Fated: Hare and the Spirit (Pack of Heirs Book 6) Page 4

  I raised a brow. I felt a little offended. Was being kidnapped by me so boring that Leveret preferred playing in the dirt to indulging my great, evil plan?

  Trying to lure him back to the conversation, I said, "It's remote, but accessible on foot if they follow your scent. The flying shifters could reach us sooner, although it will take them at least a few days."

  "Okay."

  "Until then, you're stuck with me," I warned.

  "Okay."

  I stared at the back of his head in utter confusion. Why didn't he care? Was it because he felt friendly with me, even after just a few hours? Or was he ignoring me because he didn't respect me?

  There was nobody to blame but myself. I’d done a terrible job of being a kidnapper. Originally I hadn't wanted to frighten him, but this lack of respect was unacceptable. After all, it was healthy for mortals to have a tiny bit of awe and terror towards us spirits. Just a crumb of it. Was that too much to ask?

  I injected a darker tone into my voice. "Listen, mortal. You'd better do as I say, and don't even bother trying to escape. You can never outrun me."

  "Okay, Animus."

  Frustration flared inside me. The sinister voice always worked. Why wasn't it working with Leveret?

  I stormed towards him. He didn't look up when I loomed in front of him, my hair and cape billowing with fury.

  If there was one thing I despised, it was being ignored.

  Because being ignored meant being rejected.

  My claws clenched into fists as my temper reached its limit.

  "What is wrong with you?" I demanded.

  Leveret glanced up with a frown. Pain flashed in his eyes.

  His head blocked it before, but I saw now what he'd been looking at—a fragile white flower growing between the crags.

  He wasn't willfully ignoring me. He was looking at a flower.

  But it was too late. I'd already berated him.

  Leveret stood up and turned his back to me, his shoulders stiff. He walked away briskly towards the edge of the cliff. His previous calm and ease were shattered.

  And I was the one who’d shattered them.

  A slick, oily feeling coated my insides. I put a hand to my chest, disturbed by the sensation. What was this feeling? It was horrible.

  The abrupt turn in the mood between us changed the atmosphere of the landscape. A moment ago, the clouds and cliffs seemed splendidly mystical—now they were ominous and grim.

  A chill crawled over me. What did I, a spirit, have to be afraid of? It made no sense.

  I wasn't fond of the jarring shift in our dynamic. I preferred what we had before—trusting friendliness and banter.

  Even though that made no sense, either.

  Leveret stood at the lookout point with his back to me. When he looked at the flower, the sight of his shoulders was inviting somehow, like he would've enjoyed my company if I kneeled next to him.

  Now his shoulders balled with uncomfortable tension.

  I suddenly realized what the oily feeling represented: guilt. It was my fault that Leveret was upset. But why did I care so much? I was a powerful spirit. He was an average mortal. I didn't understand why hurting his feelings made me so remorseful.

  I never pretended to be an angel. I'd hurt mortals in the past, and I'd do it again.

  So why did I care so deeply about this specific mortal?

  A worm wriggled in my stomach. Leveret wasn't just a mortal, either. He was an alpha. Not a hulking caveman who threw shrieking omegas over his shoulder like sacks of flour, but an alpha nonetheless.

  Pushing the tangle of thoughts aside, I approached Leveret. He was an average height for an alpha, yet I stood taller than him.

  He stared into the yawning abyss below. He didn't look at me.

  "Leveret," I said.

  The corners of his eyes flashed with recognition, but he said nothing. His mouth was a thin line and his expression was taut.

  My heart dropped. His face looked so different than before. I'd really upset him.

  Ignoring why he affected me this much, I pushed on. I had to fix it.

  "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that," I murmured. "I was upset. But there was no need to take it out on you."

  Leveret faced me. The wind blew his soft-looking hair across his forehead.

  "Why were you upset?" he asked.

  I thought he'd say okay and move on. I didn't expect him to turn the focus back to me. All of a sudden, the conversation felt too intimate. Flustered, I cast my gaze into the unknown beneath us.

