Chapter 51 WHAT SORT OF A WEREWOLF
Chapter 51 WHAT SORT OF A WEREWOLF
CHAPTER 51. WHAT SORT OF A WEREWOLF
IRIS'S POV
Confusion rocks my nerves, rattling through my chest until I feel completely untethered. I find myself darting my eyes from the high Elder back to Kaelen, and then right back to the Elder at frantic, rapid intervals. My breathing is shallow, my lungs catching on the damp air as my head spins. I don't know where to anchor my gaze. It feels as if something is absolutely, profoundly wrong with my entire system.
Maybe I should just agree with the old wolf's silent accusation. Something is wrong with me. There is a strange, wild energy sizzling directly through my bones right now, a chaotic current that I possess absolutely zero control over. I force my eyes down to look at my trembling hands. Stretched out from my fingertips are thick, sharp claws. I don't even know whether to classify them as fingernails or talons anymore, but these jagged tips are definitely the feral semblance of a wolf.
Am I a werewolf? The question screams inside my mind, a heavy, tensed knot tightening in my stomach. If I am supposed to be a werewolf, then the burning question should be answered, right? Why on earth are they all standing in a semi-circle, staring down at my form like I am some ancient, forbidden mystery that shouldn't exist?
One of the female Elders steps forward, bypassing the towering mass of Elder Cyphros. Her long, embroidered robes trail across the dark pavement with a heavy rustle.
"Astonishing," she whispers. Her voice is a cool, clinical chime that cuts through the quiet night. She gazes down into my face, her brow furrowing into a deep, calculating frown as she observes my features like a prized specimen on display in a laboratory. "In all my centuries, I have never once seen an entity with that specific color of irises."
Color of irises? What the hell does she mean by that?
I blink rapidly, my mind a blank slate of pure wonder and rising panic. I snap my head around to look at Kaelen, my chest heaving. He is tracking my every movement, his majestic golden eyes glowing with a fierce, warm intensity in the darkness of the narrow path.
Seeking an ally, I turn my torso to look over at Ciara. The captive witch is standing a few paces back against the cold masonry, her vibrant violet eyes staring straight through me. But her expression is empty. It looks as though she is deliberately trying to mask her thoughts, guarding a secret behind a wall of cold stone. Even she herself doesn't seem to be in the mood to defend my presence anymore. The frantic, maternal way she had held me inside the bedroom—protecting me like I was one of her own flesh and blood, a true sister of the coven—that fierce care has totally vanished into thin air. She looks at me as if she doesn't even recognize the creature standing before her.
Is she abandoning me already? The thought leaves a bitter taste on my tongue.
"What's going on here?" I demand, my voice cracking under the weight of the silence. I look around the circle of monsters, my hands clenching into fists. "What's going on? Why are you all staring at me like that?"
Elder Cyphros locks his magma-like gaze onto my face for a long, suffocating beat. He folds his massive arms tightly across his chest, the heavy fabric shifting over his shoulders.
"Well, I suppose there is really no logical need for the examination ritual anymore," he declares, his gruff voice booming off the brickwork.
I turn fully to look at him, my tensed muscles straining. What the hell does he mean by that?
"What do you mean?" I ask, my breathing shallow.
The Elder simply shrugs his broad shoulders, a cold, nonchalant tilt of his chin. "The reality is evidently obvious, girl. You are a werewolf. Your claws are fully extended, and you’ve got the elongated fangs to prove the lineage. It’s a settled matter. It’s just... what specific branch or hidden species of wolf you belong to that we do not know yet."
The sentence hits my mind like a physical stone striking my skull, making my vision blur for a brief second. Are there actually different species of wolves? What the hell is he talking about? Is a wolf not just a wolf?
My hands are shaking so violently I can hear the click of my new claws against each other. Kaelen steps into my personal space, his warm, broad fingers reaching down to securely grasp my hand, anchoring my weight against his frame.
"Hey," he murmurs softly. I turn my head, my eyes locking into his glowing golden irises. He squeezes my fingers, his breath hot against my tensed skin. "Look at me, Iris. We are going to figure this out together, okay? I promise you."
"Hell yeah, the pack is definitely going to figure it out," Elder Cyphros interrupts, his tone a mix of authority and dark amusement. He turns his torso back toward the main path, his robes billowing. "Take her back up to your private room, Kaelen. The Council has a massive amount of anomalies to analyze about this case, and a lot of deep politics to discuss."
With a sudden, violent distortion of the atmosphere, a heavy wave of pressure blasts through the alleyway. In the blink of an eye, all the Elders and the elite security guards instantly vanish into thin air, leaving the clearing completely empty. The suffocating gravity lifts, and I am left standing alone with Kaelen, while Ciara remains at a distance, her arms folded tightly over her dark cloak.
Kaelen turns his body to face me, his thumbs caressing the back of my hand. He is gazing down into my eyes with a brilliant, stunning smile—an expression of pure, unadulterated relief that he can barely keep in check.
