As she awakens in the Garden of Eve, Celine awaits her, holding the potential answers she seeks. The black wolf, a recurring presence, has returned, and she feels an irresistible pull towards it. The question of their connection lingers in her mind.
"Who is the wolf?" she asks Celine, her curiosity ablaze like a wildfire in her chest, the mystery of the wolf's identity consuming her thoughts.
Celine chuckles softly, her eyes twinkling with ancient wisdom. "Dear child, that is not what you came here for," she responds with gentle amusement. That mystery will reveal itself in due time, she says. Sometimes, the riddles that Celine speaks drive her to frustration. Why can she not provide a direct answer? Though Celine was right, that was not why she was in the garden. The mystery of the wolf was now consuming her mind, leaving her in a state of confusion. She needs Celine to answer her questions.
She was struck by the sudden appearance of ornate wrought iron chairs and an antique marble table. They seemed to materialize out of thin air, adding to the enchantment of this magical garden.
Celine gracefully takes a seat, her movements fluid like flowing water. The magnificent black dog positions itself precisely between her and the other chair, maintaining perfect posture. Celine gestures elegantly toward the empty chair and says, "Sit, my dear," her voice warm and inviting.
"I know you have many questions, and I can now answer them," Celine says, her tone carrying the weight of essential revelations.
As she sat in the chair, the cool surface beneath her, a sudden torrent of questions burst from her mouth. It was as if her brain and mouth had disconnected, each operating independently. She bombarded Celine with questions, the black dog's eyes gleaming with unmistakable amusement.
"Breathe," Celine said firmly but kindly, her command instantly calming her racing thoughts.
"Let's start at the beginning. Azria is correct; you cannot come to the Garden of Eve unless you are a power witch," she explained, her words measured and precise.
"That, my dear, you are," she said, her declaration sending shivers down the young woman's spine.
"You are a Fey witch," she continued, her voice filled with reverence. "Fey witches are powerful and rare, blessed with extraordinary abilities. We actually thought they were extinct until I saw you. Your powers have not been unlocked, and I am sure my friend Belinda can help with that." She finished the sentence, looking meaningfully at the wolf, who seemed to understand every word.
"I don't understand," she said, her mind struggling to process this life-changing information.
She cleared her throat and started speaking again, her voice taking on a more serious tone.
"Her mother was a Fey witch," Celine revealed, her words heavy with significance. "The white wolf gene lies dormant through generations, manifesting only in women who become white wolves and Fey witches. Her sister Katelynn hadn't inherited this gene from their mother. The emergence of her full white wolf gifts depends entirely on meeting her destined mate."
Her heart plummeted like a stone in deep waters. "A mate?" she whispered, barely audible.
"Indeed," Celine confirmed, "only upon finding her mate will she reach her full potential. However, this brings us to our second concern," she added, worry creasing her features.
"Her Fey powers remain dormant. Without these powers awakening, she cannot sense the mate bond. Her destined one could stand before her, yet she would remain oblivious," Celine explained with gentle patience.
She lowered her head and murmured softly, "It's not Jared. " She felt an odd mixture of relief and uncertainty.
The wolf's growl thundered through the garden, startling both women.
"That was unnecessary," Celine admonished the wolf firmly.
"No, Jared is not the one," Celine stated with certainty.
Her body relaxed visibly, releasing tension she hadn't realized she'd been holding.
"He is neither Jennifer's mate nor yours," Celine declared resolutely.
"The delayed manifestation of your Fey powers, even after the wolf gene's activation, remains puzzling. They've remained dormant too long and require proper guidance," Celine contemplated thoughtfully.
"My friend Belinda might offer assistance," she suggested, addressing the wolf more than the young woman. The wolf's presence continued to intrigue and slightly unsettle her.
The magnificent creature rose with dignified grace and began walking away, its movements deliberate and measured.
"Wait," she called out impulsively to the retreating wolf.
It paused, turning to fix her with an intense, penetrating gaze.
"What is his name?" she asked Celine, desperate to uncover at least one mystery.
"All will be revealed in due time, dear one. For now, it's not crucial," Celine responded, her tone gentle but firm, brooking no further questions about the wolf's identity.
The majestic black wolf cast one final meaningful look her way, its eyes harboring secrets beyond her current understanding before disappearing into the garden's misty depths.
Left alone with Celine, she noticed how the wolf's departure subtly altered the garden's mystical atmosphere.
She sat in thoughtful silence, her mind processing Celine's extraordinary revelations. Each piece of information clicked into place like puzzle pieces, yet the complete picture remained frustratingly elusive.
The knowledge of being a Fey wolf with powers resonated in her mind like a magical incantation, simultaneously thrilling and terrifying. The weight of this revelation settled over her like a heavy cloak, bringing comfort and uncertainty about what lay ahead.
What extraordinary abilities lay dormant within her, waiting to emerge from their slumber? The possibilities stretched before her like an endless, exhilarating, and daunting horizon.
How could she unlock these mysterious powers that were her birthright? The question burned in her thoughts with growing intensity.
The Pack House library called to her like a guiding star. Indeed, the answers she sought lay within its ancient manuscripts and dust-covered volumes. She was determined to immerse herself in research, to unearth every fragment of knowledge about her true nature and the scope of her abilities. The truth about her powers awaited discovery, and she remained steadfast in her quest for self-understanding.
"Jackson, a good man," Celine's voice interrupted her contemplation, her tone warm with sincere approval. She felt the weight of responsibility settling upon her shoulders, her destiny becoming more tangible.
"What?" she asked, momentarily startled by this unexpected shift in conversation.
