My Lycan Mate of Suicide Forest

"We don't know if the fevers you've been having are over, so we're going to have to be careful with that, too," Greta said, shifting her eyes to Graeme as well. He nodded.

"What about my eyes?" August asked. "Are they going to freak out about those?"

Greta shifted in her chair. "Probably," she looked into her mug. "I brought some colored contacts for you to wear, but I'm not convinced it's a good idea to hide it."

Graeme sighed next to August. She could feel the small puff of air against her hair.

"Why is that?" August asked.

"I'm uncomfortable with how deliberate that action is to mislead them," Greta said.

"So what is this about today exactly? I mean, are they going to throw me in a dungeon cell or something if I seem threatening?" August asked. "Am I in trouble for… for Marius?"

"No," Graeme replied, his voice deep. "Nothing is going to happen to you. They're curious. They want to make sure the pack is safe."

"I'm not going to hurt anyone. Isn't it better to just be honest?" August looked from Greta back to Graeme next to her. They were silent.

"Sometimes things get complicated," Graeme replied vaguely. "Unfortunately most of them see things in black and white. There are old prejudices…" he trailed off again, which August noticed was a habit of his.

"So I'm not a danger or in danger, but I have to lie about what's happening to me?" August got up from Graeme's lap and stood between him and his sister with arms folded. "I feel like you two aren't telling me everything."

"There's just so many things we don't know yet—about what their thoughts are and what all is happening with you," Greta started.

"We'd rather be safe than sorry," Graeme added, reaching for August's hand and grabbing her fingers lightly.

A knot was slowly forming in August's stomach. They said she didn't need to be nervous, but there were all these caveats. What was the truth?

The night before, Graeme had spoken to his sister about this on the phone. "If they see her eyes, they will not be satisfied with the idea that she hasn't experienced anything unusual. They'll keep pressing for more information."

"But if you two stay on pack land, they will find out eventually. Is it better if they find that you've been hiding it?"

"I'd rather have more time to gauge what's going on with her. She's only been awake a few hours."

Greta had reluctantly brought the colored contacts along hoping to talk her brother out of it, but he was still committed to the idea of using them.

"It's possible they won't even ask you direct questions, August. They may only be directed to me and Greta," Graeme said trying to reassure her. He pulled her towards him and held her lightly on the hips, looking up into her eyes, "Don't worry. I'll be right next to you."

She blinked back at him with the knot of fear slowly curling tighter in her stomach. But she nodded silently. This was all foreign to her, so she had to trust them.

An hour later when the morning mist had left the forest and Greta had shown August around her closet, helping her choose an outfit for the council meeting and securing the blue contacts in her eyes while Graeme tamed his man beard, the three descended the grand wooden staircase of the treehouse that curved around a large tree trunk. August rested her hand against the rough bark appreciatively.

"Are you sure you don't want something to eat real quick?" Graeme paused his descent and looked back at her. The cleaner-cut version of his beard made the lines of his face and jaw more prominent. August felt her stomach flutter lightly with his warm gaze on her.

"No, I don't think I could eat anyway," she assured him. "Let's just get this over with."

Greta was already below them gliding down the final steps and hopping into the driver's seat of a black Jeep Gladiator, which had the bed of a truck behind the typical boxy Jeep body.

Once they left the treehouse and began driving on a dirt road through the trees, August began to see small cottages nestled in the green of the forest coming into view. She was reminded of fairy or hobbit houses with moss and ivy climbing the walls and roofs. Each home had a similar arched wooden door. Some had gardens gracing their front paths with short fences made of either wood or chicken wire. And some fences appeared to be chain link with random sticks woven through. A peculiar pattern of blue bottles on sticks or rods became apparent.

"How many people live here?" August asked, realizing she had no idea the scope of what might be considered a 'pack.'

"It fluctuates," Graeme replied vaguely.

"What are the blue bottles for?" she asked.

"It's just superstition around these parts. Something about night fairies," came the short answer from Graeme. He didn't elaborate further.

Night fairies. August's eyes widened with the hint of something mysterious and magical there.

Unlike the part of the forest she had entered into with her friends, there was more sunlight filtering in through the tree canopy here. Everything seemed lighter and warmer. The eerie blue tint was gone, and in its place she heard the happy sounds of birds and humming of insects. The Jeep drove through a cascade of falling red and gold leaves, and despite the impending council meeting, August couldn't help but smile to herself.

Greta turned down a wider dirt road with large trees lining it on either side. As they proceeded further down, a shimmering pond came into view with an enormous craftsman style stone and wood house beyond.

"Welcome to the pack house," she heard Graeme say.

They drove around the pond and pulled into the grass on the side of the house where other cars were parked. The house was huge. It might even be called a mansion if not for the cozy appearance of the exterior. Ivy climbed up the side of its stone facade. She followed Greta and Graeme around the front and up onto a wide deck that extended from one side of the house to the other.

August gulped when they approached the double front doors, which were an arched dark wood with glass inlays. If the house were smaller, it would seem cozy. But the sheer size of the front doors was intimidating.

Graeme was wearing a grey v-neck sweater and jeans. He appeared casual and at home, but something about the way his shoulders straightened and broadened as he approached the doors made August recall the knot of fear in her stomach. He turned and reached for her hand.. "Let's do this," he said and winked at her.