by Sam Hall
“No…” I gasped, my mouth hanging open. Tears pricked at my eyes, and I could barely feel my face. “No,” I said much louder, my eyes narrowing as I glanced away from the beast as he whined, wagged his tail, and then trotted over, putting his muzzle on the bed beside me. “No,” I cried, my voice cracking on the words, shattering to a million pieces.
He, we are Tirian, the voice in my head said. We will turn on the full moon and run with our pack.
No! I shouted back, but a pair of green eyes met mine in my mind’s eye, completely implacable.
The line remains unbroken.
7
“I need to go, now,” I said.
I started unsnapping the cords that connected me to the monitor, yanking sticky sensors off when they didn’t come automatically. My gown gaped, but as public nudity was apparently no big thing, I couldn’t afford to focus on that. I clambered out of bed, fighting to get free of the bedclothes, people gasping when I stumbled. Muscles that had been fuelled by a steady diet of adrenalin after Rick beat the shit out of me had had a couple of days to seize up and weaken. The floor rushed up towards me, my second face plant of the week imminent, when a strong pair of hands caught me. They drew me up, put me on my feet, and then withdrew, and I half wished they hadn’t.
This was the point where I should have called for my son, in a clear but firm voice, grabbed him and our stuff, and made a beeline for the car, wherever that was. Instead, I froze, looking around me. Jules and Ophelia looked resigned but unhappy, Aidan wriggled into his jeans, now back in human form, and Peter? He waited. He didn’t move to stop me, to block me, hem me in.
Of course, not. He is your mate.
My…what had they called it, the wolf thing? Tirian, that was it. She sounded almost offended by the idea.
So, what? I can walk out of here, and he’ll let me?
He’ll help you. That’s what mates do.
As if to confirm that, he reached into his pocket and produced a ring of keys. He pulled off a car key and placed it in my hand, closing my fingers around it.
“Big, white, Toyota ute, out the front,” he said.
“Pete—” Aidan said, but the man himself just shook his head, his eyes never leaving mine. He patted my hand and then stepped back.
I just blinked, unable to process any of what had just happened.
We are home. We are safe. The cub is safe.
I rolled the key around in my hand, feeling the pulsing need to run, just not sure where to.
I looked at Peter, saw him watching every single waver, not stepping in but ready to do so if I faltered. Ophelia and Jules now stood on either side of the bed, giving me a clear path out. And Aidan? He waited with his arms crossed over his chest, the muscles tense, as if he was holding himself back from moving forward.
Go to him, your mate, my Tirian insisted.
I could feel her shift inside me, as if she would make the move if I didn’t.
I don’t know him.
How will you?
You can’t force this. You can’t make me start a relationship with someone new days after I left my husband.
This pulled a growl from her.
That was no relationship; he was no mate. You have been mateless for many years; you just hadn’t left yet.
Peter moved in closer, slowly, cautiously, like one would with a wild animal. When I didn’t move away, he placed a hand on my arm, then stopped when I flinched a little.
He’s getting me used to him, I thought with an uncertain little laugh inside my head.
Of course.
Emboldened, he slid his hand up to my shoulder, then added his other hand. I knew where this was going, which was somehow reassuring and exotic. How long had it been since someone touched me like this, just pleasant, warm, sweet caresses? My breath caught in my chest, a great fucking lump forming there as he finished his move, those massive arms going around me and pulling me back against him. Something inside me rankled at the way I sagged into his embrace, assigning him with the duty of holding me up. And he did. I felt the weight of his head resting against mine, the slight tremor in his arms that told me this wasn’t entirely a relaxing thing for him anyway, and then I closed my eyes.
I pulled away eventually, but it had taken some effort. I looked Peter over speculatively. There was something about him, about his gentleness, his size, that made me want to just dive on into him, lose myself in all that warm intensity. And he’d let me, I realised. We’d barely spoken two words to each other, but the way he let me go reluctantly—respecting my wishes, but letting me know I’d be welcome back at any point—was just dizzying.
This was a guy who’d have no problem establishing himself a lucrative career as a male stripper. Like his body was a rock of hard muscle, and he had that kind of square jawed, handsome face that just made women squee.
So what’s he doing with you then? I wondered, which only got me an irritated snort from my Tirian.
I’d earned myself a round of supportive smiles when I turned around, but I stepped back so my body pressed against Peter’s wider one when I pushed his keys back into his hand. Something rabidly hungry rose as his arm went around my waist, anchoring me against him, my breath coming to match his. It was a part of me that had craved this sort of contact for so long and had always been denied.
It felt so…indulgent, reckless, wanton, just letting someone touch me, comfort me without consequences, but right now, I couldn’t bring myself to walk away.
“I’d like to set you up in your own house in the married quarters,” Ophelia said with a gentle smile. “It will be your place. You will determine who stays and who goes within it.” Her gaze flicked from Aidan to beyond my head at Peter. “I think a routine and a safe space will go a long way to helping both you and your son.”
“That’s incredibly generous,” I said, frowning a little.
“Not at all. We couldn’t help you before all of this happened. Let us help you now.”
