The Lycan King & I.

//six//

Part I: Chapter Six
Elliette Mercer
Camp
October

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

"Take a drink, my Queen." Wells holds a steaming mug out to me, it's tin sides burning my fingers as I take it from his grasp. "Grace swears by this tea when she is unwell."

I look down at the hot, dark liquid warily. It doesn't smell particularly appetizing, almost like some sort of licorice. The root at the bottom of the cup looks typical of any tea.

I am in the same canvas tent as last night. Wells led me back here, patient through my panic attack, his touch much gentler than when we'd first met. I sit gingerly on the edge of the cot, my sharp inhales subsiding with each passing moment. Though my eyes still sting and my throat remained sore from crying, my tears had stopped. We'd descended into silence for the last half an hour as wells concocted the tea, his slow movements were relaxing to watch.

I didn't feel safe around Wells, but I did feel more comfortable around him than any other Lycan I'd met so far. I haven't seen his eyes turn black, nor did he ever growl. He always seemed to be at ease, good natured.

"G-grace?" I sniffle as the steam from the tea hits my nose.

"My mate," Wells nods eagerly, lazily taking a seat on the trunk at the end of my bed. His eyes lit up at the mention of his mate, it reminded me of a puppies when his owner returned home after a long day. "Grace is my fated."

"How?" I scrunch up my face, daring to take a sit of the tea. It soothes my throat, despite being somewhat bitter.

"How what?"

"How did you know you were each others mates, Sir." I clarify. I didn't feel particularly worried about punishment for being informal with Wells. I couldn't picture someone who constantly antagonized his superiors too strict on respect. I do still try to address him formally just in case.

Wells chuckles a bit, taking a long drink from a canteen he kept in his coat, not tea from the smell of it. He stops mid gulp, eyes alarmed suddenly, "Oh, you're serious? Didn't you go to school as a cub?"

"There weren't human schools in the Middle Kingdom." I lower my head shamefully. I hadn't gone to school, I had always been assigned work. Whether it be as a nanny for a prominent family, a midwife, a doula, assisting in the clinics...

"I suppose humans don't have instincts to know," Wells comments thoughtfully to himself, before shaking his head and refocusing on the conversation. "Big Wolf probably doesn't want me talking about this with you, so I'll just give you the basics. When you're a Lycan, you know who your mate is. That's not something you question. To questions another's mate... it's punishable."

I shudder at the vagueness of his words. I suppose I'd learn all the North's punishments soon enough.

"The first thing that clues us is the smell," He explains, "Our inner wolf is pretty quick to call out our mate. Once we're hooked, everything is pretty crystal clear from there."

"I guess I wouldn't be able to smell it then," I frown, I was hoping for some sort of clue on my end to confirm I was truly the Kings mate. It hardly seems fair to not have any inkling, when he seemed to have every sign in the world. "I'm just a human."

"But you're not just any regular old human," His eyes narrow slightly, as if he was just remembering something important. Here we go.... I know where this is going. "So tell me, what's your blessing?"

What he really means: what usefulness do I have to his pack.

I knew this question was on the tips of everyone's tongue, I honestly can't believe it hasn't happened before now. Wolves didn't care about humans one bit, but they cared about what use we could provide to them. I wasn't a person, I was a tool for them.