  "You weren't responding to me. You ignored me. And I hate being ignored," I said quietly.

  Speaking my feelings out loud was foolish. It was too weak, too vulnerable. Baring your emotions meant baring your soul, and you could never trust a mortal with your soul.

  Yet without realizing it, Leveret cracked me open and pulled the admission right out of me.

  His expression softened. "Oh." He paused. "I'm sorry, too. I wasn't trying to do that."

  A mortal alpha. Apologizing to me.

  If I didn't think Leveret was peculiar before, I absolutely did now.

  "It's fine," I said, still too flustered to meet his gaze.

  We stood in silence as the great clouds of mist skirted around us. It felt like we were alone together in a whole other world. At that moment, I forgot about Leveret's pack and my villainous scheme.

  Standing beside Leveret on the cliff's edge, I just was.

  "Leveret," I said.

  "Hm?"

  "There's nothing wrong with you. I want to make it clear I don't believe that."

  He smiled, his gaze dancing just out of reach from my own.

  "I know," he said.

  The knot of tension pulsing within me unravelled. I let out a sigh. The weight pushing on my chest was gone, leaving me relaxed again. Oddly, it was easy to relax with him.

  "Can I show you something?" Leveret asked.

  That was a Leveret-ism I enjoyed, too—the way he bounced back from conflict so easily. Perhaps I liked this trait because I was the opposite—surly and prone to holding grudges.

  "Sure," I said.

  Leveret brightened. There was a skip in his step as he backtracked to where he'd kneeled earlier and waved me over.

  He pointed to the white flower. "Look," he said urgently, like it was critical that I do so.

  "I see it," I said.

  "Do you know what it is?"

  I regarded him. By his tone, I recognized he asked because he wanted to be the one to explain what it was.

  Of course, I already knew. I was an immortal spirit. I'd walked this land from time immemorial—well, not counting the ages I was forced into darkness, but I did my best not to think about that—and I possessed more knowledge than any single mortal could obtain in their lifetime.

  And yet, I wanted to forget so Leveret could teach me. The excited anticipation on his face was too honest to refuse.

  "Why don't you tell me?" I suggested.

  His eyes lit up as he launched into it. "The common name for this flower is a celestial rose. The Latin name is Rosa obscurum. You might think 'obscurum' refers to the fact that it grows in obscure locations, like this cliff. But it's actually a reference to the fact that its petals only unfurl in darkness, which is the opposite of most roses that bloom in sunlight." He glanced up at the night sky, then back to the flower. "That's why it's blooming right now."

  Leveret paused to take a breath. He ran a finger gently along one of the white petals, careful not to damage it. His gaze was entirely focused on the rose.

  "I've never seen one before. Only read about it in books." As if remembering I was there, he looked at me. "Did you know all of that?"

  I wouldn't lie to him again, but I made an exception this time.

  "Not in that much depth. Thank you for explaining it to me," I said.

  Leveret smiled brightly. "You're welcome, Animus."

  Warmth ignited in my chest. When was the last time anyone said those words to me—and meant it?

  Never.

  Leveret's expression hadn't dulled. He was still smiling at me. My throat tightened, and the warmth grew hotter.

  He's only happy to talk about a topic he's passionate about, I told myself critically. It has nothing to do with you.

  I stood up, frazzled by my ridiculous reaction. But even the cold air blowing across the cliff's edge couldn't suck the warmth away.

  "You should get some rest. It's been a long night," I told him.

  He yawned. "Okay. Where should we sleep?"

  I nearly choked. "We?"

  "Aren't you going to sleep, too?" he asked.

  Feeling ridiculous, I recalled that Leveret had slept communally his whole life—either curled up with the pack, or in a cabin with his cousins. I’d misunderstood what he meant and blew it out of proportion.

  Maybe I needed a good, long rest, too.

  "I don't sleep the way you do," I explained. "But I'll take a break."

  He tilted his head. "Are you going to be far away?"

