Fifty packs.
Fifty shattered packs, scattered around guttering fires – burning steadily amongst the growing shelters. Children ran into their mothers' shirts. Omegas tended to their mates. A handful of Alphas worked at the stoves. There were makeshift tents, small container-like buildings. It wasn't too bad, really. And she could see a stretch of trees, rare in such a climate.
The stronger ones stalked the perimeter with dark, hollowed eyes, their hands tight on their weapons, waiting for the next wave of Lonely to come crawling. Klaus said they were all from top-tier military. A part of Hemlock she had never met. Klaus's soldiers, specifically trained for researching the wastelands for a cure.
He had always been looking for a cure.
She ignored that thought with a grunt.
The world was gone; they were rebuilding from scratch. She hated the despair, hated the boiling winds, hated the way the survivors curled around each other. Soulmates pressed together, guarding each other. They were all mated, all claimed. Every single Alpha accepted into a pack.
That had been the only way for the last of the kingdom to survive.
Her throat burned. The Beta inside her paced restlessly. It was hungry for something she didn't want to name. It felt more wolf now than human. Claim them. It whispered. She could almost smell her soulmates in the wind. Protect them.
"The others must have told you I've got strange abilities," she mentioned idly. "That I'm not from this world." She turned to look at Klaus. "How much did they tell you?"
"Everything." Klaus's tone was calm, too calm. But his pulse spiked.
"Even Euodia?"
His gaze faltered. "You awoke in her body." He looked away. "You read about us in a book in your world, and you have some of her memories. Her experiences. Rowan has told me everything he knows."
She nodded; she expected as much. "And do you believe me?"
Klaus hummed. "Yes." That twisted through the bond in a smooth, viscous flow, like rivers of honey. He did trust her to an extent. A smile hooked at the corners of her lips.
"You can tell when I'm telling the truth?"
"I can," Klaus replied. "If you believe it to be true."
She scoffed. She knew what he was implying, that there was a possibility that it was all in her head. "You're always the spoilsport, aren't you?"
"I've seen the things you've conjured," he answered. "It is proof of your strange magic. Perhaps I cannot completely wrap my head around it. But you have always been different."
"Different," she said, and air whooshed from her nose. "Have you thought — for even one fucking second — that I might have something to save you all?"
He turned to her then, and gods help her, he smiled. "Do you?"
Her chest ached, a scowl on her face. "Do you trust me?"
That wiped the ghost of a smile from his face. His gold eyes widened just enough to give her a flicker of satisfaction. She turned to the horizon, eyes on the sinking globe of orange.
"Soulmates are parts of a completed soul. Lovers mandated by fate. It's undeniable." She explained. "It is said that the soul is located at the heart." She pressed a hand to her chest. "And the disease, the virus," she stretched her hand out toward the campfires, the dying packs. "It causes the rotting of the soul."
He didn't interrupt, just stood there quietly listening. She waited for the mockery, for the laughter. But his eyes were like stone, quiet, calculating. His emotions were steady. She continued.
"In my world, the virus was airborne," she said. "It's in all of us. The air. The dirt. The fucking wind. Everyone breathes it, everyone carries it, spreads it. It doesn't show at first, but it erodes soul bonds. Once the soul rots, you lose your mind, you turn Lonely."
She snorted.
"In my world, soulmates cheated on each other. They fucked others outside of their bonds. This made their souls weak, vulnerable to the virus. They transformed into Lonely when the virus mutated and grew."
"Mated packs here are different," he said softly. "We cannot betray our lovers."
"But the packs here hate women," she said. "They despised them even when they were attracted to them."
He stared at her. "Are you saying we're mated to the wrong people, that a woman must be with us?"
"No," she shook her head. "Gender does not matter. Unless the union were arranged, you would have been naturally attracted to your soulmates." She shrugged. "I theorise that the war exacerbated the problem."
"The war?"
"More dead people. More broken packs that should've been whole were cracked right down the middle." She made a face. "It was a gap, a weakness that the virus used."
She was pacing now, hands in her hair, pulling hard enough to sting.
"But you want to know why everyone's dying so quickly?" she hissed. "Why everyone's turned Lonely, tearing each other apart like rabid animals? Why do we have this fucking thing on our neck?"
