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Our Master Class assignment this week included the phrase damned liberty.  Without further adieu, here is the next installment of the White Wolves serial.  Be sure to check out other assignments over at Our Write Side.

 

Jen let Emma help her out of bed.  Despite how much her leg looked healed, it still burned and ached with a fury she had not felt since Cullen was born.  Her nerves threatened to twist out of her body and choke her.

Emma showed her into a room that her apartment could have fit into with ease.  She could not imagine how much the furnishings cost.  Three leather couches and four leather chairs sat on a rug Jen knew cost more than she made in a year.  There were a couple paintings on the walls Jen thought might be originals.  It all added the out of place feeling bubbling up inside her.

Rhys waited with two other men Jen did not recognize.  Emma saw Jen to a chair across from one of the men and just to the right of Kris.  The other man took up the chair to Jen’s right.  Emma settled herself across from Jen on the couch with the unknown man.

Rhys gestured to the man with Emma, “You’ve met Emma.  This is her mate, Kris.  He and Emma run a pack in Germany,” Rhys shifted his attention to the man on Jen’s right, “This is Morgan.  He is part of Kris’s inner circle.”

“Nice to meet you,” Jen tried to keep her nerves from showing.

“Ma’am,” Morgan nodded to her.

“You’re Jen, then,” Kris said.

Jen did not know how to take Kris’s words or tone.  She shrunk back into the chair a little further.  That feeling of not belonging threatened to consume her.  Something must have shown on her face as Rhys shot her a quizzical look.

“You’re fine Jen.  They are here with information about your son.”

Jen jerked up, “You know where Cullen is?  Tell me what you know!”

Kris stiffened.  Emma put a hand on his arm, “Yes, hon.  We have some information, but not the exact whereabouts of your son.  Though we do have a general idea.”

Jen wilted back again.  A stray tear escaped her efforts and slid down her pale cheek.

“You and your son are a rarity in our world.  That you bore a son to a wolf is nothing short of a miracle.  That your son survived and has thrived so far is even more so.  That tells us two vital pieces of information.”

“What?” Jen’s brow furrowed and the corners of her mouth turned down.

“It tells us at least one of your bloodlines, likely yours Jen, is strong.  And old.”

“What does that mean?  I mean why is that important?”

Rhys jumped in, “It means that there are a number of packs who would want you and your son.  Not in the most positive way, either.  Those packs are dwindling.  Their young are not surviving as well as they used to.   Your bloodline would give one of those packs a significant edge.”

“Can’t you just infect someone else or something like that to make more werewolves?”

“Not really.  The lycanthropy virus is contagious, but not nearly as contagious as Hollywood has made it out to be.  And those brought into the packs in that manner tend to have trouble adjusting to this life, though there are always a number of volunteers who believe they can be the exception,” Rhys explained.

“Why would people choose this life?  I guess I don’t understand enough about it.”

“Because of the freedom that comes with it,” Kris replied.

“Yes, but it is a damned liberty.  We cannot interact with human society once we turn,” Morgan added, a note of bitterness creeping into his soft voice.

 

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