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  Mated for Life

  Second Chance Werewolf Romance

  By: Sloane Peterson

  Table of Contents

  Chapter

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

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  Mated for Life

  1

  Ethin

  Her skin, usually so pale and as fair as the light of a full moon, was blood red and gleaming with sweat. Damp curtains of her beautiful blonde hair billowed against the soaked pillowcase like a halo. Even in the throes of such a vicious illness, her visage was nothing short of angelic.

  She closed her red-green, bloodshot eyes, and let out a painful, rasping cough. My heart broke for her, as it had done every step along the way over the course of her deterioration.

  I gripped the hand that wasn't presently balled up into a fist against her coughing mouth. I squeezed the fingers tight, fixing her with concerned eyes. As though somehow my gaze alone might heal her, might give her all that she needed which I myself could not provide.

  Never in my life had I felt so helpless.

  At last she settled down, panting with difficulty against the pillow, her eyes closed. I slowly ran my fingers through her damp hair, and tensed as she shivered. It seemed as though she was always too hot, and too cold, and too everything all at once.

  “Here,” I said, handing her a glass in my hand once I thought she could stand it. “Drink this.”

  “What is it?” she asked, just barely managing to open her eyes to slits and inspect the mixture.

  “It's an herbal potion,” I said, slowly straightening out a long strand of her hair. “I had it specially brewed. It might help you.”

  At this, her eyes fully opened. She gazed up at me, with equal parts love and pity in her gaze. As though somehow, in spite of everything she was now going through, she felt far worse for me than she did for herself.

  “It won't help,” she said at length, lowering her eyes from mine to the glass.

  “How will you know unless you try it?” I asked, though I knew she was right.

  She closed her eyes again, and raised her eyebrows. She very gently turned her head from side to side.

  “Nothing helps,” she said.

  “This might,” I persisted. “Please. Just try it. Do it for me. I would for you if you asked me.”

  She sighed, her breath so wheezy as it passed through her lips that I thought she might start coughing again. Then to my great surprise, a smile instead spread its way across her lips.

  “Okay then,” she said, looking up once more. “You drink it.”

  “What?” I said, laughing.

  “Drink some. I need to be sure it isn't poison first.”

  I smiled, and it seemed so long since I had done so that the expression seemed alien to me. It was as though the feat had been wiped altogether from my muscle memory.

  “Here all this time I thought I was an alpha male,” I teased her, “when all along I was just a lowly cupbearer for the Queen.”

  “At last he learns his place,” she said, and I was amazed at her– able to mine for levity in even the most harrowing of circumstances.

  “Your wish is my command, Madame,” I said, with a low, regal bow. I brought the goblet of liquid up to my nose, and made a great show of sniffing its contents. She studied me intently. Then, smiling over the rim of the glass, I tilted it gently back, and took a single gulp of potion.

  In truth, it was anything but delicious. Not totally repellant to the senses, but bitter. Something you could get down, but which you really didn't want to have to consume any more of than you absolutely had to.

  Nevertheless, I held the contents of the goblet in my cheeks for a moment or two before swallowing, swishing it around as though judging the quality of a fine wine. At last I swallowed it down, and smacked my lips in a savory fashion.

  “Nectar of the gods,” I said, and handed her the goblet.

  She raised an eyebrow at me. “Really?” she said, clearly disbelieving. I handed her the goblet, and she took a sip of the stuff.

  She sat there for a moment, considering. She coughed once, and then sighed.

  “Tastes like piss,” she said.

  I smiled guiltily.

  “Well, I didn't say which god it was the nectar of... You wouldn't have gone for it if I'd said it was the nectar of Uranus.”

  A spray of the potion blew from her mouth with laughter, and I smiled, grateful that I could still entertain her in such a state, even if I couldn't seem to do much else. Unfortunately, this moment of levity quickly deteriorated into another fit of painful coughing, and I had to take the goblet from her to stop her from spilling its contents all over herself.

  It was several minutes before I at last got her to finish off the glass. I felt at once victorious– at least I was trying something– as well as completely hopeless. All that effort, and there was a very real chance we'd accomplished nothing whatsoever. It wouldn't make her better. Nothing in the world would make her better. I could sell my very soul to the devil in the hopes that it might improve her odds, and her fate would surely remain every bit as inevitable.

  Nevertheless I recovered the goblet from her, then leaned in and planted a soft kiss against her forehead. Her flesh was as it had been all this time, at once icy cold as well as molten hot. I'd come to expect this by now, and yet I could never quite get used to it.

  “Good girl,” I said, and she smiled at me, closing her eyes again.

  “I hope Uranus is pleased,” she said softly.

  “Uranus is overjoyed,” I said, stroking her hair.

  A very long silence ensued. It went on for so long that I believed she'd fallen asleep. I sat there next to her, holding her hand, and studying her closed eyes, her serene expression.

