Fated Desire

by Noah Harris

  “Okay, I remember. You have a point. But what does that have to do with me now?”

  He shakes his head, frowning.

  “Maybe nothing. I’m just saying. Ernest changed the path of your life. It’s not disrespecting him if you let this guy back into your heart. If that’s what you’re worried about. That you’d be going backwards somehow. Erasing him? That’s not how it works. He’s a part of you. We all loved him. We all lost him. We all see how he lives on. In those kids, and in you. Don’t get confused. Okay?”

  Okay. I can see it all from here, certainly. It all makes perfect sense the way Goodboy explains it.

  Whether I’ll be able to hold onto it for thirty minutes, ten minutes, five, is another question.

  “Don’t think of it as a promise. Seeing what you have to offer each other isn’t a commitment, it’s an invitation. That’s all. The stakes are high because he lives here, and the kids have accepted him. But no matter what happens, it’s your choice. You’ll figure it out when it’s time to figure it out. You have to have faith in that, at least.”

  One of Goodboy’s favorite ideas. Trusting that you’re going to make the right decision when it’s time to make it, so you don’t have to stress out in advance. He always says it like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Maybe to him it is.

  “Ask yourself this. Is there ever a time or a place when healing is bad? When bravery is bad? When love is the wrong idea? You have the option to heal here and help him heal too. That’s absolutely all it is. The rest is just drama.”

  Maybe that’s the whole point. A very small point that took a long time to reach.

  I hurl myself onto Goodboy, practically climbing him with sudden devotion, and he just laughs, picking me up easily in his arms for a solid bear hug.

  I know it’s just a matter of time before I have to get out there and clean up the mess I made. But that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy a little moment of rest before I do. For a second, I can just hug my dearest friend in the kitchen of my house. I can thank God there are people in the world who care about me. Even when I make it hard.

  Hell, there are people out in the yard that care about me for that matter. Just through that window, accepting a tea cup from Poppy and bouncing Huck on his knee, clinking glasses with poor Jonesy Kirkendall. This family Dominic built all around us, with his own two hands. Without ever letting me slow him down.

  He smiles into the kitchen at me, the bright sunny smile that means All is forgiven, don’t worry about it. That says I get a little weird sometimes too. That it’s not a deal breaker.

  Thank God for that, too.

  The Silly Man

  By the time Goodboy and Jonesy are gone, and we’ve worked our way slowly back to each other, I’m feeling brave. The look Goodboy gives us both on his way out the door is hilariously serious. Whatever he talked to Christian about, it’s clearly got them both in action mode.

  The kids are wearing themselves out in the backyard as the sun sets. Inside, we’re cleaning up. For the first time in a long time, it’s actually quiet. Neither of us buzzing with thoughts and fears or weirdness.

  Passing plates and dishes back and forth, washing and drying. The ritual of it all.

  “I always loved this so much,” Christian starts, and falters. He’s always so weird about Ernest. But he knows it won’t become normal unless he starts acting like it.

  “One time, Ernest decided to splurge on a dishwasher and I talked him out of it. I said we couldn’t afford it. But really, I just didn’t want to give this up. It’s nice to be doing it again.”

  I nod, afraid of making any sudden moves. It’s hard to let him come to me, if that’s what he’s going to do. But I can’t think of a more exciting birthday present.

  The kids, still refusing to pass out, have been reduced to essentially just rolling around in the grass now. It’s a funny sight. I’m so delighted by it I don’t catch Christian looking at me, at first. Then we blush and get back to it.

  “You look at them like they’re the most precious things in the universe and that reminds me they are. I’m grateful for that.”

  I’m not sure what to say, so I give him a little bump of the hip. He splashes the water around a bit, giggling, and then it’s on. We avoid each other’s eyes as the battle intensifies, until our shirts are soaked and we’re laughing hysterically.

  When he looks up at me through the wavy hair dripping in my face, it’s with a remarkably sexy look. Birthday boy’s turned a corner, I think. But it’s up to him what happens next.

