RISE OF THE LYCANS - Mates and Bonds

**Previous comments may have disappeared because this chapter was accidentally deleted, and I had to repost it.

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Selena

“Storm?” Lukas called to his sister.

“The gates of hell,” she mumbled.

“What gates?” Rex asked just as her eyes returned to normal.

Lukas studied her for a moment before he spoke. “Storm, when did your visions begin?”

She looked confused. “What visions?”

“Either you just had a vision, or we need to get an exorcism because you’ve been possessed,” Rex replied.

“Who’s been possessed?” Grandma Dori asked as she entered the suite. “I have holy water in my purse... picked it up when I visited the Vatican some years back.”

“No, one’s been possessed, Grandma,” Storm dismissed. “I was talking out loud to myself, and these two think I’ve been possessed.”

I remembered playing dolls with Cynder and Storm in the Alpha’s office when I was a little girl. With my father being the Zeta and Wylder being the Beta, we spent a lot of playtime together. I must have been about seven years old when I overheard their conversation about seers and visions. Rex was having nightmares about tentacles or monsters, and Ares thought it could have been a vision of some kind. I remember my father telling Ares that a seer’s eyes turned white when a vision came to them because it was a gift from the Gods.

Whether or not Storm was aware of it, her eyes definitely turned white. The door pushed open again, and this time, Flaym entered the room.

“How’s your dad?” I asked. Wylder had looked like he was ready to skin Zane alive.

“He’s eating, so I guess he’s better now,” Flaym said. “But I’m not sure he’s ready to lose Cynder to Crescent Moon.”

“Oh, come on!” Storm rolled her eyes. “Wylder already has his own suite at Crescent Castle because Grammy and Papa love him.”

“Yes, but she’s going to be moving to Canada,” he replied, sounding a little forlorn.

“She’s going to be Luna of one of the greatest packs,” Storm told him. “It could be worse. She could be mated to one of those pompous French Alphas and moving halfway around the world.”

“Speaking of those pompous French Alphas,” Flaym turned to Lukas. “Your father is expecting a few of them for a meeting and asked if you and Rex could join him?”

“What about me?” Storm asked.

“He figured Selena would probably be resting and wants a lycan guarding his grandpup at all times,” Flaym shrugged.

Stella yipped with excitement at the idea of our pup being recognized by the Alpha King, but a flash of annoyance hit me as I recalled Ares asking me who the father was.

“So, he believes it’s his grandpup, after all?”

“To be fair, your father also thought Lukas had impregnated someone else,” Flaym chuckled.

Sensing my shift in mood, Lukas shook his head. “I’m not leaving my mate.”

“Go. It’s fine.” I just wanted to be alone with my thoughts for a little while. “I’m going to finish eating and check on my sister.”

Lukas looked reluctant. “Are you sure?”

“She’ll be fine,” Grandma Dori waved him off. “I’ll make sure she eats enough.”

“Yes, go,” I nodded, finishing my croissant.

“They’re meeting in the big conference room downstairs,” Flaym told Rex. They’ll arrive in ten minutes.”

“Eat and rest. I won’t be long.” Lukas placed a tender kiss on my forehead before leaving with his brother. I reached for another chocolate croissant and waited for Flaym, Storm, and Grandma to leave, but no one was budging.

“I should call Jose.” I looked around, hoping to find my cell phone, but it was nowhere to be found.

“Oh honey, Erick already took care of that,” Grandma Dori said. “He told Jose that your family swept you away to Monaco for a little pre-graduation celebration.”

Taking a deep breath, I walked over to the large window and looked out to the rooftops of Paris. I loved the romantic feel of the low-rise buildings in this city. Being locked in this suite for nearly a week made me yearn for some fresh air. I considered returning to the rooftop terrace where breakfast had been set up for the family, but I wasn’t ready to answer more questions.

My entire world was going to change. Fashion was my passion... my escape. It had taken years to accept that the Moon Goddess had destined someone else for Lukas, to accept what my heart said otherwise. I had always loved Lukas, but if the Moon Goddess had destined him for someone else, then my love would have paled in comparison.

