WARNINGS: Rated M+. Mild violence, sexual content and supernatural themes. This is a fictional story.
Anamchara = soul mate
Tá tú go h-álainn= you're beautiful
a shíorghrá= my eternal love
col ceathar = cousin.
Kyra Taitt trembled as she walked down the darkened street, heading back towards her apartment. Her eyes roamed the gloominess, trying to sense who, or what, was following her. The feeling that she was not alone had been lingering with her for some time... for the past two years. She didn't like it, the feeling was intensified tonight. The light from the full moon created eerie shadows, the sounds of small rodents scurrying sent shivers through her body.
Only half a block was separating her from her haven when the heavy foot falls sounded. Her scream caught in her throat as a loud howl reverberated behind her. Swiftly turning, pressing her back against the brick wall, she was terrified by what was crouched down in front of her.
An enormous silver wolf, at least twice the size of any she had witnessed in the zoo, stood before her, snarling.
The hairs on the back of her neck prickled as the beast took slow measured steps towards her.
She was the prey, the hunted; the weaker of the two.
The light in the small street diminished, the cloud covering the moon, and the animal paused, its steps faltering.
A second beast suddenly appeared on her left, its fur black as the night, snarling at the wolf frozen in front of her. Even larger than the first, the obsidian wolf circled the other beast, coming to a stop in front of Kyra, taking a protective stance.
She waited with bated breath, watching the two animals communicate silently. Her heart pounded exaggeratedly in her chest, crashing against her ribs. She stood stock still, afraid any slight movement would set them off.
Kyra's eyes were drawn to the sky as the cloud revealed the moon once more. The snarling escalated in volume, startling her. Her last conscious memory was the pain of her flesh ripping before she was slammed roughly into the brick, her mind becoming clouded with darkness, escaping the pain that was tearing through her body.
Her body ached as her eyes flickered open. Kyra didn't recognize her surroundings; she couldn't recall what had happened, or how she could have arrived at wherever she was now.
The bed she found herself reclining in was enormous, the sheets unbelievably silky soft. The same soft material was draped around the frame of the bed, cocooning her inside. Her eyes couldn't see past the material, she could only make out mismatched blurred figures.
The back of her head throbbed as she sat up. Her fingers ghosted over large gauze bandages covering her arms, chest and throat. She was clothed in a delicate sheer dress that covered her body, but provided little modesty.
Kyra recoiled back against the headboard as footsteps echoed from the other side of her cushioned sanctuary. A strange tingling sensation swept through her body, the humming within her growing as the person drew nearer. The footsteps ceased, and her chest rose and fell rapidly as both her breathing and heart rate increased.
The curtains around the bed slowly parted as she yanked the sheets up to her neck, hopefully hiding her body. A gasp left her lips as an incredibly gorgeous man came into view. His bare chest was sculpted with defined muscles, the striking dark green of his eyes pierced through hers sending shock waves throughout her body, his black hair tickled his neck, just above his shoulders, the structure of his face was pure raw masculinity, and his height of at least 6'7'' made him tower over her. There was also a captivating intricate tattoo that peaked over his shoulder, seeming to continue down his back, hints of the markings creeping around the right side of his chest.
Her breathing ceased altogether as he carefully sat down beside her, his eyes raking over her as if the blankets didn't cover her at all. Kyra shied away from him as he leaned towards her, the sensations his presence created in her were too much, especially as he drew ever nearer.
"I'm glad you've awoken." His strong, sinful voice washed over her, the strange accent giving her pause as she tried to pinpoint it. "How are you feeling, Kyra?" Her eyes widened as she blinked slowly.
She didn't think she was in a hospital, she had never laid eyes on this man in her life, yet he knew her name. Her eyes hardened, glaring at him almost.
"Fine, thank you. I'd like to go home." Kyra announced, feeling like a petulant child.
The man smiled smoothly, gently shaking his head.
"I'm sorry, sweet, I can't let you leave." He stood again, her eyes drawn to his waist, and the delicious v that was emphasized by his soft black cotton pants resting dangerously low on his hips.