She spun to face him so fast her sandals scraped the ground.
"It's because they rejected their women!" she hissed. "It's because they killed their soulmate and ate their fucking heart." Her shoulders slumped. "It broke their souls; it destroyed the packs. Their bonds could not take it, having killed their own soulmates. The virus took hold rapidly, burst their souls apart." She waved her hand over her neck. "The ink is a sign of a dying soul."
Klaus's throat worked. And then his eyes widened, despair flooded through him. "But we're completed now," Klaus said. "We've claimed the Alphas. Why are we still transforming?"
"It just means that the bonds are still weak," she cut in. Her smile was sharp, manic. "The virus will attack if there is weakness. There cannot be forced claiming. It has to be real. It has to mean something. The bonds have to heal. The soulmates have to be as one."
Klaus's voice dropped, hoarse. "What do you mean?"
Her grin went feral. "We have to fall in love to survive."
His eyes widened, perplexed.
"Not just love," she growled, her throat raw. "We have to strengthen the bond. Complete forgiveness. . Anything that makes it true love. And it has to be true love."
Klaus stared at her, chest heaving, golden eyes blazing like the dying sun. "That's…" He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "That's the only way?"
"Yes," she said, voice shaking but steady. "It's the only thing that will work." She turned to look at the sky. "And it's the hardest fucking way when both parties fucking hate each other. If everyone's packed full of prejudice and hate." She let out a low laugh. "How can an Omega love an Alpha who used to hurt him during the matriarchy? And how can an Alpha love an Omega who wanted to kill her?" She snorted. "We're so fucked."
"But our people are dying."
"They are."
"One or two turn Lonely every week."
"They have to solidify the bonds."
"How?"
"Courting! Sex! Flowers!" She threw her hands. "I don't fucking know, I can't fucking fix it, Klaus. We're fucked."
At her words, he faltered. But his eyes flickered, a sudden, strange rush of gold flooding his orbs. "Are we?" he said. And she turned to look at him, met eyes that seared holes through her, pupils eclipsed now to voids.
The silence stretched between them, thick, heavy. He moved forward just enough to close the distance she'd tried to create. His warmth hit her first, then his scent, dark and grounding. Chocolate. An edge of regret. Her brow twitched, and he stopped just before he got too close, voice a low rumble.
"Can children help?"
Children. She bit her lips, trying to make sense of his words. "Only temporarily. Children hold traces of their parents' souls. It would have stopped the virus, but not forever. The deterioration would be halted for a couple of months until the child is born."
"I see," he said simply. There was a tremble in his voice then, a flutter as his gaze landed on her. Relief? Why was he feeling relief? "And you're sure you're our soulmate?"
She snorted. Motherfucker. "Yes," she shrugged. "You all chose me for a reason. You know why you chose me. And I know you fucking hate it—"
"I don't." He set an almost predatory eye upon her. "Quinn." His voice was low, too low. "You think I don't want this?"
Her throat constricted. She should spit in his face, tell him she hated him, and tell him she'd never forgive him for taking her choice away. But the words caught somewhere in her chest, because she could feel it. The sincerity under his skin, thrumming through the bond. His guilt, his hope, his pain. His affection for her.
And tumult brewed within her, for his closeness still invoked a pounding between her legs that she was sure he could smell. She ignored it with a flush in her cheeks.
It was too much.
She was so confused, just so utterly destroyed by the situation. He was her soulmate and yet…
"I hate you," she whispered, stepping away. Fresh air filled her lungs, chasing away the chocolate of his scent. And she found that she hated that too.
"I know," he said, his voice crumbled with restraint, his heart seemed to squeeze. Or was it her heart? "I hate me too."
Something in her cracked then, so quietly she almost didn't feel it. "I'm not ready to forgive you," she murmured. He regarded her then for a beat, and she felt her body quiver. Her heart shuddered in her chest. Or was it his?
"I don't need that," he answered, and his eyes darkened then, turned to stone. The sadness that blew through their bond was fading now, swallowed by steel. Another breath and it was all gone. "I just need you to stay alive."
Read ahead on
Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/tinyeyecat
Inkitt Subscription: https://www.inkitt.com/tinyeyecat