  Just a few hours ago, we were sitting out on that lawn hissing at each other about these kinds of promises. But that was a few hours ago. Now there’s an undeniable heat in his eyes, coming off him in waves, and I know he can sense my desire too.

  It would be the easiest thing in the world, I think, if you kissed me right now.

  Just let go. Lean into it. Let me finally have you, after all this time. It’s what we both want. It’s what’s coming for us. Please, just do this. Take the step.

  Out there in the world there are thousands of alphas and omegas, mommies and daddies. They know what their bodies want, and what would make them happy. What would make them feel complete. Do they all spend this much time worrying about it? Or is that just us?

  He’s always been a briar patch when it comes to figuring these things out. Every emotion is pulled up from some faraway place, like a bucket on a chain in one of those fairytale wishing wells.

  But when I run my hands through his hair and caress the back of his neck with my warm, wide palm, he shudders with desire.

  And I see a little humor in his eyes. The sun hasn’t even gone down yet. We’ve got bath time, bedtime stories, the whole nightly routine, before anything could happen anyway.

  But right now, I can kiss him at least and he doesn’t seem to have a single reason I shouldn’t. For a moment, in the setting sun, with the quiet laughter out in the garden, just looking at him feels like it’s quenching some deep thirst. Not sneaking a glance, like a thief, but really looking at him.

  And seeing him look back.

  My hands on his hips, pulling him closer and closer, I can feel the pressure of his hardening cock between us. I can feel mine pulsing against his heat and hear him moan just the tiniest bit. I smile against his mouth before reaching in for one deep kiss.

  Pulling his tongue between my teeth, sucking slow, walking the edge between taking control and letting him feel safe and free. It’s kind of hard. I haven’t wanted anything like this, quite so badly, in any memory. Moving to his neck, his ear, nipping and licking. Somewhere between starving and tentative. His little gasps and shocks of delight as I move my hands across him.

  I’m never going to make it to bedtime. We have to calm down.

  I lean back, and Christian laughs again. He’s thinking the same thing. There’s all the time in the world. We have time now. Time for all of it, at last. My life feels like it’s starting back up again, after stalling in the road so long ago. But now we can take all the time we need.

  And when I open my mouth to say something to that effect, that’s when the screams start.

  Just past the window frame, something we can’t see is scaring the children to death. They’re so afraid they sound angry, screaming like vicious dogs, desperate to attack. Poppy stands at the front, swinging a stick with her chubby little arms. Bodhi stands behind the twins, throwing anything he can grab at the enemy. Bottles, the rest of the cake, rocks from the garden.

  They’re desperate. My blood is ice.

  I’m out the door growling before Christian can even react, full alpha mode, ready to shift the second I need to. Somehow choking back from barking obscenities as I cross the yard to the children staring into the space where the stranger was.

  I cough out a rough whine, wanting to chase him, and Christian nods, as angry and terrified as I am. Enraged, I’m over the fence in a single movement, growling like a beast.

  The stranger smells human, but he mus
t have some kind of power. No matter how many times I double back, certain I’m only a second behind, his scent is fading. Maybe it’s just that he knows the neighborhood and I’m still learning it.

  Is that because he lives here? Or because he’s been watching us? Both ideas were unsettling. He was out there waiting, until the others left, and we went inside. He was watching, for who knows how long. A shudder of disgust runs down my back.

  After a few trips around the block, through the alleys, checking every yard and coming up with nothing, I was frustrated but calm enough to stop. Back home the kids were pressing against their papa, all of them at once like starving cubs, as he comforted them.

  The twins are silent and staring, nearly catatonic. Bodhi just bawls, unable to form words, howling. What the hell happened out here?

  And leaning back against Christian, Poppy won’t take her eyes off the fence. Staring like she can still see whoever it was. Anger burning in her eyes like a smoldering coal. I hate to see her little body so tense when she gets this way. Knowing there’s nothing I can do. Especially when it echoes my own feelings so profoundly. I may not ever get her to like me, but our wolves certainly understand each other.

