Untamed - Book 1

I walk through the foyer and out the back door, determination brought on by my newfound knowledge driving me. I feel angry with myself for how I treated Cora and even more angry for how I allowed Jacob Laurent and my father to treat her the day we first met.

After walking for over an hour in the darkness, I find myself standing in front of the small cabin, glowing orange light illuminating the windows. My feet carry me t the door and, before I can knock, the door opens slowly. I step inside to find Cora in the kitchen, stirring something on the stove with her back facing me. Her silky black hair hanging gracefully down her back, shifting with each small movement. The scent of herbs, spices and meat fills the entire cabin and I find my mouth watering.

“What brings you out at this hour, alpha?” I feel myself smirking at her playful tone.

“I thought I could talk to you about something, but if you are busy…” She cuts me off when she raises her hand and with a flick of her wrist, the door slams shut.

“Have you eaten?” I take several steps toward her, stopping at the small, round dining table.

“No. I was preoccupied with something.” She turns her head, glancing at me from over her shoulder before returning her attention to the heavenly concoction in the pot.

“It must have been something serious judging by the look of you.” I slide out the chair and take a seat.

“It was.” I watch as she ladles some of the concoction into two bowls then slides to pot off of the hot burner before turning around and setting a bowl in front of me then sitting across from me with hers. She lifts a spoonful toward her mouth, gently blowing on it before eating it, her movements seeming purposeful as if to show me it is safe to eat.

“What has you so lost in thought, alpha?” I watch her as her eyes dance in the flickering candlelight.

“I researched the war between my people and the coven that attacked us over a century ago. It wasn’t a war like we were told. It was a rescue mission. Our alpha, my grandfather, had discovered he was mated to a witch. Instead of accepting or rejecting her, he took her and tortured her for information. He violated the bond in the most unforgivable way. Her people came to save her.” She slides her bowl to the center of the table and her eyes lower.

“I know.” Those two simple words make the world stop in an instant.

“What do you mean? How did you know?” She takes a deep breath and pulls her feet up onto the chair, her knees pressed to her chest and her arms wrapping tightly around them.

“The council spoke of the massacre. They told of the mad alpha who murdered an entire coven after finding out his mate was a member. I suppose your kind were as much the villain in our stories as we were in yours. She stands up and walks over to the chair where is bag is sitting and reaches inside, pulling out a leather bound book. She returns to the table and opens the book slowly, sliding a picture out from between the first few pages and setting it on the table in front of me.

“This is the coven your grandfather killed.” The picture is of a coven of sixteen witches, a row of eight standing and in front of them, another eight that are kneeling. She points to the woman kneeling on the far left.

“That is Isabelle, your grandfather’s mate.” I scan the women in the picture, but my eyes stop when I spot the woman standing in the back on the right. Her dark flowing hair, bright eyes and small, but fierce form are a perfect likeness to the small witch sitting across from me. She turns her head away from me when she realizes what I am looking at.

“Please tell me this isn’t your mother.” I don’t know if I am asking for her, or if I am hoping it will absolve me of the burden of my family’s past sins.

“Yes. Her name was Roseline. She led the coven on the mission to rescue Isabelle.” I stare at her in shock, knowing she has known about this the entire time.

“If you knew, why would you agree to help me?” Her head turns and her eyes meet mine, a single glistening tear streaming down her pale face.

“Because you are not your grandfather. His sins, his evil…they are his and his alone. I have been harmed more by my own kind than any other, so perhaps your grandfather had a reason for his anger. The reasons are lost in time and we can either dwell on them, or move forward. Something pulled me to this place and I will not deny that I had wanted to refuse, to walk away. When you came to me in the shop that day, I was preparing to return. Call it fate, destiny, call it whatever you want. Some force was pulling me back here.” She flashes a weak smile, but it quickly fades.

“I’m sorry. I know that doesn’t make up for a damn thing, but for what it’s worth, I am sorry for everything. I have treated you unfairly. If you knew, why didn’t you say anything? If you had told me sooner, if I had known…” She cuts me off with a sharp glare and an even sharper tone.

“You would what? Would you have believed me? Would you have thought me to be anything more than a manipulative witch trying to push false information on you? What difference would it have made in the end? We are more than the mistakes and poor choices of our ancestors, alpha. Your pack has been poisoned by the lies of those who came before you, but my people are no different. We were told by the council that we were doing what was necessary to ensure the safety of our people. What harm would that group of innocents have brought to us? How many innocent people did we kill? We are all guilty of something. It is not our past choices that dictate who we are. It is what we choose to do next that matters.” It has been so easy for me to forget that she has likely been alive long enough to see more horrors than I could imagine. Witches live unnaturally long lives, some surviving to be more than five centuries old.

“If we are not defined by our past choices, then you can’t blame yourself for what did when you believed you were doing the right thing.” She smirks, a welcome gesture in the moment of heavy emotion.

“Perhaps, or perhaps holding all of my mistakes close will help me to make better choices in the future.” I slide my bowl next to hers and focus on her expression, the sadness and pain worn plainly on her delicate features.

“Remembering our mistakes is one thing, but clinging to them is another. We all screw up. I talked to my father about the hybrids, but don’t worry, I didn’t tell him about you. He told me how they hunted your kind, believing they successfully exterminated them. All because they feared their immense power. Just another case of people fearing the unknown. Our people have been enemies for centuries, but I doubt anyone truly remembers why.” Her eyes drift away from mine, almost as if seeing the ghosts of her past standing before her.

“We are all birthed in the blood and hatred of our ancestors. We could spend our whole lives asking why, or we can choose to live better than those that came before us. I made a choice when I left the council. I could have chosen to continue on with blind hatred for those I do not understand, but instead I chose to help others without discrimination. I have met people who have lived up to the evil of the stories I was told, but most were kind and civil. We were all taught that vampires were evil, blood thirsty creatures, but just like us, they simply want to survive. They want to exist without conflict. Power drives us mad, but when we finally realize that power will not bring peace or happiness, when we finally open our eyes to the truth behind all the lies, we find freedom and in that freedom, we find true peace.” I feel the weight of her words and it is suffocating. We have all been lied to and because of it, the hatred of our ancestors has continued on for generations. Like perfect little sheep, we have believed the lies and followed blindly, never questioning things.