Chapter 7

I am sure Edric came back some time during the early morning hours, but he’s not here when I wake up. I can smell his scent lingering in the air, and I find clean clothes hanging in the bathroom. A dress. I pull a disgusted face at the outfit. I haven’t worn a dress since my sixteenth birthday party, almost five years ago if I have my dates right, and the thought of wearing the frilly, flowery monstrosity fill me with a strange kind of anxiety.

I used to love getting dolled up in pretty dresses. My mother helping me to do my hair and make-up, always smiling proudly when we were done, telling me how beautiful I looked. My little sister sitting on the bed, watching me with big, awestruck eyes, saying, “One day, I want to be just like you, Maya.”

Thinking about my mother makes me angry, and the memory of my sister fills me with sadness and longing. She’ll be about twelve now – I wonder if she still thinks about me. If she remembers me at all, and still wants to be like me.

I shower again, refusing to look in the mirror as I finish. I hate seeing myself with the blonde hair. The dress is too big on me, and it’s just a little too short for my liking, showing off more of my legs than I wanted strangers to see, but I guess this is as good as it’s gonna get. I really have to wash my few bits of clothing so I don’t need to wear anything like this again.

I don’t have shoes that go with the dress. Except for a pair of worn-out sneakers, I didn’t own any shoes. Going barefoot is just as easy, and has never bothered me anyway. I quickly run the brush through my hair and tie it up in a high ponytail. I honestly need to find some scissors and cut this shaggy mess, but I stopped caring about my hair years ago.

Edric still isn’t back by the time I’m done. To keep myself busy, I clumsily make the bed. It’s a mess, and the more I try to fix it, the worse it looks. You’d think making a bed is a skill that will stick with you forever, but apparently it isn’t.

I give up and look around the bedroom. On the opposite side of the bed are couches and armchairs arranged around a coffee table, and an unnecessarily big television against the wall. I haven’t willingly watched television in years, and I don’t plan on starting now – the noise drives me insane.

God, I’m fucking bored, but I’m too afraid to leave the bedroom – I don’t know what’s on the other side of the door. I wander out onto the balcony, a crisp breeze blowing up my skirt, making me feel horribly naked and exposed. I inhale deeply, drawing the fresh mountain air into my lungs.

Their territory is breath taking, hidden away in the mountains, with lush evergreens as far as the eye can see, and I catch just a glimpse of a sparkling mountain river in the distance. Large, sloping lawns surround the house, and neat cobbled paths lead off in all directions – some into the woods, others disappearing around the house to places I can’t see, but really want to explore. The whole place just screams peace ~ See? ~ my wolf pipes up. ~ It’s nice here. We can be happy here. Have a pack at last. ~

She is lonely, I know, but I don’t trust the status quo as easily as my wolf does. * Yes, * I finally agree. Iit’s nice here, but what do they want from us? No one’s just…kind for the sake of it. They usually want something in return. *

~ You don’t trust our mate. ~ It wasn’t a question. I hate that she knows what goes on in my head.

She’s only kind of right though. I do trust him. The problem is that I don’t want to trust him. More than anything, I fear that he’ll take my trust and twist it against me, yet I can’t stop it…ever since that moment he caught me in the forest, I knew that I’d trust him with my life, and that I would walk through fire for him. What’s infinitely more worrying is that I have no idea why I feel this way. I don’t like it. And why do I miss him? I’ve known him less than 24 hours.

Below, in the garden, I see a group of laughing young wolves carrying out tables and chairs, while others are dragging massive grills across the lawn. Everyone is so relaxed and…happy. They all look so harmless. I have been invited to stay…but why do I keep feeling like an intruder?

I want to leave. Get away from this place where I don’t fit and don’t belong.

~ You promised, ~ my wolf growls.

* We don’t belong here. *

~ You promised. ~

I can’t stay, and I can’t risk betraying my wolf – she may take revenge. I’m wedged nicely between a rock and a hard place. Angry and frustrated, I kick the railing, regretting it almost immediately as I hear my toes crack, and feel them break. I forgot that I’m not wearing shoes. It’s no big deal, I’ve broken bones before, and as these things go, a few broken toes are nothing.

Hobbling inside, I collapse on the nearest chair, and inspect my rapidly swelling toes. ~ Stupid, ~ my wolf mocks me and laughs.

* Oh shut up, * I grumble, close to tears.

It’s not the physical pain getting to me – it’s everything else. I felt this way the day my parents kicked me out. Alone, confused and so afraid. I stood outside our house for hours, just hoping and praying they’d change their minds, but when they didn’t come out and my siblings didn’t leave for school the next morning, I knew…I was all alone.

I still don’t understand how they could be so cruel – seeing me standing there and just ignoring me like I didn’t exist at all. Looking back, I’m surprised they didn’t start pelting me with rocks like I was some kind of stray dog.

~ We’re not alone anymore, ~ my wolf whispers.

* Yes, we are, we will always be alone. *

~ No. ~

I don’t want to talk to her. Usually she’s so quiet, and we can both pretend the other doesn’t exist, but ever since I came here, she’s been more talkative. More assertive. I don’t like it. I want her to go hide away in her hole so I can go back to pretending.

Lifting my injured foot, I rest it on my knee and inspect my blue-black toes. They’ll probably be healed by tomorrow, but right now the swollen, throbbing toes are annoying. I’ll have to step out of my current comfort zone and go find some ice. Or maybe see if I can find that attractive mountain stream I saw from the balcony. A swim in the ice-cold water would feel so good.

Getting up, I limp to the door. I’ll go find that the river – less chance of running into others, and less need to explain myself to them.

But of course Edric chooses that exact moment to come back. He looks me up and down, his golden eyes darkening when he sees my toes. “What did you do?”

“I kicked the railing.”

“Why?”

I shrug. I have no answer for him – how can I tell him I do stupid things when I get angry at my own stupid thoughts?

“Come on,” he sighs. “I’ll take you back to the clinic so Doc can--”

“No,” I interrupt. “I don’t need the doctor. It’ll heal on it’s own.”

“You know what will make it heal faster? If you shift. Go for a little run.”

“Absolutely not.”

He ruffles his dark hair, eyes flashing at me, and I can see he wants to say something, but he contains himself. “Fine. I came to fetch you to breakfast. Every last Saturday of the month, the pack gathers and we have a big cook-out together. It’s an all day, all night kind of thing.”

Shaking my head, I take a step back, forgetting about my broken toes and putting my full weight on them. Sharp pain shoot up my leg. I wince, but say nothing. The thought of spending the day surrounded by strangers, werewolf strangers, fills me with fear and anxiety. I don’t know how to be around people anymore, let along shifters. “No. I can’t. I’ll just stay here…”

“All day? By yourself?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t be silly. No one will care.”

“You don’t understand…”

“No, I don’t, but I know the answer isn’t locking yourself away. You have to come down. You are my mate. It’s your responsibility.”

“I didn’t ask for it.”

“Neither did I, but here we are….Sometimes, we don’t get to choose our own paths--” he holds his hand out to me-- “Come on, it will be fun, I promise.”

I don’t want to go. I don’t think it will be fun. I don’t want to be stared at and judged by a bunch of strange wolves. I don’t want to be surrounded by a pack of unknown, possibly dangerous shifters. I don’t want to answer all the questions they are sure to ask. I don’t want to, I don’t want to, I don’t want to …

Then why do I take his hand and go with him anyway?