by Sammie Joyce
I laughed at the idea but as I thought about it, I knew it wasn’t that far from the truth. Philippe had captured me but I had been fully compliant for the taking.
“It’s not funny, Aspen!” Locklear snapped and I could hear the angst in his tone. “There’s a reason we don’t let mortals come so close to the camp. He could have learned about us or worse! You know better!”
Locklear had always been more serious than me but I couldn’t discount his concern. He was right, after all. We had rules about letting outsiders in for a reason. Of course that only applied to mortals.
I bit on my lip and looked around to ensure we weren’t being overheard and leaned closer toward him. I trusted Locklear but I didn’t want anyone else to hear what I had to say.
“Philippe is one of us,” I confided. Locklear’s amber eyes narrowed as he stared at me warily.
“What does that mean?”
“He’s a shifter. Like us,” I sighed, wondering if he was purposely being daft. “He’s not an outsider or a mortal. He belongs among us.”
The shock on his face was almost tangible.
“A bear?” he choked.
“An eagle,” I replied excitedly but in a hushed tone. “I’ve never seen an eagle shifter before. Have you?”
Locklear’s mouth pulled in at the corners and he looked away, shaking his head.
“No,” he replied shortly. “I haven’t. Is that where you’ve been then? With him all this time?”
I was too caught up in my own excitement about my find to hear the animus in his tone and I nodded eagerly.
“Yes,” I gushed. “I didn’t pay any attention to how much time had passed because he’s just so fascinating, you know?”
I paused and tilted my head to the side, finally noting that Lock didn’t share in my enthusiasm in the least.
“You really were worried, weren’t you?” I asked. He met my eyes again and nodded slowly.
“You’ve never been gone that long,” he sighed. “I couldn’t convince your parents that you needed help. I’ve been on them for two days already.”
I gave him a half-smile.
“Maybe my parents know me better than you,” I teased him, punching him in the arm gently. Locklear’s eyes narrowed into slits so small, I could barely see his irises.
“Maybe,” he agreed. “But no one will protect you as much as I will, Aspen.”
I didn’t know whether to be moved or haunted by his words. The entire conversation was getting too intense, especially when there was no reason for it.
I was fine. I was better than I’d ever been in my life. Locklear was just being a worrywart.
Is he jealous of Philippe? I wondered but I quickly dismissed the idea. Lock was like my brother. Philippe was clearly my mate. There was absolutely no reason for any kind of petty jealousy.
“Come on,” I urged, striding forward to catch up to the group. “I’ll race you home.”
Without waiting for him to respond, I bolted forward, falling onto all fours as I moved, knowing that Lock was hot on my heels.
Yet as Locklear fell in behind me, my mind had already moved back to the the eagle I’d left alone in the treehouse. I hoped Philippe wouldn’t think I’d abandoned him when he woke up but I’d be back soon.
First, I’d just have to placate my family and best friend.
Then Philippe and I could be together again.
I hadn’t realized it but I had missed being home, missed Locklear. The next day was filled with us hiking through the woods, catching up on the little I’d missed over the past week. A week wasn’t a long time in any world but it was especially short in a place like the Alaskan backwoods. I hadn’t missed out on any earth-shattering revelations but I listened politely as Locklear told me what he thought I needed to know.
“Evander learned a new song,” Lock told me as we stopped by to rest by one of the abandoned caves through the gully. “It’s about time too. I was going crazy listening to him pluck those same notes over and over again.”
I laughed and nodded in agreement. Evander was not one for change, that was certain but who could blame the kid? He had no one to teach him anything new and our area wasn’t exactly a pool for the musical arts.
“Philippe is an amazing songwriter,” I told Locklear. “He can pick a tune out of nowhere and just play for hours, adding and evolving as he goes. It’s remarkable the way his mind works.”
Locklear continued to speak as if I hadn’t said anything about Philippe.
“Evander worked really hard on the piece. You should ask him to play it for you when we get back. I’m sure he’ll be happy to have a new audience member—or at least one that hasn’t heard the song ten or more times.”
I eyed him skeptically.
“Are you spending more time at the compound?” I asked curiously. “Are you spending time with your pack?”
Locklear shrugged, seeming embarrassed by the question.
“I was waiting for you to come back. I figured you’d show up there eventually,” he admitted.
Again, I was stabbed by guilt. I knew how much Lock had tried to distance himself from the community in the wake of his father’s passing. The fact that he’d stayed there for me filled me with shame.
“I’m sorry,” I said for what felt like the hundredth time. “I just lost track of time with Philippe. It was so easy to do, Lock. He’s so talented. His art will steal your breath away when you see it. I could pore over his sketches for hours. I have pored over his sketches for hours. They’re just so captivating.”
I sighed, realizing that I was rambling in a rush of breath but it was so easy to do when talking about Philippe. Locklear’s jaw twitched but I barely noticed as I continued on my gushing diatribe of my lover.
“Maybe we should get Philippe to teach Evander some chords on his guitar. I think Philippe knows more than one instrument too. I bet Evander would—”
“Would you please stop!” Locklear yelled. My head jerked up in shock at the shout and I stared at my friend, blinking in confusion.
