by Alana Hart
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I moved to one side and held the door open, and Bryson followed close on my heels; even still, in the close quarters of the entryway, he brushed against me as he went past, and it made my breath catch, as tingles radiated outward from the contact. Once we were both inside, I closed the door and locked the deadbolt out of habit. I let my book bag drop next to the door, since there was something much more immediate to deal with than putting it in its usual place. I remained facing the door for a long moment, collecting my thoughts.
I finally turned, and nearly jumped back — not that it would have done me much good, I was almost touching the door behind me as it was — to find Bryson no more than a handful of inches away from me. I looked up into his face, wide-eyed. My breath came more quickly, and an aching knot formed in my belly. I could feel the heat radiating off of him, and my own body seemed to grow hotter to match. Part of me wanted to run in terror, and part of me wanted to throw myself on this magnificent man who would so obviously welcome it.
He lifted his arms, clearly with the intent of wrapping them around me, drawing me to him in an embrace. In a snap decision, I ducked a bit and slipped past his arm before it encircled me. I wasn’t quite ready for that, not just yet at least. I wanted my head to stay relatively clear for at least a few minutes. There would be plenty of time to get lost in the moment with him, after I got some answers and if I decided that was what I wanted after I had those answers.
“Uhm. I need to — to go change. I was just at the gym.” I plucked at the hem of my shirt, as if that would somehow clarify my meaning. Of course, I hadn’t worn these clothes there, and I’d showered before I put them back on, but there was no need to tell him that. I just needed an excuse to put some distance between us for a minute.
He frowned slightly, and there was a deep hurt in his eyes. Was that a look of rejection? Did he think that was an answer on my part, a refusal? He pushed the hurt aside quickly though, his face crinkling up in a mockingly lecherous grin. “I could come help you change if you want?”
I rolled my eyes, giving him an exasperated look. “I think I can manage to change my clothes by myself. I have been managing for quite a few years now on my own, anyway. And besides, if you tried to help, I don’t think the new clothes would be likely to make it on any time soon.” I began to step backwards slowly as I spoke, putting more space between us as I headed toward my bedroom.
“Well, sure, that’s the point.” He grinned more broadly. Damn, he’s sexy when he grins like that, with his eyes all lit up and— I stopped that line of thinking in its tracks. Not. Helpful.
I scrunched my face up at him, kind of like an annoyed version of a duck-face. “Oh, you’re impossible. Just have a seat,” I waved a hand to indicate my threadbare couch, “and I’ll be back out in a couple of minutes, okay?”
He sighed, shoulders slumping somewhat, but nodded. “Alright, alright. Just don’t take too long, yeah?” How could a young man so obviously used to being in charge, to being powerful in every way that mattered, look so incredibly pitiful at such a minor disappointment?
I bit my lip, and just nodded shallowly in response, before turning to flee into the sanctuary of my bedroom, closing the door firmly.
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I leaned back against the closed bedroom door, trying to get my emotions in check. I felt like I was on the verge of a panic attack again; I’d only had panic attacks like twice in my life before these last few weeks, and they were both in situations far worse than this one. Then again, there isn’t much that’s more stressful than deciding the entire course of your life on barely more than a moment’s notice, and on relatively scarce information at that.
I closed my eyes, trying to take deep, steadying breaths. It wasn’t the easiest thing in the world to do when it felt like my chest was being constricted to the point of pain.
I still didn’t know what I wanted to do, I didn’t know how I wanted to proceed. Or, more accurately, I knew what I wanted to do, but I still wasn’t sure if I should follow that desire, given all that it would mean, all the changes it would make to my life. All the things I would have to give up. Of course, I would gain a lot in return, too.
My hand lowered to the doorknob, tempted to simply throw the door open again and fling myself on him; to just be with him and damn the consequences. My heart skipped a beat just thinking about it. My whole body yearned to do exactly that. But how much would I have to give up to have him, to join the pack? It was already clear to me that maintaining a real friendship with Angie would be exceedingly difficult, if not outright impossible; the same would hold true of anyone else who wasn’t also a shape-shifter.
What about my mother? Would I have to give her up too, the way my father had abandoned us? That thought sent me teetering on the edge of panic again. I couldn’t lose her, and I couldn’t do that to her!
My mind went into overdrive, examining that thought from every angle I could. However, the more I thought about that point, the more sure I was that it wouldn’t be that way. My father had been forced to leave because he wouldn’t join the pack, not because he did. I would have to learn to be careful what I said around her, but there was no reason I could see why I would have to break off contact. Certainly we had never known about my father.
And of course, the elephant in the room: babies. I was nowhere near ready for children! I’d figured I was a good five or ten years from having kids, at the very least! Assuming I had children at all, which I still wasn’t sure I wanted to do anyway. But he’d said that was the only reasonably sure way of triggering the change in me; and, as alpha, he was expected to have children, to have heirs to continue the pack and the bloodline.
