Feel You; Feel Me

That night was the worst for Myranda - even worse than when she was a child and was sent to bed hungry for something she had never even done in the first place. In fact, she'd endure a thousand of her nights as a pup if she didn't have to feel the anguish in her chest on this one alone.

She laid on her side and looked towards the wall painted with mica paints that Jyriah and Syrana had taught her how to make when she was small. It glittered in the low light of the large crystal that acted as her night lamp, and for a moment it distracted her the heart that pounded loudly.

Then her eyes saw the purple of a flower she had painted, outlined by a streak of gold that reminded her of the gift Metas had given her a few weeks ago. Myranda sat up and immediately went to an old drawer that had also been painted and decorated with happy, cool colors.

When she didn't find what she was after immediately, she panicked and viciously pushed clothes aside until her hand hit something hard - that lovely, carved wolf that sat and howled inside the opened lotus flower.

It relieved her the moment she put it to her chest. It was something Metas had touched - and something he had given her with a sweet note. She tried to take deep breaths to calm the heartbeat that jumped and twisted, but it was useless.

"I should have believed him..." she uttered softly into the shiny statue of gold and purple. It was gorgeous, and even though she hadn't been there to see him carve it herself, it felt like a lot of time and love had been poured into it.

"He said he waited for me his whole life....was that a lie?' She wondered aloud. "No - he doesn't seem like the type. Not after what I know, now. He's real. He must be real. He has to be" she said to no one as she looked around her room that had been decorated in golds, purples, and the darkest shades of black she could make (but they weren't very dark).

The colors reminded her of Metas - black like his fur, gold that matched his eyes, and the valorous purple that emanated from his heart.

Was he meant for her all along, or had she just simply fallen for him because he rebuffed her? It had been very hard for Myranda to trust the Moon Goddess. Her parents loved each other deeply, that was for sure - but it superseded the love they should have had for their family pack.

It wasn't something that happened often, but when it did - the offspring of said couple didn't typically make it far in life. It was something known as 'Toxic Infatuation', and it was indeed toxic.

Their love was so passionate that once her mother had become ill, instead of being by her side to heal her - her father had laid down next to her and expired with her.

All of this had made her jaded to 'mates' and 'love' and all that which she once called garbage. Now, it felt more and more real the longer she was away from the prince. Perhaps, the Goddess had not been as cruel as she had thought.

Her chest felt warm as she remembered the faint smell of her mate's scent in the snow - she hadn't gotten close enough to him to really study it, but Myranda knew that it smelled like smoked wood and something sweet. She wasn't sure, but the more the tried to recall it, the more she seemed to feel distressed.

Deep down, she knew that it wasn't just her who felt this bad - Metas was, too. It was unmistakable.

...but how was that possible when they hadn't officially bonded and accepted each other? Only bonded mates held that kind of connection.

She barely knew him. Had she merely imagined things all of the sudden in hopes to ease the pain? 'Even if I have.....it's oddly comforting to feel him, even if he is sad. If we are connected - if this is fate - maybe if I can comfort myself, it will comfort him?' She let her thoughts roam as she attempted to recall what she knew about mates and their bonds.

Truly, though, Myranda had no clue. She had shut all of that out and could bare;y remembered any of the old myths that she was supposed to have learned in school, but purposefully ignored and forgot.

Perhaps her ignorance had fed into her distrust of him? It didn't matter anyhow at the moment. She had to focus and comfort herself on the off-chance it would help him. At least, if anything it could help her go to sleep with just the thought that he would feel rest.

******

Metas was up late. He had many things to plan and he had to be silent, 'weak', and precise with each movement he made.

The political climate was stacked against him, and he had very few allies to help him stage a coup. If he could just grow numbers in his supporters, he would feel better about bringing Myranda in on this delicate operation.

He only had Lara and Gerald who he truly trusted, and while they assured their packs were behind them, the Prince knew all too well not to trust others to come through with something. All he could count on right now were the three of them, and their collective intelligence, bravery, and steadfast belief that the old regime must die.

All of his important papers were strewn across his desk, but a lot of them looked blank. The only way anyone could look at them, was if they were Metas himself. Being of lineage from 'The Firsts', he had access and control of the most useful of magical items. The smallest things were often the most powerful, and as a child he had stolen this small little marble to see if he could at least do something Silas couldn't.

The results were fantastic - and the best part? Only he could use it. At his command, the little blue marble would light up brightly and when the parchment was exposed to its shine, it would reveal hidden notes and maps that only stayed visible as long as the magic was near them.

Metas was positive that without this, he wouldn't have as much of an upper hand as he did. Honestly, he looked forward to the day when Silas challenged him. He was going to rip him apart until he couldn't even shift again.

Contrary to popular belief, Metas was not stupid - he was brilliant in many aspects, but especially tactical ones. He had already figured out that Silas and the loyal guards that followed under his command had set the silver traps in an attempt to cripple the budding Alpha.

For the longest time he found it laughable. He ignored them, or would purposefully set them off with twigs and the like just to make Silas and his croonies come all the way back out to set them up again. It was all fun and games until Myranda got hurt.

When he learned she had been harmed, his once fun game became a list of ways he would torture Silas as payback.

How long had she been out in the night like that? Had she called out for him? She must have felt helpless and scared. He'd ensure that when the time came, Silas would get to feel just as helpless and scared as he plucked his eye balls out and made the golden boy eat them...

Metas regretted that he hadn't been there to save her.

Silas played hero off of that, too. It enraged him that not only had his challenger harmed his mate, but he had taken the pleasure of saving her away from Metas. If it was safe enough, he would be at her door right now, and offer to heal her.

His heart was heavy with anger - and at all costs, he was going to overthrow his wretched father. Perhaps then, she would see he was real. She'd know he wasn't a dream, or a liar.

As her eyes entered his mind, he smiled. He swore he could smell sweet baked goods and warm, nutty scents that reminded him of Myranda. Some sort of peace enveloped him that said, 'I'm with you'.

Metas daydreamed a little about being next to her warmth, and the warmth of her skin as they touched. He thought of her silky strands and how he longed to stroke his fingers through them, a - and naughtily, he thought of how she would squirm and writhe when he kissed both sets of her lips. He pretended that she called his name, and promised sweet nothings.

It made him feel so full, and suddenly emboldened as the thought of her by his side resonated in his mind. The more he concentrated, the more he felt her pain resonate within him.

As his leg ached, he laughed out with joy. There was only one type of paired mates that could share each other's pain, and while he wasn't sure yet, he had a suspicion that perhaps they were 'fated' mates.

It didn't mean she couldn't say no to him, it just meant that somewhere they had been together once, and had chosen to be together again. Metas did not know entirely what it meant, as a lot of myths had been lost to time and at one point, a foolish fire some insane old Alpha had set to the library destroyed a lot of the old stories they relied on.

He knew fated mates were together in previous lives before, and they they were bound to one another so greatly, that their very souls were sewed together. Should one die, the other would as well - and in the same manner. Those blessed with such love truly were fated together - both in life and death.

Metas at least knew that shared pain was one of the greatest and worst attributes to being fated with another. So the fact he could feel her injury meant she had dreamed of him, just as he had concentrated on her in this single moment together. They weren't even bonded yet - but he imagined as though she sat with her back to his in the same room - unable to touch one another or speak what was needed to still the night.

While their connection was shared, he would do his best to find relief for her leg. He abandoned his work, and immediately left to find some kind of magical aid that lessened her pain. Metas wasn't sure how long this would last - but he had to try to comfort her while he could, and while the window was opened enough for him to do so.