We’re sitting in a study with a large double bed in the corner that looks entirely out of place in an alcove, as though it’s a new addition, with the sub pack eerily quiet as they all absorb everything we showed them outside. Sat in slightly dazed moods as we all digest the truth of our collective memories.
It’s a small room with a bay window, an oversized couch, and an armchair cozily nestled in front of a rustic fireplace. A sizeable handmade desk sits off to the side, just in the nook of the window space, facing inward with a worn chair tucked behind. There’s an entire wall lined with dark stained bookcases, crammed full of old leather-bound journals of varying shades of tan, brown, and black, with no titles on display, and I wonder what exactly is contained within the aged pages for them to bear no mark. There are oddities and bottles of all kinds nestled among them, and facing that wall are three ample cupboards in matching deep wood that narrows the space considerably. There isn’t much floor to move around, yet it has a snug quality rather than crowded.
The décor of dark fall hues, golds, oranges, russet, and browns, rich in color, only makes the room close in on us more. Especially with the heavy drapes at the window in dark red velvet, blocking out what should be light, but it’s almost the middle of the night already, so there’s a wall of black in the windowpane. The lamps are dim, almost candle flickering in intensity, dotted sporadically around small side tables and shelves, and add to an eerie atmosphere as the pack all sit around nestled together. Some of them are perched on the arms of chairs, lounging, while Colton stands by the fireplace, and I’m lying down on the bed, out of the way to get some rest. The bed’s modern. I can tell by its comfort and the crisp, new bedding that it was put in here recently.
My body is weary and heavy, and it feels good to know what a comfy, safe bed feels like again. It’s been so long since I was in a room by choice, surrounded by people I care about in a safe space, and I can spread out and not have to be on high alert. Weeks of living with tension and heightened senses are all coming to an end, and I realize how exhausted I am. It feels beyond amazing to not have one eye behind me and one eye on my surroundings, worrying about my next meal or where to set up a good camp.
Colton moved us in here once they’d seen everything they needed to see in our shared memories, and it was apparent they needed a little privacy to talk this out and calm down. We were making a spectacle out front, and even though other pack members dispersed, we caught many gazing at windows.
The reactions varied, and I think they’re all still reeling in shock and sadness at finding out they were raised with so many lies for so many years. The man they trusted proved himself to be the villain in our own story. Despite it not being their family or their parents, I can imagine it’s still their pack, blood, and alpha. It has to cut deep. The Santo pack has always been a proud close-knit unit, even for its massive size. It’s how it’s lasted the test of generations.
Meadow sobbed, hugged me like she would crack every bone in my body, and went into a Spanish rant that involved a lot of cussing for a solid ten minutes while she stomped around, throwing her hands in the air dramatically and pointing at the sky. I think she was telling the Fates off for allowing all of this, but as Spanish is a language I never picked up, I’ve no idea. She was animated and filled with fury, yet deep sadness, as she stopped to catch her breath and cry some more.
Cesar quietly stared at me for the most extended moment until I felt almost uncomfortable, a thoughtful face etched with concern before apologizing to me wholeheartedly about everything his ‘blood’ has done to me for most of my life. Right before moving in and giving me a tight embrace that genuinely felt good. It was solid and real, and I could feel his genuine remorse for being part of the bond that took away all of mine. Cesar is a paternal role in the subs, and for the first time, I felt like one of his pups.
The twins sat on the ground, overcome, and shook their heads in disbelief. Lost, yet somehow enlightened simultaneously, and kept staring at each other, clearly mind-linking to question every detail. They seemed to be the slowest at figuring out how it all pieced together, then just sat and looked bewildered. Blank expressions, except for wide eyes and a downturn of their mouths. Sadness was evident in their aura.
Radar lost his shit completely, and I flinched when he growled out loud, cursed Juan’s name, and stormed off mid-rant; semi turned into a wolf because he couldn’t control it and gave us space. His words mumbled, yet I heard the name Sierra and how Juan kept her a prisoner of her own mind all these years and denied Radar his right to protect his Luna. Radar seemed the one with the most fury, but I guess given how he feels about Sierra, then it makes sense he would react aggressively. He returned after Meadow was done cursing the Fates and stood silent and broody while occasionally staring at the ground in deep thought. His mind was in turmoil.