  Did he want me to stay close to him?

  "No," I said. "I'll be right here."

  "Okay. Good."

  Leveret shrunk as he shifted into his hare form. His fur fluffed up against the cool wind as he sought out a depression in the rocks with an overhang. He nestled into his makeshift shelter and closed his eyes.

  As a shiver ran visibly over his pelt, I had an inexplicable fantasy about shifting into something big and furry to help keep him warm.

  Good gods.

  Choosing a location so far from his pack was a mistake—with the ridiculous way my thoughts raced about Leveret, he needed to go home sooner than later.

  Seven

  Leveret

  My eyes blinked open to a massive
expanse of blue as far as I could see. Wispy white clouds raced across the sky. The air smelled crisp and fresh, and the cool wind ruffled my fur.

  At first, I didn't know where I was. But oddly, I didn't panic. I felt calm, not anxious, so everything must've been fine.

  Then I remembered what happened with Animus whisking me away in the middle of the night and bringing me to this cliff.

  I was right—everything was fine.

  Well, aside from the fact that Lupa was probably freaking out, and I suspected the rest of the pack was worried sick, too...

  I wished I could speak to them telepathically and tell them I was fine. Honestly, members of the pack got "kidnapped" all the time. That was how my uncles Weston and Nishiki met. My cousins Cloud and River wouldn't have been born if Weston hadn't snatched Nishiki out of the water, thinking he was a tasty snack...

  But the person—or entity, I should say—who stole me away was Animus. He was a contentious topic among my family. They argued constantly over whether he was good or evil.

  After a while, I tuned them out because I didn't understand the point of their debates. Why did Animus have to be one single thing?

  Why couldn't he just be him?

  "Good morning, mortal."

  Animus's voice surprised me. I didn't see him, but I heard him.

  I craned my head back to see him standing behind me. He held something in his clawed hand, but I couldn't tell what it was from this angle.

  "Here," he said, dropping the item at my paws.

  It was a bundle of freshly picked clover, grasses and dandelions—a mouthwatering breakfast for an herbivore. Was Animus one, too?

  "Is this your food?" I asked.

  He got that confused look on his face, which happened often when I asked him questions.

  "It's for you," he said.

  My eyes widened. "Really?"

  "No, I was doing some spring cleaning around the cliff and decided to drop the refuse right in front of you."

  "Oh."

  "...I was being sarcastic."

  Being sarcastic was the same thing as joking, I'd learned over the years.

  "You're funny, Animus," I said.

  His pale cheeks turned a deeper shade. He sat on the overhang, his black cape dragging on the rocks. "J-just eat the food."

  "Okay."

  My jaw worked as I chewed up the bundle of vegetation. It was easier to eat in hare form, since my teeth were better adapted to it. Halfway through breakfast, I paused.

  "Do you want some?" I asked.

  Animus waved a hand. "I don't need to eat."

  "Are you joking again or being serious?"

  "Serious. Unlike you, I'm not a mortal. I can't die of starvation and my body doesn't need nutrients to function."

  I swallowed a juicy dandelion head. "Wow. That's interesting. Can you eat? Or will you get sick if you do?"

  "I can eat and I don't experience physical illness."

  "Oh!" I examined the leftover pile. Picking up a clover by the stem, I showed it to Animus. "Here."

  "You want me to eat this tiny plant," he said slowly.

  I nodded.

  Sighing, Animus took the clover and popped it in his mouth.

  "Does it taste like anything?" I asked.

  "It tastes like I ate a leaf."

  My whiskers twitched excitedly. "So? It's really good, right?"

  He raised a brow at me, then smiled. "Yes, I suppose so."

  Animus never asked for another clover so I figured it was okay not to share the rest of my breakfast.

  When I was finished, I shifted to human form and watched Animus. He seemed distracted. He stared out into the expanse beyond the cliff's edge, the soaring birds and the steep drop into mist below.

  I didn't want to break his concentration, but I had a question.

  "Animus," I said.