Her mind suddenly processed his words as he allowed the curtains to fall back around the bed, separating them.
Spluttering with anger, Kyra clawed at the material, horrified as it simply shredded under her fingers.
Flinching backwards, her eyes were riveted on the claws that were suddenly protruding from the tips of her fingers. Within the space of a blink, they were gone.
"What do you mean, you can let me leave?!" She cried instead, sitting still, afraid she would destroy something else while not being entirely convinced of what she had just seen. People didn't grow talons from their fingers...
The man abruptly appeared before her once again, lightly touching the damaged silk.
"Please be weary of your temper, love." She felt an unexpected tremor of pleasure at the use of the intimate nickname, "We don't want any more... accidents. I promise, on your soul, that I will explain everything to you in good time. You need to rest now, sweet. Give your wounds time to heal. I want a swift recovery, I rather dislike seeing you injured and in pain." Kyra gasped as his fingers trailed gently down the bandage on her neck, the wounds beneath heating considerably. The feeling of his touch was indescribable, electrifying, exhilarating... beyond anything she had ever encountered. It was at that moment she realized the sheets had fallen to her waist.
Scrambling away from him, she covered herself again and gazed at him wearily.
"Anamchara, Tá tú go h-álainn," he whispered softly, crawling onto the bed toward her, his eyes alight with wonder. "I will not hurt you; I can help you, ease the pain." She frowned as he came closer, frightened of the foreign man before her that made her feel.
"How did you know my name?" Kyra demanded. The man sighed, sitting back on his heels as he observed her with an unwavering eye.
"I know everything about you." He stated calmly, his words, for some reason, shooting a thrill down her spine.
"I-b-but how?" Her voice quivered, fear settling solidly in the pit of her stomach.
Who was he? A stalker? A murderer? A psychotic creep?
"I told you already, a shíorghrá, that I wish you no harm. I am not a stalker, or a psychotic creep, I promise you. I do not murder humans, but they will no longer be a large concern for you, so the point is rather moot." He drawled. She processed his words, her heart accelerating.
"How did you do that?! Know what I was thinking?" Kyra tried to slowly slide backwards, away from him.
Another sigh left the man's lips, like he was exasperated with her.
"Kyra, we are soul mates. You are my soul mate; can you not feel it? Your mind is open to mine, as mine will be to yours, once you accept your true nature. I can heal you, love, so come here and let me remove your pain." His manner was brusque as he wrapped an arm around her waist and drew her into his chest, his hands slowly moving over her wounds. The strange heating of her skin began again, and once it had faded, she was left at ease, her pain gone. The blood in her veins however, seemed to be positively singing with his close presence.
"I – who, or rather, what are you? I don't believe you. What true nature?!" She squirmed, trying to escape his grip. He held her tightly, not harming her, but certainly asserting his strength.
"It will take time for you to come to terms with what you are now, love; you will soon believe me. Our true nature; the nature of powerful supernatural beings. Do you not recall what happened?" His dark green eyes searched her troubled grey ones as her mind whirred; trying to remember something that was obviously a significant event, one that had thrown her into this wack-job's pathway.
A loud snort drew her out of her musings.
"I am not, as you so eloquently phrased it, a wack-job. I suppose the knock to your head has hidden the memory from you. I suspect you will remember it sooner or later." His hands slid under the flimsiness of her dress, unwrapping her bandages, gently caressing her suddenly healed skin. There were only thin hairline scars remaining from her wounds.
"How dare you!" Kyra exclaimed, slapping his hands away even though she felt absolutely entranced by him, "I don't know who you are! I don't even know your name! Don't touch me."She spat, trying to hide her body from his eyes and hands, shaking as her skin tingled from his contact.
"Darick, at your service, love," He smirked softly at her, holding out his hand. Wearily, she lifted hers to shake his. Once her hand was encased in his, he rapidly drew her back into his body, rolling them so he was perched above her. "I have waited my entire existence for you, Kyra. You're perfect; my perfect woman, mate, lover. I shall be doing a lot more than touching you, love."
She thrashed underneath him, feeling undeniably threatened. Who did this man think he was?
