He smiles at me and squeezes my hand in comfort. "The counsel suggested casting you out, saying you were a bane to our pack, a curse." Dad's lips purse, irritation flickering across his features.

"They didn't mention exactly what you were, but then your mom and I started doing our own digging." His features were grim, his lips tugging down at the ends.

"Do you know what Clay means? Your mother and I would never have named you.. That." I shrug, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear.

"No, what does it mean?" I'd always been a bit curious, but the meaning behind my name was the least of my worries. "Does it even matter, dad?" I sigh, pulling my leg up to my chest.

Dad gives a sad, bitter laugh, "In this case, it does matter." He smiles, his eyes not holding the usual twinkle. "It means one subjected to death at any given moment. It means you're born to danger, hell you're engaged to it. Woven together for eternity, you're what the Council whisper as a curse, Clay."

I feel my chest cave in, my delicate features falling at his words. Shock tempts my body into shutting down but I force it to stay conscious, to remember the anger, pain, and sadness that is flowing through me.

"Then dad.. What am I??" Wrapping my body in his tight embrace, he cries into my shoulder.

His fingers run through my wild locks, as though a passionate attempt to soothe a wild babe. "You're an Heir. The current Queen.. She believes you to be a threat to her queenhood."

"What does that mean?" I furrow my eyebrows, clutching onto the only father I've ever known. "What is an Heir?"

He sighs into my mussed my hair, " Running in your blood is royalty, but it's something else.. Something more. Something the Luna Goddess deemed to her very own bloodline. You're an Heir, Clay. You're part of the Goddess's bloodline herself."

"Something the Council would fear.." I whisper against him, salty tears streaming down my red cheeks. I feel him nod, pulling away from me.

"We had been meaning to tell you, Clay. Just.. when is it ever the right time?" I close my eyelids, putting my fingers on my head.

"I guess now is a good time to start packing." I say softly, dad looks at me with tear filled eyes, slowly nodding.