His Mute Luna

Chapter 8 - The Brothers

Morgan

The faint scent of honeysuckle tickled my nose, waking me from a deep slumber. I was surprised that I had managed to get any sleep, given that I had found my mate but not actually found her. Looking at the time, I was shocked to see it was almost 11 am!

Shit, I needed to move, my mate might be walking around right now and I needed to track her down. Even though my stomach was rumbling and begging for food, that could wait; I was hardly about to starve anytime soon.

'Our mate will be delicious enough,' Mars shivered, already getting way ahead of himself.

'Don't you even dare! She's just been through hell. You'll shut the f**k up and just silently appreciate her till she's ready. Like you'd know what to do with a woman anyway…' I grumbled, irritated that he'd be thinking about mating after what happened.

He snorted in derision. 'And you would? At least I have instincts to help me,' he gloated, knowing I had no comeback.

In all honesty, the prospect of intimacy with a woman was...daunting.

I could fight a dozen wolves at once.

Jump into danger to save a pack member without a shred of fear.

Or stare my dad down when we had a heated disagreement.

…And yet women made me nervous.

I had only ever been on two dates. Both had been disasters. One was five years ago and she had been a little insane...I didn't even make it through our main course and had practically run away.

The second was about a year later and though I had kind of liked her, as she moved in to kiss me, my wolf howled and growled incessantly, causing me to pull away.

As a result, I had never even held hands with someone, but now I was immensely grateful that Mars had insisted, rather aggressively, on waiting for our mate. She would be my first in everything, not that anything would compare to her anyway. I didn't care if she hadn't waited for me in that respect. It would actually be beneficial for someone in this relationship to know what the hell they were doing. Although that thought sent a shiver of dread down my spine.

Would she expect me to be experienced?

Would she laugh at me for being a total virgin?!

…That was a can of worms I'd open later…

'Morgan? Are you up?' My mom's voice sounded in my mind.

'Just about to. I'll be down soon,' I wasn't about to hang around any more than I needed to this morning.

'Ok, your dad's making waffles. I would hurry up if I were you. The twins have just shown up and there'll be nothing left!' She laughed, that pair could put me to shame with their appetite. 'And, after, your father's cleared a huge chunk of time to go through everything with you.'

...Oh, hell! I'd forgotten all about that.

I groaned out loud in sheer frustration.

'I will renounce our title right now if it will get us to our mate faster!' Mars growled, in equal annoyance.

His idea was growing on me…

I was ready in under five minutes and dressed in the clothes set aside for me, most likely by my mother. They were mine from what must've been a few years ago when I still lived at home, as the t-shirt felt incredibly tight across the chest now.

Hurrying down the steps, I almost broke my neck tripping over the paint supplies in the hallway.

My mother looked to have started painting another mural on the walls again. She was an exceptional artist and was always painting something or other. The pack house was filled with her murals and artwork everywhere as well. Every year she would start a new one and get pack members that wanted to, to help out, putting their own mark on their pack home. My mom was only ever serious in a crisis, like last night. The rest of the time, she was an eccentric and bohemian free spirit that wore flower crowns and walked around barefoot, a complete contrast to my dad's serious, stoic and mostly quiet demeanor.

Entering the kitchen, Cal and Cam were sat at the breakfast bar already stuffing their faces and the smell of maple syrup and pecans filled the whole room. My dad wasn't the best cook, but his breakfast food was the greatest.

As always, my mom was wearing a flowing dress and opted for ivies and baby's-breath in her hair today. At 52, she hadn't an ounce of grey in her deep brown hair and her almost white eyes mirrored my own.

My dad looked a little more at ease now this morning, his auburn curls that were identical to my own, were less of a mess. Like my mother, at 57, he barely had a grey hair and looked like a more mature version of myself and my brothers with the same small dimples and chin cleft.

Werewolves aged incredibly slowly compared to humans, living to be over 150 years old and not passing our prime till at least 70 years old. There was supposed to be quite a famous Alpha in Tennessee who had reigned for almost 60 years, Yarrow Salomon, and from what I knew, his daughter had taken over as leader of their pack; no easy feat given how patriarchal our werewolf society could be.