I sighed, and let my head fall back against the door with a soft thump, without even thinking about how good Bryson’s hearing was.
My circling thoughts were interrupted by Bryson’s voice. “Ada?” It was quiet, but he was clearly right on the other side of the thin wood panel. I felt like I could physically sense his presence, like he was a magnet tugging on me; it was an odd sensation.
“Ada, honey, you don’t have to be scared of me. I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do. I don’t want to do anything to you that you don’t want. I just want you to be happy. Sure, I’d love it if that meant being with me, but if it doesn’t, it doesn’t. And if you can’t decide, I can wait until you do.”
I felt a tear trickle down my cheek, and swiped it away with the back of my hand, annoyed with myself. “Just— just go sit down, Bryson, I’ll be right out!” I called. My voice had all the strength of a day-old kitten behind it; it trembled and even broke a few times, but that couldn’t be helped.
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I pushed off the door and scurried to my closet to change. I grabbed things off the hangers without particularly thinking about it. I had stripped down and was already halfway redressed, before I realized what all I had grabbed: my one matching underwear set, lacy and black — was I expecting him to see them? — a pair of sexy denim short-shorts, and a soft purple sleeveless button down shirt that was one of my favorites, just low cut and curve-hugging enough to be incredibly sexy, while not so revealing that it looked in any way inappropriate or slutty.
Why was I dressing to impress if I wanted to just talk, if I still didn’t know if I was going to accept his offer or not? Was I trying to tell myself something? I already knew I wanted to accept, I just didn’t know if I would let myself.
Well, whatever. Nothing wrong with looking nice, right? It’s not like he’s likely to pounce on me and ravish me if I don’t want that.
Do I want that? I shook the thoughts off with a little growl at myself. This was not accomplishing anything.
I went in my bathroom to check the overall effect. I brushed my hair out quickly, since it was a little straggly from air-drying after the gym, and threw on a little lip gloss for good measure.
I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror sternly. “You can do this. You have no reason
to be afraid. You want him, and he wants you to be happy. Don’t be an effing coward.” I was stalling, and I knew it. I was afraid he wouldn’t answer my questions, and almost as afraid that he would. If I was being honest with myself, I was also a little bit scared of what might happen, with the two of us alone in private, which I realized was silly.
I couldn’t, or at least shouldn’t, put it off anymore. I sighed and stepped out of my little bathroom, and went over to the bedroom door. I paused with my hand on the knob, taking a deep breath, then opened it and stepped out into the living room.
Bryson was nearby, and he was actually pacing slightly; as much as my small living room allowed for, anyway, which was only a couple of steps in any direction. His brows were drawn and he was frowning, with his head lowered slightly; he looked upset, worried, or both. My heart constricted slightly at his expression.
Stop that! Stop feeling sorry for him when he’s the one who’s put you through so much. I couldn’t help it, though. I didn’t want to be the source of any pain for him, no matter how much he’d inflicted on me.
Is that love, or battered women’s syndrome? I almost laughed at the thought, but managed to stifle it, luckily, since he would no doubt think I was laughing at him.
He stopped and looked up as I came out into the living room, and I was rather gratified at the way his eyes widened as he took in my outfit. Not that I wanted to tease him or anything like that, but it’s always nice to be appreciated. And he definitely seemed to be appreciating every last inch of me.
He lifted his arms, holding them wide, a rather universal invitation for an embrace. I wanted so very badly to run to him, to leap into those outstretched arms. It was almost physically painful to hold myself back, but I didn’t trust myself — or him, for that matter — to stay on subject if I gave in to that temptation. I crossed my arms on my chest, and leaned back lightly on the counter dividing the kitchen from the living room, facing him.
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He seemed to wilt like a plant in the scorching sun, the forlorn expression returning to his face. He sighed heavily and lowered his arms again, looking off to one side for a long moment, I assumed either to gather his thoughts or control his emotions. Why did I have to want so badly to go to him, to snuggle in against him and kiss that pout away?
“Look, Adalyn, I’m sorry.” He looked back to me then, his eyes sharp and so intense they almost seemed to glow. It was as though he were trying to make me believe him by sheer force of will. “I don’t know how else to say it. Leaving you was the single hardest thing I’ve ever had to do in my life. I didn’t have a choice, and I thought giving you a clean break was the best thing for you. I see that was wrong now, but I can’t go back and change it. Fuck, you have no idea how badly I wish I could, wish I could go back and tell myself that I didn’t have to leave you, that we didn’t have to have these years of pain and separation.” His voice broke, more than once, from the emotion behind his words.
I just listened, watching him in silence, though his image grew rather blurry from half-formed tears before he was finished, especially given how rough his voice became. How would my life have been different if he had known then? So much pain, so much bitterness and distrust, so many nights crying myself to sleep, all gone. Him by my side, supporting one another, all these years.
