Taming The Queen Of Beasts

<strong>GAHRYE</strong>

After Kalle had had some time to check on him and hug him and convince her mother's heart that he was safe, Gahrye had tipped his head and told Reece to come with him. They'd raid the kitchen for a late-night snack.Â

Kalle had caught his eyes as they walked out and his heart throbbed. But he wasn't going to ask her to have this conversation. She was already carrying enough.Â

Now they both sat on stools in the large, industrial kitchen of the Big House that fed more staff than family, a loaf of crusty bread and cold meat and some lettuce sitting on the kitchen island in front of them.

Gahrye still couldn't stand the taste of mayonnaise—a horrible, plastic tasting thing. But Reece loved it, slathering it on the freshly sliced bread before piling it high with sliced ham and beef.

"So," Reece said, his mouth full of sandwich, "What do I have to do that you don't want me to do?" Reece sounded calm, but Gahrye could smell the edge of anger in him. His son had made a decision to be calm, but he didn't feel calm.

Gahrye held his gaze. "Come with me to Anima tomorr—"

"No."

Gahrye let his mouth flatten. "Reece, I need your help. I need you to… double check for me."

"I'm not leaving Mom here alone."

"She won't be alone! It's a one day trip. I'm coming back before nightfall over there—or that night at the latest."

Reece stared at him, his jaw tight, flexing as he chewed.

"Reece, you are Anima. The Anima are half of your heritage. You can't just ignore them."

"I don't. Our whole fucking lives are about the Anima."

"Our lives are about keeping people safe, including me and you—you're Anima, Reece."

"I'm human. I just have an Anima dad."

"You're fooling yourself, but you aren't fooling me."

"Whatever. I don't shift."

"Neither do I," Gahrye countered, though the truth was, Reece could shift, he just… didn't. Gahrye was terrified the day would come that he wouldn't be able to control it anymore and the beast would overcome him. But his son had made it through puberty and his entire adolescence without giving it to the usual, erratic nature of the shift that occurred, especially in dominant males.

Gahrye wasn't sure whether to admire what had to be incredible strength of will, or weep over his stubbornness.

He'd had a bet with Kalle that Reece wouldn't make it past sixteen, yet here they were. Reece just days from his twentieth birthday and nothing.

"If we both go over there and something happens to us, Mom is stuck here by herself. She can't cross."

"You think I don't know that?" Gahrye said through his teeth, fighting his own anger at his son's apparent belief that he, Gahrye, didn't care for Kalle's wellbeing. "What gives you any fucking right to imply that I would ever put your mother at risk, Reece? Have you ever seen me do it? Have you ever seen me make a choice that put myself first over her? Or you, for that matter?"

Reece glared, but answered reluctantly. "No."

"No. So what the hell is happening all of the sudden that you think I'm just going to abandon either of you? What have you seen that you're not telling me?"

Because that was the only answer. Reece had to have read something in the winds that scared him. He'd never been so fixated on avoiding the traverse before.

It made Gahrye very nervous that his son knew more than he was letting on.

"Nothing," Reece lied.

Gahrye let him see that he knew Reece had lied, but he didn't push. "Then you've got nothing. Get off your ass and pack a bag because you're coming with me tomorrow. We have a job to do, and until it's done, Mom won't be safe—and either will a thousand people on the other side of the traverse who need our help even more."

"Then why not send someone else to help them?"

"Who?" Gahrye said as calmly as he could. "That's the inconvenient truth about adulthood, son. When you're the adult and you've been given a gift, or a role, no one's going to play it but you. The Creator made you so you can read the winds, and that means you need to take that gift and use it to help others. Not just yourself."

"I'm not against using my gifts, I use them all the time! I just don't want to go over there!"

"They need us, Reece. I won't deny that there's risk in going—that's why I want you to pack a bag. The Creator shares some stuff with us, but not everything. We don't know exactly how tomorrow is going to pan out. But what I do know—with certainty—is that I'm supposed to be there, and so are you. I think you know that too, and you're trying to deny it to yourself. We talked about that."

"I don't need to hear it again."

"Good, so you're promising me you'll be ready at sunlight, then?"

Reece took another bite of the sandwich. "Why do you need me? Why don't you just go?"

"Because this is important. Lives depend on it. And I need someone to double check me."

"You've never needed a double check on the Creator before."

"I've never had to deliver this kind of news before."

"To the Anima?"

"Yes."

"Does Mom know?"

"Do you really think I'd go to Anima without telling her?"

Reece snorted. "Good point."

Gahrye gave him a flat look. But Reece took a deep breath and looked suddenly relieved, which was odd. "Does Mom know we're both going?"

"Yes. She wants you to go, but she's worried about you fighting it. And just worried period. You know what she's likes. Which reminds me: Don't disappear like that without calling again, please," he said without thinking. "So… can I count on you, or do I have to tie you up and keep you in our room tonight to make sure you don't hide?"

Reece shook his head and suddenly looked five years old. "If we have to do this, why not just go now? Why not just get it out of the way?"

"The day you find your mate, you'll understand," Gahrye said with a grin.

Reece shuddered.