"There's my gorgeous boy!" My mom exclaimed, pulling me in to kiss my cheek and completely ignoring my discomfited expression.

I heard my brothers both snigger, much to my chagrin, but it wasn't as though they could say much; our mom would have made an equal fuss over them too.

"You're looking a lot better son. How many waffles you want?" My dad smiled softly.

"Just whatever's left from these two trash chutes," I replied, thumbing the twins next to me. They gave me an affronted frown that quite literally had a huge piece of waffle hanging out, so my point was proven.

My dad handed over my plate with its stack, smothered in butter, syrup and pecans. He may have been serious and stoic, but he was also an incredibly caring father. True, the two of us had had our share of disagreements on plans for the pack, a couple of them being pretty heated, but it didn't mean I respected him any less. He had sacrificed much for this pack in his younger days when he became Alpha.

My grandfather, Alpha Gordon, had ruled this pack like a tyrant and my father had led a revolt against him 25 years ago. He had had to hide both my mother and myself for two years out of fear of Gordon using us against him. My mother always said us Anderson men possessed a fiery temper, but it made us passionate about what we wanted and that passion had led to the liberation of this pack's oppressive and violent past.

After practically inhaling my food, I was about to get up when I caught a familiar scent of fresh leaves. Michael's frame appeared through the archway to the kitchen as he greeted our mother.

"And my other beautiful boy finally shows his face," our mom fussed as she pinched his cheek. He wore almost the same identical frown I had at our mother's attention.

The two of us could practically be another set of twins, despite him being two years younger. We were the same height, almost the same build, had the same curly auburn hair but where my eyes were almost white, he was a deep brown like our father's and the twins.

The true difference laid in our attitudes. He could be more emotionally detached in his decision making; like last night, willing to sacrifice the lives of a few in favour of the safety of our warriors. Whereas I could never let such an injustice stand. We used to be pretty close, but as we grew older, somewhere along the way, our brotherly competition became more personal to him.

"Sorry mom, just exhausted from last night. We spent hours running on a wild goose chase around the ports. But at least Morgan saved the day...as usual," he silently muttered his last words, but I heard them clearly.

I shot him a pissed off look, he just couldn't resist a jibe!

'Don't give me that f*****g look! I know why you sent Ryan with me. It was my decision to check the port, even though we didn't need to, just in case. Why do you always have to assume the worst with me?!' He snarled through mind-link.

'Call it experience.'

His eyes blackened at my words momentarily before our father spoke up, "can you both quit your arguing for a single day, please?"

"We didn't even say anything," Michael replied monotone, his eyes not leaving mine.

"Hmph, I can practically hear the mind-linking between you both," our dad replied in his quiet voice. That usually meant he was losing his patience with us.

I could see our mom frowning, clearly wanting to lighten the tension. "How about we all go to your father's study and get last night's details all set out? Come on, I'll bring us all some coffee!"

"Ok, but I wanna get this wrapped up as soon as possible...I was kinda hoping to visit each of the women from last night and make sure they're alright," and find my damn mate without everyone's eyes on me for once in my life!

"Oh, that's so sweet of you! My baby's so thoughtful," my mom beamed.

Cam, who was sitting closest to me, snorted in laughter, "Morgan going round talking to women? Front row tickets to that trainwreck, please!" Which earnt a laugh from Cal and Michael, and a death glare from myself.

I sent a swift slap up the back of his head in retaliation.

"Oooow, f**k! Mom!" He exclaimed, while grabbing the back of his head.

"You're telling on me? What're you, 5?!"

"7, actually, I'm 7," he replied sarcastically, glaring straight back at me.

"I miss living at home sometimes," Michael commented, clearly enjoying the 'entertainment'.

"Cool it, boys. And watch your language, Cameron," our dad warned, his tone dropping in weariness; he had put up with our squabbling for over two decades.

"That's it, everybody out," my mom clapped her hands. "You're all wasting time, so run along. I'll be through with some nice calming tea I think, instead."

No doubt the tea would be what she got from our grandma Alice, who lived with the earth wiccan Family in the south of the Siskiyou Forest of our pack.

