The Choosing (24 page)

Jerath relaxes a little at that, but his body is still taut with tension. He hardly even notices the cut on his leg.

They eventually reach a small group of people gathered around in a rough semicircle. Jerath spots Torek and Meren’s father—both their faces are pale and worried-looking. Caleb’s also there, and he walks forward to meet them. He halts Jerath with a hand to his chest, preventing him from getting closer, and Jerath can’t help the snarl that escapes him. He needs to see his mate.

“Hey, calm down.” Caleb steps back and raises his hands. “I just need to talk to you, Jerath.”

Jerath sucks in a lungful of air and tries to control his breathing, but it’s hard. He can smell Meren now. The scent of sickness and death hangs heavy around him, and Jerath wants nothing more than to push Caleb out of the way and go to him. “Talk.”

“Torek said that you bonded with Meren.” He talks quietly so they aren’t overheard.

Jerath shifts awkwardly, not knowing how Caleb will react. He’s not sure he can handle it if Caleb tells him it’s wrong, not with his mate lying injured and so near to death.

Caleb scrubs his hand over his eyes. “He’s lost a lot of blood, Jerath. If you’ve bonded with him, then you can give him some of yours.”

“Yes,” Jerath answers almost immediately. “Will my blood heal him?” Shifters heal a little quicker than humans, and though Meren isn’t a shifter he is Jerath’s mate, so maybe the same rules apply.

Caleb sighs and shakes his head. “I don’t think it works quite like that, Jerath. He’s still human.” Jerath’s heart sinks and Serim steps closer, wrapping her arm around his waist and squeezing gently. “I’ve been studying with the elders of our village,” Caleb continues. “And from what I understand, your blood might just keep Meren alive until we can get him back to Chastil and let the healers there take care of him.”

“What do I need to do?”

Caleb gestures to where Meren is laid on the ground. The others move out of the way as Caleb and Jerath kneel down beside him. Jerath strokes his thumb across the pale skin of Meren’s cheek. It’s drained of all its color, and he looks nothing like the man Jerath knows.

“Bite your wrist.” Caleb’s voice is soft and Jerath does as he’s asked. He lifts his arm and sinks his fangs into the soft flesh on the underside of his wrist, barely feeling the sting. The blood starts to pool and slides over Jerath’s skin before dripping onto the ground. “Now, hold it over his mouth.” It reminds Jerath of when they bonded and he barely stifles a sob.

Caleb pulls gently on Meren’s jaw until his mouth falls open, and Jerath holds his bleeding wrist just above Meren’s lips. The blood drips onto his tongue, and Meren instinctively swallows. He moans and pulls a face at the taste, screwing his nose up. He tries to turn away, but he’s too weak. Caleb just holds his head in place and Meren gives up trying to move.

Jerath lowers his wrist a little, and his blood continues to flow into Meren’s mouth. Meren drinks and drinks, and ever so slowly, the color starts to come back to his cheeks. It’s only faint, but the deathly pallor has gone and Jerath wants to cry with relief.

“That’s enough.” Caleb draws Jerath’s wrist away and tells him to lick it so that it heals.

Jerath’s a little light-headed after giving so much blood, so he stretches out alongside Meren and closes his eyes to rest for a while. His hand brushes against Meren’s and he carefully links their fingers. The contact is soothing. Even if he can’t feel Meren through the emotional ties of the bond, he can still feel him like this.

Jerath hears them talking around him, but his mind feels a little fuzzy and he can’t concentrate on what they’re saying.

“Hey, are you all right, Jerath?” Serim whispers it next to his ear and it tickles. He bats her away clumsily and she huffs at him. Jerath opens one eye and squints at her. She’s looking at him intently, and he’s not at all surprised by her next words. “I thought Meren didn’t want to complete the bond?”

Jerath sighs and turns away from Serim to look at Meren’s unconscious form. He manages a small smile as he remembers the previous night. “He changed his mind.”

“But, Jerath—”

“Not now, Serim.” Jerath faces her again and raises his hand when she starts to interrupt. “I know what you’re going to say, but
please
… just… not now.”

She stares at him for a moment or two longer and then finally nods.

“Thank you.” Jerath relaxes a little, because that is the last thing he wants to discuss right now. There are people still talking nearby, and he waves his hand above him in the direction of their voices. “What are they talking about?”

