Tempestuous Miracles (4 page)

He wasn't sure what made him open his notepad, but he did, and he flipped it to the very last page, the sketch he'd drawn earlier today, before the storm. He hadn't even seen it before, not really, so it was weird that he would make the connection. But then, a lot of things were weird about the situation—starting with him drawing Frey's eyes before the man had even been on the island.

Because of the angle, Frey couldn't see what he was looking at, and he was undoubtedly waiting for a reaction to the whole mate thing. "What is it?" he asked tentatively.

He didn't try to peek at the page, and Mirian appreciated that. His father and Ariel didn't always understand that his drawings were a part of him, and thus, private. Frey seemed instinctively aware of this, giving Mirian as much space as he wanted. It was... comforting.

With a soft smile, Mirian turned the notepad toward Frey. It didn't take long for Frey to realize what he was looking at. "What... When did you draw this?"

"Just before I found you on the beach," Mirian replied.

He had drawn similar things before, disconnected pieces, silhouettes. He'd often drawn a wolf, although he'd blamed that on liking animals in general. Never mind that he hadn't actually seen a real wolf in his life, only in books. Yes, Mirian had always been very good at excuses.

Frey caressed the page with an almost worshipful gesture. "What does this mean? I've never heard of Bearers being... psychic."

"I don't really understand it myself," Mirian admitted.

Frey hummed thoughtfully. "Werewolves are supposed to be able to recognize their mates on sight," he said. "I... felt you before I even set foot on the island."

Mirian definitely hadn't expected that. "You felt me?"

Frey nodded. "I didn't know it was you I was feeling. I just... I saw the island and I knew there was something important here, something I couldn't leave behind."

As Frey spoke, a different suspicion wormed its way through Mirian. He had never actually asked Frey how he'd ended up on the beach. The whole situation, the strange tension between them and this... thing he hadn't been able to define had distracted him. Now that he could think, though, it occurred to him that werewolves didn't just get washed up on the beach for no reason.

"Frey... What did you do?"

Frey shot him a sheepish look. "When the storm started, my father decided to turn the yacht around. I couldn't leave you, so I jumped into the water."

Mirian gasped. He had jumped, in the middle of that kind of storm? "You idiot! You could have drowned!"

Frey grinned, the expression strikingly playful given the seriousness of their circumstances. "Not to worry. You're not getting rid of me that easily." The glint of amusement vanished, settling into a deep warmth and decisiveness. "It was worth it. So worth it."

Mirian swallowed around the knot in his throat. He couldn't argue with that, but neither did he know what to do about the situation. "I'm so confused," he confessed. "I don't know what to do."

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to." Frey brushed a lock of hair out of his face with such gentleness it made Mirian ache. "Everything is your choice."

"And if I choose not to pursue this?" Mirian asked quietly. "If I choose to keep this life I know? What then? Would you leave if I asked you to?"

Frey's breath caught and he retracted his hand. "I would leave," he said after a long pause, "but I can't promise I wouldn't come back... if only to see you from the distance." He laughed, but the sound held no amusement. "That probably came out creepier than I wanted it to."

Mirian couldn't help himself. He had to reach out to this mysterious man to whom he felt inexplicably connected. "I don't think you're creepy."

Pushing back any sort of hesitation, he moved forward and attached himself to Frey's side. Frey's eyes widened, but he didn't comment. They lay back against the wall of the small cave, with Mirian curled against Frey's warm chest.

It was still cold, and outside, the storm was still raging, but for some reason, the proximity between the two of them made Mirian feel safe. Frey brushed a brief kiss against his temple. "Get some sleep. We can figure out everything later."

Mirian nodded and let his eyes drift shut. He had to admit wading through the storm hadn't been the easiest thing in the world. It had exhausted him more than he'd realized.

There were still a lot of questions that needed to be answered. He and Frey still had a great many things to worry about. But for now, he was safe. He could rest and perhaps, dream of a world where it was possible to be free, to embrace his legacy as a Bearer and be with someone who understood him.