"What's going on, Kaelen? Why... what are they even talking about?" I ask, the words tumbling out of my mouth in a frantic rush.
He lets out a low, rich chuckle that vibrates through his chest. "Come back up to my quarters first, baby girl. You’ll find the answers there," he whispers.
He looks past my shoulder to track Ciara’s silent form, his brow pinching into a sharp frown, before his focus snaps back to my face. "Why the hell did I find the two of you hiding out in that dark alleyway to begin with?" he asks, his tone turning cautious.
My eyes instantly go wide with pure panic. Oh, crap. He cannot know the truth. He cannot find out that the witch was actively planning an extraction, or that I was seconds away from jumping the border and running away with her coven. I know how much the high hierarchy hates her kind, and despite her coldness now, I can't allow her to fall into some weird, systemic brutality all because of my chaotic existence.
"It was nothing," I say quickly, the lie breaking past my lips a fraction too fast. "We were... we were just heading down toward the ritual grounds together. We got turned around in the dark."
Kaelen looks at me skeptically, his golden eyes narrowing to thin slits as he reads the frantic rhythm of my pulse. He doesn't press the issue, but he nods his head slowly, his protective gaze shifting to fix onto the quiet witch one last time. Then, keeping his fingers tightly locked around mine, he slowly begins to lead me away from the alleyway, guiding me back toward the stone hostel.
As we walk, I twist my neck around to look back at Ciara over my shoulder. I am desperately hoping to find a trace of that friendly, protective nature she had exhibited when she was trying to save me from Davina. But the exact millisecond our eyes meet across the expanse, her posture stiffens. She quickly turns her head away, breaking the connection entirely. Through the shadows, I catch what looks like a deep, heavy wave of disappointment swimming in her violet eyes. She folds her arms tighter, taking in a sharp, ragged breath as Kaelen continues to shepherd me away from her territory.
Okay... that is incredibly weird, I think to myself, a cold confusion knotting in my chest. Why on earth did she react like that? Did she feel betrayed because I chose to stay?
The journey doesn't take very long. Moving through the side corridors of the residential building, I quickly find myself standing back inside the luxurious warmth of Kaelen’s private room.
The heavy door swings shut, and the brass latch clicks into place with a definitive finality. The room feels entirely too small for the chaotic energy buzzing beneath my skin. I begin to pace frantically to and fro across the heavy woven rug, my hands raking through my hair as I try to ground my shifting senses. Kaelen stands by the threshold for a quiet moment, his broad shoulders relaxed as he simply observes my anxiety with a patient, reverent gaze.
"I know you possess a million questions right now, Iris," he says, his velvety baritone cutting through my panic.
I slowly look up, my breathing ragged as I halt my pacing to face him. He lets out another soft chuckle, stepping closer until the heat of his biology blankets my skin.
"You are, without a doubt, the most beautiful supernatural entity I have ever seen in a very long time," he whispers, his golden eyes tracing the curves of my face. "And even though the Council doesn't fully understand the mechanics of your manifestation yet, or what your bloodline means... I am so incredibly glad that you are a member of my pack, at least. I am so happy you turned out to be a werewolf. Not like I would have hated you if the circle had proven you were a vampire, or a witch, or whatsoever... but being a werewolf just makes everything more understandable between us. The heightened senses, the static charge, and everything you felt back against the cobblestones... it’s all part of the very first things you experience when your lupine side begins to fully manifest inside your soul."
He walks across the expanse of the bedroom, his hand reaching out to grasp a heavy, silver-framed mirror resting on his vanity table. He lifts it gently, his massive muscles shifting beneath his shirt, and brings the polished glass right up to my face.
"Now, take a slow breath," Kaelen coaxes, his voice a warm, seductive command against my ear. "Take a real look at what you actually look like when the internal aura of your wolf is shining through your skin."
I look at his handsome face for a brief, skeptical beat, my heart thumping a frantic rhythm against my ribs. But the curiosity overpowers my fear. I lift my clawed hands, taking the heavy silver frame from his grip, and force myself to look into the mirror.
What I see reflected in the polished glass makes me let out a sharp, breathless gasp.
My appearance has completely transformed. My long hair is still the same striking, crimson color it has always been, but the strands seem to possess a brilliant, luminescent glow—a vibrant, ethereal radiance that makes the locks look more like an exotic, magical flower than actual human hair. But it’s my eyes that completely stop my breath.
I expected them to be burning with a fierce, amber gold like Kaelen’s, or Davina’s, or the rest of the shifters in the academy. But they aren't gold.
My irises are glowing with a fierce, unearthly, and absolute silver light.
A tight, confused frown pinches my eyebrows together as I stare at my own reflection. Silver. Pure, blinding silver. No wonder the female Elder was whispering in shock, and no wonder the Council was staring at my face as if I were a ghost. What the hell does a silver gaze mean in this kingdom? What sort of a werewolf am I?