My mother had been raised as a rogue in the wilds alongside a Family of wiccans, their version of a werewolf's pack and was led by an Elder. Another reason why my father hid her from Gordon.

My rogue grandfather had stood with my dad in his fight but had sadly lost his life defending my father. I had never met my other grandmother, she had been murdered by her own mate's hand because she defied him in contributing to the revolt. But, as thanks to the earth wiccans for putting themselves in danger and protecting my mother and myself, he had given them a whole section of forest to live within and be protected by the pack.

The wiccans were such astounding creatures; humans blessed by the moon goddess and entrusted to protect the primordial spirit of the earth, gaia, as the legend went. They could manipulate the energies of nature around them, such as seeing the auras of others, communicate with animals, grow plants no matter the weather or time of year, heal injuries and some could even see visions of the future. Earth wiccans were more numerous and the Family that resided with us, as thanks to my father for giving them safety, kept our pack as supplied as they could with fresh vegetables.

As a pup, I spent quite a few summers with my brothers at our grandma's; no matter how many times I visited the wiccan Family, their powers to me were always mind blowing.

In my dad's study, I had just finished recounting the past night's events. And I was definitely feeling much calmer after drinking the tea our mom had brought.

Mars was virtually sprawled out in my mind and hadn't mentioned our mate for the first time this morning. I didn't know what was in it exactly, but it was like catnip to our wolves, making them all dopey and chilled for a few minutes. The effect would wear off soon, but it was nice to have my thoughts to myself without Mars constantly badgering me about our mate.

"So all of them had this tattoo?" My dad asked, holding a picture up from the autopsy.

"Yeah, all eight. I've never seen it before, you?" I replied, studying the almost undetectable peculiar expression on his face.

"...No," he replied, a little too quickly. I felt like he knew something, but didn't want to say it.

He moved on quickly to the rest of the findings. All eight of the men were equipped with a concealed lethal pill, a thin glass ampoule covered in a white rubber material containing an extremely potent mix of saxitoxin and liquid silver. Whoever sent these people did not want them talking under any circumstances. The rest of the findings were pretty slim, they literally had nothing on them and we were at a complete dead end as to who they were or who could have sent them. There was no way they could have been rogues. These people were employed by someone, somewhere. But for what, was still a mystery. The liquid used to subdue the women was what I had figured it to be, a tranquilizer mixed with mild wolfsbane. Tom's sister had been incredibly lucky. The toxins in wolfsbane, monobasic diterpenoid alkaloids, were highly poisonous to humans and could cause muscle paralysis. The tranquilizer in her system had probably saved her life by keeping her immobile and her muscles relaxed. Those men either mustn't have realised she was human or hadn't cared to have used wolfsbane on her. If they had sprayed her with that scent cover straight away, they may have missed her human scent.

In wolves, wolfsbane's toxicity worked by inhibiting the synapses in the brain that prevented the wolf and human side from communicating. Which was why normal wolves would go silent and revert to their human state; something I had a natural immunity to, being a white wolf. It also triggered the pain receptors in our body, causing a burning sensation; something I definitely did not have immunity to.

"I think that's everything for now. Leave this symbol to me to look into. I have plenty of contacts that can help," my dad finished a little curtly.

I looked at my mother and my brothers, none of them seemed to sense anything amiss.

Why did I get this feeling that he was hiding something? But...if he said he would look into something, he would. Maybe he just had a hunch and didn't want to reveal it until he had concrete proof? If it was something that compromised our safety, he wouldn't keep it to himself.

"I think we should contact some of the other packs on the west coast, see if they had something similar happen. We need to know if we were specifically targeted or whether they were simply after a specific description," I suggested.

"Excellent thinking, I'll get on that too. You go check on those girls, make sure they're doing ok and see if any want to take up the offer of a guard," my dad said, calling a close to the meeting.

Now that I was finally free to go about my day, I ran home quickly to grab my truck.

Sitting in the driver's seat, I looked through the printout I had stuffed in my pocket from this morning, listing all four women with their addresses.

Now, where to start and which one of these was most likely to be my mate?