by Carol Davis
He wasn’t quite sure what that was, but he couldn’t find the breath to ask. Instead, he drew her in close to him, hoping her warm softness would help him relax. Without being encouraged any further, she nestled against him and rested her head on his shoulder. He could feel her heartbeat then, could hear the easy rhythm of her breathing.
How could she be so calm? he wondered. How could she be so still and relaxed, as if they were lying in bed on a sunny morning, listening to the sounds of the small birds in the trees outside and the whisper of the wind in the leaves?
He tried again to speak, then decided against it. Better to just stand here with her, at ease for the first time since… well, since they’d splashed around in the stream that first time, he supposed. That felt like months ago.
“Should we tell your parents?” she said after a while.
He was almost certain they already knew what the elders had decided. Surely, the elders had consulted them. But yes, he wanted very much to sit down in a familiar place, have something to eat and drink, and ask for his parents’ advice on what to do next. There was a lot to be set in place, and he couldn’t do all of it alone.
No, he corrected himself. He didn’t want to do all of it alone.
Nodding, he took half a step back and wrapped his hand around Abby’s. His breath was coming easier now, although looking at her made him nervous all over again.
“Panic attack,” Abby said.
“What?”
“I have them all the time. You think too much about something and get scared. I think you’re all right now.”
“I’m not… I have no need to panic.”
She smiled at that, in the way he’d often seen two females smiling at each other, as if they were sharing some sort of secret. That was something he’d have to try harder to figure out, he supposed—the ways of females.
Then he thought of his father trying to gain ground on his mother and decided it might be a lost cause.
His legs were still wobbling a little as they started walking toward his family’s home, but by the time they reached the path that led up to the door he was moving easily again, as he should at a time like this. Abby, too, seemed fully relaxed, wary of nothing, fully able to take her place in the community.
The door swept open when they were still a few steps away, and there was his mother, beaming and crying at the same time.
It was true, then: she already knew.
She ushered them eagerly into the house, where an extravagant meal sat waiting for them. Aaron’s father and Luca were waiting, too, and they greeted Aaron with solemn nods and a clap on the back, then quickly took their seats at the table, Jeremiah at one end and Luca, as the eldest son, at the other. Rachel sat at her husband’s right hand, leaving the other side of the table for Aaron and Abby.
As soon as Aaron and Abby were seated, Jeremiah reached for his wife’s hand, and she reached for Luca’s.
For a moment Luca didn’t move. Then he said quietly to Abby, “We welcome you to our family, Abby Sullivan.”
Aaron blinked at that. Traditionally, it was his father’s place to offer the welcome. He thought his father might object, might bluster a little at Luca’s brashness, but all he could see in his father’s face was relief.
That made sense, after Aaron had thought about it a little. After all, Abby had helped save Luca’s life, and Luca was now offering thanks, with the blessing of both of their parents.
In a way, Luca’s objection to Abby’s presence had caused everything that had happened over the past few days. Had he not fought with Aaron and stormed off into the woods with his emotions surging—something that was sure to attract another wolf in the mood to fight—he might not have been attacked by Micah.
Then Jeremiah did speak up. “It’s one thing to accept you into our home as our son’s guest,” he said to Abby, his voice low and serious, “and another to welcome you as a member of our family. We were uncertain. Concerned. But you’ve proven yourself to be loyal to us. To our son, and to the pack.”
For a moment, Abby stared down at her plate. Her hand had become damp with sweat, and she tightened her fingers around Aaron’s. Then she steadied herself and looked Jeremiah in the eye.
“I know there may be… difficulties,” she said quietly. “It would be stupid to think we’ll never have a problem. But I love your son with all my heart. I believe we were meant to be together, and I promise you I will never betray him. Or any of you.”
“A promise easily made,” Jeremiah warned her.
“I know,” she said. “They say God laughs when we make plans. And we never know what the future will bring. But I’ll do my best to keep my word. You see… Aaron saved me. You all have. I hated my life back home. I wasn’t close to anyone, and I didn’t feel good about myself. I didn’t think I was… I didn’t think I belonged.”
“You belong here,” Aaron said firmly.
She turned to him and spent a long time gazing into his eyes. It was the sweetest sight he’d ever seen. He’d thought that days ago, and was even more sure of it now.
“Yes,” she said softly. “I do.”
They made short work of the meal.
At first Aaron, could barely taste any of it; he was too overwhelmed by both the day’s events and by having his mate so close to him. The wolf inside him was surging against its bonds, demanding that they put an end to this silly ritual—to the wolf, eating was something that should be done quickly and without fuss—so it could satisfy itself. Then, gradually, as he dug into another helping of his mother’s delicious stew, he began to appreciate how good the food was.
His family was all here, he realized. All here, and all safe. This was the first meal they’d enjoyed together recently without some threat hanging over them.
Luca, too, was eating as if he hadn’t seen food in weeks, as if it might be snatched away from him at any moment. Aaron caught Abby glancing over at his mother, and understood what was passing between them: an acknowledgment that the men of his family had nearly insatiable appetites.
