My Lycan Mate of Suicide Forest

He glanced up at her widening eyes and chuckled. This mate bond was something, all right. He wondered if it would ever be possible to hide anything from her. But he didn't want to scare her with the information he had found in Zoe's map room and library. He didn't know how much he trusted anything that came from that team of Zoe's.

"Before I saw what the council calls the alyko files, the only history I had ever heard of the alyko was in whispers. It wasn't something the alyko themselves discussed openly, and everyone else's posture toward the history was always that the alyko were… defective, you could say. They lack what makes lycans most proud. That animalistic power. That ability to physically dominate. When lycans have disputes, they may try to reason and be strategic—that's the elders' role in a pack, really—but any escalation of tension is settled physically. The more physically powerful, the better," he explained.

Graeme continued. "Alyko obviously don't have that. Not to say that they are without power, and, believe me, lycans have had no issue taking advantage of that incredible power that alyko do have. But they've always been dismissed. To have a book written—to have their history be recorded—I guess no lycan has been moved to do it. And certainly no alyko has."

"Why wouldn't alyko want their history written? And isn't their history also lycan history? Why would it be separate?" she asked.

"Those are good questions. What I suspect is that, while having a history recorded of your origins and everything along the way indicates value, it also reveals vulnerabilities," he glanced up at her again as a muscle feathered in his jaw.

August thought this over for a few moments. "These… alyko files. Can you bring them home so I can take a look?"

"No," he answered quickly, and he saw how her eyes widened in response to the sharpness of his response.

"Oh," she breathed and averted her eyes from him. Her brows were threaded together, and he felt an instant pang of regret.

"No, it's just that they aren't moveable really," he added more softly this time. What could he possibly bring home to her? He groaned internally thinking of her reading over all those horrible, shocking stories.

But he missed those eyes of hers and the way they lit up with curiosity. He had been avoiding them all weekend, precisely because they instantly softened something in him. He was sure August could ask anything of him, and he would be unable to refuse.

"August," he called softly, just to bring her eyes back to him. She looked up. 'Fuck. You can have anything, darlin',' he thought, feeling his stomach flip over as her gaze caressed his face. "I'll see what I can do," he said.

She nodded, and he didn't miss the way her lips curled up slightly. He felt that small movement of her mouth like a pat on the head, and he would do anything for more of it. Did she sense it? That power she had over him? He itched to cross the room and just touch her. Just feel her soft skin under his fingers. Why didn't she understand that all he wanted to do was protect her? That it was the most important thing right now?

The silence bloomed between them once again as August sat at the table, shifting herself on the chair with the book spread between her hands. She closed it for a moment. "May I—may I use the Wagoneer tomorrow? Sylvia wants me to come to her shop for the reiki session," August explained.

Graeme groaned across the room. "Are you purposely trying to put yourself in harm's way?" his anger had resurfaced. "She can come here or I can go with you."

"You can't skip the council again," August scoffed. "They'll know something is up," she said, referring to the elders.

"I don't give a shit, August," Graeme snapped. "And nothing is up. Other than me protecting my mate," his eyes were hard, glaring at her.

"You have to trust others in this pack, Graeme. Otherwise, what chance do we have? And what point was the mate mark?" she asked.

"What point?" the flame of anger grew brighter in his eyes.

"You know what I mean," August mumbled, looking hopelessly into her hands. Graeme threw the pot holder on the counter and ran a shaky hand through his hair. How could he trust anyone else? She was accosted by Violet's thoughts and almost tackled by an 8 year old within just a few days of each other. And that was with his mark! It was too risky.

Just then, Graeme's phone rang.

"Yeah?" he growled into the receiver.

"Woah, uh… hi. Are you okay?" Greta asked on the other end.

"Fantastic," he said, attempting a softer tone.

"Sure you are. Okay, well a ton of kids want to do the art thing. Is tomorrow a good day? I can make sure I'm here," she said. She was met with silence. "Graeme?"

"Yeah. What time?" he muttered grudgingly.

"Sam and Jack start at 10. It runs an hour," she answered.

"Okay," he said simply before hanging up and tossing his phone to the side. He sighed. "What time are you supposed to meet Sylvia?"

"Not until 1 tomorrow. She had some other appointments," August answered from the table. "Why?"

"It looks like you're teaching the pups tomorrow," he said quietly, sliding the pizza from the oven and placing it on the counter. He felt the nervous excitement swell in her, and he couldn't avoid feeling it like it was his own emotion.

He gripped the counter, staring hard into space. Should he go with her? What if something happened while he wasn't there? He hadn't been there when Marius had shown up. What if he hadn't been there when Lily had mistakenly tried to attack her?

A cascade of potential scenarios erupted in his mind, and he couldn't imagine being able to leave her for an entire day tomorrow. Her going near the market where Sylvia's shop was located only increased those scenarios exponentially. He would be a wreck worrying about her.

While Graeme was lost in his thoughts, August had snuck up on him and hugged him from behind. He flinched in surprise.

"I—I'm sorry," she said quietly, backing away. He turned and saw her looking into her hands with uncertainty. That uncertainty of hers. If he didn't allow her room to spread her own wings here, she would become increasingly isolated and alone. And uncertain.

With this thought, he crossed the distance that had loomed between them the past two days, grabbing one of her hands in his. She raised her liquid golden eyes, and he felt his breath catch as those eyes swept over him. He brought his other hand to curl around her shoulders, pulling her closer until she was against his chest with his breath in her hair.

"I just…" he started, searching the air behind her. "I just can't lose you," he breathed. August rested her head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart. "Tell me what to do," he said quietly.

"Let your trust in us… expand to the pack," she whispered. "It's the only chance we have in making this work."

He sighed. "I'll take you to Greta's tomorrow and have her follow you to Sylvia's for the session. I'll leave the council early so I can come home with you from there. Is that an okay compromise?"

August smiled beneath him, nodding silently. It was a start. They relaxed into each other until a sudden terrifying thought crept into August's mind. Graeme pulled back, ready to revise the plan if she had any fear about it.

"What is it?" he finally asked when she didn't say anything.

"I need to figure out what I'm going to do with them tomorrow.. I'm so unprepared!" And she ran off into the bedroom to retrieve her sketchbook.