Page 104 of Bruised MC Bear
Clearing his throat, he fought for control. This was more difficult with her than any other woman he had been with. But then again, Kiera was stunning. Also, Xander had only slept with the human females who would sneak into the shifter camps looking to satisfy their curiosity, to realize their human-shifter sexual fantasies or fulfill their carnal cravings. Under Minassus’ rule, shifters were discouraged from getting married or mating, but that recommendation had never stopped Xander or his men before. As he continued to stare at Kiera, he remembered another reason. He had never been with a witch. A few of his men had hooked up with familiars living in the fortress. Come to think about it, he was sure he had seen Kiera’s familiar in the camps before.
With that realization, an inkling of a notion entered his mind. Getting to his feet, he offered a hand to help her up. “I believe I have run out of time.”
She placed her fingers on his and stood as well. “We did not achieve much today, did we?”
Without breaking eye contact, Xander lifted her hand and slowly bowed his head, pressing his lips to the tender skin between her knuckles and wrist. He lingered just long enough to see her cheeks flush again, then he returned Kiera’s arm to her side.
“It may not seem that way. True, we argued, and we both almost stormed out of here, but I have faith that it is a very good start. If your schedule is open, we can get together again tomorrow.” He observed her as she appeared to consider it, then added, “I will not be able to meet here, however. I need to inspect part of the Sector’s outer walls tomorrow.”
“Do you mind if I ask what that work entails?”
“We perform visual inspections. Tomorrow will be the second time since the summer ended. If I have any concerns, I will meet several stonemasons and carpenters for an update on any repairs that still need to be done. I also get in contact with the Nauru so they can cast new boundary containment spells where needed.”
“You have a lot of responsibility, Commander, and I have great respect for the fact that you take them all seriously in spite of your belief you and your men are oppressed.”
“We are, and I do. As I mentioned before, we have not been asking for freedom so we can shirk our responsibilities. All we want is for each man to be given the choice to step up…or not. My mother still lives in a nearby village, as do many of my soldiers’ families. It is no different from the way you must also put every effort into honing your craft to protect your family as well.”
Kiera looked away. She turned ghostly pale. “I …I have no family. I lost my parents during the Big Storm. My mother passed first, when the ravagers attacked. My father…he was one of the Regent’s personal guards. He was also killed that winter.”
Dammit, he did not mean to be so insensitive as to assume she still had kin. “I am sorry for your loss. How old were you?”
“Eleven.”
“I apologize for assuming…I must be going.”
“It is fine. I appreciate your compassion, Commander Oslo.”
“You can call me Xander,” he said, still not moving from his spot.
“I will try.”
“We can continue our conversation tomorrow.”
She nodded. “Well, good day…Xander.”
He waited for her to leave through the front entrance. As far as Xander was concerned, this first meeting could not have gone any better than it did.
* * *
It was roughlya two-mile ride to the camp. Usually, the first storm of the season would take place around this time, just before noon. Today, most of the villagers were outside doing last-minute fortifications to their homes, barns, and other buildings. He sensed the glances that the ordinary humans threw his way. Condescending sideways glimpses, the sort someone might give to a flea-ridden stray dog crossing their path.
Humans who did not suffer the loss of a shifter or witch in the family had a tendency to be the most scornful. The way they looked down on him and his men would be laughable if it were not so disheartening. Even with the threat of the ravagers returning within weeks, this group had no respect for the lifesaving contributions he and his troops made to the Sector. To them, they were serving a purpose, no different from trained circus animals.
Their lives were so different now, compared to all the years of his childhood. Back then, every person was equal, including the small percentage of them who bore the features that seemed to predispose them to have the 236-k gene. Villagers would say they all had the same ancestry. That assertion made sense, given that Sector Two was more of an island after the first ravagers appeared on Othala hundreds of years ago. Xander’s mother would tell him he had his father’s physical frame, height, black hair, and bright blue eyes. He had no pictures of the man, and no memories either. His father had passed away when he was very young.
According to what he had learned in school, sixteen powerful witches had come together to stop humanity’s complete annihilation. Human weapons and technologies were of no use, and in fact, did more to submerge the land under water than kill off the monsters. The sixteen witches were somewhat successful in casting spells to ward off the ravagers, but not before the majority of the population perished. This group of witches turned out to be the heroes of their day, and the surviving citizens all sought their leadership. That was the time that Othala was born, comprised of sixteen tiny land masses, called Sectors, with each witch becoming a Regent of their respective area.
Even when the Regents ruled all those centuries ago, all men, women, witches and familiars were equal. The historical accounts told that the Regents communicated for as long as they could, but satellites and land-based infrastructure eventually broke down to the point where each Sector was on its own, isolated islands onto themselves. Beyond the land masses were expanded oceans, which the ravagers ruled due to their expert swimming capabilities. Shipping, fishing and any water-based activity ceased abruptly as a result.
Their lives on Sector Two had been different, right up to the winter that Minassus had transformed him and the first wave of men with the 236-k gene. He and the first set of turned shifters had a month as heroes while Minassus was in a coma. At the time, their actions were seen as noble and brave. Unfortunately Minassus recovered, and soon after, Sector Two citizens learned the full cost of what it meant to carry the gene. All men in the central village were ordered to report to the Great Hall to be tested. Those in surrounding areas had similar experiences. Minassus dispatched units of his personal guards to accompany his scientists from one village to the next, forcing men to undergo the test. Those with the gene were mandated to report to the shifter camp for training by Ashborn, and later, by Xander. Every fall, the new draftees were transformed to polar bear shifters.
Before that first winter was over, it became clear how little Minassus appreciated the shifters. First, curfews were implemented. After that, they could only leave the camps two days each spring and fall to visit their families. Every season, it got worse at the shifter camps.
During the third winter, Commander Ashborn had tried to organize the shifter soldiers to retaliate, but Minassus was clever. He had thousands of personal guards, all of whom were well armed at all times. He was also crafty and devious, planting several of his guards in the camp under the guise of being new 236-k trainees. One of them alerted Minassus to Ashborn’s plan. No one saw it coming. The revolt was a disaster. It led to the death of over fifty shifters and the imprisonment of many more. After that time, the shifter camp became more like jails.
How could the passage of three hundred years preserve equality in Sector Two, yet only nine years under Minassus led to segregation and suffering? The answer was simple. Minassus was an evil, selfish, power-hungry bastard of a sorcerer, and deep down, he feared anyone who appeared to hold more power than him, be it witch, familiar, or the alpha of the shifters.
A sour taste rose up in Xander’s throat. It was time for a change. Minassus needed to be retired, one way or another. He had lived like royalty in his fortress for far too long, indulging in opulence while everyone else worked to the bone just to scratch out an existence. His voluntary or forced retirement would clear the way for new freedoms for all, better leadership and an improved quality of life. Before the Big Storm, there was power and running water. People lived comfortably. Sure, it was the ravagers that destroyed Sector Two’s infrastructure for the second time in three hundred years, but Minassus put no effort into the restoration of the Sector. He hoarded resources for himself, forgoing power and running water within the fortress to deceive citizens into believing that resources were too scarce to even try.