Not just for food.
“Thank you,” Aaron told his mother when the last bite had disappeared.
He was already halfway to his feet, and was reaching for Abby’s hand to pull her away from the table. Under normal circumstances he would help clear the table—something he usually enjoyed, as it was a chance for him to talk with his mother—but he was too anxious to be alone with Abby, to celebrate the elders’ decision in a proper way.
She seemed a little flustered to be hauled away so suddenly, but allowed him to usher her out the door.
Although it was late in the afternoon, he could think of only one place they should go, the one where they’d found the most pleasure. When Abby didn’t move quickly enough, he scooped her up into his arms and carried her effortlessly up the slope and through the woods to the place where his favorite stream collected into that deep, clear pool.
There, just a few days ago, they’d splashed and played in the water like children, delighting in each other’s company, without a worry in the world.
The sun was low in the sky now, but the air was just as warm as it had been the other day, and the light was golden and beautiful. The way it played on Abby’s soft blonde hair and pale skin nearly took Aaron’s breath away.
“I had no idea what my life would be,” he told her as he set her down, then grasped her hands in his own. “What path I would take.”
“Neither did I,” she said.
“Will you think of him? That man?”
Abby shook her head. “I don’t have any reason to. He didn’t mean anything to me, Aaron. He was just…”
“You gave yourself to him.”
She sighed and looked down at the ground. “I know. And it should mean something. But it doesn’t. It didn’t, really, when it was happening, and it doesn’t now.” She paused, then corrected herself. “I wanted it to mean something. I wanted him to—I don’t know. Transform, somehow. Become the person I needed.”
/> “That was unlikely.”
“I think it was impossible. But sometimes you don’t let yourself see what’s right in front of your face.”
Aaron took a step closer to her and cupped her head in his hands. “I see what’s in front of me.”
He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers, inhaling her scent—fully hers now, without the influence of a myriad of lotions and creams and powders. He imprinted it on the deepest part of himself, knowing that that would allow him to find her no matter where she might wander, even in the heart of the fiercest storm.
Then he guided her over to a place near the water, where the ground was worn smooth enough to be comfortable to lie on.
Smiling, she grabbed handfuls of the dress Katrin had given her and lifted it up over her head.
This time her undergarments were the same soft pink as the inside of a shell, a color that reminded him of the most intimate parts of her, and his heart sped up as he kicked off his shoes and fumbled out of his shirt and jeans.
He felt like a young wolf, ready to couple for the first time, nervous and excited and proud.
“They can do it all quickly,” he said.
Abby frowned a little. “Do what?”
“The celebration. There’s much to prepare, but they can do it quickly. If not tomorrow, the day after.”
“And then?”
“Then, it’s done. We’re a pair. No one can challenge us.”
Abby’s attention had drifted below his waist, and her expression had turned mischievous. “Well,” she said. “That’s good. Although if anybody challenged me right now, I think I could go a few rounds with them.”
She looked… hungry. Anxious.
They came together as urgently as any young pair coupling for the first time, hands and lips moving urgently and swiftly, tasting, claiming, exploring. The delicate pink undergarments were quickly disposed of, then Aaron maneuvered his beautiful mate down to that soft spot on the ground and plunged his cock into her with a huge gasp. Her legs locked around him almost immediately, pressing him deeper and deeper as her hands groped for purchase on his shoulders and in his hair.
The wolf howled with pleasure inside him as he thrust, driving Aaron’s rhythm, demanding that he go deeper still, faster, and fill her with his seed. Her clenching around him drove the animal half-mad, and when they both finally reached the edge and tumbled over, Aaron lifted his head and howled, creating an echo that rolled from one side of the clearing to the other.
He looked down at Abby, seeking her beautiful eyes, and found her flushed and smiling. She’d lost her grasp on his arms and shoulders but seemed content to lie there watching him, drinking in the sight of him.
When he’d caught his breath, he slipped out of her and sat alongside her for a minute, trailing his fingers over her breasts and belly, luxuriating in the velvety texture of her skin. Her rosy nipples seemed to him to be something marvelous, and after a moment he realized that they truly were. There, she would feed his children. For now, he could pinch and nip and tease them, but later on…
In its own good time, he thought. First, we need a home.
“It’s always been used for the Separation,” he said quietly, half-watching the sparkle and glimmer of the sunlight on the water. “But—”
“You mean the cabin?”
Aaron nodded. “I think the elders should reexamine some of our traditions. I wonder if it’s necessary for each of us to spend a month there. Some of us may need a month. Others may know their life’s plan already, or can decide in a few days. Others may never decide. I think it’s foolish to say that it’s—”
“One size fits all?” Abby suggested.
Aaron had heard the phrase during his brief time on the mainland. He nodded. “I know my parents will want us to live in the settlement. That’s how it’s always done, and in general, it makes good sense. The gardens are there. It’s more easily protected if something should happen.”
“But—?”
“Some will say we’re wrong to defy tradition. That it’s foolish to insist on something different.”
