Page 29 of Damian

“The young heifer, Tara, we brought with us is using her newly acquired skills as a therapist to assist them. When I say new, I mean she’s passed one class on the subject. Unless any of you know of a professional heifer who can do better, she’s what we have for now.”

Takis nods, a thoughtful expression on his face. “She’ll do fine. We’ll support her. We saw Helios kissed her. It didn’t go unnoticed that she didn’t carry his scent. She’s a good fit to empathize with having a mate, but not having him for reasons that are all her own.”

“They need food, clothes, pillows, blankets, cots, and maybe some toys for the children. They live in tents and sleep in the dirt. You can try to gather shoes, but I’m not sure they will wear them.”

I try handing them my credit card, which serves as an offense to all the men.

“Do you think we can’t provide for our mates and children?” Yanis queries with clear disdain in his tone.

Michail places his hand on Yanis’ shoulder and speaks kindlier. “We will return before nightfall with as much as our backs will carry, and we will use our own money.”

I raise my hands in surrender. “I meant no offense.”

“Are any of the others ill?” Markos inquires with concern.

“Dehydrated and malnourished, but otherwise their physical bodies are well,” I reassure the worried men.

“How many women are inside? Will we need to invite any of the unmated females to join our herds?” Yanis inquires.

Others nod.

“Last night, Willow gave us a headcount of how many of you patiently wait. Georgia is the matriarch of these women. Her story is not mine to tell. She’s the only one who doesn’t hear the ticking of a mate. She’s also the only one left from when Emjay lived here. She’ll go home with us. She’s already agreed. The Fates have granted these women a boon by giving each of them a mate. From what I can tell, though, they each have at least one child and a few are pregnant.”

“Those children are our children,” Takis declares. His declaration ring with conviction.

Shouts of agreement echo through the mountain air. The determination behind their look is unmistakable.

Dew still shimmers on the blades of grass beneath our feet. A reminder that weeping lasts for a night, but joy comes in the morning.

“We’ve talked long enough. It’s time to make our way for supplies,” Michail announces. His tone suggests he’s the most dominant bull since Isaak went inside.

As the men prepare to leave, I take a moment to reflect on the challenges ahead. The path to healing will be long and difficult, but with the strength and resolve of these men, faith is stronger than ever. And faith is something we all desperately need.

My plight with Emjay’s resistance to allow me to claim her fully is minuscule compared to what these men face.

Once they’ve all left, I turn to Willow and her husband.

“I’ve seen that I’m no longer needed. Before I go, I must share with you what I saw when I touched each witch. You will know when the time is right to share my visions with the others.”

I gulp. The heavy burden she’s trusting me with weighs me down like a yoke across my neck and shoulders.

Chapter 19

Emjay

“Somewhere over the years, I’ve grown spoiled over life’s comforts and it sickens me.” ~ Emjay

I struggled to sleep last night, missing the luxuries I’ve grown accustomed to, such as a soft mattress, warm blankets, and a climate-controlled room. The hard ground left me tossing and turning. Every rock and root pressed uncomfortably against my back, and the sounds of nature, usually so soothing, were amplified by the quiet night. Without the familiar comfort of my bed, rest remained out of reach.

When the first light of dawn creeps into the sky, I rub my tired sockets, trying to shake off the fatigue.

The morning routine starts early for the women and children. Despite their new freedom, they maintained their structure. “Good morning,” Damian says, before heading outside to ask for supplies. I stare at his tall figure silhouetted against the soft morning light. Every time I look his way, I wonder if a man can truly bring me pleasure and not pain?

I find a place out of the way to sit and observe. My mind drifts as I watch the small community come to life. The women chat in low whispers while they prepare breakfast, and the children play nearby, their laughter the opposite of the grim memories that haunt me. I can’t help but feel a pang of envy at their innocence and resilience.

“What’s it like out there?” Georgia wonders. Her words pull me back from my thoughts. She sits beside me, her wide stare fills with curiosity and desire.

My mind goes back to when I had to carry pails of water back and forth, each trip a grueling reminder of my captivity.

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