In the span of a week, I had become pregnant, claimed, and marked by the lycan Alpha I thought I would never have.

I was pregnant—a baby. My wolf was beyond thrilled, but I was still in shock.

“Are you okay?” Storm asked me.

“How did this happen?”

“You want us to explain how the birds and the bees work?” Flaym laughed.

I turned to Storm. “Did you have any visions of Lukas finding his mate?”

“Who’s having visions?” Grandma asked.

“No one,” Storm replied.

“Her eyes turned completely white, and she was mumbling something about the doors of hell.”

“Doors of hell?” Flaym questioned.

“You know, seers run in two of your family lines,” Grandma told Storm. “Your father is a golden wolf, which means the blood of Apollo runs in his veins, and everyone knows Apollo was also the God of Prophecy.”

“Maybe we should get some tarot cards and have Storm give it a go?” Flaym asked.

“I have some in my purse,” Grandma replied.

“Grandma, why are you walking around with tarot cards in your purse... among other things?” Storm asked.

“I bet she has cookies in there,” my wolf chimed, and I stuffed my mouth with the second chocolate croissant.

“There was a famous Parisian fortune teller who became a big name with Bonaparte’s first wife, Marie something...” Grandma started to say.

“Marie-Anne Lenormand?” I asked.

“That’s the one!” Grandma said. “You know her?”

“She’s buried at Père Lachaise, not far from here. People from around the world bring tarot cards and leave them on her tomb in hopes that she will show them the way or give them a vision.”

“We should head down to that cemetery and see if she gives Storm another vision,” Grandma said.

“I’m not having visions,” Storm insisted.

“Only one way to be sure,” Grandma told her.

“We’re not supposed to leave the hotel,” Flaym frowned.

“Well, why not? I didn’t come to Paris to be trapped in a hotel,” Grandma huffed. “Besides, Storm’s a lycan who can kill someone without even touching them. Someone would have a death wish if they messed with us.”

“Most people at a cemetery are already dead,” Storm said with a smirk.

Feeling the cabin fever set in, I agreed with Grandma. “It could be worth a try. Maybe your vision will become clearer.”

After bribing Flaym with a promise of the best chocolate soufflé Paris has to offer, he helped sneak us out of the hotel unnoticed. As the Alpha King, Ares always traveled with a few warriors, and they seemed to be all over the hotel. He had always been overprotective of the lycan offspring, worried someone might try to abduct or harm one of them. Now that I was pregnant, I knew it would be the same for my child.

“No one can scent it yet,” Stella reminded me as I stared absent-mindedly out of the taxi window.

I was seated in the back of the taxi with grandma wedged between me and Storm. The driver’s eyes kept shifting back to Storm through the rearview mirror. Her silvery white hair was something that we had all grown accustomed to as children, but she always drew a lot of attention from others outside the pack. Storm may have looked elegantly beautiful, but she was a fierce Alpha.

“That church over there looks so white and new,” Grandma said, pointing out to Sacré-Coeur. “Do they pressure wash it, or is it a new construction?”

“No, but I wish someone would pressure wash all those stairs,” I laughed. “Sacré-Coeur was consecrated shortly after World War One. It’s a Catholic church named after the sacred heart of Jesus.”

“A Catholic church, huh?” Grandma said thoughtfully. “It’s beautiful. You know, Balthazar has connections with the Vatican.”

“No one is getting married, Grandma,” I quickly replied before she got any more wild ideas. She was always going on about how Persephone’s parents were married at the Pantheon in Rome and how beautiful it was. Shifters traditionally had mating ceremonies, which were the equivalent of a human wedding.

“What? You’re in the City of Love, and it’s a beautiful location,” she shrugged.

“The church is made with travertine limestone,” I stirred the conversation back. “When it rains, the stone produces calcite, which whitens the church.”NôvelDrama.Org holds text © rights.