Serim smoothes his hair out of his eyes as she talks. “They want to move Meren and get him back to the village, but he’s too badly injured to be carried. They sent two people back to get one of the wagons as soon as it happened, but it’ll be at least another two hours before they get back.”

Jerath doesn’t want to ask, but he needs to know. “Does he have that long?”

“He does now,” she answers, and Jerath hears the smile in her voice.

Serim sighs, her hand still carding through Jerath’s hair, and he remembers she should be taking care of someone else instead of being here with him. His eyes fly open and he grabs at her hand. “Where’s Ghaneth? Is he okay?”

Her smile grows even wider. “He’s still hurting, but he’s much better than when we found him.”

“You can go to him, Serim. I’ll be okay here.”

“I’ll stay for a bit longer,” she says, and lies down next to him. “Ghaneth was asleep when I left him. They gave him water and a little food and it wiped him out.”

Jerath’s eyes are getting heavy, and he doesn’t fight the sleepy feeling that comes over him. He vaguely registers Serim leaning over to kiss his forehead before he slips into unconsciousness.

“J
ERATH
.”

Someone shakes his shoulder gently, and Jerath’s eyes snap open to see Torek. He’s not holding Meren’s hand anymore and when he reaches out he can’t feel him at all. Jerath scrambles to sit up and when he can’t see Meren anywhere, he grabs Torek’s shirt and pulls him close.

“Where is he?” It comes out low and feral-sounding, but Jerath can’t help it. He’s barely keeping a rein on his urge to shift and protect his mate as it is.

“They’ve already loaded him onto the wagon.” Torek speaks in soft tones and doesn’t make any attempt to remove Jerath’s hand. Maybe Torek understands more than Jerath gives him credit for. “Come on, they’re waiting for you.”

Jerath lets go of Torek’s clothes and pushes himself up onto his feet. He feels much better now, the light-headedness has all but disappeared, and he walks quickly after Torek.

Meren is wrapped up tight on a deep bed of furs. Thick blankets are packed around him to keep him as steady as possible during the journey. He still looks pale and near to death, and Jerath’s chest tightens painfully at the sight. He tries to sense Meren’s emotions again, searching for any sign he’s in there somewhere, but there’s nothing.

He takes a shuddery breath and startles when soft hands slide into both of his. Mahli and Serim crowd him from either side, offering their comfort, and Jerath squeezes their hands tight. He needs them now, more than ever, and he’s beyond grateful they both seem to realize it and don’t let go of him when the wagon starts to move.

It takes two hours to get back to Chastil. Jerath walks next to Meren the whole way, still flanked on either side by his friends. The rest of the people from Jerath’s village are scattered around them, and he chats to a few of them as they walk. Ghaneth and a couple of the others are also traveling in wagons, and Serim keeps a close eye on them, going over to check on them every so often. Ghaneth is still asleep, so she stays by Jerath’s side.

He can see Kyr up ahead, walking alongside Ghaneth’s cart, and Jerath is relieved that Kyr hasn’t tried to talk to him yet. He’s not sure how he’d react if Kyr came over now and started to annoy him as usual. He doubts it would be pretty. He idly wonders if Kyr can sense it, because he’s glanced back at Jerath several times already but hasn’t said a word.

The familiar outskirts of Meren’s village come into view, and Jerath breathes a little easier. Meren’s still in a bad way, but at least now his own people can start to care for him. Caleb and Torek look after the rescued prisoners, ushering them through the village to the makeshift camp on the other side. They need food, water, and somewhere to clean up and rest. Jerath knows he should probably go and help, they’re his people after all, but there’s no way he’s leaving Meren’s side. Serim gives him a quick hug and follows after Ghaneth, leaving him with Mahli.

Meren’s father helps get his son off the wagon and into the small house in front of them. They’re met by two women. Both are older than Malek, and Jerath assumes they must be the healers. They have long, silvery hair and are dressed all in white, and have an air of calm confidence about them as they lead the way into the house.

“I think this is Meren’s home,” Mahli whispers as they follow them inside. “Malek showed us around when we first arrived here.” Jerath has almost forgotten that Mahli had been here before him, and that she appears to be on a first-name basis with Meren’s father.

