Control

by Mary Calmes

  He pulled me after him into a dark alcove between two stores. There was just enough light so he could look me over, tip my chin back, and run his hands over my skin. “God, Vy, it’s only been three days, but you look like you’ve been run through a meat grinder since I saw you last.”

  “I looked like shit after the fight,” I teased him “Be honest.”

  “No, you looked hurt, but not—I can’t tell if these are bruises under your eyes or really dark circles.”

  I grunted.

  “At least tomorrow’s Saturday and you can—”

  “I’m teaching aerial maneuvers to some of the younger members of my ket tomorrow morning at five, so I—”

  “Oh hell no,” he said sternly. “I won’t allow it. You need rest.”

  “You won’t allow it?”

  “You’re killing yourself.”

  “Hardly,” I said tiredly. I was hurt and vulnerable and so sad that I spoke with my heart instead of my head. “Hey, listen, next Sunday, you wanna come to my parents’ house for dinner? They asked me to ask you.”

  He shook his head, and I was more disappointed than I thought I would be.

  “Oh, okay, maybe another time, huh?”

  “No, that’s not—Of course I’ll go to your parents’ house with you.”

  “You will?” My split lip hurt when I smiled, but I couldn’t help it.

  He sighed before leaning me forward, wincing, and staring into my eyes. “I will go anywhere with you, do whatever you want. For heaven’s sake, Vy, just let me sit with you and hold your hand. Who is taking care of you?”

  “Nobody takes care of me.”

  He groaned and wrapped his corded arms around me, clutching me to his big, hard chest. “I’m begging you to let me. Please.”

  But I couldn’t, and I wiggled free even though it was the last thing I wanted to do. “You don’t get it, ’cause you don’t feel the pull, but all I want is to surrender, right? I just want you to pick me up and take me home and feed me and hold me and fuck me for days and days.”

  His moan was low and needy. “Then let me. Vy, you—”

  “But see,” I began, stepping back, “I want more than you can give, because I want my mate too. So we can be friends, but that’s it. Do you have any interest in that at all?”

  He studied my face and then suddenly smiled. “All great love affairs begin with friendship. Let me follow you home, okay? I’ll make you something to eat, and you can soak in the tub.”

  “I just need a shower and some food,” I said. “I think I had a pot pie yesterday, and the Vicodin is shredding my stomach.”

  “You’re killing me,” he whispered. “Go get in the truck. I’ll be right behind you.”

  After walking back to my truck, I got in and then leaned out the window to talk to him. “I stopped riding the bike. You see that?”

  “You’re probably too sore to ride it,” he volleyed back, sounding annoyed.

  I wasn’t about to confirm his correct assumption and instead slowly backed out of the parking spot. It was nice to check the rearview mirror all the way home and see his truck right behind mine. What was surprising was when I reached my house and the lights were on.

  “You have company?” Robert asked, and I could have sworn he bristled, but it was probably just my imagination.

  “No,” I corrected him. “I have a father.”

  “Pardon?”

  I tipped my head at the porch at the same time my father, Jecis Aleknos, walked out the front door.

  He called over to me, his voice, rich and booming, reaching me easily with the familiar endearment. “Mielasis!“

  “Is that your middle name?” Robert asked me.

  “No. It’s like dear or darling or sweetheart in Lithuanian. It means all that.”

  “Oh,” Robert said, and from the way his voice broke, I could tell he was touched.

  “Yeah, he’s a sap,” I sighed, moving forward. “Come on.”

  “Oh no,” he protested. “I don’t want to intrude on—”

  “Robert!” my father called.

  He snapped his head up, and I laughed softly. “He knows who you are. He knows who everybody is.”

  “I’ve never known anyone long enough to meet a parent.”

  “Are you kidding?”

  He looked overwhelmed, so I reached out, took his hand, and squeezed gently. “It’s okay.”

  Robert squeezed back. “It’s much more than okay.”