Mateo, as always, the calm within the group, kept questioning Colton, saying things like ‘I just can’t …’ and then turning over every detail as though he needed confirmation. Emotionally, he seemed in disbelief, his manner calm, yet that look of heartbreak in his eyes at the fact their Alpha lied to them all. He stayed close to Colton, providing a sense of stable quiet when the others were in disarray.
Jesús vented loudly, at nothing, at everything, wandering in circles and talking to himself while kicking gravel across the drive with force. He would come back to the circle every so often, rub my head, and say, ‘Lo Siento mucho, niña.’
I think it means sorry, but I’m unsure, and I didn’t want to ask while everyone was visibly shaken. Jesús has something of the dramatic about him, and his energy was bristling the air anytime he paced close. That need to hurt something for hurting his pack. It was overly protective, and I could almost taste his desire for revenge against Juan.
Colton and I stood side by side, and he took my hand, waiting for them to have some time to let it absorb. I stood blank-faced and numb, fatigue controlling my body. The only thing I could focus on was Colton’s warm skin against mine and how it was so heartbreakingly right. His touch, as always, killed me softly.
Now we’re all inside, nursing mugs of coffee, except me, as I declined and wanted to lie horizontally while they all bashed it out between them. I need a little quiet and calm to let everything that has happened in the last two days settle and wash over me. It feels like my head has been bombarded and knocked to hell, and somehow, I’m mentally bruised and in need of soft, soothing silence. It’s quiet now, and they are all stuck in their minds, with the occasional infrequent sentence thrown out there, but mostly nods. I think this may take more than a few short hours for them to grasp the enormity of the situation and the past. We still don’t know what else Sierra will add to the pot if anything.
It feels good to be back among them, though. The familiarity,
the safety, and even though I was only part of their pack for a short time, I feel like I’m home and back within the arms of my family. Something I’ve wanted and ached for the last ten years of my life and never thought would exist within the Santo pack. Especially after finding out all of this about Juan. Carmen is still not here, and I’m starting to wonder if her absence has to do with the war on the mountain.
Colton said her father was Juan’s Beta, so he would forbid her from coming here and maybe even held her hostage to make sure she didn’t shame her family by following ‘the traitor.’ I can’t imagine that would have gone down well with Juan if his second in command’s blood had followed his son off the mountain. Juan already believes he’s more powerful than a mate bond. That would explain Colton’s desire to start something with me, as though he didn’t already have himself a femme tucked away. He thinks his mate is unreachable, unattainable from circumstance, and a lost cause that he chose under pressure, and he believes he can ignore the bond and start afresh with me. Because our emotional bond was never severed, and his feelings didn’t change as he hoped.
It’s not happening. The very thought of it chokes me to the core and makes my heart constrict and pulse painfully. That uncomfortable heaviness in my gut reminds me I can never forget that he gave up on us and did what hurt me the most. I can’t move past the betrayal of what he did, and I definitely cannot become some tarnished femme willing to have someone else’s mate just because she can’t physically be here. It makes me sick to my stomach that he would even ask that of me. Love means nothing when you are mate bonded to another. It’s against the rules, the pack laws, and my moral code. I deserve more.
“So, what now? Alora is in danger if Juan now knows she’s here. He may try to pull together enough wolves to attack the homestead!” Mateo breaks the silence, bringing all eyes to him as he nestles in the armchair. His words get me out of my thoughts, and I sit up on one elbow to look at him. My gut swirled a little, and anxiety set in that my being here might just endanger everyone I love. More so than already, and I can’t predict if that’s true.
“No. My mom life-linked to her. If anything happens to Alora, then my mom dies too, and as she’s still bonded to my dad, it’ll be his end. He’s crazy but not stupid. He’d never jeopardize his own life. He won’t attack because we outnumber him in terms of warriors, and he already lost at the mountain. There’s no point in trying to get them back now. He knows we have the truth, and soon we’ll spread it among our pack to let it free. Containing it won’t be his goal anymore, as he can’t turn back time. The only threat now is Alora rising to fulfill the prophecy that he can’t do a damn thing about. We protect her. We keep her close within our circle, the same as the rest of us. We shield her and my mom. They’re the two most important people in this, and to me.” Colton turns and leans against the mantle and exhales heavily. Fatigue is showing on his face. His pallor is pale with dark smudges under his lower lids, his body sagging instead of the usually confident, strong, and tall posture. He catches my eye across the room over the heads of those on the couch and gives me that soft smile that makes my heart giddy and my insides erupt in fluttering butterflies. I look away quickly, my face flushing with the stupid reaction, and lie back down to avoid his eyes on me. I don’t want to constantly feel his pull, sending my body into crazy spins and tingles. I want to sleep and not feel and not be torn every second with this gnawing ache for him.