I suppose most people would just assume it would have been replaced with some other pain, but somehow I didn’t think that would have been the case with me and Bryson. We just seemed to fit together so well, all of this confusion and distress because of the shape-shifter issue notwithstanding. I don’t think we really argued even once the whole time we were dating in high school.
Not to say we were exactly alike, far from it. In most ways we were complete opposites. But opposites in a complementary way; strengths in one shoring up weaknesses in the other. We disagreed, but we always had a way of talking it out, of either convincing one or the other or reaching a compromise.
“I can’t fix the past, Ada, but we can fix the future. We don’t have to hurt anymore; we don’t have to be alone.” His tone was taking on a pleading timbre, and it tugged at my heart again. Miss Madge must have been right; we must have bonded to each other all those years ago. This just wasn’t normal, feeding off each other’s emotions like this. Was it? I’d certainly never experienced it with anyone else.
“We don’t have to ever be alone again, Adalyn. We can be together. I want to be with you; gods above, I want to be with you so bad it hurts.” He looked like he was on the verge of tears himself. He took a step forward, as if he wanted to come to me, to take me in his arms again, but he stopped himself. He looked at me with those honey-brown eyes, full of pleading.
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I looked at him, one emotion after another flashing through my mind like a slots machine; I had about as much idea where it would land as a slots machine, as well.
Snarky anger won out, apparently. “But you’ll only have me if I have your babies, right?” I spat and him, narrowing my eyes. My heart was racing again, and I was trembling slightly. Why was I being so emotional lately, having such wild mood swings? He’d implied it had to do with being around the wolves. I assumed it was coming from them, and some of it at least seemed to be, but was it coming from within me as well?
He looked taken aback at my angry words, his eyes widening and her head jerking as if from a physical blow. He held up his hands in a warding gesture. “It’s not like that, Ada!”
“That’s sure what it sounded like you were saying to me! If that’s not how it is, then please enlighten me, how is it exactly?”
He frowned again, his own eyes narrowing a bit, though it looked more thoughtful than angry. “I’m the Alpha of this pack, by right of blood and by consensus of the pack. And even more than that, my family is one of the strongest bloodlines. I have to have a shifter mate, who will give me shifter children. It’s my responsibility and obligation. It just so happens to also be the best way to ensure your wolf blood wins out and enable you to shift.”
I started to object, to say how that sure sounded like he’d only have me if I had his babies, but he held up a hand, talking over me.
“That doesn’t mean it has to be now, though! I wouldn’t want you to get pregnant now, either! We’re both students, and even though the pack would never let us, and certainly not any potential children, go hungry. . . Well, that’s just— not right, particularly for the Alpha pair.”
Alpha pair? Wait, what? I had the oddest jolting-sideways feeling as new thoughts occurred to me.
“Alpha pair?” I finally asked, my voice thready.
He raised a brow. “Of course. The Alpha male and the Alpha female.” He said it so matter-of-factly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
I was beginning to feel light-headed; I slid down the counter to one of the barstools tucked under it, and tugged it out so I could perch on it to keep myself from collapsing.
“So, wait— let me get this straight— if I agree to this, I’d be, what, like your queen or something?”
His brows rose and he snickered a bit. “Well, that seems a bit dramatic, but, I suppose the comparison is valid as far as it goes.”
I am sure to many people that would have been unbelievably tempting, but to me it was mostly just terrifying. I wondered idly if he had been terrified like that when he found out he was to become the Alpha of the pack before he’d even shifted for the first time himself, and thus hadn’t really been involved with the pack much, yet.
“That— that explains a few things about your grandmother, I suppose.” I smiled tremulously.
He actually laughed at that, a laugh that reached his eyes, making him seem both warmer and younger, more like his actual age. “Yeah, she and Poppa were the head of the pack for a very long time. She respects my authority, of course, but it can be hard for her to hold back sometimes, especially if she thinks I’m being a — what did you call me? Furbrain?” He grinned.
“So, what you’
re saying is, it’s always hard for her to hold back?” I grinned in return.
He pouted at me, but it was a playful expression; his eyes were still smiling, still dancing with humor.
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After a few moments, his face grew more somber again, though clearly in a lighter mood now; his posture seemed more relaxed, and his eyes were warm.
“In all seriousness, though. I just want to be with you, Ada. Gram thinks I bonded with you back in Charlottesville, and especially after being around you again now, I don’t think she’s wrong.” I felt a warm fluttering deep inside as he said that; more and more I thought she was not wrong, too. “But I thought then that it wasn’t possible for us to stay together, that I had to find a shape-shifter, a wolf, to continue my bloodline.” His voice was filled with regret, and he sounded so very earnest that I couldn’t doubt that he meant every word he said.