Abby sat up slowly and shook out her hair. A tiny flower had gotten tangled in it during their lovemaking, something that seemed magical and wonderful to Aaron, and he touched it with a fingertip lightly and carefully, afraid to knock it loose.
“We could plant our own garden,” she said.
“Yes,” he agreed. “We could.”
“And it doesn’t take that long to get down to your village. If I hurried, I could make it in… I don’t know. Twenty minutes? Half an hour?”
“That may be somewhat optimistic.”
She shifted around and leaned over to kiss him. “Optimism is a good thing,” she said with her eyes closed. “I’m a firm believer in optimism.”
Then, laughing, she climbed over and straddled his lap, pressing her warm, ample breasts against his chest as she went back to kissing him. He had to maneuver a little, and call on some of the wolf’s strength, to rise to his feet with her legs wrapped around him, but once he’d found his balance he was able to stride into the water without losing his footing, laughing when Abby shrieked.
As they’d done the other day, they splashed and tumbled in the water, playing like children, then came together again, kissing, caressing, holding each other so close that the water couldn’t move between them.
“This place,” Abby said close to Aaron’s ear. “This is always going to be our place.”
“Yes,” Aaron promised her. “It is.”
Fourteen
Abby thought about friends and co-workers whose wedding arrangements had taken months, sometimes even a year or more, to put into place, and marveled at how simple this was.
There was no expensive venue to book, no settling for an alternate date because something or someone wasn’t available. There were no invitations to choose and order and mail out. No popular DJ to track down.
And of course there were no papers to sign. There was nothing legal to take care of.
She tried to feel a little bit of regret for missing out on what everyone else went through, but it seemed ridiculous—all that fuss, all that stress. In its place, she had what really mattered: the man she loved, and a warm, sunny summer day that was absolutely glorious.
Aaron’s mother had presented her with the dress she had worn on her own joining day, explaining with tears in her eyes that it had been worn many times before that, and since then. It had been shared throughout the pack, she said, and had absorbed all the joy of those special days to the point that it seemed to have a life of its own.
With trembling fingers Rachel unfolded the cascades of lace and silk, spreading the dress out across her bed.
Abby had expected it to be… well, ugly, something her former co-workers would mock mercilessly.
But Rachel was right. The dress practically glowed in the sunlight. It was beautiful.
“I know I’m not the one you wanted for your son,” Abby tried to say, but Rachel hushed her with a finger pressed to Abby’s lips.
“You’re the one Aaron wants,” she said. “That’s all that matters.”
The only thing that really seemed odd about the dress was that it was incredibly elaborate compared to what everyone in the village normally wore: handmade pants and shirts, some jeans, t-shirts, simple dresses in plain colors. But that made sense too, when Abby thought about it for a minute. The everyday stuff was easy to care for, and this dress was meant to be worn for only a short time, nowhere near the dust and dirt of farming and other chores—a visible sign that this was a special occasion, the most special day of her life.
With warm but trembling hands, Rachel helped Abby put the dress on, and fastened the various hooks and buttons for her. There was no mirror in the room, but Abby could see herself in Rachel’s tear-filled eyes.
“I’ll do my best to be a good daughter,” she whispered.
Her own eyes were misty as she straightened the skirt around her legs. She would have given almost
anything for her own mother to be here. They’d played “wedding day” a thousand times when Abby was a little girl, Abby gliding through the house wearing her mother’s veil and a pair of long white gloves they’d found at a yard sale. She remembered her mother clapping and smiling and holding Abby’s small hands so they could dance.
There’d been no mention of a groom back then; he was always a kind of phantom, someone who was there but not there at the same time.
Now he was here.
“Shoo!” Rachel told him with a comical frown, trying to usher him out of the bedroom doorway. “Go away!”
“Not for all the gifts in the world,” Aaron said softly.
The look on his face was something Abby couldn’t remember ever having seen before, from him or anyone else. He looked absolutely awestruck, as if he couldn’t believe his own eyes.
“Do you like it?” Abby ventured.
He was shaking his head as he stepped around his mother. He was wearing a simple, light-colored suit that Abby supposed had also been passed around the pack, since it didn’t quite fit him the way something tailored would have. But somehow, it was the only thing she could imagine him wearing, and in her mind’s eye she saw him stepping out of the shadows of her childhood home, the groom she’d known was there but had never seen.
“Like?” he echoed. “No, this is much more than ‘like’.”
One small thing was missing. Tipping her head, Abby said regretfully, “I don’t have the right shoes. Your mother found some in the storehouse, but they don’t fit.”
“Go without them.”
“I guess I could, but…”
“The ground can be rough and uneven,” Rachel said. “She’s not accustomed to going without shoes.”
“I suppose I’d better remedy that, then,” Aaron agreed.
He disappeared as if someone had blinked him away, and returned a minute later with something wrapped up in a bundle of cloth. Smiling mysteriously, he gestured for Abby to sit down.
When she was seated, he crouched in front of her, and all of a sudden she felt like Cinderella.
Could he possibly have glass slippers for her?