****

Frey didn't sleep. He couldn't have let himself succumb to fatigue if he'd wanted to. The proximity between his body and that of his mate sent shivers of sexual awareness down his spine. Mirian's scent—so clean, so pure—invaded his nostrils, making his dick as hard as a rock.

On a different level, Frey was lost in thought, considering what would happen now. He and Mirian had reached an agreement of sorts, but it wasn't anything permanent—not that Frey blamed his mate for that. And then, there were outside factors that could and would most like interfere.

Frey's pack would come for him, that much was certain. The yacht would likely be unable to approach the island during the storm, but that meant nothing. His father wouldn't let a little thing like the weather deter him for long.

And then there was Mirian's family. Mirian hadn't said much about them beyond the fact that they were very protective of him. Frey was grateful that they'd kept Mirian safe until now, but he was also realistic. Whoever Mirian's family might be, chances were they would not welcome Frey with open arms.

Technically speaking, since Mirian was his mate, other werewolves should not dare to stand in his way. Roman's father had supported him when he'd decided to mate Julian. But all packs were different, and even among their kin, it was not completely impossible that some would not be happy about yet another heir of a large pack mating a Bearer.

It was completely useless to muse over it now, he knew. He didn't have all the facts, and until that changed, he would not be able to come to any conclusion or find any solution to their less than ideal situation.

With a sigh, Frey held Mirian closer to his chest. In the end, it didn't really matter, did it? The hardest part was over. He'd gotten Mirian to listen. Mirian had not pushed him away, despite the weirdness of the situation. The human would undoubtedly have concerns when he awoke, but together, they could handle it.

Frey didn't know how long they waited there in the cave. It must have been a good couple of hours, though, or at least, that was what Frey's internal clock told him.

Mirian finally stirred just as the storm began to tone down. He gave Frey a lazy, sleepy smile, and Frey had the strongest urge to taste it, to claim those tempting lips with his own. Just like before, he held back.

"So what now?" he asked, vocalizing the question he'd been musing over. "Where do we go from here?"

"I have to talk to my father," Mirian replied. "He won't like any of this, but it can't be helped."

"How exactly does... this work? I mean, you living here in the middle of nowhere?" There had to be a system of sorts, right? Otherwise, their presence here wouldn't have remained a secret for so long.

"We have a house, which I share with my father, my former nanny and my physician. My doctor is the one who travels to the mainland on a regular basis for supplies. Once every couple of months, my father leaves. I'm not sure what he does, but it's kept us safe so far."

Frey wondered about that. He wondered just how much anyone could do to keep a Bearer's existence a secret. "I take it whoever is following you is influential."

Mirian nodded. "My grandfather, Duke Lamine." He hesitated, and then faced Frey head on. "The island has always felt like a refuge, like the outside can't touch me here. But now, I wonder... If my father had been able to hold my grandfather back, we would have never had to leave. Am I really safe?"

The answer was 'probably not', but Frey couldn't be sure. He still didn't know enough about Mirian's history to judge.

Before he could ask anything more, the feeling of another presence stirred Frey's protective instincts. The sound of distant voices reached his ears, and he tensed. Mirian hadn't noticed it yet—he might be a Bearer, but his senses were not as acute as those of a shifter—but he did catch sight of Frey's reaction to it. "What is it?"

"Someone is coming," Frey replied. "It must be either my family or yours."

Mirian flexed his fingers in a gesture of clear nervousness. "We have to face them, don't we?"

"Yeah, we do. But don't worry. I'm with you."

Mirian smiled at him again, and this time, Frey didn't resist the urge to kiss him. He kept it chaste, just like before, a simple peck on the forehead. Mirian's skin was so soft, and Frey wanted to touch more of it, more of him. But if that ever happened, it would have to be on Mirian's terms.

For a few seconds, Mirian let his eyes drift closed and leaned into the caress. It didn't last, but that simple gesture did wonders to soothe Frey's heart. When Mirian pulled away, Frey was ready for it.

Mirian grabbed his bag and, together, the two of them left the cave. It didn't take long for Mirian to hear the voices that were now coming closer, at which point Frey also identified them as belonging to what was most likely Mirian's family. Mirian confirmed this mere instants later. "It's my father. He's probably furious with me for leaving the mansion like I did."