“Right now, all we have is time to kill. It’ll be a couple of days before we know how much recovery Sierra will need. It may be weeks before either of you is unbound. For now, we need to spread this among the pack and let them decide whose side they are on. Hybrids have always been a secret, and now their leaders are mixes of the enemies they hold within them. The pack needs to know everything, and after, those who are still here, and choose to stay, can never hold it against any of us again—we are who we are.” Meadow gets up and stands beside Colton, turning to the rest of the pack and drawing my eye back across the room at them from my horizontal position. What she says makes perfect sense, yet it’s utterly terrifying.
Outing everything to the rest of the pack. Telling them what I am, what he is, what they are, and opening all out and laying it bare for them to choose which side they want to follow. We may lose everyone. There has never been an outpouring of such honesty among this pack for decades under Juan’s rule. Some may not want to accept the truth.
“We give them a choice, and until my mom wakes up, to decide. Stay and accept Alora and me or go back to the mountain to my dad, whom they might deem their true Alpha if they think I’m impure. From now on, no more secrets. We let the Shaman teach what he knows to be true in the school hall, and whoever wants to know can join in.” Colton’s voice is hoarse, with a husky undertone of fatigue, and he rubs his hand over the back of his neck, rolling his shoulders before exhaling heavily. A sign he’s stressing about this choice, but he knows it’s inevitable. His intentions are the right thing, but there’s apprehension in him and fear the pack will up and leave when they see what he is. What I am.
“Let’s get to it at first light. We can split up and project in small groups at a time. Let them pass it on. Won’t take long to cover the entire pack and spread the memories. That gives us the whole day to get through them, but we should all sleep right now. We’ve had a long night, and the new patrols are doing the walks already. We need rest.” Meadow claps her hands to get everyone up. The heavy mood and simmering anger at the lies they were drip-fed their whole lives hang like smog in the air. It’s so thick and dense you could cut it with a knife.
The subs are angry, hurt, and confused, but one thing is clear,
it didn’t change the loyalty or love within any of them, and through all the emotions swirling in this room, one stands out the strongest. The unity and devotion they have for one another. The sense of solidarity that shows every one of them is one hundred percent behind Colton with whatever he wants to do. That’s a real pack, that’s the bond of family, and I know I’m not officially one of them, but they make me feel as though I am. They’re my pack. No matter what happens with Colton, they’re not going to lose me a second time. I need these people.
One by one, they stand and shuffle out of the room, some of them stopping to fist bump Colton in that same bro way they have with one another and then wave my way. I sit up properly, pulling myself to the edge of the bed to stand and find out where I should go, but Colton’s voice in my head stills me.
Stay put. You look beat and need the rest. This room is fine, and no one will come in here without my say-so.
His voice inside my head is always that aching wave of intimacy yet sorrow, and all I can do is nod his way and avoid direct eye contact. I’m too exhausted for any more emotional head mess, and I can still feel his lips lingering on mine from his kiss earlier, tingling softly, reminding me that for him, I’m stupidly weak, especially when I’m this tired.
I flop back down, glad I don’t have to find the energy to go anywhere, but at the same time, I feel a little disorientated at the thought of staying here by myself. I’ve been alone for weeks, knowing only solitude, sounds of nature, and the wilds. Now, here I am, thrust back into civilization and tossed around for the last twenty-four hours in bizarre and noisy chaos, and I haven’t had a moment to re-acclimatize or even catch my breath. It’s all a chaotic mess of craziness, and now, with the opportunity to lie back and let it sink in, it seems terrifying. I depend on their company to keep me sane and stop my mind wandering, and I’m not sure I want to be alone anymore. I think I had my fill of it in the forests. I stop him from leaving as I’m reminded of the never-ending loneliness I experienced.