“Just be careful,” Hobbes had said as she went through my release paperwork. “Plenty of you ignore your body’s limitations due to all those lovely mate pheromones. It won’t help your recovery to push yourself. So…don’t rush into things.”
I glanced around the room, checking if that meant what I thought it meant, and if the uncomfortable looks were anything to go by, it did. I blinked, wavering on my feet, hanging onto Peter, but now I realised exactly that the word mate was both a noun and a verb.
“That won’t be a problem,” Peter said firmly. “She’s not ready, anyone can see that.”
“I’m glad that’s clear to everyone,” the doctor said, looking at both Peter and Aidan.
Both?
Most females take more than one mate, my Tirian replied.
Ohhh my god.
My brain went momentarily offline at that, unable to process anything else new. The doc gave me some medication and a litany of all the fractures they’d found, along with instructions to come and see her in a few days. And so we’d gathered up all the toys Kade was playing with, our stuff apparently already in the car, Ophelia, Jules, and Kiralee following behind in a little golf cart thing after they’d taken the girl home.
“Everyone belted in?” Aidan asked from the front of the car, Peter turning to take a long look, even after we’d all nodded our heads, and then off we went.
8
It was all kind of a blur, my first view of Sanctuary, but I saw a lot of tree-lined streets, pretty houses with big backyards, some with kid's play equipment in it. We pulled up at a large white house with a broad veranda, and then everyone got out.
When we walked in, there was a guy setting up a TV and DVD player and a woman spreading sheets over the beds. They smiled and were introduced to us, and I moved through the polite responses on automatic. I couldn’t have even told you what they looked like five minutes afterwards, my eyes remaining trained on the slight wrinkles on the white cotton. Kade looked happier when all of our gear was brought in. With the resilience
young kids seemed to have, he picked up his bag of toys and started to put them away on the shelves in the room he’d chosen.
“What’ve you got there, mate?” Aidan asked.
Well, that opened the floodgates. Kade took out his action figures one by one, explaining the various merits of each one.
“We’ll have to get your mum to take you down to movie night in a couple of days. We’re playing A New Hope again.”
“Really! Can we, Mum?”
I looked blankly at the two of them, so Aidan explained, “It’s a family thing. We screen a kid-friendly movie open air, and everyone sits on the grass and has a picnic. I could take the two of you if you like?”
“We’ll have to see,” I replied, something that had Kade whingeing, but better that than getting his hopes up. The cottage was nice. Airy and painted all in white, the big picture windows let light stream in, and beyond them, I could see there was a big fenced-in yard with a slide and jungle gym. God, it was tempting to just hide out here, process what I needed, and then plan for my next step.
This is home, my Tirian insisted.
And if it isn’t? I can’t let Kade put down roots before we’re ready.
Where is better for the cub, but here? No violence, no threats, plenty of help.
We’ll see.
“The fridge has been stocked full of food, as I asked,” Ophelia said. “But most of us go to the mess to eat our meals. I’d like to see you there…” She caught the tensing of my body. “When you’re ready.”
The concept of meeting a whole lot of strangers while I looked like this was unappetising, to say the least.
“The married mess hall is down here,” Jules said, pulling out a piece of paper that had a map of the community printed on it. “You can go to the single one here” —that got a rumble from Peter and Aidan— “but I wouldn’t advise it with a kid in tow. They get a bit wild over there.”
They were really trying, and I could see that. Jules was making everything clear and easy to understand, wanting to make sure I understood what my options were, and abstractedly, I appreciated the effort, but it felt like it was all going in one ear and out the other. I didn’t have any more space in my brain for additional information. She seemed to sense that, straightening up and sending a meaningful look at Ophelia.
“You need rest. Anything else you need help with, just send out a call on the walkie talkie,” Ophelia said, jerking her head at the black device hanging on the wall. “I’ll be back tomorrow to see how you are doing. Remember, this is your house, your rules. Everyone is here under your sufferance.”
And then I was left, bruised, battered, and aching, with two strange men in my house.
“Mum! They’ve got the whole Star Wars series here. Even the new one!” Kade said, looking through the DVD collection.
“You’re not watching the new series. It’s too mature for you.”
“But Muuuum…”
“Mate, the new ones are no good,” Aidan said, dropping down to his level. “The first series, that’s a classic. How about we put A New Hope on while Mum has a rest? She’s still not feeling great. Are you hungry?”
I saw my son nod mulishly.
“I asked them to get some of that nice yoghurt with the fruit in it that you liked,” Aidan said. “Tell you what, you sit down, and I’ll getcha a drink and a tub, and we’ll watch all three, back to back.”
I followed Aidan as he went to the fridge to pull out the food, observing every movement like some sort of ghost. Kade called out to him from the lounge room, talking about the movie they were about to watch. Aidan replied, perfectly naturally, like he’d been doing this for years.
He was taking over. This stranger was taking over looking after my kid.
“It’s OK, I’ve got this,” I said, intercepting him as he came out of the kitchen. “Thank you for helping while I was—”
“No problems. Kade’s a great kid. He was pretty upset while you were out and I…” He shook his head and passed me the food. “I can go if you’d prefer.”