  I turned from him to my father, who was now standing on the edge of the porch, gesturing for us to hurry.

  “Come!”

  “Mr. Aleknos,” Robert addressed the man when we reached him, having trailed after me up the cobblestone path to my front door. “I was just go—”

  “I cooked,” he said sharply, killing any argument that could, or would, be made. “Come.”

  It was funny—my father was an inch shorter than me, five foot eight, so Robert loomed over him. But still, there could be no mistake: Jecis Aleknos was the one in charge. The clipped tone, commanding body language, and quick gestures all spoke to that fact.

  We both followed him inside, and I nearly puddled to the floor once Robert closed the door behind him. The house was warm, there was a fire started, several candles were lit, and the whole place smelled faintly of cinnamon and a lot like what I thought was pumpkin.

  “You made soup,” I said to my father.

  He grunted, moved forward, and took my face in his big, thick hands. They were hard; the man had worked in construction his whole life, and just because he directed men now and didn’t swing the hammer himself didn’t mean he couldn’t if he wanted to.

  “You’re hurt.”

  “I just need to shower and eat.”

  “First eat, then shower. Wash your hands.”

  “Yes, sir,” I said, going immediately to my kitchen sink, glancing around at touches that were clearly my mother’s and not his. “She sent you with all this stuff?”

  “As you know, your mother went with her book club to Denver. They are having a food-tasting excursion. I don’t know what that means, but she said, ‘Drive me to your son’s house before I go so I can drop off the wreath for the door and the mums and candles.’”

  “God. Look at all this,” I said, chuckling. “Fall corn, roasted chestnuts, and what is this?”

  He shrugged.

  “They look like roses made out of leaves,” Robert commented, picking one up, his voice wistful. “These took a lot of work.”

  “Every year,” my father told him, pointing to the stack of plaid blankets in various shades of orange. “This is her tradition.”

  “Does she decorate for Christmas too?”

  He squinted at Robert. “We’re Jewish. She decorates for Hanukkah.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Robert said quickly, giving me a scathing look, like I was supposed to have shared my religion with him.

  “No reason to be sorry,” my dad said frankly. “You didn’t know because apparently you and Vy don’t speak of these things. Now, sit down and eat and tell me what you do talk about.”

  He’d made butternut squash soup with roasted pine nuts and sage and brought sourdough bread over to use for dipping, and my mother had made strawberry yogurt parfait for dessert.

  “I understand that if you sprinkle the soup with pieces of bacon it adds to the flavor, but I will never know,” my father said.

  “Robert’s a vegetarian,” I told my father. “So he wouldn’t know either.”

  “A vegetarian bear,” he said, nodding. “That is interesting.”

  Robert was staring at my father, and I wondered what he was seeing. My father was a handsome man with his sharp, vulpine features, piercing hazel eyes, and thick gray-and-silver hair. Even more importantly, he commanded respect. When he had decided that he wanted me to step up and be kuar three years ago, when I was twenty-five, leaving him kuaret, or counselor of the kuar, I had been worried. He was beloved and respected, and just the idea of followi
ng in his footsteps was daunting. But he wanted to see me fully ensconced in my role with him having many years to aid me. I knew that in some kets, fathers and sons fought for the role of leader, and I had always felt sorry for those men. I was blessed with a father who loved me more than himself.

  “This looks wonderful,” Robert said, and I could hear the sincerity in the words.

  My father ladled soup into my big earthenware bowls, passed out the bread, and then brought salt and pepper to the table. He poured both Robert and me huge glasses of ice water and small glasses of Riesling.

  “I drink more than this,” I told him.

  “You have been drinking enough, I understand.”

  I groaned.

  “And you are so distracted by this man that you fall off things and don’t remember your lessons of control and leadership.”

  I rubbed the bridge of my nose.

  “Is that true?” Robert asked, placing a hand on my thigh. “Vy?”