“Where will you be?” I sound as desperate as I feel, blurting out a delaying tactic, and I scold myself for the neediness. Having no answers and direction other than just waiting is like pulling the rug out from under you. It doesn't feel very good, and he’s been the constant and stable, wise words in all of this. Right from day one, and at the moment, I need it. I guess I feel out of whack and set adrift now all my plans were upended, and life got utterly side-tracked.
“Across the hall in the infirmary with my mom. You can have this room until we figure things out. If you need me, link me, and I’ll come back.” He throws me that sexy, genuine smile, his voice low and fading because he, too, is exhausted.
“This is your room?” I blanch, wondering why the Alpha of the pack isn’t upstairs in a grand suite as is standard within a pack manor. Now I also feel guilty that I’m taking his bed when he needs it and also a little worried that he’s setting me up in his room because he might think he can wear me down and start something in time.
“Yeah, space is at a premium. With many families needing bigger rooms, it wouldn’t have been right to monopolize one when I can put a bed in here and double up the communal and my room. It’s not like I sleep in here much. Plus, with all the building work outback as they construct small homes, we’ll soon move a lot of the pack out into the forest we’re clearing behind us. This is all temporary while getting this place ready to be our permanent home. You need it more than I do.” It all sounds so plausible and logical, and I can’t help gazing at who he’s become, somehow seeing him in a new light.
In just a few weeks, he’s grown so much, and the needs of his people have taken the forefront of his priorities, as they should. There’s a new level of seriousness and command to him, a hint of maturity beyond his years, and all it does is weigh me down heavily. Liking this about him, but that just makes it hurt more. Colton is everything I would ever want in a mate, and it just kills me, ripping my insides apart, that he gave up on me.
I glance at the window as though trying to see out into the darkness at the building work being carried out, but really, it’s an excuse to break away from the way his eyes are holding me hostage, and I’m suddenly on the verge of stupid tears. The burning intensity of them is pooling in my eyes, and I have to swallow hard and blink them away to regain control. That same lingering need coming from him gnaws at my soul constantly, and I lose my courage, sounding feeble as I utter a few words breathlessly.
“I could use something to sleep in.” I hesitate, knowing it’s a lie and I could just strip off, but something in me doesn’t want him to leave yet, even if it’s just prolonging the agony and making me feel worse. Since I came back, we haven’t separated properly for any length of time, and now I’m experiencing some crazy anxiety about him leaving when I feel like there’s still so much left unsaid, unresolved. He’s the anchor in my boat, and I’m on a stormy sea. I need to break this dependency on him if I’m to survive here from now on.
The whole Carmen thing, saying he still wants us, kissing me outside, Sierra, the Doctor … the future. It’s too big for me to handle or think about, and my brain is scared that letting him leave will open a dam in my brain that I have no energy to deal with. He already has me teetering on an emotional breakdown with tears threatening to spill out.
“The middle cupboard has everything you need. I wasn’t about to leave any part of you behind because I wouldn’t rest until we found you. Sweet dreams, baby.” What he says confuses me enough to distract me completely, screwing my face up in confusion as he walks out the door. Too focused on discovering and already climbing off the bed to open the oversized wooden cabinet to see what he meant.
Much to my shock, every item I left in my room at the packhouse is in here, folded neatly, stacked up, and waiting for me to reclaim it. From clothing to shoes to my boxes of sentimental items and keepsakes. All has its place and fits neatly, taking over an entire cupboard in Colton’s room.
My hands tremble as I reach out and touch the first of my sweaters, my legs turning to Jell-O, and a wave of lightheadedness because of my extreme reaction to something so basic. A lump forms in my throat that almost chokes me, and tears sting my eyes with venom, and I know I won’t be able to hold them back for long. My emotions suddenly become nosedive, and I cough on a sob trying to escape my throat.
I don’t know why this gets to me so badly, but it does. He took care of my things, hoping he would bring me back here one day. The fact he took the time to pack up everything that was mine so carefully and brought it when they all left the packhouse together. They must have had limited time to pack, considering they were going under hostile terms and had to get out, yet he made sure he left nothing of mine in that place. It’s all here. Every single thing that I never knew I missed until now. All clean pressed and set in here with almost military precision.