  "Hm?"

  "What are we doing now?"

  He looked down at me. "We’re waiting."

  "For what?"

  "For your family to arrive."

  "Why?"

  His icy eyes narrowed. "It's none of your concern. Just go... entertain yourself."

  I felt conflicted. Normally I loved exploring on my own. Nobody else matched my rhythm—they either got bored, or walked past interesting things too fast or didn't pay attention when I explained something to them.

  But Animus did. He cared about my facts, and my feelings.

  "I want you to come explore with me," I said.

  Animus sat upright and stared at me, like I'd shocked him.

  "You want me... to come explore with you," he repeated.

  Maybe he thought he hadn't heard me right. "Yes."

  Animus dropped his head, sighed, then strode over to me. "All right, mortal. Lead the way."

  I perked up with anticipation. There were so many exciting sights I'd glimpsed last night but didn't have time to examine. Now I had nothing but time—and a willing partner to explore with.

  Our first stop was nearby underneath a damp cluster of rocks. The flesh of a bright orange mushroom stood out conspicuously among a light layer of moss.

  "Do you know what this is?" I asked.

  Even though the answer was always no, it seemed courteous to ask my family members before telling them interesting facts.

  "I do," Animus said. "But why don't you tell me anyway?"

  I faced him, blinking. He already knew? That was unusual. For a second, I was disappointed I couldn't teach him, but then I realized we could share knowledge together. That never happened!

  "You know this species of mushroom?" I asked.

  His lip curled into a half-smile. "I wasn't born yesterday, you know."

  "Neither were my family members, but they don't know as much as me," I pointed out.

  That made Animus snort in amusement. "Fair enough. It's an orange peel fungus."

  I couldn't believe it. He was right. I grinned, enthused about our shared connection.

  "Do you know the Latin name?" I asked eagerly.

  "All mortals do is name things..."

  "Is that a yes or no?"

  Animus sighed. "I've forgotten such tedious information. Enlighten me."

  "It's Aleuria aurantia. It's also non-toxic and edible for humans, if they cook it."

  "I'm neither susceptible to toxins nor human, but I'll keep that in mind."

  Our journey continued. We investigated stones, plants and other fungi that populated the cliff top. I had so much fun exploring with Animus that I didn't notice the sun moving across the sky. It was afternoon before I knew it. It surprised me that Animus never once mentioned boredom, or suggested we do a different activity.

  My family never would've lasted this long.

  And then I felt guilty that I was enjoying myself while my family worried about me.

  I paused in the middle of examining a chunk of sandstone. I frowned, lowering it to the ground.

  "What? Are you offended by silicate grains?" Animus suggested jokingly.

  "No," I said. "I feel bad that I'm having fun. Because I should try to go home, but I don't want to. Not yet."

  Animus regarded me with an expression I couldn't read.

  "Well, you are the victim of kidnapping, regardless of how much fun you're having," Animus remarked. "There's not much you can do except wait."

  "That's true. Like you said, I can't outrun you. And I don't want to, anyway." I looked at him. "Do you have a family?"

  His expression quickly changed into a sneer. "No."

  I suddenly felt bad for him.

  "That's sad. You should get one," I said.

  He scoffed. "Trust me, I'm quite all right without one."

  I thought that was a strange thing to say. Even if I didn't always understand my family members, I still loved them. We took care of each other. And if Animus didn't have a family, then it saddened me that nobody took care of him.

  "What if you were part of my family?" I suggested.

  Animus let out a loud, cackling laugh. "Oh, that's a good one."

  "I wasn't joking."

  His shoulders tensed and his mouth was stretched in a snarl, but it didn't seem aggressive—he seemed more scared than anything else, like a wolf baring its teeth when backed into a corner.

  "Don't make such outlandish suggestions," Animus said. "Your pack despises me."

  "Not all of them," I pointed out. "Some of my cousins defend you."

  Animus rolled his eyes. "How inspiring. Don't waste your breath trying to convince me. It won't happen."