"Get off me!" Her scream echoed around them, and abruptly, she found the man's weight gone.
Her chest heaving, she scrambled under the covers, burying her head under the large pillows. Tears slid down her cheeks as she sobbed. She was so confused, scared, terrified.
"Kyra... I'm sorry, that was too forward of me. I'm sorry, love, I didn't mean to upset you." She flinched as his hand rested lightly on her back. Reluctantly though, she relaxed, a calm seeming to wash over her as he soothingly rubbed his hand up and down.
Kyra turned over, to face him, his hands instantly moving to wipe away her tears.
"I need you to explain what is going on. Now." She demanded quietly as he ducked his head and pressed his lips to her wet cheeks. A zing of energy coursed through her.
"Darick, please!" Kyra growled, trying to put some force behind her words. His heart warmed at the use of his given name, hearing it from her lips sent a thrill to his soul.
"Please what, a shíorghrá?" He whispered, his breath on her face wracking her body with tremors of pleasure.
Her hand pushed against his chest, removing his lips from her skin.
"Please, tell me!" She cried, fear once again jolting her; she couldn't trust this man until she had all the facts, no matter how he made her feel. No matter how he made her heart ache with longing. No matter how he set her on fire with one look or a gentle touch. No matter how appealing his scent was to her senses, or how attractive he was in every way to her.
"There is no need to be frightened, love. I don't understand how you can be frightened of me." He murmured, gently running a hand through her smooth dark red hair.
"I don't know who you are! I don't know where I am, how I got here, or what happened to me! Of course I'm frightened." Kyra announced, poking his chest repeatedly.
His hand captured her fingers, drawing them above her head as he pressed his body down over the length of hers. The flimsiness of her dress and his pants did little to provide a barrier between them; she felt the warmth of his body from her head to her toes. Their bodies seemed to pulse with an electrified energy, singing to the other, delighted with their nearness. She trembled as he shifted slightly, his hot, hard and large erection nudging her thigh through his pants.
"Kyra, I will give you answers, but I do not wish for you to interrupt me as I speak. Please wait until I finish before asking more of your questions, alright love?" He asked carefully, his eyes staring unblinkingly into hers, mesmerizing her.
"Okay." She agreed breathlessly.
Lying down on his back, by her side, he curled his arm around her waist and held her against his chest. Again warmth immediately spread through both of their bodies.
"My name is Darick Valkeri. I am leader of the Valkeri pack. I have walked this earth for many hundreds of years, searching for you. My hopes of finding you had all but vanished. I am, according to human standards, twenty years old, but I have been so for a long time. While our kind ages much slower than humans. After we reach maturity, we can only begin to age again once we have found and been bound to our anamchara. Both of my parents passed away in the last century, regrettably, as I'm sure they would have both loved to meet you. I have numerous siblings, one of which you have already had the displeasure of meeting." His voice echoed softly in the large room, as his words and breath caressed her skin.
Her mouth opened, ready to question him, but his fingers rested on her lips imploring her to remain quiet.
"We have existed for many eons, roamed the earth since the dawn of time. Watched the rise and fall of numerous powers, but survived through each war and conflict. There aren't many of our kind left, a hundred thousand at the most. The majority of us were wiped out during what the humans deem, the Dark and Middle Ages. Our pack is just shy of two hundred in size. The colony is located here, in what I suppose humans call, mansions. Ten mansions, that is, which are dispersed across the countryside. We are located quite a few miles out from the city." He paused again, letting his words sink in for a moment.
When she started to fidget, he continued on.
"I carried you here from the city to recover. It has taken you a little over three days to regain consciousness. My plan was to wait until your twentieth birthday to claim you; however my arrangements weren't, apparently, to be desired. My brother, whom I mentioned before, is still quite uninhibited when it comes to control. He has not been able to master perfect control of his form, nor his powers, when a full moon draws near; not in the way the rest of us ancients have. I hadn't realized he'd escaped, you see, until he was almost upon you. He attacked you brutally, sweet. I was able to fight him off, a few of us were able to subdue and restrain him, but the damage was already done. You would have been transformed after we had mated, however it would have been a much more pleasant experience through mating. I imagine your memories of the event will be disagreeable. Questions, a shíorghrá?" Darick fell silent finally, titling Kyra's chin upwards, reading her eyes as he encountered her thoughts.