I try not to ponder on it, push it out of my head, and focus on a task of doing instead of thinking. It’s all I can do if I don’t want to succumb to these overwhelming feelings and all the questions about Carmen. Doubting myself and what I felt in the forest, but there’s nothing else to explain what that was. It had to be him marking her or betraying our bond in another way. Nothing can compare to the level of pain, heartbreak, and betrayal I felt, and I should remind myself of that and not get lost in him as he tries to win me around. I need to stay true to the fact and ignore how much I still love him. How every sense, and fiber in my soul, aches to be reunited with him in even the most minor ways.
I inhale heavily to self-calm and level myself out, shake my head and give myself an internal rattle to snap out of this. I haul out the oversized nightshirt that Meadow gifted me, my all-time favorite, and underwear, and quickly strip, loving the feel of soft, delicate lingerie and a basic cozy and loose T-shirt printed with delicate pastel florals over gray sweats any day. It’s the little things that can restore you in weird ways.
I yank out my toiletries bag and find my hairbrush, facial wipes, and self-grooming products I left behind, as they were too heavy to carry, and start to put myself to rights. There’s a mirror over the mantle, and it’s only now I can see how grubby and worn I am. I look like a hobo who hasn’t seen water in weeks, and my hair is a dull brown because it’s so dirty.
Meadow was right, though; I do look different. My hair is longer, my face slimmer, and I have aged a little in my time in the wilds. My green eyes seem brighter. The color is more intense. My skin tanned gently from being outside all the time, and I have a natural rosy glow to my cheeks, nose, and forehead that has brought out a few light freckles. I seem taller, but I think I stand differently now. Upright, almost proud, and the small amount of growth my hair has had, makes all the difference. Even dirty, the layers are softer and hang around my face and past my shoulders in a much more flattering style than how the orphanage used to cut it. I like this look, and I might just let it grow out fully.
I clean my skin, brush out my hair as best I can, and find all manner of debris and twigs in the knots. I feel grubby now I have clean pastel clothes against my skin and try to make myself presentable while contemplating linking Colton to ask if he has a bathtub nearby. Although it’s late and I’m tired, maybe I should just clean up, sleep, and worry about bathing in the morning.
It feels good to cleanse some of the grime off with wipes, and I look around for a means to brush my teeth, as that in itself will make a massive difference to how gross I feel. I wander around looking for a water jug or something I could use and stumble upon a door I previously missed because it’s stained the exact color of the surrounding wood. There is a small door in the corner, next to the desk, tucked in and narrow, to the right of the last cupboard, and almost entirely concealed. I open it hoping to find something useful. It slides open behind the wardrobe to reveal a tiny bathroom, to my delight.
A shower looks newly installed with an array of toiletries in a basket sitting within, some towels hanging at the side, and a fluffy mat on the floor that hints this is where he gets ready most days. The air smells faintly of sealant and paint as though this was a recent conversion, and I guess that makes sense if Colton had this room repurposed. He can get up, shower, and get ready here without going to find an available bathroom. There’s a small washbasin and toilet fitted into the space snugly, but not so much that it’s crammed. I strip back off without hesitation, the urge to jump right in with the desire and need to be clean and hygienic once more overtaking tiredness.
Outside living is great when you’re outside, but it makes you feel yuck once you’re back among people and cleanliness. As I slide under hot water from powerful jets, this right now is as close to heaven as I’ve been in a while. I close my eyes, tilt my face up at the jet, and let it wash over, cascading all my worries and aches away with the goodness only a hot shower can bring.
Hot water, soap, and shampoo. It all feels fantastic to be back in civilization with real home comforts. No more river washes or using stones to scrub my clothes, and plain water to brush my teeth that always had a faint trace of fishiness. I can lie to myself every day and say that I was doing great out there and would happily have existed that way for eternity, but one shower unravels all of it. The bed is calling to me, soft sheets and springy mattress, and being able to walk barefoot on smooth carpeted surfaces and not having to choke half to death on fire smoke to get any kind of light in the darkness. I was never built to live truly off-grid and isolated, and being back here highlights all of it.
I spend a good forty-five minutes scrubbing every inch of my body and lathering up the shower products deliciously. They smell like Colton, but I don’t mind it at all. It’s comforting, familiar, much like his presence always is. He always smells good; citrus-fresh, with subtle undertones of musk. An enticing, heady scent that ignites so many memories of being close to him at just smelling his products. On me, it’s maybe a little masculine, but it’s better than woodland damp and stale river water. It makes me feel human again, although it kills any urge to sleep and revives my energy levels, which maybe I shouldn’t have done.
