Slip of Fate (Werelock Evolution Book 1) (12 page)

“Milena, it’s okay. It’s just a bit of a delicate topic is all.”

Strange as it was, I was almost getting used to the ease of communication that came with Alcaeus simply answering my unspoken thoughts. And it didn’t even seem intrusive to me like it had before with Alex. Perhaps it was because I was dreaming.

Alcaeus’ lips dipped to my ear.
“Or
… it’s because,” he whispered conspiratorially in his seductive bass that sent my stomach turning somersaults, “despite what Remy might think, I’m perfectly capable of being gentle when handling a very precious, and exceptionally enchanting, human.” He punctuated those words with a kiss to the shell of my ear.

For a moment it was hard to focus and remember what other questions I’d wanted to ask him as his lips ventured from my ear to my neck.

“Sorry,” he apologized, abandoning my neck to lean back onto his elbow again. “You were asking?”

I gathered my thoughts. “Um … so what exactly …” I swallowed. “Err … I was just wondering, well … what you
are
exactly, and also how old you are.” I smiled sheepishly. “Is that another rude question?”

“
Nope.”
He popped the “p,” his lips splitting into a playful grin, his teeth gleaming white in the starlight. “I am in my fifth century. Turning four hundred and nine this year. Basically, I’m in the prime of my life.”

My eyes widened.
“Fifth
century?”

“Uh-huh. Aged to perfection like a fine wine, baby.”

I wasn’t sure why, but his statement made me blush.

“And as far as
what
I am …” he said, squinting in contemplation, “I guess you could classify me as amongst the oldest of the second generation of a unique breed of shape-shifting wolves—or
werewolves
or
weres,
if you prefer.”

“What makes you different?”

“Well, our kind originated from the union between a powerful warlock and a werewolf back in the first quarter of the sixteenth century … in 1521, to be exact. And we’re considered an advanced breed for the fact that we possess rare magical abilities beyond those of the average werewolf. But I should probably back up a bit.” His brows drew together. “Wait, you sure you want to hear all this? It’s kind of a long story.”

“Yes!”
I bobbed my head enthusiastically. Was he kidding? I was desperate to know what the hell the story was with them.

“
Al-riight
,” he sing-songed, “but don’t say I didn’t warn you. Let’s see … I’ll start with my grandpop, Bento Reinoso. Bento was a fourth-generation mage born in 1482, descended from an ancient family of mages of predominantly Spanish and Portuguese origin who’d migrated to Portugal. Grandpops was one of the most powerful mages in his coven, as each generation passed on more power and tools of the occult to the next.”

“Mage?”

“A mage is like a magician or sorcerer, except a mage operates more as a shaman or medical healer. And they’re also known for being masters at manipulating elemental energies. The Reinoso clan of mages in particular was well received and respected within the medical community during my grandpop’s time.”

I hmm’d in understanding, while wishing I’d paid better attention during those
Harry Potter
movies my mom had taken me to.

“But let’s skip right to the good stuff,” Alcaeus proposed. “In 1521, Bento crossed paths with a female werewolf named Lucia. I should mention that in 1521, weres didn’t socialize with either humans or even other supernaturals much. They pretty well avoided all but their own kind and existed mostly in secret, living in hiding, as they’d been well persecuted throughout the previous two centuries, drastically reducing their numbers.”

Despite how fascinating the information he was imparting about his heritage was, not to mention how likely crucial to my future survival, I found myself becoming distracted, my mind wandering to foolish things like how good it felt to hold his hand, and how much I enjoyed the sound of his deep voice.

“So when Bento met and fell madly in love with Lucia, their union was not only less than traditional, it was regarded as cursed. Forbidden. Lucia’s pack didn’t trust any outsiders, period. So a powerful mage such as Bento was completely out of the question. And my grandpop’s coven feared and hated Lucia instantly, refusing to accept her. They regarded weres as grossly inferior,” he informed me, “more or less considering them uncivilized, rabid dogs.”

Alcaeus paused, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “You know … kind of how you think of us as
Cujos
,” he likened, erupting into guffaws when I reddened with surprise and embarrassment.

