Page 19 of Wolf's Providence

“Oh!” I hesitated. “Hi.” I watched him as he crossed the room, his steps quiet as he approached me, his presence filling the room with an ancient energy. It wasn’t until he got closer that I realized I was in the only seat, and I jumped up andscrambled out of the way, flinching at the brief stab of pain at the sudden movement.

His lips twitched as if he could see me, but I knew the heavy thick layer of white across his eyes hindered his vision. Still, I wasn’t wholly sure hewasblind. He was so small he looked frail, but there was absolutely nothing frail about this man. Wispy white hair covered his head, thinning but still there. His skin showed signs of age, but I recalled what I’d been told, that he was a lot older than he appeared. To me, he looked maybe mid-eighties, but I knew he had more years on his clock than it looked.

He sat wordlessly, his cloudy eyes fixed on me, but I knew I was being seen.

“Thank you,” he murmured as he settled into the chair.

I nodded, unable to shake the weight of his gaze as he got comfortable in the seat, and I forced myself to not fidget as silence filled the room.

“I hear you are feeling better,” he said with no preamble. His voice was low and steady, comforting.

“It seems so,” I admitted, my gaze flicking to the door, expecting Doc or someone to come through.

“We are alone, child. I am sure the alpha knows of my presence on his mountain, but we will not be disturbed.”

Was that a good thing? “Um…okay?”

“I have spoken to Caleb.”

He now had my full attention. The words sent a jolt of electricity through me, but I forced myself to stay still. I wanted to ask the thousand questions that sat on the tip of my tongue, but instead, I held back and waited for him to continue.

“He’s hiding,” the shaman continued, his words and tone soft but direct. “Running from what he thinks he’s done to you.”

I swallowed hard but said nothing. There was no need. The shaman seemed to know more than I did about pretty mucheverything, including how I felt even when I struggled with that myself.

The shaman studied me, one hand on the armrest of the chair, his fingers tapping gently off it. “The bond between you is as strong for him as it is for you.”

I nodded, then wondered if he could see that, so I answered hurriedly. “Is it annoying him as much as it annoys me?”

“I don’t believe so,” he said with a rueful smile on his face. “He didn’t mention it was bothering him, so I assume it was not.” He seemed to consider his next words carefully. “As we spoke about before, what you’re experiencing, what drew you to him from the start, is much deeper. I don’t think I need to tell you it’s the work of our Goddess?”

“I’ve been told that,” I confirmed, biting back my denial about another heavenly presence other than the one I’d been raised with. I was still very much a Christian, but it wasn’t my place to yuck on someone else’s faith.

The shaman hesitated. “Ah, you don’t believe?”

“I think even if I did, it wouldn’t make a difference,” I answered carefully. “She is a God to you. You are shifters, I am not.”

He looked thoughtful. “Interesting. She is still a deity that cares for all life, as much as your God does.”

The mention of God and Luna in the same sentence sent a chill down my spine. I was still very much of the opinion that theology was not for me to get involved with. I knew, for shifters, their belief was absolute. I didn’t think there was a Big Bang theorist amongst them. The shifters I had met had spoken of their Goddess with reverence, and for that reason, I had accepted their belief. I was human, I was not part of their world, and because of that, I had no right to voice my opinion of power and divine connections.

But was the shaman saying Iwassomeone the Goddess had something to do with?

“I don’t think I understand, sir,” I said finally, finding my voice, even if it was barely more than a whisper. “Are you saying your Goddess cares about me?”

“I am,” he replied. “Her interest is Caleb. His bloodline.”

“His bloodline?” I knew I was frowning, my mind trying to wrap around the meaning of his words and how they connected to me.

The shaman nodded, his gaze on mine never wavering. I felt like he could see right into my soul. “Caleb is the last of his bloodline. A strong line, it carries an ancient power tied to the wild nature of the wolf. An alpha struggles most with control, as they fight their inner wolf, their beast. Caleb’s bloodline is one of the strongest, very similar to Cannon’s, the alpha of this pack where you recover. Being so inherently tied to their ancestral line, they are more prone to be untamed and, as such, run a higher risk of turning feral. Our Goddess knows this. She knows that, without balance, he will lose himself to it. To the calling of the wild.”

“This is the same for any alpha?” I asked curiously.

“It is. Most don’t even know it’s a struggle they face. Cannon, for example, was so focused on overthrowing his father’s reign, he never strayed from his calling.”

Wetting my lips, I watched the shaman. “But Caleb has no pack after what Jonah and the other pack did. When he exacted his revenge, he no longer had a purpose?” It was a guess, but I saw the shaman’s pleased smile.

“Exactly, by choosing to be alone and shun his brothers, he opened himself to the wildness.”

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