  I turned to look at him. “The mate thing has sort of thrown me. I’ll get a handle on—”

  “The ket is all up in arms about you, Robert the Bear,” my father explained, pinning him with his steady stare. “Do you know why?”

  “Of course. They’re afraid I’ll hurt them.”

  “Yes. But do you know why?’

  “Yeah, because I’m a bigass scary bear.”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  He shook his head. “They are unsure of their kuar, and so suddenly you are a concern.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “If the members of the ket thought that their kuar could handle you, then they would have no reason to fear you. As it is, because they wonder about him, you frighten them.”

  “What are you talking about?” I queried my father.

  He kept his focus on Robert. “The kuar must always be perceived as being the strongest. Even if it is not true, the ket must believe it. They have to have faith that their leader can both protect them from external threats and punish those within the flock who don’t listen or obey. All of this, they must believe. So when they see you, a big strong bear, an outsider who the kuar seems to have no control over, it raises alarm bells in their heads. They’re afraid Vy cannot control you, and if he cannot, then they could be revealed as shifters and hurt in some way.”

  “But that’s—”

  “I have heard many different versions of how you held up a car, Robert, so powerful you are. They did not speak of the kuar saving the boy, but you.”

  We were both silent.

  “To maintain balance within the ket, to keep the peace and garner respect, the kuar must appear to be the strongest without question. It is not your presence that has upset them, it is not the bear you are that they fear, but only that their kuar cannot control you.”

  “So you’re saying they would have no problem with me if they thought Vy had me on a leash?”

  “Not a leash, just under his power.”

  Robert turned his beautiful big brown eyes on me. “That should be an easy thing to convince them of.”

  My stomach rolled at the way he was looking at me, but then I reminded myself that it was simply lust and nothing deeper. He wasn’t seeing me as his mate, just a piece of ass.

  “No,” I insisted. “It’s not necessary. All they have to do is meet you, and they’d know you would never hurt anyone for any reason.”

  “Sometimes, there is a reason,” my father insisted. “In a perfect world, none of us would ever have to fight. But that is seldom the case.”

  I scoffed. “Robert doesn’t even shift; he definitely would never find a reason to fight.”

  My father regarded him. “How are you certain you’re a bear if you’ve never shifted?”

  “I’ve shifted,” Robert began. “I just—”

  “It must have frightened you, the loss of control,” he said, still staring. “Is that why you don’t trust your beast?”

  Suddenly Robert had both of us looking at him, waiting.

  “I don’t—I’m not,” he said, and I felt the unease rolling off him. “There are other—”

  “You don’t need to explain,” I said quickly, reaching out to put a hand on the back of his neck and squeeze gently. “You don’t owe that to either of us.”

  “Vy,” Robert said gruffly, “it’s not that I don’t want to talk to you. I just… it’s not a simple thing.”

  I nodded, dropped my hand from him, and looked at my father. “So, how’s Mom’s gazebo looking, old man?”

  His brows furrowed. “Yes, yes, you were right. The oak was the wrong choice; the cedar would have worked better.”

  I grinned wide, and my lip let out a twinge of protest. My father put a hand on my face and patted my cheek gently.

  “Eat, because I want you to shift and then shower.”

  I groaned.

  “Yes, I know, but you need to heal some of this damage like you did when you were shot.”

  “Shot?” Robert chimed in.

  I turned to him. “It was a year ago.”

  “What happened?”

  “I think they were hunting pheasant,” I said, glancing at my father. “Wasn’t that it?”

  “It was duck,” he corrected me.

  “That’s right,” I agreed, my gaze back on Robert. “But I was there, so I think they figured, why not.”

  Robert looked pained.

  “It was lucky I hit water instead of the ground, so that woke me up and I shifted.”

  “He makes it sound so simple,” my father told our guest. “It was not. When he shifted, the bullet dislodged, and he almost bled to death.”

  I shrugged.

  “He had to shift again and fly to my house. His mother and I found him.”