“Stop what?” I asked, my brow furrowing in confusion. “What did I do?”
Locklear inhaled deeply and his beautiful eyes flashed with indignation as I tried to understand why he was so angry.
“Can’t you see what you’re doing to me, talking about this guy all the time?”
I couldn’t and I said as much.
“What are you talking about, Locklear? You know he’s not a mere mortal and he’s not dangerous. Why can’t I talk about him?”
Locklear spun, his form towering over me as he stared down and for a foreign moment, I was afraid—not of being hurt by him but that I had hurt my best friend somehow.
“Never mind,” he started to say but my hand whipped out to latch onto his muscled forearm.
“No,” I retorted. “I will mind. Tell me what’s going on. You can’t just snap at me and then pretend nothing’s wrong.”
His cheeks stained red and he met my eyes, resignation filling his own. My heart began to thump dangerously in my chest and I suddenly understood. I could read it all in his face, plain as the clear blue sky above our heads.
“I have always loved you, Aspen,” he choked. “Since we were cubs.”
“I love you too,” I told him, emotion washing through my throat because I instantly knew that’s not what he meant. He loved me the way I loved Philippe.
Oh, why had I pushed him into confessing that? Now I had to break his heart.
“No,” he growled, shaking my hand loose from his arm. “That’s not what I mean.”
“Lock—”
“You need to let me finish,” he insisted. “Let me say it before you crush me.”
I swallowed the lump in my windpipe and sank back against the rock on which I was perched.
“I know you don’t feel the same way about me,” he muttered, scuffing his toe into the mud against the boulder. “I think I always knew that but I had hoped that one day, you would open your eyes and realiz
e that you had someone who would always care for you.”
“Lock, I have always known that,” I pleaded with him, feeling tears of sadness burn in my eyes but I willed them away. “You are my best friend, my brother…”
I trailed off, realizing that none of that was what he wanted or needed to hear.
“But Philippe is better,” he finished for me bitterly. I pushed myself off the granite and cupped his face in my hands, forcing his eyes upon me.
“No,” I said softly. “Philippe is not better or worse. But he is my mate.”
Locklear had to have anticipated the words but it didn’t stop the torrent of pain that washed over his face, subsequently piercing my heart and shattering it into a thousand pieces.
“I get it,” he muttered, pulling away but I held him in place.
“Lock, that means that your mate is out there too,” I cried imploringly, wanting desperately to say anything to make him smile but I knew I was failing. I wasn’t good at this emotional stuff. I knew how to fight and hunt and play. I was out of my element with both Philippe and Locklear.
“I said I get it,” Lock growled, wrenching himself away from my grasp. “You don’t owe me an explanation. I’ll see you later, Aspen.”
He morphed into his wolf body and darted through the woods in a flash of gray fur, leaving me to stare after him helplessly.
He just needs some time to process this. He’ll be fine, I told myself without conviction. I was sure I’d never seen Locklear so devastated, not even after his father’s death.
Had I found my soulmate only to lose my best friend?
6
Locklear
I barely made it back to the cave I had claimed as my own in the depth of the woods, far removed from my pack and the others when Aspen found me.
“Lock,” she pleaded. “Don’t run off from me.”
I looked at her, trying to muster hatefulness but of course I couldn’t; this was Aspen, not some evil witch who had purposely set out to harm me.
“I just want to be alone for a while,” I muttered but Aspen wasn’t accepting that as an answer.
“Come with me,” she begged. “Come and meet Philippe. Once you see how great he is—”
Abruptly, she stopped speaking as if she caught something in my eye that stole the words from her mouth.
“Please?” she breathed, her tone slightly faltering. “For me?”
I grimaced.
“How is that for you?” I demanded and Aspen sighed, shaking her head.
“I want the two most important males in my life to be friends,” she replied.
“You don’t even know him!” I snarled, forgetting the promise I’d made to myself to keep it together. “You just met him a week ago! He seems weak, unable to provide. For all you know, he could be…”
I tried to think of the worst thing he could be but I couldn’t think of anything.
“He’s good, Lock and he’s anything but weak. Let me show you.”
The imploring look on her face broke down my barriers and I found myself relenting despite my better judgement.
I had no interest in meeting the scrawny, dirty man I’d seen from my spot in the trees over a week ago. I’d seen everything I’d needed to see.
But I couldn’t very well refuse my best friend’s request, could I? Not if I wanted to show that I really was okay—even though we both knew I wasn’t.
“Fine,” I muttered. “I’ll meet him.”
I thought that maybe I could make Aspen see that she was blinded by this newcomer, that what they had wasn’t really a connection but a passing fancy.
I wondered if I even believed that. Aspen had met many strangers over the years but never had she ever reacted like this.
Aspen’s face almost melted in relief and she threw her arms around me, yanking me into a reluctant hug as she did.
“Thank you,” she laughed nervously. “You and Philippe will be fast friends, you’ll see. Come on.”
