"Are we there yet?" I asked him about 100 times now. He just kept ignoring me all the way. He insisted after the attack yesterday that he had somewhere to take me. And being the annoying brat I was, of course, I would try to annoy him.
After we walked into what looked like an underground bunker, he finally set me down.
"Look around, the things I picked up over the years that warded off witchcraft. Some I just heard of I don't know if they are true, so I'll need to you confirm."
"So you speak." I frowned at him.
"Of course, I speak. Stop asking dumb questions and just do what I tell you. The pack is our responsibility and arguing about trivial matters is not helping anybody, okay?" He looked at me like he was conversing with a stubborn six-year-old.
"You're not the boss of me," I scoffed.
"Yes, I am. Now go round and check the samples here, see if they are really authentic." He said curtly, not with much effort, but as soon as the words left his mouth I snorted and walked towards the first shelf. The room was full of jars, cobwebs, and dust. They arranged the shelves parallel to one another, and there was only a single row of them.
Walking to the first shelf, I stopped myself before I touched the first one. But my head felt extremely heavy, and it was as if a heavy weight was pressing on me immediately. I tried to resist.
"So, are we going to talk about your outburst last time?" He muttered, but I heard him clearly.
I glanced at him, planning to ignore him by focusing on the jars before me, but somehow I could not touch them. There was this strange sensation I simply could not shake off. Something was off about this room.
"Not going to say anything?" He added, and I rolled my eyes. "Iris!" He growled, and I snapped at him.
"Would you just give me a break?"
He shook his head. "Not in your life. Something is bothering you, so spit it out!"
Unable to keep it bottled in anymore, I did spit it out. "You have had so many mates before me, but you don't tell me about it and now that I've found out, you don't even want to talk about it. How am I supposed to feel, Malik?" I snarled.
He stood there looking at me, a mixture of emotions on his face. His posture was rigid and jaw tight, and his palms were balled into fists. He stared at me.
"I've been so worried that maybe you love me less than them, that I'm not good enough. And the funny thing is that you'd be able to tell since you've experienced this euphoria so many times I'm sure it's lost the power of the high for you. How am I supposed to feel?"
I hated that I was being this needy and vulnerable in front of someone else. It was one thing to think it but to actually say it? I feel so embarrassed. So I looked away and forced this eerie feeling to the back of my mind as I walked further into the aisle.
"I didn't realize," he mumbled.
I turned around. My gaze rested on him as my tongue danced along the surface of my teeth.
"What is it?" He asked. "You have the right to ask me anything."
I nodded. He was right, but how do I ask this? "Do you?" I sighed. "Have you loved any of them more than me? No," I shook my head. "Do you even love me?"
"Look, Iris, I can't possibly imagine what you're going through, and I can't say I regret being with all those women in my past because I don't. I love all those women. They made me the man I am, the Alpha I am. And I know I'm far from perfect but I do my part, I take care of my pack and I protect my own. I know this is not the answer you're looking for, hell I don't know what it is you're looking for. But what I do know is that my past is just that, my past. I can't change it, and I don't want to. What I can tell you is that I love you, and I want to be with you. You are my mate and Luna, and there is nowhere else I'd rather be than with you."
"That's not very helpful," I shook my head. "So you love me now until I die and you come back with another mate?"
"And what makes you think you're not the last?" he asked.
"Unless you know something I don't, that's wishful thinking." I frowned.
"Babe, the only reason I keep coming back is because of the curse on me from the father of both our mothers, remember he cursed me while I was still in my mother's womb. To be alone, my mother always finds a way to prevent that from happening." He said, walking towards me. "Every reincarnation, I was destined to kill my mother's sister, Mother West. But I could never even come close, so I'm reincarnated to be alone, to suffer. Mother always ensures I'm not alone. But this time I'm not the only one destined to end the life and tyranny of Mother west. You have that destiny as well. I believe if we succeed, I won't have a reason to come back anymore." He gave me a weak smile of assurance.
It made me mad. I was full of an inexplicable sense of rage. "If?! Damn you Malik!" I yelled.