  He was tall and skinny as a scarecrow, still wearing that suit, which makes it so much creepier. Wasn’t he the one screaming at me about Highpoint, the day I got here? I can’t quite remember that man’s face, and I never quite caught his scent. But if that’s his grudge, he could easily wreck everything. Just destroy it all, burn it all down. I’d deserve it.

  Bodhi won’t be able to explain anything for a while longer, so Christian just holds onto them, staring at the fence alongside Poppy, waiting for me to come back and say it’s all taken care of.

  I’m stronger and faster than anybody we know. I always have been. So was it a shifter? Why would a shifter come wandering into our yard, frightening the kids? That’s not how this pack works.

  Our eyes lock. I can tell Christian’s just barely holding it together. Poppy suddenly breaks into a run, straight at me. Before I can even register what’s happening, I’ve dropped to my knees and opened my arms to Christian’s daughter. The two of us go completely still, arms around each other shaking with fury.

  It isn’t comfort, exactly. More like we’re both so mad and scared we could vibrate out of existence. I’m holding her together. We’re saving each other.

  “I hate the Silly Man,” Huck finally says, and my body freezes.

  “What’s that, buddy?”

  Huck looks back at Christian, worried suddenly, and then back to me.

  “The Silly Man. He watches us sometimes. He’s not so scary from far away, but up close he looked like a monster.”

  I know he can’t accurately describe what he’s picturing, but the fear in his eyes as he remembers what he saw is more than eloquent enough. It turns my veins to ice.

  “You’ve seen that guy before?”

  I’m going to be sick.

  Rosemary nods. Arms wide, palms up.

  “His hair is wild. He comes out of the forest. He said give you this…”

  I can hear myself groan in fear as she reaches into the pocket of her pinafore, fishing out a note. One look at it, my other arm still cocked around Poppy, and I crumple it up with a swear word I just barely stifle as it’s coming out.

  I hate saying bad words in front of them.

  Happy birthday to me. Happy birthday, dear Dominic. We got you a zombie attack.

  “Okay.”

  I know the others don’t know what I mean, but Poppy does.

  It’s a declaration of war. She growls, baring her little teeth. Okay.

  The six of us form a makeshift fort in the living room, a puppy pile of blankets, cushions, pillows, stuffed animals. Legs and arms every which way. I didn’t think we’d be sleeping at all tonight, but the kids drop off pretty soon once we’re all cozied up together.

  I find myself with my hands in Christian’s hair. A faint memory of childhood, twiddling it around my finger, nervously. I pet him like a dog. He doesn’t mind. It seems to comfort us both.

  “You’re going to show me the note later,” he says quietly, and angrily I agree.

  Once we’ve gotten the kids in their beds, bath time left far behind us for tonight, he can take it. I don’t ever want to see it again. Just touching it makes me feel like I’m going to pass out, like I have to sit down.

  And I know what it means. How much worse would it be if I didn’t?

  You’re going to die, the note says. I know what you did.

  From the front hall you can just see through the house onto the back porch. With the lights off inside, the whole yard is illuminated by streetlights.

  I don’t know how long I spend watching, frozen like a statue. I’m not doing anything at all, but it feels like I’m helping. For a while.

  There’s a shuffling sound at the front door, and I could almost laugh with irritation.

  More? Something new? Some new horrible monster coming to attack?

  Soon enough, there’s a knock at the door. Not my imagination.

  I force my body to move, feeling a kind of giddy fear I barely remember from childhood. That horror-movie, strange-bedroom fear. But I’m a man now. I can move. Now the fear comes with the ugly hopeful thrill of expending some of this nervous energy on an ass-beating.

  “Hello?” I finally gruff out, sounding big and tough.

  The answering voice is such a surprise that it takes my queasy chill and turns it into caffeine.

  “Hello? Christian Keller? Is this the Keller house? Is the birthday boy here?”