"Jackson is a good man; you can trust him entirely," Celine elaborated, her gaze meeting the young woman's with maternal concern. "I understand your reluctance, given your traumatic past experiences with men. Those wounds run deep, and I truly sympathize with your pain. But Jackson is entirely different. He possesses an honorable heart and would sooner harm himself than cause you distress."
Though uncertain about the timing of this particular recommendation, she acknowledged Celine's words with a thoughtful nod, indicating she took the counsel seriously.
Celine departed with a promise of future meetings, her form gradually dissolving into the garden's ethereal mist.
The following morning, she awakened to delicate sunbeams filtering through the curtains, casting a gentle golden glow across the room. Her mind took a moment to adjust to her surroundings. The luxurious bed embraced her in unprecedented comfort and warmth. For the first time in countless months, she had experienced genuinely restorative sleep, waking with renewed spirit. As she sat up, stretching her well-rested muscles, the previous night's conversation with Celine flooded back into her thoughts.
Two pressing matters required her attention: consulting with the King about Belinda and exploring the library's resources. Rising from the bed, she selected fresh attire. She headed toward the bathroom, mentally noting her need to discuss the wardrobe situation with the King. She had deliberately chosen to keep her newfound knowledge private for now. The revelations about her nature were too momentous to share without proper understanding and context.
After dressing, she approached the elevator, her stomach protesting its emptiness and her mind fixated on the promise of morning coffee. Lost in caffeine-fueled reverie, she collided with a solid form. She would have fallen backward if not for Jackson's swift reflexes. He pulled her against his chest with protective urgency, his touch sending unexpected shivers through her body. She attempted to conceal her face, knowing her cheeks had flushed a brilliant shade of crimson.
"Were you in a hurry as well?" the King inquired, his voice carrying a hint of amusement.
She carefully extracted herself from his embrace as her rebellious stomach announced its presence with an audible growl.
Maintaining proper protocol, she bowed and admitted, "I was heading for food."
His rich laughter filled the hallway as he responded, "As was I," while pressing the elevator call button.
As they waited for the elevator to arrive, she seized the opportunity to inquire about Belinda, striving to keep her voice casual and controlled.
"Yes, I do; she will be here at 3 PM today," Jackson's response caught her completely off guard. The coincidence seemed almost too perfect to be accurate. She hadn't spoken about Celine's revelations to anyone, yet Belinda was scheduled to arrive today. It defied logical explanation—there was no way Jackson could have known about her conversation with Celine.
The timing was so precise that she wondered if there were more mysterious forces at work than she had initially imagined.
Could he?
The elevator finally reached them with a soft ding, and they approached the dining room. The tantalizing aroma of freshly cooked breakfast wafted through the air, making her mouth water instantly and her stomach protest even louder than before.
"Coffee," she breathed longingly, unable to contain her craving for the beloved beverage she had been denied for so long.
Jackson's warm chuckle filled the space between them. "Yes, we have coffee," he confirmed, his eyes twinkling with understanding at her enthusiasm.
She could barely contain her excitement. Coffee had been one of the simple pleasures she'd yearned for most during her time away, its rich aroma and comforting warmth a distant memory until now.
"Would you like some?" Jackson offered kindly.
"Yes, I miss coffee so much," she admitted, her voice tinged with nostalgia. "Where is it kept?" she asked Jackson, hopefully.
"Do not worry," he assured her with a gentle smile. "I will get you some. You just grab a plate and get some food."
She approached the impressively laid-out buffet table, her eyes widening at the abundance. The spread was magnificent—perfectly scrambled eggs, fluffy omelets, crispy bacon strips, succulent sausages, golden-brown potatoes, fresh pastries, and perfectly cooked waffles steaming invitingly. A familiar presence appeared beside her as she carefully spooned some creamy scrambled eggs onto her plate. It was Jared, whom she hadn't seen since their arrival. He flashed that characteristic smile that used to make her heart skip beats, though now it merely stirred memories of what once was.
"Hi, Zoe," Jared said, his voice soft and tentative.
"I miss you and want to talk to you."
"Where is your mate?" she questioned, trying to keep her voice neutral.
He bowed his head, his voice diminishing to a whisper; she lied to me, he said. Thanking that Zoe would fall for him being innocent.
"Hmm," was all Zoe could muster in response, struggling to comprehend this unexpected disclosure.
She added some crispy potatoes to her plate when Jared's statement struck her like a physical assault: "Not too much; you wouldn't want to regain all the weight you shed during your journey here."
Her stomach twisted painfully as tears threatened to escape her eyes. The words reverberated in her mind, each echo more devastating than the previous. Was she indeed that overweight? Did she not deserve to savor this meal?
"I had lost weight?" she inquired, her voice barely audible.
"I'm only trying to help you. I know how desperately you want to lose weight, and I care about you," Jared stated, his words laden with artificial concern.
His remark had effectively obliterated her appetite, leaving a sour taste in her mouth.
"Coffee, at least, I can have that," she thought desperately, searching the room for Jackson. Her gaze finally located him, but the scene before her caused her heart to sink further. He stood, holding what she presumed was her coffee, deeply conversing with Jennifer. She was practically draped over him, her manicured fingers trailing up and down his arm. At the same time, she thrust her chest forward suggestively. Her choice of attire left little to the imagination – a scarlet dress that barely reached mid-thigh, so tight it appeared painted on, with her generous cleavage threatening to spill over the top.
The last traces of her appetite and desperate longing for coffee vanished utterly. Without uttering a word, she turned and fled the dining room, muttering about her intense dislike for Jennifer. She directed her steps toward the library, determined to immerse herself in the study rather than dwelling on her hunger or the now-forgotten coffee. The sanctuary of books seemed far more appealing than the emotional battlefield she'd just escaped.