I brush my teeth when I get out, oddly obsessed with peppermint toothpaste now I get to use it again and redo my teeth four times just because I can. Running my tongue over shiny, smooth enamel and the breathy fresh taste when I inhale. I brush out my damp hair after I rub it almost dry with the soft towels hanging nearby and cover my body from head to foot in the lotion from my bag that smells like tropical fruit, trying to smell female again. It does a great job blending with Colton’s scents, and I end up sort of pineapple scented and smelling somewhat edible. I quickly redress in my underwear and nightshirt and revel in how good clean feels. There’s no comparison to this kind of sensation.
I feel a thousand times better and hurry back to my cupboard to find thick fluffy bed socks for my now soft and supple feet and climb on the bed to braid the front of my hair to keep it off my face. The layers are long enough now, and always falling in front of my eyes, so I French braid across the front and down one side of my face with a little rubber band from my bag.
I hop up to admire myself in the mirror once more, and the difference it makes is impressive. Radiant and squeaky clean; my skin flawless in its sun-kissed beauty and glowing. My hair is lighter and shinier now I’ve stripped the filth out, and the natural highlights of my blonde are softly shining through. The style frames my face and draws attention to my now slimmer cheekbones and long neck.
I look less like a child and way more woman, and I can’t help the little confidence boost it gives me. My green eyes shine brightly back at me, despite hints of dark circles under my eyes, but overall, I look pretty. I never used to think I was anything of the sort, but now I see it. I’m finally seeing what Colton sees, and it’s not a girl anymore or a shy feeble little no one who used to cower away from all Santos. I now stand tall, with my chin tilted up, and there’s more presence in my posture than before. A look in my eyes says ‘fierce’ because I’ve lived through some amount of shit so far already, and no one will push me back in the shadows. I have fuller lips, a defined bone structure, and a better length of hair that suits my face shape. I could give Carmen a run for her money looking like this, and honestly, side by side, I’d put my bets on me. It’s weird to appreciate myself this way, finally.
I scan the room, aware that now I have this boost, I no longer want to lie on the bed, and the wildfire in me is up and revving inside. I don’t want to lie down until my hair dries anyway, and I now have the urge to check on Sierra and see how she’s settled. Colton looked tired, so maybe I should offer to swap. Sit by his mom while he sleeps in here and gets some much-needed rest. We are sharing, sort of, so maybe we could alternate, and when one uses it, the other stays with Sierra until we figure something else out.
I’m sure the only thing to sleep on in there is a couch unless they have more beds on wheels to give him, and I make up my mind that it’s the only thing to do. He’s essential to the pack, and I’m not really, not right now anyway. He should rest well, in an actual bed, in his own room, and I think I want to sit by Sierra for a little while, surrounded by noise and movement, like I was in the forest, until I feel calmer about being back among everyday life. I need a transition period.
I check myself over once more as my nightshirt slides off one shoulder, exposing soft, peachy skin, and try to figure out if this is modest enough attire to walk around the homestead. I’m covered, and the shirt is almost to my knees and not thin enough to see through. It’s baggy and pretty shapeless, but it does cling to my breasts as it keeps sliding down off my left shoulder so that I don’t look frumpy in it. There’s a peek of shadow from my navy underwear, but it’s a shirt overall. I don’t need to get dressed. Not really.
With my mind made up, I pad out into the hall, clicking the door closed quietly behind me, and realize how quiet this place is at this hour. It must be after midnight for sure, but I can’t be certain and tiptoe down the dimly lit hall towards the door we took Sierra through earlier so as not to make any noise and disturb people who may be close by.
I know where the infirmary is, and I don’t hesitate to click open the door and slide into the extra hallway that shields the infirmary from people walking in, the airy box area painted white with gray vinyl floor. I make my way through that second door to the double doors with windows, and through the glass, I can see Colton sitting by her side, reading a book to her. His back to me and tilted down towards her at his side. I can make out his profile and the book perched on the side of her bed.
Doc is asleep on a bed in the corner, looking utterly comatose with a blanket thrown over him, and the femme medic is standing off to one side at a counter and doing something. I guess she’s on night duty while Doc sleeps. There’s no one else there, and the lights are low, so the only brightness comes from the medic at her workstation. The rest is dim, even where Colton sits, and I can barely make out the low hum of his voice as he talks to her.
