Wolf Shifter Diaries: Lies Tamed (Sweet Paranormal Wolf & Fae Fantasy Romance Series Book 2) by E. Hall (books for men to read TXT) 📗

Along one wall are numerous magical objects made of gold and a mercurial metal I’ve never seen before. Some items are dense like they have a gravitational pull while others float. Other things comprised of glass, woven fiber, and stone prompt caution. Maps hang on the walls and an elaborate rendition of the constellations covers the ceiling.

Clove pauses in front of a massive wooden box that’s about as long as I am tall, which comes in at around the six and a half foot range. Metal strappings wind around it and what looks like an iron fastener holds it closed.

“I found this recently,” Clove says, opening the lid.

“Is that iron?” I ask.

He nods.

Interesting that he can touch it. The conversation on the stark day when I met Kenna’s mother floats back to me.

Jackie had said to Clove, “Different like my daughter.” Is he only fae? If not, he’s using a strong fig, because I cannot detect his magic.

I study him carefully as the hinges on the box creak.

After peering inside, Kenna tilts her head. “You wanted to show me an empty box?”

I step closer. Silk lines the interior, cut into an indent of a familiar shape. The lower half is like a long pole that leads to a crescent tilted on its side. The middle of the curve attaches to the long handle. If held like a staff, the two points of the crescent face upward. Three more round indents about the size of large cherries fill the upper space just above the crescent.

“Or a scepter,” I say.

“Like a scepter for a king?” Kenna asks, scratching her head.

“A fae king,” I say, staring at Clove. “Where did you find this box?”

“In here.” He gestures to the hidden room surrounding us.

I want to ask how he found the room, but I’ll let Kenna handle that.

Her eyes narrow. “Considering this is technically my house, I don’t know how much I like you snooping around in secret rooms. Magical objects can be dangerous,” she says, echoing what I told her the first time we were here.

“Obviously, but you wouldn’t know about this if I hadn’t snooped.” Clove’s tone is surly.

Again, I fight to restrain my wolf, but a low growl escapes. I’d like to teach him to watch his mouth.

Clove shuffles back a step.

What happened with Amanda shook Kenna up, but since arriving here, she seems more confident. It’s as though her Alpha has taken the lead.

“Clove, forgive me for not being more astute, but I still don’t know what this is.”

He closes the lid and then drops a book on top, flipping the yellowed pages. “It’s the box that once contained the scepter. Some believe it can bring life like a fountain of youth or cause death.” He points to a page with a sketch of the item.

Kenna shrugs. “Still doesn’t help.”

I lean closer, accidentally taking a breath of her wolf-cherry scent along with a note of a metal-electric odor, much like the air during a lightning storm. I need to keep my distance, but it’s nearly impossible.

Her hair tickles my cheek as I point to the page. “King Melchior, the Councilman of the fae, uses his iron-tipped scepter as a totem of his power. Runes of power inscribe the pure gold handle.” I slide my hand up the illustration of the handle. Then tap the crescent shape. “The wolves respond to the power of the full moon. The vamps, the dark moon. The fae exist in light and shadow. The goal is balance, represented here by the half-moon.” I cut a glance at Clove. If anything, he’s unseelie fae who lean more toward the shadow side.

“But doesn’t iron harm fae?” Kenna asks.

Clove grunts. “The original scepter wasn’t his to wield.”

I nod as my gaze floats to the three jewels at the top of the sketch. One is red, one greenish-blue, and the third a golden yellow—the Wolf Jewel.

Kenna’s hand drifts to her pocket where I think she has the ruby, the Vampire Jewel, hidden. My Alpha barks no using the wolf-way of communicating.

Clove says, “It’s important to note that the scepter Melchior currently has doesn’t contain the gems.”

“Observant. Are you and the fae king friends?”

Clove scoffs.

Then the feeling is mutual. I only tolerate Melchior because he’s on the Council.

“I wonder if my mother knew about this,” Kenna says, eyeing the red dot on the page, representing the ruby in her pocket.

“That’s a good question,” Clove says.

“Or my father.”

“We should ask him.” Clove’s tone suggests he thinks she knows more than she’s letting on.

“I would if I knew where he was. That’s why I came here.”

“Well, that’s fortunate because as his daughter, there is a way to locate him.”

“How?” She starts pacing, practically crackling with restless energy. She pauses in front of a fancy wooden desk with multiple drawers. “Wait. The painting. If he’s holding the scepter, does that mean the diary in his other hand and the cloak—”

Again, I cut her off from saying more. I don’t trust Clove, I tell her wolf.

“Before Greyson died, he was searching for that cloak. A witch took it—I picked up where he left off searching. It happened that an elder witch in Tatiana’s coven stole it,” Clove says.

“And then Amanda took it,” I say.

Clove nods.

“Is that why you were there the day the witch died?” I ask.

Clove scratches his nose. “I learned Amanda sought it.”

“Amanda? What use would she have with the cloak?” Kenna asks.

Clove rocks back on his heels. “Amassing magical objects? I don’t know.”

“Good thing she didn’t find this room,” I mutter.

“I have to find my dad,” Kenna says, pacing again.

Clove traces her movements.

Then she stops abruptly. “The Council believe my father leads the Klave, right? And if Amanda