Every Night For Four Years

She knew exactly what they looked like. She had seen them on the werewolves she killed and also studied them during her training. A mating mark was sacred to the werewolves. It was the physical evidence of the bond between fated mates.

But she was human. She was Anatolia Snow, the Astorian Empire's greatest werewolf slayer, and she had spent 12 years killing werewolves. How could she now bear a mating mark? What had happened to her?

She closed her eyes and tried to remember. She could still see the temple and the battle, and also the moment she drove her sword into the Alpha King's shoulder. And the explosion caused by the silver rune she had hidden in her armor as a last resort to kill the Alpha King. But then, nothing else.

A sharp pain shot through her skull, making her gasp and press her palm against her forehead, but the pain only worsened.

It was like she was trying to see in the dark, and the effort hurt her brain.

"Mommy?"

Anatolia turned. Astrid was still standing beside the bed, watching her with wide, worried eyes.

"Are you okay?" the little girl asked. "You look scared."

"I'm fine," Anatolia said through her tightened throat.

"You don't look fine." Astrid padded across the room and tugged on the hem of Anatolia's nightgown. "Daddy said you might be confused when you woke up, and he also said I should be patient with you."

Anatolia's heart stopped for a moment.

"Daddy?"

Astrid nodded. "Yes, he comes to see you every night, and he tells you stories about us, but sometimes he just sits there and holds your hand, and I think he just really misses you."

"Every night for four years?"

The words turned in her head. If this child was really four years old, then she had lost close to five years of her life. It seemed she had been asleep and unconscious for years, and in that time, she had apparently given birth to twins because there was another one that Astrid had mentioned earlier.

"Astrid," Anatolia said carefully. "You said you have a sister?"

"Yeah, Ingrid." Astrid smiled, getting excited. "She's my twin. Daddy said she's older than me by three minutes, but I'm taller than her, so it doesn't count."

"What is she like?" Anatolia found herself asking.

"She's boring." Astrid sighed dramatically. "She's always training because she wants to be the strongest warrior in the country. She says she's going to be Alpha Queen one day and command all the armies."

She wrinkled her nose.

"I told her she can't be Alpha Queen because I'm going to be Alpha Queen, and then we had a fight, and then Daddy made us sit in different corners."

Anatolia's head was spinning with all the information.

"And how old did you say you were?"

"Four," Astrid said, holding up her fingers. Four years old. Two twins that are four years old."

Anatolia kept redoing the math. She had been 20 when she fought Harolin Draycott in that temple, and if these children were four, then she was now 24 years old.

But none of this makes sense. How could she have gotten pregnant and given birth to twins when she was a werewolf slayer? She had spent her entire adult life killing werewolves, and now she was apparently the mother of two werewolf children.

"Mommy?" Astrid's voice called. "Are you mad at me?"

Anatolia looked down at her. The little girl's golden eyes were filled with anxiety, and her lower lip was quivering again.

"No," she said quickly and was surprised to find that she meant it. "I'm not mad at you at all."

Astrid's face glowed immediately.

"Good, because I have so much to tell you. I even have a list."

She climbed back onto the bed and dropped into the midst of the soft pillows.

"First, I need to tell you about the other dream I had. Then I need to tell you about the cake I stole from the kitchen yesterday, and then I need to tell you about Ingrid getting in trouble for hitting one of the guards with her wooden sword. She said he deserved it because he called her cute."

Anatolia found herself sitting on the edge of the bed and listening keenly as Astrid launched into a detailed recount of her dream.

The child talked very animatedly, waving her arms around and bouncing on the mattress, and Anatolia couldn't help but notice the way her golden eyes sparkled with mischief.

She remembered seeing eyes like these before, inside a temple surrounded by blood and fire. It was moments before the Alpha King had shifted into his wolf form and nearly killed her.

Anatolia's stomach clenched.

"Astrid," she interrupted the girl mid-ramble. "Where is your father?"

Astrid stopped mid-sentence.

"Daddy?"

"Yes. Do you know where he is?"

"He's probably in his study. He's always in his study," Astrid said.  “Why? Do you want to see him?"

"No," Anatolia quickly said, her voice coming out sharper than she wanted. "I just... I need to understand what's happening."

Astrid didn't seem bothered by her tone. She only shrugged and said, "Daddy will explain everything. He's very good at explaining things. He even explained to me why I can't have a dragon even though I really, really want one."

Before Anatolia could respond, Astrid suddenly sat up straight, her eyes going wide as she tilted her head as though she could hear something Anatolia couldn't.

"Daddy is coming," she announced.

"What?" Anatolia froze.

"I can hear his footsteps. He walks really loudly."

Astrid jumped off the bed, her little legs carrying her to the door. Then she stopped and looked back at Anatolia.

"You should pretend to be sleeping. He always checks on you first thing in the morning, and if he sees you're awake, he's going to freak out."

Anatolia didn't need to be told twice. Her eyes scanned the room before they landed on a small silver letter opener on the bedside table.

It was a tiny thing and wouldn't be useful as a weapon, but it was still sharp and silver.

She grabbed it and pushed it under her pillow, her heart pounding against her chest.

Then she began to hear the footsteps. They were heavy and growing closer by the second.

Astrid was watching her with curious and confused eyes.

"Are you playing a game?"

"No," Anatolia whispered, pulling the girl towards her. "Stay behind me."

She positioned herself in front of Astrid, her body stiff and alert, her fingers gripping the edge of the pillow where she could easily access the letter opener under it.

The footsteps finally stopped outside the door.

Anatolia's breath caught when the door was pushed open.

Harolin Draycott stepped into the room, and he was exactly as she had remembered him from the temple: tall, broad-shouldered, with a striking silver-haired streak that fell across his forehead.

Most importantly, his eyes were the color of glowing gold, exactly like the little girl's behind her.

He wore black royal attire perfectly fitted to his large frame, and there was a small sword tied to his hip that Anatolia knew he wouldn't even need.

His eyes found hers instantly, like a magnet clinging to iron.

For a long moment, neither of them could say a word.

The Alpha King was rendered speechless, which was a rare situation.

He just stared at her as if he were seeing a ghost.

His expression was a mixture of shock and something that Anatolia couldn't name.

"Ana," he whispered, saying her name with a familiarity that made her skin crawl.

His voice was rough and sounded broken.

For a moment, she saw something in his eyes that made her hesitate to attack, but then she remembered their final battle, the temple, and the hundreds of werewolves that had died at her hands.

Back then Harolin Draycott had finally caught up to her and pinned her under his paw, then laughed at her when she promised him that he would regret sparing her.

Anatolia grabbed the letter opener and lunged.