by Alexis Davie
“You have to rest!” Sophia said, placing the mugs of coffee on the nightstand next to the bed before she ran over to Owen. “Your wound hasn’t healed yet—”
“Listen,” Owen interrupted. “I’m tired of sitting down, okay? And I’m even more tired of invading your bed and relegating you to your couch!”
“You’re not relegating me anywhere,” Sophia replied, dismissively waving her hand. “I can sleep just fine on the couch. You, on the other hand, are too tall for it, and I wouldn’t be able to change your bandages there anyway.”
Owen grunted to himself. He and Sophia had had this conversation a few times in the past two weeks, and she always insisted that she was fine sleeping on her couch. She wouldn’t let him argue with her about it, which both drove Owen crazy and made him admire her even more than he already did.
During the two weeks he had spent here, Owen had gotten to know his host a little better. Sophia was an only child, having lived in Evergreen Grove her entire life. She had grown up hearing the stories about shifters from her family, which she had always found strange.
“Like, it felt to me like they were trying too hard to make me believe them,” Sophia had mentioned.
“Perhaps your ancestors encountered shifters in the past,” Owen had offered.
“Yeah,” she’d said. “Yeah, maybe that’s what it was.”
Centuries ago, when humans came across shifters and kept their secret, the pack the shifters belonged to would be “indebted” to the humans and their families, creating a connection between them that would last for generations. Perhaps that was why Owen had let Sophia help him in the woods. Maybe the reason he had allowed this strange human girl to bring him back to her apartment was that his ancestors had once been indebted to hers. Maybe that was why he—
Owen had shaken his head before his mind could finish that particular train of thought. Instead, he had continued listening to Sophia tell him about herself.
Sophia’s parents had passed away after she had finished college, and she had started working as a waitress while she applied for other jobs. After a few months, she had gotten a job as a freelance artist, doing commissions and speed-painting videos of her work from the comfort of her own home. She had moved out of the house in which she had grown up and into this building, and she had befriended a girl who lived in the apartment above hers, with whom she occasionally hung out.
Owen had intently listened to Sophia’s stories. He laughed at her jokes and even cracked some of his own, which—more often than not—made Sophia almost double over with laughter. Most surprisingly of all, though, Owen had found himself telling Sophia about his own life. At first, her questions had annoyed him, and he had done everything to avoid answering them. After a few days though, Sophia had started telling him about herself and her trust in him—so open and so honest, unafraid of what he would think of her or what he would say—had made him want to answer her questions. Owen wanted to earn Sophia’s trust, to assure her that it wasn’t unfounded, that it wouldn’t be lost on him.
He had told her how he had split up from his pack as soon as he had come of age, desiring more than the pack could offer him. He had wanted to see the world, to be his own person, to not be tied to old customs and laws. When he had arrived at Evergreen Grove, Montana, he had been an exiled shifter, who hadn’t cared about leaving the only family he had ever known behind.
“I took everything for granted,” Owen had lamented. “I didn’t realize how important my pack was until I had lost them, and by then, it was too late.”
Sophia had gently placed her hand on top of his. She hadn’t said she was sorry or some other ridiculously hollow statement that Owen didn’t care to hear. She had just smiled sadly at him, understanding his loss through her own.
As kind and gentle as Sophia was, however, she was also infuriating, and Owen wasn’t going to let her keep him bedridden any longer.
“I’m tired of sitting down, Sophia,” he repeated to her now. “I feel like my legs won’t be able to hold my weight once my wound develops.” Sophia stood in front of him, and she crossed her arms over her chest. For a moment, it looked like she wouldn’t budge and would make Owen lie back down and continue resting, but then she sighed deeply, shaking her head.
“Fine,” she told him. “But I’m going to help you.”
“You don’t need—” Owen didn’t finish his sentence before Sophia went to his side, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling one of his around her neck so that he could lean on her.