  Felix Armistead.

  It’s not a murderous wild man from the woods, but it’s not tremendously comforting either. Felix Armistead is a bit like the opposite of Mary Poppins. Where he comes, chaos follows.

  Imagine the Cat in the Hat, if he liked cocaine and caviar and sudden trips to Berlin.

  And worst of all, he knows me better than anyone on earth.

  He’s got a bottle of champagne and a box of very expensive chocolates. Suitcase slipping down against his leg and into the hedges as he holds the gifts out to me. He still looks like a dangerous supermodel spy compared to anyone else, but for Felix Armistead he looks like hell.

  But with one goofy, charming grin from him, I suddenly feel at ease. It’s hard to remember how much we like each other, when every inch of my body is so stressed out and worried.

  “Felix, hi. Hello. We’ve had a night. Please come in.”

  Once I’ve sketched out the details, our visitor goes white with horror.

  “You must have thought I was the boogeyman for sure! Oh, baby. I’m so sorry. What a mess. I knew I should have just gotten a hotel! But then I thought you might still be up, and…”

  “I am, I’m up! Can I make you something to eat, or…?”

  Felix smiles again, hands against my back as he’s suddenly directing me back upstairs.

  “You’re dropping on your feet. I can take care of myself. I promise not to make a mess.”

  I wave vaguely toward the kitchen, feeling like the world’s worst host.

  “I’ll, uh, I’ll make up my bedroom. The guestroom, I mean. You’ll be good in there. Then tomorrow morning we can…”

  Felix cocks his head, then pulls me in for a sudden hug. He seems honestly worried, which makes me worry in turn. I must really look rough if Felix is paying attention. Any other night, any other house, and he’d already be doing his laundry.

  “Go to bed this instant. You’re not allowed to think about me until the sun comes up. I’ll root around in your house shamelessly for everything I might need. Which is nothing, since I’m exhausted too. We’ll start over in the morning. Are you going to be okay?”

  I pull back out of the hug, giving it some thought.

  “I think I’m going to be okay. But if that guy comes back around again, I’ll kill him.”

  Felix fixes me with a glittering eye, his demeanor completely serious for once.

  �
��Babe. If he does, you won’t have to.”

  Felix Armistead’s teeth are sharp, and his eyebrows are cruel. The menace underneath that promise is more comforting than anything else he could have said.

  Maybe it takes a silly man to defeat a Silly Man.

  Or maybe I’m the one who’s being silly.

  He heads off into the kitchen, and I grab some clean sheets for the guestroom. If there’s one thing I know, it’s that Felix Armistead can take care of himself. The upside of having zero shame is that nothing really slows you down. If he wants to eat the last of the kids’ fruit snacks he will. And then have a pony delivered before they’ve woken up. He prizes his comfort above all else, and always has.

  You never know quite what you’re going to get. He’s a great and solid friend, always. If you have the money and stamina to keep up, he’s a good party buddy too. He knows everything about everything. Art, money, culture, science. A million little private interests he’ll never mention, and then one day just produce some random fact or break down a whole concept into a half-hour presentation. Moon rocks. Renaissance manuscripts. Alchemy. Broadway. Native American peoples of the Pacific Northwest. It’s always something.

  He loves to share what he has, knowledge, gossip, money, anything. He also talks very loudly, most of the time. Immensely excitable and usually excited. I was impressed and comforted by the low, quiet voice he’d put on downstairs the second he took in my tension.

  Felix taps the door as I’m finishing up and after unpacking his things onto my desk and bureau, making himself utterly comfortable, he sits down to kick off his shoes and taps the clean white sheets next to him, impatiently.

  “Sit.”

  That’s another thing you never know with Felix Armistead. Sometimes I feel like he wants to go back to our earliest school days. That fumbling experimentation. Learning what being shifters was all about. At other times, it’s like he doesn’t even remember those days. My first real kiss, my closest friend in all the years since I left this place.