The Alpha's Concubine (Historical Shifter Romance) (44 page)

It was hard not to be warmed by the carefree nature of her pack mates, where frustrations could be vented and forgotten in the blink of an eye. While she might never have understood how friends could go from fighting one moment to laughing about it the next, it was hard for her to deny that the ways of the Moon People served them well.

Netya was allowed to assist in treating simple wounds, but the other seers were much more adept than her, and it often felt like they wanted her out of the way during the weeks of summer. The experience was invaluable in developing her skills as a healer—so much so that the sight of blood no longer bothered her in the slightest—but she was still glad to have more time to herself during the days when the others did not want her under their feet.

It was during one of her lazy mornings away from the cave that Khelt found her down by the river, and he beckoned her over with a smile. His sudden appearance puzzled Netya. She was not used to him approaching her during the day all that often, and recently he had been just as busy as the seers dealing with the hot tempers the summer season had brought on.

"Come with me," he said. "I want to show you something."

"What is it?" Netya replied, but Khelt had already taken the shape of his wolf and was lowering his body to the ground for her to climb on. With a bemused grin, she swung her leg over the alpha's back and curled her fingers into his fur, feeling the soft tickle of his dark coat brushing up against her thighs as she straddled him.

Khelt barked up at the sky, wiggling beneath Netya to make sure she had a firm grip, then broke into a run. He took her south down the river, into the overgrown land where the plains gave way to nature, before breaking off from the familiar route to head east. The journey took less than an hour on Khelt's quick legs, but their path led them through places Netya rarely saw on her own wanderings. They moved beyond the lush foraging territory into the more bleak area of hills and scrubland that she remembered coming through on the way from her village to the outcrop.

The natural beauty of the land was more subdued here. Gone were the colours of petals and leaves, replaced instead by long, majestic valleys and ridges, with carpets of wild grass that rustled quietly in the gentle wind. There was little birdsong to be heard, but rather than feeling lonely, the silence lent the hills an air of reverence, as if the ancient land was a place where even the animals kept their voices low. It was not good hunting ground, nor did there seem to be much of anything worth gathering here. Perhaps that was what made it feel so different. It was a corner of the world that had no purpose save to exist for itself. It was simple, and it was calming.

Khelt brought her to the base of a small hill before coming to a halt. At first Netya could not tell why he had chosen such a spot. It looked completely unremarkable at first glance, but the alpha seemed confident that they had reached their destination. He crouched down for Netya to get off, then returned to his two-legged shape and led her to a pile of boulders midway up the grassy slope.

"Will you tell me now why we are here?" she said.

"You will see soon. My father took me to this place when I was a boy. As far as I know, I am the only one who can find it." He turned to look at her for a moment. "Perhaps it will help show you some of the things that I cannot."

No more enlightened by his cryptic remark, Netya waited while Khelt stepped forward and ran his hands over the rocks until he found the boulder he was looking for. It was huge, to the point where Netya was sure no man would have been able to move it. When Khelt braced his hands against the underside she almost reached out to stop him, remembering what had happened the last time he tried to shift such an immovable object.

She need not have worried. As Khelt heaved his muscular body against the boulder, she realised that the underside was rounded, allowing it to roll smoothly to one side. It still took all of the alpha's strength to shift it, but after just a few seconds of straining against the rock it tipped, thudding heavily into a natural dip in the ground that seemed perfectly suited to holding it.

Khelt held out his hand to her, leading the way into the narrow earthen passage that had been exposed.

All of the caves Netya had set foot in back at the outcrop had been skilfully adapted from their natural state into cosy dwellings, but they were all imperfect in some way. Unlike houses and earth lodges, they could not be shaped into anything too different from how nature had crafted them. This cave, however, was perfect. It was as if the spirits themselves had carved it out to fulfil the one sacred duty it was intended for, and it took her breath away.

The centre of the hill held an enormous hollow chamber, perfectly circular save for a few surviving stalactites, and domed like the shape of an upturned bowl. It looked as though a giant bubble had risen from deep beneath the earth and settled near the surface, creating walls that were smooth rather than craggy, and a floor that felt as flat as river-polished rock beneath Netya's feet. A circular opening at the apex of the dome illuminated the chamber, casting its brightest shaft of light on a platform of stone that had clearly been made by hand, one broad, flat boulder propped up by a series of smaller ones to create what looked like an altar. It was blanketed with grass and dust that had fallen from the opening above, and a small pool of rainwater had collected around the base, but it was still an impressive sight to behold.

All of this was nothing compared to what lined the walls, however. Netya had never seen such an intricate and fascinating pattern in her life. From a distance it was hard to tell what the shapes were, but as she drew closer she realised that almost two thirds of the entire chamber had been painted with a continuous mural that stretched around the inner wall, one pattern flowing into the next over and over again. The colours and outlines varied, some simple, some extravagant, but whoever had painted them must have spent years creating such a mesmerising stream of shapes. From the moment she looked at them, she knew she would remember the sight for the rest of her life.

"Did your father paint these?" she said in awe, stepping away from Khelt to examine the wall closest to her where the mural began.

"My father and his father are only a small part of what this is," he replied. "As I will be too, when the next alpha succeeds me. Every one of us, every leader of our pack, for as long as time can remember us, has come here to add his own story to the walls. If there is a place our spirits linger after we are gone, I think it is here."

As Netya's eyes grew accustomed to the dim light beneath the sheltered cave walls, she began to make out even fainter patterns next to the ones she had been looking at, so old that time had worn them away to almost nothing. She made her way around the edge of the cave, tracing one painting to the next. Many of them depicted familiar sights. Herds of beasts, wolves, hunters, battles. She could see clearly where the life of one alpha ended and the next began. The colour of the paint would change, the character of the shapes would differ, and a new chapter in the history of the pack would unfold.