“Self-cleaning walls! That’s a miracle if you ask me,” she hummed in approval.

The taxi dropped us off near the front entrance of Père Lachaise, but I wasn’t ready to go through the gates just yet. We quickly made our way to the small flower shop on the corner, where I selected two potted floral arrangements. Flaym cradled them both in his arms, and we returned to the big double doors at the entrance gate.

“Are you friends with any of the permanent Parisians that live in the city of immortals?” Flaym asked.

“Be respectful, Flaym!” Grandma whispered. “This is the most visited cemetery in the world. I hear there’s even a vampire heiress who roams the grounds.”

“I need to remember to ask Ambrose about the heiress,” Flaym said. “If there’s a vampire here, then I’m sure the Vampire King knows her.”

“Is that the Russian Baroness with the glass coffin?” Storm asked.

“Glass coffin?” Flaym questioned, sounding a little nervous.

“She’s got the biggest mausoleum here,” I told Flaym. “She bequeathed her fortune to anyone who remains inside her mausoleum with her for one year and one day.”

“How much is this fortune worth?” Flaym chuckled.

“Not enough,” Storm scoffed.

“These sure are some fancy graves!” Grandma said. “And look at these cute little walkways. I love paving stones.”

Some might find the idea of spending time at a cemetery morbid, but Grandma seemed just as fascinated as I was the first time I visited. The ornate tombs of Paris’ rich and famous were also home to many Parisian families who helped make Paris what it is today. The sprawling variety of trees planted here is just as diverse as the residents of this cemetery. It didn’t matter if you were a politician, writer, scientist, revolutionary, vampire, or what your religion was. There was no segregation at Père Lachaise.

“Grave statues must have been a thing at one point,” Flaym replied, admiring a tomb sculpture with a weeping angel. It’s like an outdoor museum—the art is so impressive.”

“You should see the sculpture of Victor Noir,” I laughed. “The bulge in his pants was so prominent that women started rubbing it for good luck with fertility. The bronze is now worn in that area.”

“Lucky bastard!” Flaym chuckled. “Even in death, he’s still getting a lot of action.”

“Well, we can skip rubbing his impressive stiffy,” Storm smiled. “Selena already has a bun in the oven.”

“I should get a picture of myself and the bulge,” Grandma said. “You know, so I can show it to the girls at bingo.”

“I’m sure Nooker will appreciate seeing it,” Flaym replied.

“That’s the tomb,” I pointed as we approached.

Her grave had flowers, candles, trinkets, and tarot cards. I’d passed by Mademoiselle Lenormand’s tomb before and had always felt a different energy coming from it. I wondered if the others could sense it or if they would say something about it.

“What do we do now?” Flaym asked in a hushed voice. “Are we supposed to burn some sage, sprinkle salt on the ground, or something?”

“Did anyone bring a chicken to sacrifice?” Grandma asked, and I suppressed a giggle.

“Chicken?” Flaym asked.

“I’m joking,” Grandma laughed as she dug around in her purse. “Ah, here we go...” She extracted the cards and held them up.

“Grandma, it looks like you’re missing half the cards,” Storm said.

“This is a Lenormand deck. It’s a special divination deck with only thirty-six cards. It’s named after her,” Grandma said as she slung her purse back over her shoulder and started shuffling the cards.

“Do you feel that?” Storm stepped closer to the grave.

Flaym looked over his shoulder as if expecting to find something unusual. “Feel what?” He replied.

“I feel the energy,” I said and reached for one of the flower arrangements. “Lay this on her tomb.”

Storm took the flowers and placed them on the tomb’s concrete slab. Compared to her neighbors, Marie’s grave was plain and simple, but it didn’t matter because people from around the world visited her and decorated it.

“You’re going to draw one card and look at it,” Grandma said as she shuffled the cards. “Then you’re going to place the card, face down on the tomb, and leave your hand on it. You close your eyes and wait for something to happen. When she’s shown you a vision, you remove your hand from the card and leave it there.”