Her mouth opened and closed, a small frown furrowing her brows.
"But what exactly are you? What am I, now? How did I grow... claws?" She whispered, her mind sorting through the newly acquired information. This man was certainly a loony – perhaps he had drugged her, and now she was simply hallucinating. That sounded like a plausible, logical solution to the situation.
"A werewolf. By being bitten and scratched, you were transformed, your genetics altered. We are both werewolves, a shíorghrá. Supernatural creatures of the night; we are incredibly strong and have high agility and endurance. We are cunning, fast, fierce, protective, and loyal as well as extremely efficient at killing and fighting. Our bodies can heal exceptionally fast, which also slows our aging process. We have enhanced senses: eyesight so advanced, we can not only see perfectly well in the dark, but we also have infrared-vision, not to mention our advanced sense of smell and heightened hearing. When bound with our mate, our powers become superior; however, the process also makes us more vulnerable. If one dies, so does the other, for life without your mate would be an undesirable existence. Some of our kind are also gifted with certain extra talents. I can teleport, another of my family is a shape shifter, another is telekinetic, and another can manipulate memories. They are of course, quite rare. Only ten or so in our pack have theses abilities." Darick explained slowly, carefully, trying to judge her reactions.
"A werewolf?! B-but, no! They're just creatures of myths, not real, imaginary, as are superhuman powers!" She discounted easily, trembling as he caressed her waist gently where his hand rested just above her hip.
"I assure you, love, that I am in fact very real. Will I have to prove it you?" He rubbed his cheek against hers before sitting up, eyes trained on her.
Her eyes followed him as he slowly climbed over her body and off the bed. He held a hand out towards her, which she bleakly grasped. They moved through the bed curtains out into the main area of the room. Gently seating her in an enormous arm chair, Kyra watched as Darick took a few measured steps back from her.
Her eyes roamed the large, luxurious room, touching on the rich colors of the walls, carpets, paintings, furniture and the window which revealed the dark night sky. The clearing of a throat drew her eyes back to her so-called-soul-mate.
Smirking at her, Darick slid his cotton pants off, tossing them into her lap. Standing in front of her, every inch of his skin open to her scrutiny, he flexed his muscles and rolled his shoulders. Taking another step back from her, she watched as his body shivered, and he collapsed onto all fours, his body suddenly exploding in a mass of silky black fur.
A wolf. A werewolf.
The beast before her sent her mind reeling. Memories flashed viciously through her. Two beasts, the moon, her flesh tearing, burning pain, darkness.
Gasping, as she felt two gentle hands on her face, she twisted and flailed.
"Kyra! Enough, calm down, love. You are safe and perfectly fine, sweet, it's over." The strong voice washed over her.
Pushing him away, roughly, she wrapped her arms around her chest.
"I want to go home. I don't want this! I don't want to be like this!" She shouted, tears falling on her cheeks.
It's not real. It can't be real. She wordlessly chanted.
"You are not going home. You are my mate. Your place is by my side. I am your home, as you are mine." His voice echoed with authority, certainty.
"But what about my family? My friends?" Kyra argued futilely as he lifted her out of the chair effortlessly, as if she wasn't thrashing about in his arms, and carried her back to the bed.
"They have already been informed of your passing. You have a new family now. You're tired and irritable, love, this is a lot to take in. You will get some rest now, before we talk anymore on the matter." Darick declared, easily sliding her under the blankets.
Snatching his pants up from where they had fallen on the floor, he dressed rapidly and maneuvered his body under the sheets, pulling Kyra snugly into his arms. Her fists pounded erratically against his chest as he simply held her. Quickly tiring, she melted into his embrace as his lips pressed against her hair and face.
"Sleep, love. I'll be here when you wake." The resonance of his voice changed, his words echoing in her mind, hopelessly lulling her to sleep.