His brows furrowed in confusion. "What now? What did I say wrong?" He asked.
"Everything about this is wrong, look I understand that you can't change your past, nor can you be sorry for it. But I just can't get over this intense anger I feel, so get out!" I pointed to the stairs he carried me down.
"Iris," his voice came out firm, but his eyes betrayed the command. He was silently pleading. His pride refused him the liberty to do it with words.
I held his eyes for a moment, the dark blue irises stained with electric blue hues. It surprised me sometimes how balanced he was with his wolf. Now, after realizing that even his wolf's side was pleading along with his humanity, I almost caved in and let him hold me. But unlike him, my wolf was in no way close to controlling my emotions and decisions the way it was for other werewolves. I could sense Malik and the need to be close to him. It was way worse now that we were mated. Everything aroused me. It was a wonder how he managed to control himself. It couldn't be easy.
A small voice in my head told me he has had more than sufficient practice in his past lives. It made me all the more confident in kicking him out.
"Just go, I have to check these jars. If I'm ever to get rid of this devastating headache you've dropped on me, so please just leave." I looked away, afraid my will would break. He got up and walked out without saying another word. I bit back the tears that threatened to fall, wiping the one that had already stained my face with the back of my hand.
I wiped my palms on the sweats I wore and set to work. I started with the jars on the shelf closest to me. It was funny all the strange things I saw in the jars.
Over the years, people had become more and more knowledgeable about magic and witches, but it was still so funny and sad the things they were willing to believe stopped magic or hurt witches. But then again, fear is really a nasty thing. Malik was wise to ask me first because if he had gone against witches with these things, I don't even want to think of the consequences.
Most of the stuff here was crap, anyway. I found some herbs that would be helpful though: beetroot, which helps when someone is under the influence of a hallucination spell, but a weak one.
Then some mistletoe: if I can remember that Poppy's poison, she can't pass anywhere that has mistletoe dust around it. She detests the plant.
As I made my way to the next shelf, I came to a screeching halt. Something was off about this area. The entire room had always felt off but this... There was something here that was strong and full of magic. Natural magic, the kind that feels preternatural. As I made my way closer, I had to cover my nose. The air smelled pungent, and it burned my lungs.
Still, amidst all the warning signals flashing, I was curious as to what it could be that was causing me to react in such a vicious way. It wasn't normal, I could tell from the irritating magic that rolled off it.
I went through the jars on the shelf in haste because I was holding my breath. In an instant, I threw down like three jars on instinct when I touched one and it burned my palm. I hissed as the pain pinched into my skin, but it was not even close to what awaited me. Immediately, the jars broke. I saw what was causing my discomfort, and I immediately regretted shoving the jars down. I tried to get away, but it was too late and I was already exposed.
There are two people that mother warned us about. They possessed a power that frightened even mother, the mage king, and his earthy magic, magic that seemed pure and innocent to the world. It was pungent and toxic to us witches. Then the catholic priest, a kind and frail-looking man possessed a power that surpassed all the rest. I didn't understand how he got the power, nor did I really care. We learned a long time to stay away from him and his followers, the Christians. But even though I was not faced with the Catholic priest, the mage king's magic burned thick and strong.
In that little piece of paper laid a talisman that gripped my magic in an attempt to tear it out of me. A few moments later, I fell to the ground as convulsions seized me. I seized and roamed at my mouth as the spell on the talisman wafted with a burning sensation through my nose, scraping and tearing my magic away. It desperately tried to cling on, making it harder on my body. Through all this I was conscious, with every chunk torn off me, my body replaced it and even as I continued to seize, biting down on my tongue, I couldn't cut it because it healed as soon as it was injured so I couldn't really die.
So I lay there in agony as I continued to fight for my life. Each time I think that nothing could be more painful. Each time I fall into these instances that keep ensuring I fall into such pain that makes it hard for me to even exist.
I tried to scream for help, but my teeth were chattering non-stop. I just shut my eyes, feeling moisture down the sides of my head, praying that someone would come and save me because I didn't know how much more of the pain I could take.