I click the door open as quietly as I can and move in quickly and silently, but he seems to know and immediately looks my way, catching my eye and then sliding his vision up and down me with an appreciative half-smile as he does.
You look knockout and much like the old you. Although, why aren’t you in bed?
He mind-links me, and, despite myself, I blush and make my way to him to stand beside him at the bed. Trying to ignore the rise in heart rate and how overly aware I seem to be now that I’m back beside him, wearing noticeably thinner clothing, so his body heat warms me by being close.
I couldn’t sleep and figured you might want the bed, and I could stay with her.
Colton shifts in his seat and turns so he faces my way and hauls over another stool next to him and pats it for me to sit.
“I don’t want to leave her just yet. Sit with me; keep me company.” He locks a look on my face; that half-smile melts me with those overly cute dimples that set my belly alight. I slide onto the seat immediately, too swayed by that face and hating myself for the obedience, knowing it’s probably stupid to cozy up beside him in the middle of the night, given the last time we got so close in here. Still, something inside me is urging me to stay with him. The desire is more potent than my will, and even though I try to sit away slightly, once he turns back to his mom, his shoulder and arm fit snugly against me and make me tremble with the effects of his touch. That awareness zooming back in, and every inch of my skin tingles in recognition of his body heat, betraying me.
“What are you reading her?” I ask, focusing on something else and pushing him out of my mind, ignoring my traitorous body, and trying so desperately to breathe normally as my breaths get shallow. I hush my voice so as not to disturb the sleeping doc, and it covers how breathless I’ve become while this close to him in such an intimate setting.
“Lady Chatterley. When I was young, it was her favorite book, she always read it in the garden while she watched me play, so I figured maybe she might like it. The doc says she might be able to hear us, so I don’t know … maybe it’s stupid.” Colton reverts to that boy once more, the one I met and knew all these years, and it tugs at my heartstrings so deeply I just have to touch him.
“It’s not stupid. It’s sweet and shows her you love her. If she is aware, then it’s probably nice to hear your voice and a story instead of noise and chaos and feeling ignored. I can’t imagine what she’s gone through.” The tugging of my heart pushes me to lean against him and lay my head on his shoulder impulsively, seeking to be soothed. Fitting like he was made to have me curl up beside him, and he readjusts his position, so I slot right in at him, resting his cheek against the top of my head. Much like me, it seems anytime I’m close or touch him, he also has to respond to the pull and always touches me back. I hate that even when we’re no longer allowed or able to be together, our need to be this way overpowers everything else. It stirs up so much ache inside me and brings that awful choking sensation back to my throat.
I’m torn in my sadness for Sierra and driven by the force of his pull whenever he’s close. I know I’m betraying myself by initiating the touch, and I’m trying hard to fight it. Colton is too easy and too inviting, like a safe harbor that calls to me to shelter from the cruel world, especially when I’m feeling vulnerable, and tonight, this was probably a bad idea. I’ve had no real sleep, my emotions are all over the place, and I’m too tired to fight any of it.
“Maybe we can stay here like this until she wakes up, and I can stop thinking or feeling and just take a minute.” Colton’s voice is as soft as mine, hushed, and his breath tickles my forehead as he utters the words. Igniting goosebumps and all sorts of crazy feelings and thoughts at his suggestion. To sit here with him like this for two days and ignore everything, pretend for a little while that this is all we need to care about. Cuddling up doesn’t sound wholly awful. It sounds like stealing a few last moments before reality sets in, and I can’t say I’m against it. Pretending for a little while that we’re okay and there’s nothing wrong with his touch.
Colton takes my silence as an agreement and reaches out and flips over the page of the book as though he intends to start reading to her again. It pushes me to curl up against him all the more, settling in to listen and mentally chastising myself to pretend this is a frozen moment. Where nothing matters except listening to him read and watching her sleep.
“My two favorite girls. What more could I want?” Colton slides his arm from between us and instead lassoes it around me and pulls me in against his chest, fully igniting that sense of safety and security. I melt and give up completely, sinking into his embrace and blotting out all the noise coming from my brain, all the words of warning and refusals. I want to be held by him and cherish this moment if I need to get through the rest of my life watching him bonded to someone else.