“Now?” I demanded, my eyes widening. “No, I—”
“Yes, now.” She didn’t give me a chance to argue as she pulled me out of the cave and through the trees, back toward the area of the woods with which I was beginning to have a very bad association.
I’ll never look at that spot the same again, I thought as I permitted myself to be dragged back through the forest. I swore I’d spend five minutes talking to Philippe and then excuse myself.
Aspen stopped walking and I looked around in confusion.
“Why are we stopped here?” I asked, looking for a sign of life but from where I stood, I could see nothing.
A grin formed over her face and she pointed up toward the sky. My eyes trailed upward and widened in shock. In the treetops was a haphazardly put together house.
“H-he’s up there?” I sputtered. Aspen giggled and nodded, her paws on the trunk.
“Wait ‘til you see this place,” she raved. “It’s so cute and filled with all his sketches.”
She climbed as she went on, clearly forgetting one very important thing—wolves can’t climb and the tree was far too high for me to make it up in my mortal form.
Halfway to the top, she paused and peered down at me.
“Oh…” she gasped, embarrassed. “I-I’m sorry, Lock. I-I’ll call for Philippe to come down.”
I wanted to tell her to forget it but before I could open my mouth, the skinny, dishevelled creature appeared on the deck. His brow was arched in surprise.
He looks even weaker now than he did before, I thought contemptuously but somehow I managed to keep my thoughts quiet even though it physically pained me to do it.
“I was wondering when you were going to come back,” the eagle said lightly but even from the distance between us, I could see he was worried that she had left him. A strange melancholy touched my heart when I saw the way they looked at one another.
“Did you really think I could stay away?” Aspen murmured softly but I heard her. A lump of discomfort was forming in my throat.
This was a bad idea. I shouldn’t have come. Nothing you say or do will change her mind about him.
As if reading my mind, Aspen shifted her head toward me, her smile fading as she took in the expression on my face.
“Come down here and meet my best friend,” Aspen told him, hurrying to lower herself to the ground before I could scamper off again. “Locklear has been eager to meet you.”
Philippe looked at me, his body shifting gracefully into the majestic bird that Aspen had claimed him to be.
In a fell swoop, he sank to the ground, his talons curling into the dirt before me before he morphed again into his mortal form.
He looks better as a bird, I thought snidely.
“Pleasure to meet you, Locklear,” Philippe said, extending a hand toward me. It took every fiber of my being to accept his hand but I quickly withdrew it like he was catching.
“I told Lock how talented of an artist you are,” Aspen continued, trying to keep the conversation flowing. “You have to show him your work.”
“I would love—” Philippe started to say but I cut him off.
“Another time, perhaps,” I said. “I forgot I had promised to help my mother with something. Nice to meet you, Philippe.”
I spun and disappeared back into the forest, trying to ignore Aspen’s voice plaintively calling out to me.
It was dumb idea, meeting with the tortured artist. What kind of skill was that anyway? How did that help anyone?
Blindly, I found myself back at my cave and silently prayed that Aspen wouldn’t bring Philippe to my hideaway but I didn’t think she would. In love or not, she knew when I needed to be alone—I hoped.
Hurt, ruined, humiliated—all apt descriptions but they still didn’t quite fit the intense emotion which gripped my gut and squeezed it like a vice.
I had no one but myself to blame for the way I was feeling and I knew that. How many times over the years had I tried to tell Aspen how I felt and failed? Why had I waited so long
?
A little voice whispered to me that it wouldn’t have mattered how long I’d waited to tell her, the result would have been the same. She simply didn’t love me the same way I loved her.
I retreated into the woods, far away from my pack and the others, determined to wallow alone in my pain.
For ten days, I lay in the dark, only poking my head out for a quick hunt or a drink of water. I hadn’t even bothered to bathe in the stream or hike as I had every day of my life before then.
At some point, Evander came looking for me and I sent him away but I knew that he was only the beginning of what was to come. Whether I hid away or not, I still belonged to a pack and they wouldn’t permit me to die alone.
I would have to show myself if I didn’t want to be bombarded with well-meaning shifters.
Aspen hadn’t come for me but I was glad for that. I didn’t know how I could have responded to her and she seemed to know me well enough to realize the same thing.
I can’t avoid her forever but for now, we need to keep our distance from one another.
At the end of the second week, I went for a trek in the dusk, knowing that I was less likely to run into anyone at that time but I was mistaken.
Artemis was barely a hundred feet from my cave’s entrance when I ventured forth, collecting berries and leaves for one of his endless concoctions. I tried to duck out of view before he saw me but I couldn’t be so lucky, not under the razor-sharp senses of the healer.
“Ah. The prodigal son returns,” the shaman chuckled but I couldn’t even muster a smile.
“I haven’t returned anywhere,” I muttered. I didn’t really want to start a conversation with Artemis but I had the utmost respect for the elder. Even in my most sullen state, I couldn’t ignore him.
“Have you finished wallowing in self-pity?” Artemis asked brightly.
“I haven’t been bothering anyone, Artemis,” I growled.
“You’re bothering yourself.”
I snorted and waved a hand almost dismissively but Artemis wasn’t finished saying what he needed to say.