  A heat rose up inside me. The idea, far from novel at this point, arose that one day, she would again close her eyes to rest, to drift off into oblivion, never again to wake. She would spend eternity with this same serene expression on her face, leaving behind a gaping absence in her place, a hole that couldn't possibly be filled.

  And with that I felt the tears beginning to burn, falling in cruel torrents along the bridge of my nose.

  “Shit,” I swore, wiping the teardrops away with my free hand. I wanted to stay by her side until the very end. I wanted to take advantage of every last moment in her presence. And yet I couldn't just keep sitting here. I couldn't let it end like this, leaving everything up to fate.

  I had to do something, or at least try to, as many times over as I had already exhausted any potential solutions.

  I just had to keep trying, and somehow, miraculously, this would all still turn out okay.

  I rose slowly, and began to turn away from her, as much as it pained me. But then her fingers tightened around mine, locking me in place. She was still awake, and when I gazed down at her I saw that she was looking up at me.

  “I need to tell you something,” she said, and there was a clear sense of urgency in her gaze.

  I quickly sat back do
wn at her bedside.

  “Okay,” I said. “What? What is it?”

  She hesitated for a long moment, and appeared to study a point somewhere very far off in space.

  “I–“ she said haltingly. “I– I'm pregnant...”

  I gaped at her, as though still waiting for her to speak.

  “You're... You're what?” I asked, but was already shaking my head. “No,” I said. “No, that isn't– that's not what's wrong, honey. You're just sick.”

  “No,” she said, and the clarity in those green eyes made me sure she was serious. “I'm sick. And I'm pregnant. I have been, since before all of this. I just... Didn't mention it until now.”

  The silence in those moments was deafening. I couldn't seem to process this information, at all. The words echoed in my head. I knew them all, individually. But put together, strung into a sentence, it seemed totally abstract. Completely nonsensical.

  “You're... You're going to have a baby,” I finally said, the message sinking in.

  “No,” she said, and a profound sadness crept into her gaze.

  “What?” I said.

  “You said I'm going to have a baby. I said– I'm pregnant. It isn't the same thing...”

  Very slowly, her meaning sank in. But still I said nothing, and she seemed to think I needed her to clarify. “I'm not going to make it,” she said finally. “I'm not going to live to see our child to term.”

  “What– no!” I said, shaking my head vehemently. “Honey, don't be ridiculous! You'll make it! You– you'll both–“

  “Ethin,” she said, the sound of my own name rapidly shutting me down. I very slowly extricated my fingers from her own, and crossed my hands together atop my lap. They were worn hands. Tired hands. I felt as though I'd been through so much in my life, yet life was only just getting started with me.

  “I wanted to tell you earlier,” she said, and coughed. “I knew you'd be so happy. But then I got sick... And I just kept getting sicker. And I thought, when I get better, I'll tell him. When I'm strong enough. And we can both celebrate the good news, instead of having to have this conversation. But... But I think it's time we both faced the truth, Ethin. And I wanted to tell you before... Before...”

  “Don't be ridiculous,” I said, and I threw myself at her. I pulled her into my arms, and held her, anointing her with my tears as I sobbed into her neck. “You're going to make it. Do you hear me? I love you with all my heart, Leira. I'm going to do everything I possibly can to make sure you get through this. I swear on my life. Do you understand me?”

  “I love you too,” she said, and even her return of my embrace felt far feebler than before. “But don't swear on your life, Ethin. A day will come when you're the only thing left of us. That day is coming soon. Our people need you. You need to be there for them. You need to be strong.”

  “I need you!” I protested, gripping her ever more fiercely. “Don't say these things, Leira! Don't say them! We're going to get through this! I'm going to find out what's wrong with you, and I'm going to fix it! Do you hear me? I'm sorry Leira, but you're wrong! You're wrong about this, about all of it! You'll see! One day soon we'll both look back on this and laugh! We'll wonder how we could ever have believed this was the end! Because it isn't, Leira! Do you understand me? It's not the end!”

  I'd risen above the bed, and gotten far worked up than I intended. And there it was again, that pitying looking as she laid there on the bed.

  You poor, poor fool, her eyes seemed to say.

  “Okay,” she said simply. “Yes, my love. You're right.”

  But of course it wasn't true.

  Of course she was the one who was right. She was always right, even when I refused to see what was plainly there, right before my very eyes.

  So many lonely nights had passed since then. So many times I had replayed this terrible conversation in my head, with all the reassurances I'd offered her. All the promises I'd failed to keep.

  I stared down at the bed where she'd lain, so many moons ago.

  Her spot on the bed lay vacant for months now. Sometimes it seemed as though she'd been gone from that spot far longer than she'd ever been there in the first place.

  I knew that that wasn't true, that it was only a trick of perception, the time distorting effects of my grief. But the day would come, eventually. The day when I would wake up, and realize she'd been a memory, far longer than she'd ever been flesh and blood beside me, far longer than I'd ever had the chance to hold her in my arms.