“See? There we go,” she said, smiling up at him. “It’ll be easier for you to move around if there’s no danger of you falling.”
“I suppose,” he replied. Standing next to her, Owen noticed how much smaller she was than him. That doesn’t seem to matter when it comes to her determination, he thought.
He felt like his legs would buckle underneath him, but when he took the first step forward, Sophia did the same, adding more security and strength to his movements. He would have fallen down to the ground if Sophia hadn’t insisted on helping him, and that would’ve made his wound—which was nearly entirely healed by now, a full scar almost replacing it—open up again, undoing the past two weeks of Sophia’s care.
Sophia guided him out of her room and into the hallway that led to the rest of her apartment. “So,” she began. “Are you ever going to tell me how you got that stab wound?”
Owen was prepared to avoid her question—he had done an excellent job thus far, changing the subject whenever she asked about the gash on his side—but he didn’t have the energy, nor the will, to keep it hidden any longer.
“A few years ago,” he started, the pace of his steps slowing down, “a hunter tracked me down. He thought I was a regular wolf at first, but then I shifted without realizing he was there, and he became obsessed with me. I guess he thought he could kill two birds with one stone: proving shifters existed and getting rid of one at the same time. I was able to stay out of his radar, escaping from him whenever he got too close. I wanted to avoid engaging him, especially because I was planning on leaving Evergreen Grove, and I knew it wouldn’t be too long before he got bored of trying to chase me down.”
“You were going to leave Evergreen Grove?” Sophia asked him.
“Yes,” Owen said.
“I… I see…”
He glanced down at Sophia, and he was surprised to find her looking back at him with… sadness? Sophia quickly looked away, staring at their feet moving almost in sync.
No. No, it wasn’t sadness—she was probably glad that Owen would soon be out of her hair, and what Owen was seeing in her eyes was just wishful thinking on his part.
He cleared his throat. “I hadn’t seen him around for a while, so I assumed he had given up. I got careless.” Owen looked down at the bandage wrapped around his waist, at the patch covering his stab wound. “I was on my way out of town when he cornered me. I tried fighting him off, and I almost did, but then he stabbed me with a silver dagger—”
He winced, his side throbbing at the memory, and Sophia immediately stopped, her face filled with concern. “Are you okay? Here, we can sit down if you need to rest…”
“No, no,” Owen said, taking a deep breath through the pain. “I—I’m fine.” He exhaled softly, pulling himself together.
“Are you sure?” Sophia asked.
“Yeah,” he answered. “Whatever pain the silver dagger caused me, it’s worth it.”
She seemed taken aback by his words, because her next question was accompanied by a frown. “How can a stab wound be worth it?”
“At least now I know he won’t be able to hurt anyone else.”
Owen felt Sophia’s eyes on him, but he turned his head the other way. The hunter who had chased him for so long hadn’t been the first person Owen had ever killed, though remembering this didn’t alleviate his guilt over having to do it. He tried to focus on the fact that, like he had just told Sophia, the hunter wouldn’t go after any other shifters. Besides,
Owen wouldn’t have gone to such measures if he hadn’t been forced to do it—the only reason he was here now was because he had managed to get rid of his attacker.
And because of Sophia, he reminded himself.
Owen was so fixated on avoiding Sophia’s gaze that he didn’t watch where he was going, and he bumped into the corner of the coffee table in Sophia’s living room. He nearly fell down to the ground before Sophia tightened her grip around him and pulled him up, but they were so close together that she almost fell down as well. Owen wrapped his arms around her and pulled him to her, and he managed to keep the two of them standing by quickly moving to lean against the back of the couch.
“I’m sorry!” he hurriedly said. “I’m sorry. Are you…? Are you okay?” Sophia rested the palms of her hands on his chest and pushed herself away from him only enough to glance up at him.
“Y-yeah!” she answered. “Yes, I… I’m okay.” She stared at the patch on his waist. “And you? Your wound—?”
