Page 11 of Meeting Her Mate
Alexis handed me a warm towelette to clean myself and took the tray away. She came back promptly with another tray with a pot of tea.
“I did make this tea myself, though,” she said as she poured the boiling black liquid into a cup and stirred milk and sugar into it. “Try it. You’ll love it. It’s called chai.”
“Don’t mind if I do,” I said as I reached for the cup. The warmth coming from the cup felt so wonderful on my fingers. I drank the hot liquid and felt a jolt of energy rush through me. I was utterly transfixed by the delicious taste of this tea. I’d never had something like this before.
“Now, brother, I must implore you to share your tale with us,” Fred said. “As happy as it makes me to see you alive, hearty, eating, and drinking, I want to get to the bottom of the matter and understand how you, the bravest wolf of the pack, were captured. And by whom? And why for this long?”
I looked from Alexis to Fred and then to Alexis again. “I think I’ll take you up on your offer of whiskey.”
“Got it,” she said and disappeared once again, only to come back with a full bottle of caramel-colored liquid and three glasses balancing in her other hand. She handed Fred and me the glasses and poured us quite a lot of whiskey. I immediately brought the glass up to my nose and welcomed the tangy and sharp smell of the spirit in my nose.
Once I’d taken a deep sip from my glass, I took a deep breath and began my tale. After all, it was clear from both their faces that they were impatiently waiting for me to begin.
***
The greatest calamity I had seen, the Second World War, had been officially over for a year, or so they said in the news. I had no way of knowing, obviously, as I had taken my pack and traveled across the seven seas to the safety of another continent.
We had settled here, in Fiddler’s Green, as it was the first port we came to after months of sailing the open seas. The air was fresh, the grass was green, and the locals who lived there greeted us and treated us very amicably.
In time, the members of my pack integrated into the fabric of the town, becoming essential workers along the wharf, helping with the loading and unloading of cargo on ships, and taking up jobs that would help them survive in this new world, America.
A year passed, and I adjusted to a commoner’s life in this quaint little town. I was the alpha of my pack, and my best friend, my brother-in-arms, Kenneth Richards, was the second in command. We built the commune known as the Grimm Abode by hand, laying down the foundation for each house using Kenneth’s architectural knowledge and my knack for lifting and setting heavy things. Of course, wherever he could, my younger brother Fred always lent a hand.
All this while, I had my eyes set on the fair maiden Ariana Brubaker, my pack’s beautiful woman who hadn’t yet bonded with anyone as a mate. My heart was set on her. Sometimes, I would take her with me into the forest, and we would take long walks and talk with each other.
I had become acquainted with her company, and if I’m being honest, it was her company that had helped sanity prevail in my otherwise tumultuous life. But despite my advances, she would never reciprocate the love that I felt for her. She would be polite with me, courteous as one can be, but the more time I spent with her in the solitude of Fiddler’s Forest, the more I realized that this love was one-sided.
It was one unfavorable night in 1946; I think Ariana and I were taking one of our walks in the forest. It was late at night. This was usually when she and I used to wander and ponder together, usually after dinner.
Despite the realization that her affections did not extend towards me the same way mine did towards her, I still preferred her company, as she was a kindred soul. She would humor me and tell me the most affirming things, making me feel confident in my decisions as the alpha.
I hadn’t exactly made my peace with the notion that we hadn’t bonded, but for all intents and purposes, I believed that I would bond with her the moment she felt for me the same way I felt for her.
That never came to be.
On that night, as we walked side by side, the forest came alive with the sounds of rushing steps. Soon after, the sight of lit torches warned us of marauders in the forest. I knew that the forest was a wild place, particularly dangerous at night, but I had never before encountered any danger, and perhaps that had caused me to become lax.
It was an ambush. Those were not mere marauders but mercenaries under the order of some powerful man. At that point, I did not know anything about who that man was. All I knew was that I had to keep Ariana safe.
Those men referred to us as wolves. It surprised me that they knew that both of us were wolves. It meant that someone had let slip our identities to these soldiers. They attacked us from all sides, surrounding Ariana and me.
The look of terror on her face made my heart sink. I could not risk getting her in danger, not after I had brought her to another land for the sole intent of escaping from danger.
And so, I shifted and fought off those men while Ariana made her escape. It wasn’t that she was being selfish; I had commanded her before shifting that she should escape and call for help.
I never knew what had happened to her after that. It turned out that the sight of her running through the forest would be the last time I would ever see her.
Those mercenaries had tranquilizers of some kind that they used upon me, knocking me out. I had been putting up a brave fight and would have surely continued to fight and would have eventually won had they not cheated. Had they not used those tranquilizers.
When I came to, I was in shackles. I was no longer in my wolf form. I regained consciousness just in time to see my captors bringing me to a humongous Victorian-style mansion in the forest. I tried to free myself, but those men had me in a cage. They prodded me with sticks and threatened to sedate me if I didn’t stop fighting.
And so, helplessly, I witnessed as the architect of my capture stepped out of the door of his mansion, a menacing man with madness lit like fire in his eyes. Despite the maniacal aura he was emitting, he was a man with manners.
“Allow me to introduce myself,” he said as politely as he could, completely ignoring the
fact that his men had a noose around my neck and were dragging me out of the cage like I was a rabid dog. He kept on talking as if he was at a tea party. He had a thick British accent that made it harder for me to understand what he was saying. “I am Lord Edward Beckett, retired from Her Majesty’s service in the East India Trading Company. My various adventures and quests have brought me to this brave new world. Personally, I find the freedom that this country offers quite liberating. The air is alive with opportunity. And that’s where you come in, my friend.”
All the torture and experimentation that followed would have been far more bearable had the man fit some evil archetype. But the very fact that he was such a polite, mild-mannered, well-dressed, articulately-spoken gentleman made everything worse.