Chapter 6: Prophecy

Kyle

My bed feels like it’s spinning, despite keeping my eyes closed. I can hear Yasmeen’s feet shuffling around the room, as she tries forcing me to drink water, telling me how it could help with my hangover. I am tired of explaining to her that I didn’t drink any alcohol last night; regardless, no amount of alcohol could ever make someone feel this terrible.

“I squeezed a bit of lime into the water just in case plain H2O is making you feel nauseated,” Yasmeen says.

I groan and open my eyes to look at her. She has her blonde hair up in a sleek tight ponytail, and I wonder if it feels uncomfortable. She smiles down at me as she shoves the glass of water in my face. Yasmeen rarely smiles, and the tilt of her lips looks forced and somewhat painful.

“I’m not thirsty,” I tell her, annoyed by her persistence.

Her eyebrows come together as she regards me. I can’t believe how she has grown. I took her in when she was just a rogue pup who was going around causing trouble. I knew that she would be killed by other packs, sooner or later, if she was ever caught crossing into their territories, so I saved her.

I think of her as my baby sister, yet I think she sees herself as my caregiver. If she isn’t in the kitchen dictating to the chefs what menu they should prepare for me, she is in here forcing me to drink some sort of new dietary supplement or probiotic to keep me healthy. That’s just the type of person Yasmeen is.

Meanwhile the sunlight pouring into the room is hurting my eyes and causing the thumping in my head to worsen. I grit my teeth and try to hide the pain. These migraines have been coming and going for days now. At first, I had assumed they were just normal headaches that would soon stop, but now, they have intensified. I try to sit up, but my head feels heavy and I just end up slumping back onto the pillow. I shut my eyes again, trying to block the rays of the sun.

“Close the blinds,” I demand to Yasmeen. I am glad that she obeys without questioning me, or trying to give me a lesson on why the sunlight is good for my recovery.

When I open my eyes again, I am relieved to see that the room is dim. Yasmeen returns from shutting the blinds and bends down, placing the back of her palm on my forehead before quickly retrieving her hand.

“Dang, Alpha Kyle, you are burning up!”

Suddenly, I feel a clawing sensation in my chest like a beast within me is trying to break free. I tense my jaw and tilt my head slightly.

“I will call for Doctor Leeroy to come to have a look at you,” Yasmeen explains. She rushes out of the room before I can say that I don’t need any doctors.

Left to my own devices, I lift the glass of water Yasmeen left on the bedside table and pour some on my face, which currently feels like an inferno. I wince and curse when the water touches my face and splashes into my eyes. I forgot that Yasmeen had told me that she put some lime juice in there, damnit. I might be very strong on the battlefield, but citrus in the eyes was enough to make a grown man wince like a pup.

I’m startled as the door opens, and Yasmeen and Doctor Leeroy make their way into the room. I pretend like nothing happened.

“Your eyes are now red. See, Doc, he really isn’t well,” Yasmeen observes. I am relieved she thinks my red eyes are a result of my migraine.

Again, something claws in my chest, and this time I can’t withstand the pain; I let out a loud howl, wondering what is happening to me?

“Alpha Kyle, lay back down so I can take a look at you,” Dr. Leeroy announces. He then turns to Yasmeen, saying, “Please leave us for a bit, Lady Yasmeen.”

Yasmeen gives me a worried look. “No. Whatever you need to do, you can do it with me here. Alpha Kyle doesn’t mind.”

I raise a brow as I look at her. What had given her the wild idea that I wanted her here as the doctor examined me? Imagine he needs me to undress….I don’t need her to see any of that. Sometimes I think Yasmeen is getting too comfortable around here and it needs to be stopped.

“Get out,” I bark at her.

She seems unsure of how to react.

“Get the fuck out, Yasmeen,” I yell. Finally, she frog-marches out of the door, leaving me alone with the doctor.

“It’s the Leviathan in you, my Lord. Remember what the teller said that last time? You need someone to carry your seed to relieve the building tension or else it will consume you from within. It’s time,” Dr. Leeroy says, a solemn expression on his face.

“The prophecy is ridiculous. I must breed to stay alive….but shall I remind you that as a hybrid, with Leviathan blood coursing through me, I can’t give my seed to anyone lest they too are co

nsumed and killed,” I reply.

“The teller did tell you there is a solution. You need to find a strong, pure-blooded witch to carry your seed. If you can do that and they agree to be your surrogate, then you can pass on the gene to your heir.” Dr. Leeroy restates what I already know.

I want to pick him up by his collar and shake him, but I am in too much pain to be able to do that. I was there when the prophecy was made, does he think I was a fool?

“Do you perhaps know where we can post a classified advert for a pure-blooded witch surrogate for a tormented hybrid Alpha?” I ask, not hiding the sarcasm in my voice.

Dr. Leeroy pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, as he goes about taking some medical equipment from his bag. I watch him as he opens up a syringe and starts filling it with medication.

“This will help you, but just for a while. You need to find a witch and get her pregnant. The answer to your quest can be found in Trouville. If what the teller said is true, a witch suitable for this role came of age recently. Find her and do what you can to convince her to carry your child,” he says, his eyes focused on the syringe.

Since learning about a possible pure-blooded witch in Trouville, I have been frequenting the area. I even opened another club in the area hoping that I would one day run into her. All I had ever gotten from my mission was spoiled kids throwing birthday parties in my club and destroying my furniture. What a waste of my time and money….

Just a day ago, though, there was one such birthday celebration. I can’t for the life of me remember the name of the girl who booked the place, but there was one girl I recall vividly in attendance: a dark-haired beauty with hazel eyes, which flashed green when she looked at me. Her lovely eyes glistened with waves of sea foam blue and green. As I stood there, gazing at her, her thick lashes fluttered above those radiant emerald green eyes; eyes which seemed to swim between hues of golden, earthy colors. I had been drowning in the dark, endless abyss of her eyes.

Ever since my visits to Trouville in the past four years, she was the most memorable thing I had ever come across. For once, I had felt the beast within me tamed by her mere gaze; I was bewitched by her deep, citrine stone stare.

I had never seen her around my club or Trouville before, so the question is, who is she?