His hand on the book slides away, and he places it on Sierra’s forehead instead, gently stroking her hair back and then resting lightly on her hairline as he leans in to see the words on the pages. I pull my feet up on the bar of the stool and drop my knees against his, drawing warmth in every area of my body now, sliding one arm behind him and making the most of allowing myself to be immersed in his body. I reach out gently and touch Sierra’s hand as instinct takes over; the need to let her know I’m here too is all-consuming for some unknown reason. The sudden compulsion to connect to her somehow complete this little circle we have going on.
“She’s so very beautiful. You look like your ….”
My words die on my lips as my fingers slide over hers, and I capture her hand in mine. A warming sensation travels from my fingertips, and something crazy happens to me. My mind jolts with the force of an electric zap that yanks me closer to the bed, and I almost tumble out of Colton’s arms, but he catches me, hauling me tight to him.
I gasp out loud as my brain somehow loses control of all its faculties, my vision whites out, blinding me insanely, so that I grab hold of his leg with my one free hand to steady myself and lose all ability to hear, feel, or see. The only sensation I’m aware of is the burning connection from Sierra’s hand to mine and the same burn coming through Colton’s arm around my waist. The touch connects the three of us, consuming me until I can’t fight it.
I entirely blank out, losing all sense of everything. I can’t open my eyes or feel my limbs like I’m a mass of unconnected thoughts with no physical form. It all slips away like trying to hold water with your fingertips, her, her, the room, and all I can do is ride with it.
I try to take a breath, but even that seems futile as I’m nothing, lingering in airless space, finding myself in darkness so eerie, yet familiar, as sounds and smells filter through and bring brief moments of time to the surface. It's distant at first, as though traveling along a tunnel and they’re at the other end battling through a fog. They’re not the infirmary; they’re something else that tugs at my memory bank and draws me back in time as I fall into a memory I never knew I had.
The smells of summer pushes me into a brighter place, and I blink and slowly open my eyes, suddenly aware of touch and sensation as I regain complete control of my limbs, but there’s no one here with me. Colton isn’t here. I can’t feel or sense him, and I seem to be in another space entirely. In a room, lying down, one that haunts me from the past. I lift my hand to touch my face and gauge the reality of what I’m seeing, and I’m startled to see it’s so tiny and childlike. I blink some more to clear the fogginess so I can look again.
Everything comes into focus slowly; it fades back in, and I know immediately where I am. The small makeshift attic room, hastily painted pink by the family that took on a child whose own had gone to battle. I’m back in the temporary space of my guardian family, back when my parents went to war. The cozy bed, the painted dressers, and my ragdoll, Annie, sits on the side of my bed, watching me in my slumber. It brings back so many mixed emotions and memories, but none I can ever recall like this. This seems new, yet everything is here and precisely as I remember.
It's dull, nighttime, although it’s not complete darkness, so it must be summer, and I know I’m supposed to be asleep, but something stirred me from my dreams of my mother and father running through our meadow in a game of tag. My senses alert me to the window in the far corner, and I watch in terrified silence; a vulnerable child. Something begins to climb through with precise movements and silent intent. My heart hitches, racing and pulsing so profoundly I feel it may rip from my chest. Frozen in terror, unable to cry out for fear that the monster climbing in may see me if I make a noise.
The dark, shadowy figure, wearing a large, heavy, black cloak with the hood pulled up to mask their identity, slides up the unlocked panel of glass and slowly and carefully climbs inside, pulling their heavy robes with them, and almost soundlessly lands on the space in front of my window. I resist the urge to pull the covers over my head, my blood running cold with the terror of what is here, panic enveloping me as I try to call out for my caregiver in youthful hysteria.
“Don’t be afraid, little one. Hush now!” The female voice comes from under the hood, silencing me mid-scream with its familiarity and a raised palm. I’m startled into silence because I know her. I recognize her smell, sound, and presence as it calms me, and she turns towards me entirely. All I can see are two electric blue, glowing orbs from the dark shadow of her hood as she looks directly at me. Her eyes are mesmerizing, and I’ve never seen such a color before.
“You know me, Alora. I’m here to protect you. I’m Luna Sierra Santo. I come as a friend of your mother’s. Be still now. I have much to do.”