Some of the alphas seemed to have made no more than a begrudging addition to the mural, a short series of simple marks that depicted what she took to be themselves and the members of their pack. Others were more extravagant. One mural in particular stretched so far up the curved roof that Netya did not know how the painter had ever managed to climb so high, depicting a flourishing series of people, places, and objects that were so abstract they were difficult to make sense of.

Some of the alphas had painted only plants and trees. Others made patterns that seemed to mean nothing at all. One was smaller than the span of two hands, while the largest took Netya many long strides to walk past.

At the far end of the mural, an unfinished pattern sat daubed in red paint.

"Is this yours?" Netya said as she put out her hand to touch the painting. She heard Khelt's heavy breath in the stillness of the cave behind her. His hands settled on her shoulders. He said nothing, but his closeness seemed answer enough.

"What is your painting going to be?" she asked. The red smears of paint curled from the end of the last mural into the beginnings of shapes, but they had yet to take any form Netya could recognise.

"I do not know," Khelt said at last. The sincerity in his voice made Netya's heart jolt. "I have sat here all day sometimes, waiting for the spirits to tell me. I made those marks on the wall hoping my hands would know where to take them, but they never became anything." He squeezed her shoulders. "Since you have been at my side, I have started to see where they might lead."

Netya turned around and looked up at him. His expression was strained, as if something inside him was struggling to find its way out. She took his hand and clasped it to her breast. The was a chink of light shining through the veil that separated them.

"I care for you, Khelt, but—"

"But your heart longs for more, I know," he said. "At first I thought it was because you were uncomfortable being my consort. But it goes beyond that, doesn't it?"

Netya bit her lower lip. "I understand little of love," she began, "but I believe it should be a joining of spirits, where two become one. I want to understand all of you, and for you to understand all of me. You know I am happy to perform my duties for you, but I do not know if what we have is love. Not yet."

"I wish I could join my soul to yours as you say," Khelt replied. "Your spirit is beautiful and pure, and perhaps it deserves a partner just as innocent. It is not that I wish to hide myself from you, Netya, but there are things I wish to protect you from. Things I would forget myself if I could."

Netya opened her mouth to speak, but Khelt hushed her. "I must say this. It has been on my mind for longer than you know. I brought you here to show you how much I am willing to share. This cave is a secret to all save you and I. Perhaps the spirits of my forebears are angry that I have brought a woman of the Sun People so such a sacred place, but I have done it all the same. There are some things, like this, that make me happy to share with you, but there are others that will bring only sadness." He cupped the back of her neck with his hand, looking into her eyes with longing. "I cannot take you as my mate in the presence of my pack, but I can do it out here. If you can accept what I am able to offer, I promise to give you nothing but happiness. There is no other female I desire more."

Netya studied the face of her lover, not with the wide-eyed awe of the girl he had taken from the village, but with the regard of an older, wiser woman. It had only been a year, but she had learned more in that short time than a lifetime among her own people might have taught her. She was learning to see things through the eyes of a seer, and she turned that gaze toward what lay in her own heart, along with what she saw in Khelt's expression.

"You would have me as your mate," she said, "but you make it sound like an agreement. The parts of yourself, of your past, that you want to shelter me from are the very things I long to hear most. I do not care if they bring nothing but pain. Perhaps that is what makes me feel they are so important." She wanted to tell him she knew about what had happened between him and Adel. That she understood. That he should not blame himself, or the den mother, for things neither of them could change.

In that moment, she wondered whether she might be struggling with emotions that were hopelessly futile. She wanted Khelt to be different, to change somehow into the intimate lover she wanted him to be. Was it foolish to try and change a man who would rather break his body against an immovable boulder than accept defeat? Was she the one who had been creating this veil between them, through wanting more than Khelt was able to give?

He had been trying to tell her something in taking her to this place. Perhaps, if she learned to listen to the things he did share, rather than fixating on those he did not, she might find the spark of love she had been searching for.

In a rare moment of insight, Khelt seemed to understand what she was puzzling over. "I have said all I can," he murmured, kissing her hand. "You know how I feel for you. This is not a choice I will make on your behalf as alpha." He stepped back and led her gently to the stone altar in the centre of the cave. "Think over whatever you must. I will be here when you have an answer for me, whether it is an hour, or a month from now."

He brushed the altar clean of debris and allowed her to sit. Without another word, he returned to his mural, leaving Netya to stare at his back as both of them struggled with their own private thoughts. She tilted her chin up, letting the sunlight fall upon her face, and wondered.

It felt as if a turning point in her life was near. The world of spirits had been opened to her. Love was tugging her heart in different directions, demanding that it be given an answer. Her home was in two places at once, and she no longer knew to which one she belonged. She wanted more time. Khelt's proposal filled her with hope, but as one path opened to her, another was closed off. As she thought of pledging herself to Khelt, a steady ache grew inside her where her feelings for Caspian dwelt.

She watched as the alpha took an old wooden bowl and pestle from an alcove near the cave's entrance, adding water and dried berries to it, before grinding them to their pigment. With his back still turned, he sat down before his mural and began to paint.

He reminded Netya of the seers when their trances took them to the spirit world. Khelt dipped his fingers into the bowl, rested them against the cave wall, and waited. When he finally moved, it did not seem to be with any direction or purpose. He allowed the red lines to trail listlessly from his fingertips until they faded and dried. He stared at them, then repeated the motion again, just as slowly and patiently as before.