  Robert grabbed my father’s hand, and much to my surprise, after a moment my father patted him before drawing away.

  “I almost lost my son,” he whispered. “I cannot outlive my child.”

  “Stop,” I ordered, my gaze locked with my father’s. “Pass the honey.”

  He gave me a trace of a smile before he complied.

  The rest of the conversation was easy and light, and after dinner I went outside, stripped down, and shifted while Robert helped my father with the dishes. It was nice that they had a lot to talk about—carpentry, the environment, places they’d both visited, and beer. My father was quite the connoisseur, and so was Robert, it turned out.

  When I got back from my quick flight around the neighborhood, inadvertently scaring the hell out of the bats hovering around the light poles, I came back to my porch, where my father was waiting for me with a blanket from my couch.

  “Thanks,” I sighed, leaning into him like I normally never did.

  “I like him, your Robert.”

  I shook my head. “He’s not mine, Dad. He has no idea what being a mate means.”

  “Neither do you,” he said pointedly, holding me out so he could see my face. “You have never been a mate, my son.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “Simply because your hawk recognizes his mate doesn’t mean you know how to be a good mate. Perhaps patience is the first thing this man is supposed to teach you.”

  I hadn’t actually considered that. “But he can’t ever love me like I need.”

  “What do you need?”

  There was no way I could confess my deepest desire to my father. I longed for Robert to manhandle me and hold me down. I wanted him to make me feel his love with such passion I would see in marks and bites on my skin. It was more than could be expected of an ordinary man. “I need a mate, not just a partner.”

  “Again, since you have never had either, I find your statement quite ignorant. You have no insight into the depth of your Robert’s heart. In my experience, assuming something never works out well.”

  “You’re saying a man who’s not my mate can love me the same as a man who is?”

  “I’m telling you that you’re missing the blessing that he already i
s. I never dreamed your mate would be other than a hawk, and I hoped that your mate would be other than a woman. I didn’t imagine either of these things would ever come to pass. But Robert is a man, and he’s not a hawk. Amazing. Be thankful for the gift you have received.”

  “It’s killing me,” I confessed.

  “Take a breath,” he suggested. “Now, go in and take a shower and rest. I will take care of the ket tomorrow.”

  My laughter was evil. “You sure?”

  His chuckle was just as wicked. “They think, ‘Oh, Vytautas, he is so hard on us.’ Ha! Wait. Those children have never worked as you did for me.”

  I almost felt sorry for them. Jecis Aleknos was a taskmaster, and they would fly their little wings off for him tomorrow. “It made me the strongest hawk in the ket,” I reminded him. “I know that.”

  He hooked a hand around the back of my neck, dragged my head close, and kissed my forehead. “I will see you soon.”

  I watched him walk to his huge Dodge Ram, stop, wave and then climb in. I stayed on the porch until all I saw were his taillights, and then I walked into the house.

  Robert was drying the last of the dishes.

  “Oh, man, you don’t have to do that.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  “Okay. I’m gonna go take a shower. I can finish the rest of that so you can go. Thanks for coming over. My dad really liked you.”

  He put down the cup he’d been drying and crossed the room to me. “I’d really like to talk to you a little.”

  I was about to tell him it wasn’t a good idea when there was a knock on the front door. Before I could move, Robert was there.

  “Oh, hey,” Carlo mumbled, walking by him to get to me.

  I waited.

  He crossed his arms and frowned. “And?”

  “Yeah, so,” I muttered. “About the other night… you know.”

  “’Kay,” he said, clearing his throat. “Change or whatever, we gotta go.”

  “Go?” I almost whined.

  “You’re volunteering this weekend, remember? Front line. We’re going to Colorado Springs now. We’ll be back Sunday night.”

  “Where are you going?” Robert asked.

  Carlo swiveled to look at him, keeping his feet planted in front of me. “We got some brush fires to fight, brother.”

  “Oh no,” Robert instructed him. “He can’t do that. Are you looking at him?”