“It’s fine,” Owen assured her, noting the lack of blood staining the patch. It meant that the wound remained closed, continuing to scab over and scar. “See? It’s okay.”
“Oh, I’m glad,” Sophia sighed, smiling at him.
It was only until her smile faded that Owen realized his arms were still around her. He meant to step away from her, but when his hands moved to her hips, Sophia took a sharp breath, and Owen didn’t dare move another inch.
She was so… warm against him. Even though Owen wasn’t touching her neck or her wrist, he swore that he could feel her heartbeat, the strength of her will pounding in her chest. Her touch felt like fire, igniting every single nerve under Owen’s flesh, every single cell in his body. She could definitely feel his heartbeat beneath her palms, his skin thrumming under her fingertips.
A smidgen of self-consciousness invaded him when he remembered that he was shirtless—that he had been for as long as he had been here, since he only had the shirt he’d been wearing the night he’d met Sophia—but it vanished when he noticed that Sophia didn’t seem to mind. Her breathing had quickened, if the way her chest was rising and falling was any indication. She was staring at his mouth, her own lips parted softly, and when she looked up at him, Owen saw the blush on her cheeks, the way her pupils seemed to dilate, as she exhaled her breath in a rush.
Owen leaned his head down ever so slightly, giving Sophia the chance to push him away, or to turn her head away from him, but she didn’t. In fact, she leaned in, as well, her forehead almost pressed to Owen’s.
Don’t do this, he ordered himself. Don’t do this, Owen. Not to yourself, and not to her.
But he couldn’t deny the pull he felt towards Sophia. He couldn’t deny how drawn he felt to her, how drawn he had felt ever since he had first laid his eyes on her in that alleyway. There was a reason she had gone after him, and there was a reason he had let her help him.
She felt the same way he did.
Owen had caught her staring at him more times than he would like to admit, and he wasn’t stupid. She wanted this as much as he wanted it.
Perhaps Sophia’s ancestors had come across shifters in the past, and now she and Owen had found their way back to each other.
Sophia stood on her tiptoes, and her lips were nearly brushing Owen’s when he forced himself to pull away from her. He couldn’t do this to her. He couldn’t. He was still planning to leave Evergreen Grove, and even if he weren’t, he was more than twice her age, even by human standard. Sophia deserved someone better than him—someone who wasn’t a beast. Someone who wasn’t a monster.
“I…” Sophia dropped her hands from his chest, and when she stepped back, Owen let her go, tightening his hands into fists so that he wouldn’t reach out to her again. “Um… you should go back to rest.”
She avoided his gaze, and although Owen wanted her to look at him, it was best that she wasn’t. He didn’t want to think about what he would find in her eyes.
“I… I need some air. I’ll be back later.” Sophia turned away from him, and all Owen could do was stare at her retreating back, as she went to the door and left the apartment, her sudden absence aching almost as painfully as the gash on his side.
5
Sophia bit her lip and blinked back tears as she made her way through the woods. She needed to clear her head, and the forest had always made her feel better.
Why had Owen pulled away from her? He had been the first one to lean in, and Sophia had been so relieved that she hadn’t read the signs wrong, that Owen felt as drawn to her as she was to him. And yet… Sophia had wanted to kiss him, she had wanted him to kiss her, and yet he had also been the one to pull away.
She went through their last conversation, wondering if she had said or done something wrong. Had she pressured Owen into telling her about his encounter with the hunter? She had only asked him once, and Owen hadn’t avoided the question like he always had before. He had openly told her about it, and the only reason they hadn’t said anything else was because they had almost fallen to the floor. What else was there to it? What was Sophia missing? Was it that Owen had changed his mind about her? Had he pulled away because he’d realized he didn’t actually want to kiss her?
Stupid shifter, Sophia thought, wiping the unshed tears in her eyes. Then a sudden thought occurred to her, and she stopped in her tracks.
