SWNOVELS Chapter 13 - Aubree (Part 1)
Aubree was in awe of the rose garden. Holding Stone’s large hand in hers, they strolled side-by-side through the rows of roses. It was the first bloom of the season and some of the bushes had only buds to display. The majority that were in full bloom filled her heart with joy and awe as her eyes danced over each one.
She’d always loved roses. The way they first opened up into little cabbages before spreading their petals out wide to the sun to embrace its light and warmth.
Despite her protests against it, Stone cut off a soft pink one from one of the bushes and scraped off the thorn with his thumbnail. He didn’t even wince when the thorn pricked his skin deep enough to draw a sliver of blood. He stuck his thumb in his mouth for a second before withdrawing it and showing her that it was fine before he tucked the flower into her hair.
"Mein Röslein,” he whispered as his fingers trailed across her cheek as he drew back.
The way he said it made her heart flutter as her cheeks warmed under his gentle caress. Even though she had no idea what it meant, it sounded intimate. “What does that mean?”
"My little rose, in German,” he said.
Her heart fluttered a little more at the pet name, bringing out the butterflies from her stomach again. She twisted her fingers together before her as she lowered her gaze, feeling shy all of a sudden.
“Is that where you’re from? Germany?”
He was still so close. She thought he would kiss her again, but he reached for her hand and took it in his once more before stepping back. He turned his gaze over the peach-colored rose bush next to the pink one he had plucked the rose from.
“In theory, yes. We traveled a lot, but most of our life was spent in what would be considered modern-day Germany before coming to America in 1849.”
His eyes seemed to cloud over then as he pursed his lips.
Aubree’s head tilted in question. “What made you come to America?”
He cleared his throat and nodded his head to signal he wanted to keep walking. She followed next to him, but her thoughts were distracted now from the roses to what he was and wasn’t saying.
“Times were changing. We decided we needed a fresh start. America was still sparsely populated and Europe was becoming more crowded. It was getting harder for us to live in secrecy.” He looked at her sternly. “You have to remember that I had three children to raise. Although they were mature and grown-up by then, they are still my pups. I wanted a better life for them.”
Nodding, Aubree swallowed in understanding. Gwen and Gavin had to have been at least a hundred years old by then. Hardly children anymore, but she didn’t know what that meant for lycans.
“So, um,” she began in uncertainty, “how does age work with lycans? I mean, you’re about eight hundred, but you don’t look a day over thirty.”
She peered up nervously through lowered lashes and saw a shadow of a smile on his face as he looked down at her from the corner of his eyes.
He was a foot taller than her and while that had been somewhat intimidating a few weeks ago, it didn’t bother her as much now. Talking about lycans, however, made her feel small next to him.
“We don’t think about time and age the same way humans do.” He paused before a bush with a dozen buds and not a single one of them opened. “When we are born, we are small, blind, deaf, fragile, and completely helpless. Like a newborn wolf pup. We look exactly like a newborn wolf pup when we are born, only we are born furless and it takes a few weeks for our fur to grow. We grow slowly, much slower than a normal wolf. We are completely dependent on our parents for the first few years of life.”
He smiled tenderly at the rosebuds, as if recalling happy memories. “It takes about a week for our noses to open, allowing us to smell the world for the first time. Another week for our ears. Our two strongest senses. At around three weeks, we open our eyes to the world and they are always blue. They change color about a year after that. It takes a few more weeks for us to be able to see clearly. The world is a blur at first. A few weeks after that, we learn to stand on four legs and wobble around a bit. It takes practice, much like human infants, I imagine, but we eventually get it.”
His smile broadened and it squeezed Aubree’s heart. It seemed almost bittersweet.
“We spend our first two years drinking our mother’s milk—sometimes longer, it depends on the pup. The weaning process begins around then, and our parents share their meals with us.” He looked at Aubree then with an obvious smirk. “You know, regurgitated food.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I really didn’t need to know that.”
Chuckling, he gave his head a slight shake. “We grow faster in the early years, but we remain small and puppy-like. At three years of age, we resemble a five-week-old wolf pup. Still completely dependent on our parents, but now they bring us scraps of meat to eat. In the next year, we resemble a six-week-old pup. Stronger, more aware, and more curious about the world. Our growth begins to slow then. Still, we grow, little by little, and all the while looking like a wolf.”
His eyes resumed their focus on the rosebuds. “It’s not until we start to reach maturity that our wolf-like appearance begins to change to that of a lycan. By that time, we have reached the full-grown size of a normal wolf, but we don’t stop growing then. It takes several years for the change from wolf to lycan to finalize but it’s based on maturity level, not age. For most, it’s around the age of seventy-five, a hundred for others, while a few begin as early as sixty. Once they have reached full maturity—some ten to twenty years later—then we are capable of shifting into our human forms for the first time and finding our soulmates. We look like a sixteen-year-old human upon our first shift and we begin to age even more slowly after that.”
For some reason, embarrassment coiled in Aubree’s stomach. She was twenty-four years old, only a quarter as old as a mature lycan, and already she’d found her soulmate. It seemed like lycans had to live forever before they could find that one person made for them.
“Can I ask,” she began, hesitantly, “how old were you when you found her?”
He reached for her other hand and entwined their fingers together, and held both of their hands up near her shoulders. He leaned down and pressed his forehead to hers as his eyes closed.
“Yes. It’s okay. And you should know, that if I am ever upset, angry or sad, this is how you can calm me down. Something about holding your hands like this and touching foreheads is very soothing to me. It’s grounding. Intimate, but not sensual. It makes me feel connected, secure, and in a safe and loving place.”
He inhaled and exhaled deeply, a faint smile of contentment drifting onto his face.
She could feel what he meant. It was as if time were stopping and it was just the two of them immersed in each other’s presence. It was calming, tranquil, and meditative. Closing her eyes, she inhaled his earthy scent, feeling the peace clearing her mind and body of negative thoughts and energies.
Finally, he spoke softly after a minute but didn’t pull away from her. “I was a late bloomer. Someday, I’ll tell you why, but not today.”
She asked without inhibitions from her relaxed state of mind, “Did you have a difficult childhood?”
“Yes.”
“I understand.”
“Thank you.”
He inhaled and exhaled again, as if to collect his thoughts. “Even though I was a late bloomer, I survived the Bubonic Plague that struck Europe and Asia in the fourteenth century. I was mature by then and, like most lycans, I could sense the threat. Even we were not immune to it, especially the young. The older we get, the stronger our immune system gets and the faster we can heal.
“Everyone under the age of two hundred was sent to the far north in hopes of escaping it. It made the strong sick with fever for a few days and a few of the exposed immature lycans died from it. So, I was among those who lived in the far north for many years.
“It wasn’t until at least fifty years after the worst of the plague had passed was she born. She matured quickly, but it still took another two centuries after her birth for us to find each other.”
“What was her name?” Aubree had held back the question as long as she could, hoping that one day he would tell her, and she hoped he would now.
It made her a little nervous. What if he withdrew from her? Even though he was calm and relaxed now, was he ready to tell her?
She felt his brows furrow against hers. He swallowed and squeezed her hands, drawing her eyes open as he pulled away from her. His eyes remained closed and his face downcast but this time, he seemed ready to tell her.
His voice was soft and breathy. “Adelaide.”