“C’mon, Aidan, let's watch the movie!” Kade called out.
Had he ever sounded like that with his father? His smile was so bright in comparison to the ring of bruises on his neck. The fact that he was smiling at all was a bloody miracle.
“No,” I said, awkwardly putting the yoghurt and spoon back in his hands. “I’m sorry I…”
Aidan’s hands closed over mine for a second longer than needed, the warm weight felt after he pulled away.
“Look, I’m probably horning in where I shouldn’t. I’m sorry. I just…” He shook his head, looking back at me and seeming to catalogue all my injuries in one long look. “I think you’ve had to handle too fucking much, just quietly, and I can’t help but want to take some of that burden.”
He jammed his spare hand in his pocket, his shoulders hunching.
“Maybe you kick puppies for fun or something, but, Flick, you got Kade out. You walked away from that prick, and brought him here so he can’t hurt either of you again. The doc couldn’t believe you drove here in that condition.”
He looked over to where Kade was setting up his action figures on the coffee table.
“He’s a good kid, but was bloody traumatised when you passed out. Came barrelling out, standing over you, ready to fight us to the man to keep you safe.” He shook his head slowly, staring at the floor. “Tough little guy. You two, you’ve seen shit, had to put up with shit that no one should have to. I guess this,” he hefted the yoghurt, “and a few movies makes me feel like I’m helping somehow. I can’t erase what happened, but I can make him feel safe, that not all men are like his sperm donor.”
Peter appeared at my shoulder. I felt his presence before he even got close, sapping the tension in my body, and a wave of something warm and comforting washed over me when his hand came to rest on my arm.
“Pete’s been looking after you; I’ve been seeing to Kade. You can take all of that over once you’re feeling better, but right now, just let us take the weight for a bit.”
Which was how I ended up being led into the master bedroom, still in hospital scrubs, and laid down on the bed. Peter brought me my medication and a glass of water, which I nearly choked on when he pulled his shirt off.
All of the hard promise I’d sensed while leaning against his body was instantaneously revealed. There was no softness in him anywhere, except for his eyes and his lips. This was a powerful body, with muscles built for tough work or punishing blows, which was perhaps why I was surprised by what came next.
I realised I probably should have asked exactly what a mate was when he slid onto the bed beside me. It was huge—he could have starfished alongside me, and I still would’ve had a massive space to sleep on—but slowly, surely, he moved over. He tucked a pillow under his head, and then looked at me for a moment before reaching out and gently, carefully, knowing exactly which spots to avoid, pulling me closer.
This had been the closest I’d been next to another man for over a decade. He just watched me blink, sucking in his woody scent, feeling the warmth radiating off his body now that I was pressed up against it. The skin on the side of my arm that rested against his chest and abs burned at the contact. He let a long breath out and placed a gentle hand on my stomach, one of the places I ached the most. Brown eyes watched me gasp at the wash of heat. Despite the fact that he made no move to do anything else, there was something almost sexual in the intensity of relief he provided. He noted the point when my lips fell open, when my breath came in quick pants as the heat spread further.
The sensation brought back a memory I’d pretty much forgotten, from well before Rick, when I was still at uni and I’d been with a guy who was as into me as I was him. We’d spent endless days just hanging out in my room, sitting tangled up in each other’s arms, revelling in that animal sensuality that comes from being young, compatible, and in love. We’d fucked like monkeys, but that was almost beside the point, the sex a lovely side effect of what we had b
een building together.
I glanced at Peter, searching those impenetrably calm eyes, wondering what the hell was going on with him that he was sending this down the bond we seemed to have. But I didn’t get a chance to ask. He reached down, so slow I could have pulled away a million times, but I didn’t. This shouldn’t have been happening, it was way too early to be touching anyone, but I arched slightly up into him, not knowing what was about to happen but wanting to.
His lips landed on my forehead, gentle as a feather, and an explosion of warmth came with it, washing away the persistent headache temporarily. My eyes closed as his hand went to my face and stroked down my cheek.
“Just rest, Flick. Sleep and heal.”
9
I expected to have nightmares. This should have been the point where a demonic Rick reared his indefatigable head and punished me over and over again. Instead, I felt like I drowned in honey.
Whereas sleep before had felt a bit like being smothered by smoke, this felt like being buoyed by a velvety cloud. I felt airy and weightless, transmuted from heavy flesh to shimmering veils of pleasure. It wasn’t sexual precisely. I didn’t have a body, so to imagine ways it could intersect with another’s was irrelevant. Rather, I was sensation, a lovely, breath taking feeling that almost ached in its intensity. It had a strange timeless quality, which didn’t contain the frantic tides of arousal. I was just lulled, held within its grip, until my eyes decided to open.
He was watching me when I woke, something that should have creeped me out but didn’t. He could have done what he liked while I slept—I wouldn’t have known—but his hand just remained on me over my clothes, on the small of my back now as I had rolled into him and burrowed down into his chest, my head resting on his arm. When I looked up blearily, he smiled.
“How long was I out for?” I asked.