Page 13 of Destined to the Lycan
A polite smile settled on Amara’s sensuous lips as I stopped in front of her table. She extended a delicate pair of hands towards me to take the bowl. My eyes flicked to her long and slender fingers as they closed around the cup, and I couldn’t help an appreciative smile upon seeing the pearl-colored nailpolish which adorned her well-manicured nails. I always had this inexplicable obsession with nice hands, especially with well-groomed nails or claws.
Sadly, my fellow Lycans often proved to be rather neglectful on that front. They justified it by saying the minute they shifted into their wolf form to run or hunt, dirt or blood inevitably found their way underneath their claws. True though that was, it took seconds to clean.
“Thank you,” Amara said in a friendly manner.
Nine Hells! The sound of her voice sent the most delicious shiver down my spine. It was soft and a little throaty as it glided over my skin like a warm summer breeze. She was even more breathtaking up close. My fingers twitched again with the need to sink into the lustrous curls of her puffy hair. I wanted to dive deep into the fathomless depths of her obsidian eyes and explore the most intimate corners of her psyche and discover all the hidden beauties of the goddess fated to me.
“My pleasure,” I replied in a gentle tone, surprised I was even able to speak, then gestured at the bench across the table from her. “May I sit?”
She slightly recoiled and stared at me with a reserved look laced with confusion.
“My name is Remus Beltaine. Misty told me you needed a guide?” I said.
Her face lighting up with both understanding and elation did the strangest thing to me. I could count on one hand the number of people who had ever displayed such happiness at finding out my identity.
“Oh, Remus! Yes! Yes, please do have a seat!” she exclaimed with a thrill in her voice. “My name is Amara… Amara Sanni. And I’m indeed desperately looking for a guide for a challenging mission. Misty had nothing but praise for you. So I’m hoping you will be willing to escort me to my destination.”
She spoke that last sentence with a slightly nervous laugh. The vulnerability with which she stared at me, and the almost pleading glimmer in her eyes had me aching to simply say yes to anything she desired.
But that would be pure madness.
As I settled down on the long bench of the booth, I discreetly inhaled her intoxicating scent. It made me dizzy, and my skin heated a bit more. However, the underlying sickly-sweet stench of impending death clawed at my heart, confirming Misty’s ominous words. As shocking as her brutal admission had been, I was grateful for the warning which now enabled me to more stoically handle whatever Amara would throw my way.
“I will do everything in my power to help you achieve your goal,” I replied cautiously. “However, I need to hear more about that mission before I can commit to anything. Misty hinted that it is quite dangerous.”
A sliver of fear flitted over her features. I instinctively knew that it wasn’t the mission itself that scared her, but the potential that I might refuse to take her when she revealed it to me. Once again, the irrational need to simply give her whatever she wanted burned deep in my gut. But as much as my protective instincts demanded I reassure and appease her, keeping her safe—even against her better judgment—was my new priority.
Amara nodded and ran a nervous hand over her hair.
“It is,” she conceded. “I’m sick. Or rather, I’ve somehow become infected by a lethal poison that is slowly killing me. The cure can only be found in these mountains.”
“I’m sorry to hear of your condition. But why do you need a guide to take you to the cure? Wouldn’t it be safer for you to remain here and hire someone like me to go fetch it for you?” I asked, pretending like Misty hadn’t already dropped that bomb on me.
The same hint of fear sparked in Amara’s eyes, quickly hidden. She licked her lips and squared her shoulders before launching into the detailed retelling of the circumstances that led her to leave her peaceful life in Harmstead and settle in Willow Grove. How the symptoms manifested a month after her arrival, and how they matched the mysterious illness that had claimed her father’s life when she was but an infant.
“Let me get this straight,” I challenged, a hint of disbelief in my voice. “You are infected by a poison, but don’t know which. You also don’t know who poisoned you or how they did it. But youknowwhat antidote you need and where to find it?!”
Seeing Amara flinch, because of my tone as I spoke those words, the incredulous expression on my face, or a mix of both utterly shamed me. I hadn’t meant to give her the impression that I thought her stupid or reckless. But you couldn’t cure something if you didn’t know what you were fighting.
I opened my mouth to apologize, but she didn’t give me the opportunity to do so.
“I know how it sounds,” she replied in a defensive tone while lifting her chin defiantly. “But I’m not some airhead on a fool’s errand. A few days ago, I consulted Ronika, the best healer in the region—if not the country. She recommended I seek out the help of the Weaver, and I did. It is Cliona Nox herself who told me what the cure was and where to get it.”
My back stiffened as I stared at her in shock and disbelief.
“The Weaver granted you an audience?!” I exclaimed.
She nodded. “Truth be told, it blew me away. I never expected her gates to open for me. But I had nothing to lose in at least trying…”
I continued to stare at her, robbed of words, and my mind reeling. So many times over the years I sought the Weaver’s assistance, but to no avail. Did that mean that I couldn’t be helped or simply that I had nothing to offer worth her while?
“But… what did she ask in exchange for her counsel?” I asked, shamed by the envy twisting my gut.
“Some of my blood, once I’m cured. She will be able to derive a potent antidote from it,” Amara explained, then swiftly raised her palms in an appeasing gesture upon seeing my scandalized expression. “Don’t worry. I’m well-aware of the fact that my blood in her hands could be used in extremely harmful ways against me. But she pledged not to wrong me and to exclusively use my blood to extract a serum, which will also only be used for good.”
“A pledge?!” I exclaimed, flabbergasted. “You extracted a pledge from the Weaver?!”
Amara shook her head. “I didn’textractanything, shevolunteeredit. My reaction to her request made it clear I wasn’t comfortable with giving an ingredient against me to an arcanist of her caliber. Whoever she intends to cure with that serum must be of great importance to her,” she added pensively.
