Page 26 of Ember's Claim

Okay, I have no idea why I thought wolves were anti-sharing, but it might just be the ones who live in communal packs. The ones who live in sanctuary cities must adapt and follow the standards set there.

“Omegas were at the center of every cluster leading a substantially sized pack…” Lorcan sighs. “Up until they were hunted nearly out of existence, but the fact I’m sitting here with you now proves at least some survived.”

“I’m not an omega,” I whisper-hiss, glancing around to ensure no one is paying attention to us.

“You are.” His gray eyes meet mine. “At the very least, you will be once those genes activate fully. But the universe or whatever powers that be made you differently.” He sighs, swiping his glass off the bar and taking another long swig. “The omegas of old had no offensive powers of their own. They relied completely on their mates for protection.”

His words remind me a lot of my mom. She’s actually quite weak for a vampire, and I don’t mean that in an insulting way.

I love her exactly the way she is.

I would never want to change her.

Her unique gifts include the ability to reproduce after being turned, to walk in daylight, and to control her bloodlust without ever being driven to kill. She is exceptionally soft for existing in the monster world, though.

Lorcan goes on, saying, “And those mates fiercely protected their omega. As I’m sure you know, bonding an omega provides a significant power boost. This allowed the alpha family pack the additional strength needed to rule over a large community pack. However, there will always be those who envy power. A running theme arose of weaker alphas and even betas murdering omegas before maturity, thus ensuring they could never form a true leading family pack. Follow that path for long enough, and eventually, you can wipe anything out completely.”

My eyes widen.

How old is this guy, exactly? If that was the case at one point in time, it was so long ago that nobody talks about it anymore.

I shake my head. Some things aren’t adding up. “Shifter culture isn’t the only community where omegas were found…” I know that for a fact, because my Aunt Nadia is also an omega, and she’s a witch. My mom may have only had a sliver of watered-down witch blood, but the same is true for her. She’s only a vampire because one of my dads changed her.

“You’re correct, but they were the species punished most heavily for the actions of the few. As a collective, wolves could have chosen to protect their weakest members. I’d say the universe, or whatever powers that be, wanted to prove a point.”

My wolf perks up.

The collapse of females in the wolf population.Her thoughts ring through my mind.

“But as with all things, nature cycles back around.” Lorcan’s eyes glow lightly, and my head gets hazy in response. “I would caution you that those in power do not often have the purest of intentions.” He scoffs, dropping his now-empty drink on the bar. “I shouldn’t be here.”

A light gray mist shimmers through the air. It’s so light, I doubt I would even notice it without my wolf’s enhanced vision.

My mouth falls.

What the hell was that?

“Look at me, little wolf,” Lorcan drawls in that thick English or Scottish accent of his. My gaze snaps to his without conscious thought.

My wolf can’t decide if she finds that term of endearment enchanting or if she should rip his throat out. Though, his tone wasn’t condescending, and now she’s scenting the air like a total weirdo.

Find some chill, I snap, but she continues dragging me closer to the enigma on the barstool next to mine. I’m even more horrified to see the glow of her amber-colored eyes on his pale skin.

“What the hell are you?” I choke out, huffing deep hits of his woodsy scent. It’s earthy and fresh with hints of pine.

“Likely too old for you, but as fate would have it, the universe doesn’t seem to mind.” The backs of his fingers brush my cheek, grabbing a tendril of hair and tucking it behind my ear. “I’ll bearound.” He catches my line of sight, and his eyes dilate. “If you need me, simply call for me.”

My head gets so foggy, all I can seem to do is stare at him mindlessly. My wolf is in no better condition. She sends me a barrage of images she has clearly conjured from her imagination.

Me sitting in front of a mirror as Lorcan braids my hair. He’s talented at managing his own, meaning he can clearly do ours. The little freak wants him to scratch behind her ears and tell her what a beautiful wolf she is.

Jesus Christ.

I’m so distracted that I notice the slight pinch several seconds too late.

My eyes fly to my wrist.

There’s a sigil drawn in blood. I have no idea which one or the meaning, but it reminds me of a Celtic rune. It’s vaguely similar to multiple infinity symbols, with wispy hearts popping out on the top and bottom as it runs sideways across my inner wrist.

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