Feeling the tension radiating from Storm, I took a step back to allow her some space. Flaym must have sensed it, too, because he stepped back with me. We watched as she moved her hand from side to side over the cards Grandma had fanned out. Her hand stopped, and she removed a single card.

“Look at it and then place it face down on the grave,” Grandma instructed, stepping back to join us.

Storm knelt beside the grave and placed the card on it. Seconds later, her eyes glazed over and turned completely white. Her body went rigid, and she made no noise. Silently, we stood watching her, and it was over almost as quickly as it started. She pulled her hand back as if she had been burned and stood up.

“Storm?” Grandma was the first to speak.

“I don’t know what I saw,” she shook her head.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I tried, hoping to make sense of whatever she may have seen.

“No,” she replied. “There wasn’t anything much. Just some smoke and gates.”

“Did the gates look familiar to you?”

“No,” she shook her head.

“Maybe you should try again with a different card?” Flaym suggested just as a tour group move closer to us.

“The vision went dark,” Storm said. “There wasn’t much to see.”

“Maybe the gift will develop once you turn twenty-five,” Grandma suggested.

“We should go,” I said. “That tour group is probably coming to this grave.”

“People actually pay to take a tour through a cemetery?” Flaym asked, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Isn’t that famous musician buried here?” Grandma asked as we strolled away casually.

“Chopin? Yes, he’s here, but his heart was sent back to Poland,” I told her.

“I didn’t know Chopin was here,” she said. “I was talking about that famous singer.”

“Oh, you mean Jim Morrison!” I should have known she was talking about him. “Yes, his grave is the most visited in this entire cemetery.”

“Jim, who?” She asked.

“Grandma, Jim Morrison was an American musician and singer from one of the most popular rock bands of his time,” Flaym told her.

“You mean to tell me... that an American buried in Paris has the most visited grave in this entire cemetery,” she replied. “I could understand if it was Elvis, but I don’t even know this Jim guy.”

“It does sound a little strange when you put it like that,” I laughed.

“There are a lot of famous people here,” Storm said. “Can you be a little more specific on which singer?”

“She sang La Vie en Rose,” Grandma said.

“Edith Piaf!”

“That’s it,” Grandma said.

“She’s on the other side of the cemetery,” I told her. “People still visit her grave and play her music.”

“Are the extra flowers for her?”

“No,” I replied as we continued to stroll through the winding path to a grave I had visited before.

“Which card did you get?” Flaym asked Storm, and everyone fell silent.

“I don’t remember,” she said dismissively. Somehow, I wasn’t surprised she didn’t share.

“You just had it in your hands a few minutes ago,” Flaym pressed. “How do you not remember what it was?”

“Drop it,” she gritted.

“Honey, she’ll talk about it when she’s ready,” Grandma said.

“Fine. But someone promised me chocolate soufflé,” Flaym grumbled.

“This will only take a quick minute,” I assured him.

We reached the grave of Allen Kardec, the father of spiritualism. Jose had dragged me here a few months ago to make his wish of getting the job at Balenciaga, and I had also tested my luck with a wish. When I wished for my mate, I hadn’t expected it to come true. Nor had I expected it would be Lukas. I took a moment to admire the beautiful array of flowers that decorated his grave.

“Wow! Will you look at that,” Grandma whistled. “If Jim Morrison’s grave is the most visited, this must be the most flowered!”

Without hesitation, I explained. “Kardec was a spiritualist. He once said,after my death, if you come to see me, put your hand on the neck of the statue overlooking my grave, then make a wish. If your wish is granted, come back with flowers.”

“Flaym, help me up,” Grandma motioned to him. “I need to make a wish or two!”

“It’s not some kind of magic lamp,” Storm scoffed.

“We’ll see about that,” Grandma said as she moved to the statue, stepping around the flowers, and motioned for Flaym to help her.

Kneeling, I added my flowers to the array surrounding the tomb. When I stood back up, I scented him behind me just as his arms snaked around my waist.

“And what was your wish, Princess?” Lukas asked.