“Sorry … sorry, just making sure you’re still paying attention,” he teased. “Anyhow, more than the social stain Lucia represented to my snobbier ancestors, their objection stemmed from the very real fear of the time that even one born with magic running through his veins couldn’t survive a bite from a werewolf. And it was unheard of that one not born of some werewolf descent could successfully survive the process of being turned into one.

“Fortunately, Grandpops Bento was a devout nonconformist,” Alcaeus declared proudly, “and by all accounts, a fucking badass. So he stuck to his guns and broke from the Reinoso coven of mages in order to be with my grandma, Lucia, thus earning the sullied title of warlock among his peers for his perceived betrayal.”

Alcaeus shrugged dismissively. “No big loss there, right?
Mage
has such a pussy ring to it anyhow.”

“Bento and Lucia married, and five years later, after much persuading from Bento, Lucia finally consented to attempt turning him into a were. It worked”—he gestured to himself—
“obviously.
And when word got out that Grandpops had not only survived the change but was now more powerful than ever, pretty soon others from his former clan were keen on the idea of hooking up with a hot she-wolf.

“I should warn you, historically, Reinosos have been known to be a rather competitive lot,” he confessed. “Also, a bit greedy,” he muttered, his expression indicating that was yet another understatement.

“So even though most mages enjoyed an extended lifespan beyond that of a normal human because of their vast healing capabilities, an average werewolf’s natural life expectancy was still easily twice that of a mage.” He raised his brows in entreaty on behalf of his ancestors. “I mean,
c’mon,
who wouldn’t try to steal more time when presented with such an opportunity?”

I forced my gaze from his smiling full lips long enough to shake my head and shrug agreeably in response.

“And so a new clan, or
pack,
rather, of stronger, superior Reinosos gradually emerged as a result of Bento’s dissention,” he concluded.

Ever so casually, Alcaeus lifted our intertwined hands to his lips and began lazily brushing kisses across the back of my hand, and then along each of my fingers as he continued his tale.

“Some years later, Lucia and Bento produced a son, Antonio, the first known offspring to result from a werewolf and warlock union. Antonio proved to be an entirely new breed all his own, with strength and abilities far surpassing those of both of his parents, heralding the advent of the most powerful werewolf-warlock, or
were-lock,
breed in existence to this day.”

Alcaeus’ lips idled over my fingers as pain slashed his features. “Which, as it turned out, proved uncommonly timely.” Somber hazel eyes found mine. “For you see, the Portuguese Inquisition began in 1536, and Portugal held its first auto-da-fe in 1540. Witches, mages, warlocks, and werewolves alike were hunted down, tortured, and murdered en masse along with the New Christians. The losses to our kind were staggering,” he recounted.

“The Reinosos, along with many others, fled early on to Brazil in an effort to escape persecution. But the autos-da-fe reached Brazil by the latter part of the century when the Inquisition expanded to include Portugal’s colonies.” His handsome face took on a haunted expression. “All told, the Inquisition lasted nearly three centuries, wiping out entire packs and covens, including most of the original Reinoso coven of mages.”

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered.

He squeezed my hand and gave me his most captivating, lopsided grin. “But Bento’s pack, the new Reinoso clan, survived unscathed because of their unique abilities, particularly Antonio’s talent for mind manipulation and compulsion. I’m pretty sure our bloodline would’ve otherwise ended there if not for the union of Bento and Lucia.”

“’Course,”
he inserted, “it didn’t hurt that Antonio’s first-born child—a devastatingly attractive and supremely gifted male wolf born in 1604, named Alcaeus,” he boasted, wagging his brows as my eyes widened and my mouth split into a grin, “was a natural prankster who had the time of his life fucking with the minds of Inquisitors at all levels and in various countries throughout the latter half of the Inquisition.”

“No
way!”
I exclaimed in a childishly awed, breathy whisper. I couldn’t help it. Alcaeus had just become the coolest, most fascinating individual I’d ever conversed with, essentially ascending beyond celebrity status in my eyes for his firsthand knowledge and actual participation in the Inquisition.

“
Way
,”
he retorted with exaggerated importance, sending me into a fit of blushing, girlish giggles.

