Wolves' Bane (The Order of the Wolf, #3)(29)
He turned toward Morgan, his eyes scanning her face for a moment before looking up through the slatted roof to stare out into the dusky night sky. He hadn’t liked seeing her so close to the forest, hadn’t like the sensation of his heart crushing and his gut clenching when he realized how near she’d come to danger. The feelings made him uncomfortable as hell. As his Huntress, he wanted to protect her, but there was something more to his emotions. Something that he was fighting to gain control over. Something that had him puzzled and frustrated. When he saw her there, standing at the edge, so near danger, he felt like his whole world was about to implode. His mind had leapt to the impossible idea of having to live his life without her, and it had almost brought him to his knees. It was a dangerous reaction, one fueled by the magic of their entwined destinies. He was supposed to be schooling those kinds of emotions, keeping her at arm’s length. Cal wasn’t sure what the bonding would do to those feelings, but he guessed that they would only magnify and suddenly he was afraid.
How would he control his feelings if nature overruled?
He looked down at his lap and realized that he still held her hand. Such a small hand nestled in his huge palm, so delicate and soft. She shifted to the side and the touch of her thigh against his was enough to jolt his heart once again, enough to have his cock straining against the confines of his pants. He cleared his throat and released her hand, adjusting his position so that he could face her and conceal his growing need.
She turned toward him, her eyes still glistening from the tears she hadn’t yet shed. She pulled her arms across her chest, shielding her breasts from him, closing him out. He knew he was sending mixed signals—was doing everything to hide his warring emotions, rejecting her in the process.
“Our history is rich in folklore,” Cal started as he raked his hand along the stubble of his jaw. He needed a shave in the worst way—would have loved a shower too, especially if it involved him and Morgan together, water cascading over her lush skin, his hands trailing to places that begged for caressing. With a hard shake of his head, Cal cleared his throat. “You’ve heard the story of the little girl and the wolf?”
“What, you mean Little Red Riding Hood?” Morgan asked doubtfully, her eyebrows cocked. “You’re telling me that story is true?”
“Yes, as strange as it may sound, Little Red has a basis in truth. The story has been altered over the centuries to suit the needs of society, to teach a lesson to children about the dangers that lurk in dark places. But the original tale is much more sinister. It’s not the kind of story that any parent would want their child hearing and it is much, much older than anyone realizes, right back into ancient mythology. Rather than a little girl in a red cloak, the original tale is actually about an Amazon warrior, Alkaia, who was having a secret affair with a man—an act forbidden by her Amazon tribe.”
“It was Lazarus, wasn’t it?” Morgan’s voice was hushed, her eyes wide.
He shook his head. “No, the man who was once destined to be with Alkaia was called Lycaon. Their affair caused a war. A man and his army fighting for his love, pitted against a powerful race of female warriors who believed it would be better for Alkaia to die with honor than to succumb to her heart’s desires. To the Amazons, men were only good for one thing: propagating the Amazon race with female babes and nothing more. Love had no place in their thinking.”
He cleared his throat again. It was not an easy tale to tell. “The story goes that Zeus didn’t like it, that he wanted the war to end. His daughter Artemis, the goddess primarily worshipped by the Amazons, was very unhappy with her warriors fighting such a senseless battle. But they were so crazed to save Alkaia that they wouldn’t stop at her command. Zeus went to Lycaon and demanded that he give up the girl, but Lycaon would have none of it. He was so angry with Zeus for even suggesting it that he went so far as to attempt to trick Zeus into eating human flesh—a horrible desecration that he knew would dishonor Zeus if he succeeded. The god realized Lycaon’s plan and was suitably pissed. As punishment, he condemned Lycaon to live the life of a beast, turning him into the first werewolf and, ironically, dooming the human race to an unending war.
“Lycaon went after his love, determined to claim his bride, despite the fact that he was cursed to transform into a beast without warning. When he found her, in the forest where her tribe lived, he was crazed, overcome by the beast within. He captured her and raped her, brutalizing her body in a frenzy of aggression and passion. He dragged her deeper into the woods and ravaged her body over and over while the moon was high, his body transforming from man to beast over the course of the night. When morning finally came, he left her to die, broken and bloody.
“The hunter found her, a lone man who made the forest his home. He tended to her wounds and vowed to avenge her. Over the months of her recovery, she fell in love with her savior. She confided in him, told him of her attacker, of the beast and Zeus’s curse, of her heritage, and the Amazons who had vowed to kill her before they allowed her to fall in love with a man. It wasn’t long after that she discovered she was with child. The hunter vowed to do whatever was necessary to help her, no matter what the outcome would be. When the child was born, it was obviously touched by the same affliction that Lycaon had been marked with. Born larger than any human child, it was capable of walking on its four legs from birth, mewling and crying for her to nurse it while at the same time growling and clawing at her flesh. It was an abomination. A beast. A monster.”