He looks around as they enter. It’s nice, surprisingly spacious inside, but Jerath feels wrong being here for the first time when Meren’s unconscious.

They take Meren through into what looks like his bedroom, but when Jerath goes to follow, Malek turns and puts his hand on Jerath’s chest to stop him. Jerath snarls and Malek immediately snatches his hand back.

“I’m not exactly sure what’s going on between you and my son.” He pauses, staring intently at Jerath as though he can will the answers out of him. “But I have my suspicions.”

Jerath’s surprised Torek hasn’t told him, but then again Meren probably asked him not to say anything and Torek would never betray his friend. Malek continues to stare, and Jerath waits for the inevitable look of disapproval. But it never comes.

Malek smiles warmly and clasps Jerath’s shoulder. “What you did for him”—he looks pointedly at Jerath’s wrist, where the puncture marks are still visible—“allowed us to get him back here, and have a fighting chance at saving his life.” His hand tightens and Jerath sees all his own pain reflected back at him. “Thank you. My son is lucky to have you as his mate.”

Mahli gasps next to him, and Jerath realizes she didn’t know he and Meren have bonded. He thought Serim might have filled her in, but he should’ve known she’d consider it his right to tell Mahli.

Mahli reaches out for Jerath’s hand and twines her fingers with his. Jerath is lost for words and Malek’s looking at him expectantly, but he’s so shocked at the easy acceptance of his and Meren’s relationship that the words just stick in his throat. Mahli gives his hand a tug and thankfully snaps him out if it.

“Thank you,” he manages to say eventually. His gaze drifts past Malek to watch the activity in Meren’s bedroom as they prepare him for the healers. “Can I stay while they heal him?”

Malek sighs and shakes his head. “No one is allowed in the room while they perform their rituals, not even me.”

“You use magic?” Jerath asks, confused. He didn’t think there was any magic outside of the Forest Goddess’s domain.

“Yes.” Malek smiles indulgently. “You’re not the only people to benefit from the Goddess’s benevolence. She was very generous with my people when we agreed to leave her forest.”

Jerath remembers the story Meren told him the night before.

“She bestowed magical healing abilities on a select few of the village elders, and it has been passed down through the generations,” Malek continues, stepping forward. The door closes behind him and Jerath starts toward it, but both Mahli and Malek pull him gently away. “Come.” He gestures to the chairs set around a large wooden table. “We can wait here while they work.”

T
HEY
sit around the table for what seems like hours. Malek tells them both stories of his village, when they used to be hunters in the forest of Eladir. Jerath and Mahli listen with rapt attention as Malek tells them his people and the shifters of the forest were once very close.

“The elders say that we have ties to the moon that are just as strong as yours. We still have certain rituals that are performed on the full moon.” He smiles ruefully at Jerath. “Which is why I’m not overly surprised that Meren bonded with a shifter. No one here ever held his eye for long.”

Jerath blushes and Mahli giggles behind her hand.

“Do you bear his mark?” Malek asks with a raised eyebrow.

“His what?”

Malek laughs softly and shakes his head. “You haven’t talked much about the customs of our people, then?”

“No… not really.” Jerath blushes again, because Malek will know very well what they’ve been doing with their time. He sees Mahli grinning out of the corner of his eye but refuses to look at her.

“We can’t shift like the people of your village, Jerath, but we each have an animal connection. Though not everyone chooses to find it.” He moves in his seat and spares a glance over at the closed door of Meren’s bedroom before he carries on speaking. “When two people are joined, the union is blessed on the full moon by one of the village elders. After that night, each will bear the other’s mark—an image of their animal.”

“But we haven’t been blessed,” Jerath says quietly. He suddenly feels as though they’ve done something wrong. They’ve ignored the customs and rituals of both villages in their rush to be together. Jerath’s heart sinks and his gaze drops to his lap.

Malek stretches across the table and grips Jerath’s forearm. “The next full moon is in three weeks’ time.”

He doesn’t say anything else, just lets the idea sit between them, and Jerath wonders just how much Malek’s aware of. Whether he knows that although Jerath and Meren have bonded, they’ve made no plans beyond that. Jerath absently rubs at the dull ache in his chest. The thought of leaving Meren and never seeing him again makes everything hurt, and he’s not so sure he’ll be physically capable of doing it when the time comes.