“That’s incredible,” I gushed. “That you did that … that you lived then … and experienced all that.” I babbled on like a fangirl. I couldn’t help but notice he appeared thoroughly amused and distinctly pleased by my sophomoric reaction.

“As I was saying before,” he resumed with a glowing smile, “most of us believe that vessels are sent by our ancestors, and that they are meant to change the course of our future. Lucia, my grandma, was the last known vessel sent to us,” he revealed seamlessly, “until now.”

I was shaking my head in denial as the full meaning of his words sank in. After hearing Lucia and Bento’s story, it made perfect sense how Lucia fit Alcaeus’ description of what a vessel was believed to be. At the same time, by way of comparison it made even less sense why anyone would ever think
I
might fit that description.

“But I’m not anything special like Lucia,” I disputed. “My DNA holds no value to your kind. What evolutionary leap could possibly be gained from connecting my life to your pack?”

“I’ve absolutely no clue yet,” Alcaeus admitted with a broad, toothy grin. “But every instinct I’ve honed over four centuries is telling me how precious you are. And I can’t seem to shake this burgeoning compulsion to do whatever is necessary to make you happy and to protect your life at all cost.”

My breath caught in my throat at the sincerity behind his words. Yet it was madness. He didn’t even know me! None of this was real or made any sense.
Hell, I wasn’t even awake!

“That’s not rational, Alcaeus. I’m not your vessel. I have no way of changing the course of anyone’s future. I don’t even have control over my own,” I griped, feeling a resurgence of resentment and anxiety over my present predicament.

“Milena, sweetheart, you’re safe and worry-free with me right now, remember?” he placated, his eyes drawing mine into their inviting depths until I felt cocooned in comfort and could scarcely recall what worry felt like. “There we go … much better.” Alcaeus’ adoring smile of approval was like the sun beaming down on me, kissing every part of me with its warmth.

“As I’ve said, you don’t have to be anything you don’t want to. And whether you’re the vessel or not, you’re about the best smelling little human girl I’ve ever scented. Truthfully,” he confided in a hollow, hungry whisper as his mouth slowly descended to trail languid kisses down the side of my face to my jawline, “it’s beginning to do crazy things to me.”

I sighed dreamily as his facial growth tickled and awakened every nerve ending in his path. “Mm-mmm,” he hummed as his lips paused over my ear. “Pretty, sweet,
sweet
Milena,” he chanted. “Do you have any idea how fucking good I would be to you?”

I was fairly sure that was rhetorical, though not exactly certain what he’d meant, until I
felt
his words as if they’d stroked through me, their meaning vibrating and settling deftly and unmistakably between my thighs, turning my insides to warm goo.

“I’d drown you in pleasure,” he rasped, his nose nuzzling mine. “Make you forget all else … erase every pain …” His lips brushed my own. “Every single fear and trouble …”

My fingers stole around his neck, and my lips parted of their own volition to skim shyly back and forth against his. I was certain I’d never wanted to be kissed so badly in all my life. All the blood in my body felt like it was flowing straight to the juncture of my thighs, where an inimitable yearning was blossoming and throbbing to life.

“Fuuck,”
Alcaeus groaned against my pleading lips, “I can’t … I didn’t mean to … fuck,
fuck,
it’s that
scent
—
”

With a growled,
“Eh, fuck Alex,”
his lips crashed down onto mine in a searing hot, all-consuming kiss that flipped my world on its axis. I went up in flames as his tongue delved inside of my mouth, thrusting gently, yet insistently, coaxing a response from my inexperienced one. I didn’t know what to do at first, but when he sucked my tongue into his mouth, silently encouraging me to explore him back, I pretty well lost it and just allowed instinct to take over.

He rolled over top of me, and my greedy hands couldn’t welcome him fast enough, exploring his muscled arms, torso, and whatever other parts I could reach as I urged him closer.

It was still just a dream,
I told myself.
It wasn’t real
. It didn’t matter that I was acting so wanton.
Behavior in dreams didn’t have consequences.

So it wouldn’t matter that my legs had parted to afford him space between them as he hovered above, holding his weight off of me right where I was growing wet and feverish to feel him most.