Chapter 15: Taking More Risks

ALPHA JORDAN

I walk through the foyer and out the back door, determined to act on my newfound knowledge. I feel angry with myself for how I treated Cora and even more angry for how I allowed Jacob Laurent and my father to treat her the day we first met. I don’t know where I would be if Danny hadn’t taken a risk and brought her to me.

After walking for over an hour in the darkness, I find myself standing in front of the small cabin. Glowing orange light illuminates the windows. My feet carry me to the door.

Before I can knock, the door opens.

I step inside to find Cora in the kitchen, stirring something on the stove with her back facing me. Her silky black hair hangs gracefully down her back, shifting with each small movement.

The scent of herbs, spices, and meat fills the entire cabin. My mouth waters.

“What brings you out at this hour, alpha?”

I love her playful tone. I had come here to apologize, and now I’m not sure where to start. “I thought I could talk to you about something, but if you are busy—”

She cuts me off when she raises her hand. With a flick of her wrist, the door slams shut.

I flinch. I’m not used to all of this magic.

“Have you eaten?”

I move to the small, round dining table. “No. I was preoccupied with something.”

She turns her head, glancing at me before returning her attention to the heavenly concoction in the pot.

“It must have been something serious, judging by the look of you.”

I slide out the chair and take a seat. “It was.”

I watch as she ladles some of the concoction into two bowls, then slides the pot off of the hot burner. She sets a bowl in front of me, then sits across from me with hers.

She lifts a spoonful toward her mouth, blowing on it before eating it. Her movements are purposeful, as if to show me it is safe to eat. Does she still think I’m afraid of her? That she has to show me the food is safe?

“What has you so lost in thought, alpha?”

I watch her as her eyes dance in the flickering candlelight. She’s so beautiful, in this form and in her beast form.

“I researched the war between my people and the coven that attacked us over a century ago. It wasn’t a war like we were told. It was a rescue mission. Our alpha, my grandfather, had discovered he was mated to a witch. Instead of accepting or rejecting her, he tortured her. He violated the fated-mate bond in the most unforgivable way. Her people came to save her.”

She slides her bowl to the center of the table and her eyes lower. “I know.”

Those two simple words make the world stop in an instant.

“What do you mean? How did you know?”

She takes a deep breath and pulls her feet up onto the chair, her knees pressed to her chest and her arms wrapping around them.

“I heard about the massacre. Witches speak about the mad alpha who murdered an entire coven after finding out his mate was a member. I suppose your kind were as much the villain in our stories as we were in yours.” She stands up and walks over to the chair where her bag is sitting. She reaches inside, pulling out a leather-bound book.

She returns to the table and opens the book, sliding a picture out from between the first few pages and setting it on the table in front of me.

“This is the coven your grandfather killed.”

The picture is of a coven of sixteen witches, a row of eight standing and in front of them, another eight that are kneeling. She points to the woman kneeling on the far left.

“That is Isabelle, your grandfather’s fated mate.”

I scan the women in the picture. My eyes stop when I spot the woman behind Isabelle. That woman’s dark flowing hair, bright eyes, and small but fierce form are a perfect likeness to the small witch sitting across from me.

She turns her head away from me when she realizes what I am looking at.

“Please tell me this isn’t your mother.” It’s not like I don’t already know. But I need to ask. Did my family kill Cora’s mother?

“Yes. Her name was Roseline. She led the coven on the mission to rescue Isabelle. This is the only picture I have of her.”

I stare at her in shock, knowing she must have known about all of this.

“If you knew, why would you agree to help me?”

Her head turns and her eyes meet mine. A single glistening tear streams down her pale face.

“Because you are not your grandfather. His sins, his evil…they are his and his alone. I have been harmed more by my own kind than any other kind. Perhaps your grandfather had a reason for his anger. The reasons are lost in time. Something pulled me to this place. Sure, I tried to walk away. When you came to me in the shop that day, I was preparing to return to you. Call it fate, destiny, call it whatever you want. Some force was pulling me back here.” She flashes a weak smile.

“I’m sorry. I know that doesn’t make up for a damn thing, but for what it’s worth, I am sorry for everything. I treated you unfairly. If you knew, why didn’t you say anything? If you had told me sooner, if I had known—”

She cuts me off with a sharp glare and an even sharper tone.

“You would what? You just learned the story of your own people. Would you have wanted to hear it from me? What difference would it have made in the end? We are more than the mistakes of our ancestors, alpha. Your pack has been poisoned by the lies of those who came before you. My people are no different. We did what the council told us was necessary. We were trying to ensure the safety of our people. How many innocent people have my people killed? We are all guilty of something. It is not our past choices that dictate who we are. It is what we choose to do next that matters.”

I remember that she has likely been alive long enough to see more horrors than I could imagine. Witches live unnaturally long lives, some surviving to be more than five centuries old. I wonder if she’s ever taken a mate. Did she outlive them? Do all witches have fated mates?

“If we are not defined by our past choices, then you can’t blame yourself for what you did when you believed you were doing the right thing.” I can tell the past weighs on her.

She smirks, a welcome gesture in the moment of heavy emotion. “Perhaps, or perhaps holding all of my mistakes close will help me to make better choices in the future.”

I slide my bowl next to hers and focus on her. The freedom we shared running through the forest together seems so far away. All I can see is sadness and pain in her delicate features.

“Remembering our mistakes is one thing, but clinging to them is another. We all screw up. I talked to my father about the hybrids. Don’t worry, I didn’t tell him about you. He told me how they hunted your kind, believing they successfully exterminated them. All races hate hybrids and seek to exterminate them—all because they fear their immense power. Just another case of people fearing the unknown. Our people have been enemies for centuries, but I doubt anyone truly remembers why.”

Her eyes drift away from mine, almost as if she can see the ghosts of her past standing before her.

“I made choices when I left the council. I chose to help others without discrimination. Most people are kind and civil. We were all taught that vampires were evil, bloodthirsty creatures. But you met Darius. Vampires are just like you or me. I was taught to fear everyone who wasn’t like me, but that fear never kept me safe.”

I feel the weight of her words, and it is suffocating. We have all been lied to, and because of it, the hatred of our ancestors has continued on for generations. Like perfect little sheep, we have believed the lies and followed blindly, never questioning things.