Great, so Mirian's dad was already in a bad mood. The fact that Mirian had run into a werewolf who wanted to claim him would definitely not be well received.

"Well," Frey said, "it's time to face the music."

Following a sudden urge, Frey took Mirian's hand. Much to his relief, Mirian didn't pull away. Instead, he threaded their fingers together, holding on tightly, as if drawing strength from Frey's presence.

Frey would have loved to hold onto this simple intimacy forever, but between the brisk walking of the other party and the fact that the two of them were heading in their direction, it didn't take long for them to catch sight of the approaching figures. Even from the distance, Frey could clearly distinguish two men—probably Mirian's father and his physician.

As soon as the humans saw them, they started running. Mirian swallowed audibly, and Frey squeezed his mate's hand. "It's all right. It won't be easy, but we'll make it work. I won't leave you."

He couldn't promise that Mirian's father would accept this, but he could offer a guarantee for his own actions. No matter what he had to do, he would not let anyone keep him from Mirian.

They met half-way and stopped in the middle of the beach. A man who bore a slight resemblance to Mirian stepped forward, looking between Mirian and Frey with an expression that went from concern, to fear and anger in the expanse of a few seconds.

"Are you all right, son?" he asked at last.

"I'm fine," Mirian replied. "I went out to the pond and took refuge when the storm struck. No harm done."

The man's eyes flashed, and Frey suspected he wouldn't have let things slide just like that if not for Frey's presence. "Who is this?" he inquired.

"This is my mate, Freydolph," Mirian replied without missing a beat. "Frey, my father, Proctor Lamine."

 It was only when Mirian made the introductions that Frey realized he'd never actually told Mirian his last name. Even so, Mirian hadn't hesitated or shown any sign that there was anything at all peculiar about the situation. Frey was torn between being proud of him and angry that Mirian had been forced to learn such tricks to begin with.

Either way, Mirian didn't need his anger right now. He needed Frey to play nice and pull all the stops to make a good impression.

He noticed the thunderous look Proctor directed his way, but studiously ignored it. Instead, he nodded politely. "It's wonderful to meet you, Sir. I've heard so much about you."

That wasn't necessarily true, but it worked well enough for the purpose of an introduction. He expected an "I wish I could say the same", but it didn't come. Instead, the human retrieved a wicked looking rifle and pointed it at Frey. "Get your hands off my son. Now."

Okay, this could have gone better. He definitely hadn't imagined Proctor would go for the weapon immediately. As far as Frey could tell, it was not a gun designed to fight off shifters, but that didn't mean it was harmless.

Frey's hackles rose, and he took a step forward, placing himself between Proctor and Mirian. He had to let go of Mirian's hand to do so, but it couldn't be helped.

Frey wasn't worried about himself, but he was very aware of his mate's mortality. A stray bullet could end a human life so easily. Just the thought had him rigid with a mix of terror and fury. Before he could stop himself, he bared his teeth at Mirian's father.  "I would advise you to put that away. I won't have you waving guns around Mirian."

Proctor gaped at him. "You're... protecting my son? From me?" He laughed like it was the funniest thing he'd ever heard. "I don't know who you think you are, but step away from him now before this gets uglier."

As if on cue, Proctor's companion, who had yet to introduce himself, pointed his own gun at Frey. Clearly, this was not a situation he could handle without a little application of force.

Using his werewolf speed, Frey leaped forward. Proctor was close enough that he likely didn't even see Frey move. Frey squeezed his wrist, making him hiss and release his hold on the weapon.

Once the rifle was in Frey's possession, Frey turned his attention to the second man and repeated the process. It was impossible for the doctor to shoot him without risking his employer's life, and Frey didn't give him time to aim properly.

Satisfied that the humans were now unarmed, Frey returned to his mate's side. He unloaded the bullets from the chambers of the guns and set the weapons down. At last, he faced the two men once more. "All right. Let's try this again. I'm Freydolph King. I'm your son's mate and a werewolf. It's wonderful to meet you, Sir."