At least now I know he won’t be able to hurt anyone else, Owen had told her before their conversation had been cut short. He had glanced away, and Sophia had simply thought he didn’t want to talk more about it. But what if he had looked away because he was ashamed of what he had done? What if he thought Sophia was ashamed of him?
She wasn’t. She had been surprised to hear him say those words, of course, but Owen had clearly done what he had in self-defense. The hunter had had no qualms about killing him, and if Owen hadn’t fought back, Sophia would’ve never found him to begin with. Was that why he had pulled away? Did he… did he believe Sophia thought of him differently now that she knew he had killed someone who could’ve potentially hurt so many more?
If that was the reason for this ridiculous misunderstanding… oh, Sophia really ought to smack some sense into Owen.
Stupid shifter! she thought again, as she began her way back home.
* * *
When she crossed the door to her apartment—gasping for air after she had run up the flight of stairs to the second floor—she nearly ran straight into Owen, literally. He was standing a few feet away from the door, and his eyes widened when he saw her.
“Hey!” Sophia said, closing the door behind her. “I—” Her words died in her throat when she noticed that Owen was wearing his previously bloodstained shirt, which Sophia had washed and dried for him to wear when he healed and finally left. Did… did that mean…? “You’re leaving?” Owen nodded his head, and Sophia felt the breath escape her lungs. “B-but what about your wound? It still hasn’t finished healing, has it?”
“No,” he answered. “But it’s a scab nonetheless, and it’ll finish healing entirely soon enough. Besides, I’ve stayed longer than I should’ve. You have already done so much for me, and I can’t keep disrupting your life.”
“Disrupting my…” Sophia shook her head. “What are you talking about? You haven’t disrupted anything.”
“I can’t stay here forever.”
“Why not?”
“Because you don’t need a monster like me hovering above you and invading your home,” Owen said.
Sophia held back a frustrated groan. “Is this about the stupid couch thing? Because seriously, Owen, I don’t mind you sleeping on my bed, you’re too tall for the couch—”
“Sophia.” Owen closed the distance between them, and he softly cupped Sophia’s head with his hands. She leaned into his touch, feeling like she could melt against him. “If I don’t leave now,” he murmured, “I won’t be able to force myself to walk away from you.”
“What if I don’t want you to leave?” Sophia demanded, her finger
s wrapping around his wrists.
“You deserve someone better than me.”
“What if I don’t want someone better?” Owen opened his mouth to say something else, but she went on before he could argue. “What if… what if you coming into my life is the best thing that’s ever happened to me? What if I want you to stay?” She stared down at their feet, gathering her courage. She couldn’t back down now—not if she wanted them to have a chance. “I… I won’t stop you if you really want to go, but… but I would really like it if… if you stayed. Here. With me. I’m serious, Owen, I—I don’t want anyone else. I just want you.”
For a moment, there was nothing but silence, and Sophia forced herself to keep breathing, awaiting an answer, whatever it might be. Then Owen was lifting her head to stare into her eyes, his thumbs gently caressing her cheeks.
“Are you sure that’s what you want?” he asked, and there was a hint of a smile curling the corners of his lips. “Because this is your last chance to get rid of me.”
Sophia laughed, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill down her eyes. “You already walked away from me once. If you think I’m letting you do it again, you’re sorely mistaken.”
Owen grinned, his dark eyes twinkling with amusement. “If you’ll have me, I’ll never walk away from you again.” He started leaning in towards her, the same way he had done only a few hours ago, except that he didn’t pull away this time, and Sophia’s lips finally met his.
His stubble hadn’t grown much in the past two weeks—which was a bit ironic, since most people thought werewolves were really hairy—though it still slightly tickled Sophia, causing every nerve in her body to stand on edge, and she pushed her mouth against Owen’s, kissing him more deeply. Owen gasped into the kiss, his tongue pushing against Sophia’s parted lips to lick into her mouth, and she threw her arms around his neck, pressing herself to him, pressing her body as closely as she could to his while she threaded her fingers through his gray hair.