Root of evil
Killian
I had once read the story of Damien the Mad. He was Alpha just before my grandfather bested him in a battle, as they said. Logan had told me the story several times. According to Logan, Damien the Mad was once benevolent, in fact. He was a good kind of Alpha that cared for his people—at least that was until he met his mate, who happened to be a witch. Sentiment then against witches was just about as weak as it is now. Alphas hated witches, and for good reason too: our beasts were easily manipulated and bewitched, which is also exploited by our enemies on multiple pages. Hence Damien having a mate who was a witch was beyond possible. He was pushed to reject her, and he did—at least he believed it was for the good of his pack. But it was worse.
After rejecting her he spiraled out of control. He hunted at night those whom he professed to love, and even the woman picked to be his mate—he killed her in a moment of rage. By the time he came to, he pleaded with his beta to kill him. Grandstanding perhaps, but it was painful to think about, and now it would seem I was going through the exact same thing. It is not as though they didn't know what would happen to an Alpha who rejected his mate—no, they knew it quite well; in fact, they were probably betting on it. But who would they replace me with was the question. Not many had enough alpha blood and dominant blood running in their veins. It was easy enough for anyone to crack under the pressure of the weight of the pack’s magic.
“You lost her.” I shook my head. Madness. My beast raged in my mind. I could feel him crying at my sanity, demanding that I take back my rejection—but I wouldn’t. I couldn’t; that was what she wanted. Still, I could feel its connection to her. I was still tethered to her and my beast did not want to let go. My beast saw her; why shouldn’t I?
I slumped in my chair in my office, my mind going over and over again through the last council here. For the first time in a while, Elijah sided with Brandon. Brandon had looked at me and shook his head.
“I don’t think it is good that you remain this way,” he said. “I’m sure you can come to an understanding when you think about it.”
“I’m talking of the human,” he said when I raised my eyebrows. My eyes found Brandon, who sniffed, smiled, and whispered something to the council member to the left of him.
“Please. Who? Factions?” he smiled. “The main reason why you’re in this mess in the first place is because they will not stand to have you with a human mate; it is simply against our laws. In fact, the human should have been killed, but let us say it would go against anyone’s better judgment not to harm her. So you keep her alive, as you have said before. My suggestion is for you to accept your mate. And by your mate, you know I mean Selena.”
I cocked my head toward him and then toward Selena’s father. “You have a hand in this, eh?”
He shook his head. “I have a hand in keeping the peace of this pack together. It really does not matter to me whether or not it’s my daughter; it matters to me whether or not we’re put together.” He smiled, never reaching his eyes.
I looked back to Eliza. “What’s the second part? The second part of this?”
“You can keep the human as your mistress,” Brandon chuckled. “Since you do not want to kill your mate now… food to be needless to say terrible and terrifying for our own good, the death of the human is practically going to tip the scale of what is important. And I don’t need to remind you of what happened to Damien the Mad.”
The council once again was silent. I cleared my throat. Of course he would make reference to Damien. He, in truth, was teetering in the middle—never quite wanting to say anything wrong on either side.
My eyes found Logan, who was rather concentrating on the bowl in front of him. Finally he reached for it; twirled the marble around in his fingers, and he looked up.
“And so what happens when Selena gets jealous of this human? What happens when this human becomes something else? There’s too many variables to make sure this plan of yours realizes—sounds as foolish as conceived by a child.”
He picked one. “Elijah.”
“Are you calling me a child? Would you rather I call you an idiot?” I burst out, ready to laugh. Elijah’s face bloomed red with embarrassment. He turned toward Brandon and then to the leader of the conservatives of the council, Andrew.
Andrew chuckled, reached for the ball, and cleared his throat. “Perhaps calling him an idiot is a little far-fetched. He’s a fool sometimes, yes.”
Andrew was not nearly as old as Logan but close in age. The both of them would have been friends, save for the fact that Andrew leaned heavily conservative while Logan stayed in the middle and often acted as the voice of reason for the rest.
Andrew met my eyes. “It is a foolish idea, yes, but perhaps it offsets some formal consideration. I should speak ahead. My wolf will not let it happen. I will not let it happen—even you who suggest it see how foolish it is.”
He slowly lowered his eyes toward the table and then back up. “Yes, it is foolish. On the bright side, you would have what you want—your mate. Unfortunately you will not be able to claim full ownership of her, but you would be both fulfilling your duty and you would have what you want. Your beast will have what it means to survive. Alphas do things from time to time.”
Eliza’s voice cut through the silence of the council. “Sometimes they don't always have what they want. I recall a time much before Damien. The alpha—it was a friend of mine, you see. There was this girl he loved; she was not his mate, but you know how it goes. He had to be with his mate; his wolf’s beast made it so, but his mind couldn’t accept it. In the end, it is the beast’s will to go and be with his mate. Her eyes and it’s mine. Do you understand, Alpha?”
“You have two options,” the council was giving me: make Selena your mate or the human will die, thereby breaking council law.
“But she was old,” I protested. “She could do it over the—fuck you—my mate being killed?”
I stood to my feet; the chair I sat on was knocked backward as I felt the muscles in my neck tense. My beast wanted out, and it wanted out now. It wanted to rip Eliza’s neck and bathe in her blood. I felt my claws begin to give way and my body slowly get bigger. I bared my teeth, fighting for control that I could barely grasp onto.
“Leave,” I said with my last ounce of restraint.
Before the room was empty, I grabbed one edge of the large oak table and flipped it, sending it flying as though it were nothing toward the other end of the room. I heard screams from some council members, but my mind was already gone—I had no control of my beast. It was just a rule I tore up, but eventually I felt myself slowly calm down.
I stood finally in the carnage of my own council room, panting heavily for breath. The sprinklers were on, I noticed as I looked up, and let the water wash down my body. Slowly I shifted back into my human form—rather, my beast took about a sear. There was something in the sprinklers, I chuckled to myself, an idea that Calypso had given us; a way by which you can at least prevent going mad. There are some herbs she put in the filter systems. She had done it for my father and now me.
The doors opened to reveal a skeptical-looking face. He found me worried. “I’m sorry,” he said. “You don’t have a good choice to make. You must make one—for the good of us, and so this doesn’t happen again.”
But who was to say? I thought to myself as I watched him leave. It would happen again. So long as the human was not mine—so long as I couldn't claim her as mine—this would happen again. This was even beyond just my beast; now it was my heart. It pounded too loudly in my ears; my skin felt hot as though I was slowly cooking.
I had a small dizzy spell that made me stumble backward into my chair that miraculously still stood in the middle of the carnage. The doors opened finally one more time with a familiar scent wafting into my nose, but it wasn't the scent of my mate. My wolf wanted to lash out again, but even if he did I had no energy. My eyes slowly, sluggishly closed; truly I slumped to the side of my chair.