“Maybe.” Trace squinted as if he was trying really hard to remember something. “It’s been thousands of years.” He lifted one shoulder. “There is something I should know, but it appears I have forgotten it.”
“Can we go back to the Wolf Walkers?” Trust the archeologist to be fascinated with ancient fairy tales and stories.
“Sure,” Trace agreed. “So the Wolf Walkers protect their pack’s territory in wolf form. Some hunt and defend for the Fianna. They are the chosen guardians, and most became Hounds of the High King.”
“Fascinating.”
He didn’t agree with Ward. At. All. He’d much prefer if Trace would shut the hell up.
“Wolf Walkers are kinda different from Shifters. Typically, if one is wounded in wolf form, the human body bears the same injury when they wake up.”
“Do you do that?” Juice caught Trace’s chin and tugged his face around to scowl at his Grá Croí. “That sounds like something I should know.”
Trace shook his head. “The Champion of the Hounds is immune to the curse of bearing the wolves’ injuries. I have never been defeated in our warrior games, so I am still the Champion Hound of the High King.”
Does that mean Cian carries his wolf’s injuries in his human form?
“Anyway,” Trace stole Juice’s coffee, took a sip, and gave him back his mug, “before we crossed the veil into Tír na nÓg, the ordinary people feared the Wolf Walkers and most went to Tír na nÓg with the Fianna.”
“Okay,” Viper said slowly enough that Reaper knew his CO’s brain was running in overdrive as he tried to make sense of what their resident shifter was saying. “We’re going to need more details.”
“Me, too.” He had no intentions of doing anything with it, and it wasn’t as if he wanted jack shit to do with the warrior, but his natural curiosity was riding him hard, and combined with his training to run all the intel, he wanted to know what Trace had to say.
“They are said to be the children of a shifter and the Tuatha Dé Danann and closer to the land than to the laws of normal people.” Trace said. “Their numbers are few, and the ones who stayed behind, refusing to cross the veil, were driven from their homes. It was a shitshow of epic proportions.” He reached for Reaper’s arm and ran his finger over the marks that were starting to develop. “Know what this means?”
Reaper shook his head. “Tell me.”
“It says you are descended from one of the families of the Tuatha Dé Danann who mated with a shifter. That is why you could cross my fairy protection spell.”
Shit.
“There’s no point in shaking your head or trying to figure out how you can deny it,” Trace growled. “You have met your Grá Croí; you cannot escape the destiny the fates have written for you. You and the warrior will either bond or you will die on the night of the next full moon.”
“I’m not passing out like you are.”
Trace snorted. “You also aren’t a full-blooded Wolf Walker. Who knows what the dilution of your bloodline has done to your fate?”
That doesn’t sound good.
“All I can tell you for sure is, I have never seen a Grá Croí bonding mark that did not kill a full-blooded wolf shifter if not completed.” He pinned Reaper with a steady stare. “Are you going to sentence my warrior brother, Cian, to die? Because refusing the mating, that is what will happen.”
Yes.
No.
I don’t know.
Do I care?
He wasn’t heartless and didn’t want to be the reason another man, even one who existed through a fairy portal in another dimension, lost his life.
“Maybe we should go and ask Fionn,” Ward interjected. “Isn’t it said that he knows everything? Is that true?”
“Burning your thumb on the salmon of knowledge, and tasting its juices when you stick it in your mouth, will do that to you,” Trace replied. “It is a good idea, druid Ward. Only when Reaper and Cian are next to each other will we be able to figure out how this will play out.”
Reaper exhaled sharply through his nose. “Unbelievable.” He pushed his plate away, appetite gone. “So let me get this straight. You want me to waltz into the magical fucking wonderland that is Tír na nÓg, because what, the fates have decided I have to toe the magical line they have set down?”
“It’s not just that,” Trace said, voice dropping into that quiet, dangerous register that meant he was two seconds from shifting and someone was about to get their throat ripped out. His eyes flicked to Juice, then back to Reaper, gold bleeding into the brown like molten metal. “The warrior is my brother, as are you. I want neither of you to die. I cannot guarantee that you will. But I know for sure Cian’s fate depends on your decisions, and he is running out of time.”