  The walls of the cabin creaked around me in the wind, the groaning of the wood making me feel insulated, protected from the outside world. Though I knew as well as anyone that sometimes the fiercest enemies come within, be it the tyranny of disease, or the wearing down of grief, diminishing those it affects just a little bit more, every moment of every day.

  “You miss her, don't you?”

  The voice was a familiar one, but nearly made me jump out of my skin with its suddenness. I pivoted around my heel, and saw my friend Gindy standing in the doorway, completely naked, his black hair spilling in waves onto his shoulders.

  “Christ, you scared the hell out of me,” I said, rubbing my temples as they throbbed in pain.

  “I tried knocking,” he said, “but no one answered. I'm worried about you, man.”

  I both appreciated and was insulted by his concern. I scoffed. “Don't be,” I said. “I'm an alpha male, in case you've forgotten. I can take care of myself.”

  “I'm not sure how much longer you'll be able to say that,” he said, and this really got my blood hot.

  “Excuse me?” I demanded of him.

  “I'm telling you this as a friend,” he said. “Not because I agree with it...”

  “Telling me what?”

  A shadow seemed to pass over his features.

  “Telling you that there are rumors floating around about you,” he said.

  “I know exactly which rumors you're referring to,” I said darkly. “You're telling me you're falling for that bullshit too?”

  “Ethin, of course not!” he shouted, sounding almost as offended as I was. “For God's sake, you know me! I'm here because... Look, please understand why I'm saying this– but with Leira, you refused to accept the truth until it was too late. You cannot afford to make that mistake again!”

  I was hot under the collar, my nostrils flaring, my hands curled into fists. I fought the urge to leap over and attack him, and had he been anyone in the world besides my own best friend and beta male, there's a good chance I might well have surrendered to the impulse.

  “The pack is growing restless,” he continued. “It's been almost a year since Leira passed. I know you're still grieving, and for you that must seem like no time at all. But for the pack... That means an entire year has gone by under the leadership of an alpha without a female. An alpha with no potential offspring. And you must realize by now that there are certain factions chomping at the bits to exploit that fact...”

  He was right. I knew he was right. I couldn't pretend any longer.

  “Onid...” I said darkly.

  Gindy nodded with great solemnity. “I've been keeping my ear to the ground,” I said. “And in all honesty... I think it's gotten to the point where that son of a bitch has enough public support from the pack to attempt a coup. He's taken several wives, has two sons and three daughters, and has two more of his mates pregnant with babies on the way. He's a fierce warrior, and a lot of our men see your own pacifist ways as a vulnerability.”

  I did take offense at this, and rounded on Gindy. “I fight when I have to fight!” I boomed. “I don't start wars with every Tom Dick and Harry that looks at me cross-eyed the way Onid wants to!”

  “And I agree with you,” said Gindy, exhibiting far too much patience with me. “But Onid has the pack stirred up into a frenzy! He's exploiting the basest, most animalistic parts of them, trying to convince them that you've let the humans walk all over us! He says we're stronger than them, and is trying to convince the p
ack that we could take back the world from humankind if we had a leader with the balls to try it!”

  “The balls to try what, committing suicide?” I asked. “Humans outnumber us a million to one!”

  “But that's what they believe!” Gindy said. “It isn't rational... And you're going to have to act on this soon, if you don't want it to get completely out of hand!”

  “By doing what? Impregnating some woman I don't love, just to prove that I'm a man? Betraying Leira's memory, like it was all nothing to me?”

  “Of course not,” said Gindy. “You think I don't miss her too? Leira was like a sister to me! And you're like my brother! I'm saying you need to challenge this asshole! The pack needs to see you dispel all his bullshit notions of power and dominion over humans, before it's too late!”

  At last, I decided to think about his words, instead of simply reacting to them. I closed my mouth. Shut my eyes. Realized that my oldest friend was right, as right as Leira had been. That he was only looking out for me, and that I needed to take him seriously, if I wanted to stand a chance of retaining even what little I had left in life.

  “You're right,” I said in a chastised voice, head hanging low. “I'm sorry, my brother. You are right. Thank you for opening my eyes. I've remained blind to this threat for too long. I must act to secure my position in the pack, while I still have a chance.”

  “Except you've already had your chance...” snarled a cruel voice, absent from the conversation until now.

  Gindy and I both turned, and instantly my muscles tensed, at the sight of the tyrant himself, slinking in through the bedroom door.

  Onid stood there, his black eyes glowing, three other men standing on either side of him, fangs borne in a trio of sharp, toothy grins.

  “You've had the opportunity, time and time and time again, to do what was right for your people. And yet you have failed, repeatedly. You've let down the entire pack, displaying nothing but weakness at every bend in the road. I'd say it's well past time, wouldn't you say, for some new blood to take over, where the old has so clearly failed?”