“I’m over four centuries old.” He paused, and nodded when her eyes widened and she pushed herself further onto her arms to stare down at him.
“O-over what?”
“I was born in 1558 in a village called Bransley in Ireland.”
“F-fifteen-f-fifty-eight?” Her eyes grew even wider as she did the mental calculation to arrive at his age. “You’re four hundred and fifty years old?”
He nodded. Vivienne fell back to the bed. She’d just slept with a man that was hundreds of years older than her. It had been extremely, extremely good, but he was…old. She’d just slept with an old man—no, an old werewolf.
A chuckle sounded to her right and she turned to find Conall staring down at her in amusement. His hair fell forward, cocooning his face. Masculine jaw, thin, beautiful lips, sparkling blue eyes. He didn’t look a day over thirty.
“I am only old by human standards, Vivienne. Werewolves are not immortal because we live forever. We’re immortal because we age very slowly.”
She stared at him long and hard before she slowly nodded. “So what’s considered old age by your standards?”
“Any wolf who lives past his thousandth year can claim the title of Elder. Most werewolves died in battle or childbirth before the twentieth-century, but with the changes in times, and increased medical technologies, we are living much longer.”
“Thousandth year…” she repeated before trailing off and asking, “What about druids and witches? Do they live as long?”
Conall blinked. It was obvious he hadn’t thought of it. “Druids are immortal. They don’t age past a certain year.”
“So am I immortal?”
When Conall only stared at her for long seconds, she repeated, “Well, am I?”
“I’m not sure, alainn. If you’re a druid like the druids of old, then I would think yes, but because you were born of a witch and human, I’m unsure. You’d get better answers from your mother.”
Vivienne sighed. Great, here she was thinking that she would grow old and die like regular people and there was the possibility she would live past old age.
“And witches are immortal, too?” How old was her mother?
“They were immortal until the druids cursed them.” When she looked up in confusion at him, he elaborated on that as well.
“So, the druids cursed the witches to live mortal lives because the witches banished the druids for killing lots of witches?”
“Yes.”
“And that’s why Max’s father wants me and Cass? To bring them back so they’ll be immortal again?”
Conall nodded.
“How does he know that the druids won’t just continue where they left off?” It seemed stupid resurrecting the very same creatures that wiped out many of your people in hopes they wouldn’t do the exact same thing once more. Especially as they were going to be pissed off about the whole banishment.
Shrugging his shoulders, Conall replied. “He probably intends to strike a bargain with them.”
“Can he even resurrect them?”
His eyes chilled. “I don’t know, and we’re not going to find out.”
Lying back on the bed, he secured an arm about her shoulders and pulled her closer to him. The lights went out and Vivienne almost scrambled from the bed.
“Easy.” His fingers stroked her arm. “I turned it off.”
She turned to him in the dark, surprised she could still see him clearly. She quickly scanned her bedroom. She could see everything. Of course. It was those spanking new perks that came with being a druid. She almost rolled her eyes but refrained when she recognized Conall was staring at her with that half-smile on his face. No doubt he was in her mind, and knew exactly what she was thinking.
She lifted a brow in challenge. The smile expanded but he said nothing.
“How did you do that thing with the lights?”
“Close your eyes, concentrate, and think it.”
“My, my, that doesn’t sound hard at all,” Vivienne retorted. Conall chuckled.
She was quiet for a long time. “Will you teach me?”
“Yes. I’ll teach you, alainn.”
***
If he’d thought it hard convincing Evelyn that her daughter would be safer in Cedar Creek, it was almost impossible convincing Vivienne. His mate was extremely stubborn, and it took him resorting to a level of patience he didn’t know he possessed before he saw any progress. She didn’t want to leave her house. She didn’t know anyone in Cedar Creek. She’d just met him. It wasn’t the sixteenth century anymore! Men couldn’t just order women around….