by Sam Hall
“Don’t worry, Miss Flick. I’ll keep him in line,” Mila said.
I turned to Aidan to ask him what the deal was, but he watched the two of them with an indulgent smile. “How are you feeling?” he said, his voice a low buzz against the chatter of the table. “Bit better with a belly full of food?”
“Yeah, thank you. I didn’t think I would, but I do.”
“No problem.” Those hazel eyes slid up to meet mine. “Just tell me if there’s anything else I can do to make you feel better.”
A shiver slid up my spine, part fear, part something I couldn’t quite face right now. That felt like a line. It’d been a long time since someone had said anything like that to me, with that gentle but persistent stare, the close proximity, his body turned partially towards mine, arm along the back of the seat.
If he’s into you, his eyes’ll drop down to your lips, I thought, and sure enough, for a split second, they dipped down then up again.
I pulled back slightly, feeling my heart as it began to race, my fingers tightening into fists.
“Well, now that the young ones are occupied, let’s talk about Flick’s situation before they come back.”
Ophelia’s crisp words broke whatever was happening down my end of the table, everyone turning to face the older woman.
“Auntie…” Renee said, which earned her a damning stare.
“Flick, did you want to tell your story?”
If I thought I was uncomfortable before, I had no idea. Every adult down both sides of the table looked down at me, waiting. I swallowed, my mouth now bone-dry, a lump forming in my throat. My eyes began to ache as the silence drew out longer and longer, tears starting to prick at my sockets as I faced them all down.
“It’s OK, Flick,” Aidan said, taking my hand. It felt like it belonged to someone else, like I was watching him comfort one of the other women at the table. I couldn’t feel his skin against mine. Instead, I just stared at it for a second, the long, brown fingers, the big strong palm cradling my hand within his. “No one’s going to hurt you.”
I was about to wipe out all those pretty smiles around the table.
What Rick had done was a gift in a way. I wanted to pretend, to go back to the polite social rituals I’d observed before I met him, but the devastation he’d wrought on the both of us made that impossible. I obviously hadn’t wanted to be beaten, to see him do the same to my child, but unlike emotional abuse, I wasn’t going to be able to sweep it under the carpet.
I took a deep breath and faced down the table, not glaring, but not afraid anymore, and told them, “My husband beat me and my son. That’s why we have these bruises. I smashed a marble ashtray into his head and knocked him unconscious, and then we took off in his car. I just drove and drove, until we ended up here. Peter and Aidan found us when we broke down and my…” Was I going to say it? “My Tirian bit Peter.”
Weirdly, that got more gasps from the table than the rest of my story.
I paused for a moment, staring down at the white plate in front of me. “Aidan and Peter have helped me when I really needed it, are still helping me, and I’m grateful for that, but that’s why we’re here. We’re hungry and tired and sore and hurting. I know how small towns work. If you could circulate that to avoid any more awkward situations, I’d appreciate that.”
Ophelia nodded, her gaze still intense but not necessarily harsh. It was as if she could see everything that was in me without me saying a word, but she’d known me getting it out there would be for the better.
“When Flick is up to it, she’ll share this ‘Rick’s’ details and they will be circulated. Needless to say, any strangers that manage to come to Sanctuary will need to be reported directly to me.”
“Ophelia’s kinda a force of nature,” Aidan said as we drove up back to the house.
“You’re telling me! Is she going to pull me out of bed by my ear if I don’t turn up to her place?”
“Maybe. She’s done it to some of the others. I know she’s a tough old stick, but she’s good, trust me. She’s helped many of us get past painful things. It could be worth a try.”
He was easier to look at in the gloom, with only imprecise details of his face picked out by the moonlight.
“OK, I guess I’d feel ungrateful if I turned her down.”
“Don’t do it for that reason. Do it for you.”
What an alien concept, I thought
“Are you coming in?” Kade said. “We’ve still got to finish Return of the Jedi.”
“Is that OK, Flick?”
He watched me closely, as if wanting to catch my every reaction.
“Please, Mum?”
“It’s fine.” I tested that idea in my mind before nodding. It was. That felt strange, that I’d feel more comfortable with an almost stranger than my own husband, but it remained true the longer I looked at it. “We won’t be long for bed, anyway.”
I was surprised to see that Peter wasn’t home when we got in. Aidan made us tea as Kade got the DVD ready. He put my cup on the coffee table and then sat back down on the floor with my son.
“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “I’ve been a mad Star Wars fan since I was a kid.”
“Hey, it’s fine,” I said with a smirk.
I didn’t really want the tea, but I needed something to do. It was good to see Kade relax, share his love of sci-fi epics with the man, but every moment of pleasure came with an unfortunate reminder. Had he ever relaxed like this with Rick? His father certainly hadn’t been interested in Kade’s obsessions, always redirecting him to me, politely or not so politely. While he’d been pleased enough to hear he was having a son, that was almost the highlight of the whole experience for him.
I watched the two of them as they watched the TV, as fascinated by their actions as they were of the character on the screen. Aidan was a natural with Kade—easy, engaged, open. I wasn’t surprised when I saw Kade sidle up and place his head on the man’s arm.
“Are you getting tired, Kade?” I asked.
“No!”
This was, of course, punctuated by a loud yawn.
“C’mon, love. Time for bed,” I said, getting to my feet in a series of stiff movements. “You can watch more DVDs with Aidan tomorrow.”
Shit, I thought. I should have asked if that was OK.
“Really?” Kade said.
“I’d like that,” Aidan replied to me, not my child. “C’mon, mate, time to brush your teeth.”
Wide-eyed, I watched my son walk off to the bathroom without the usual litany of complaints, but when I turned back, Aidan stood before me.
“Flick, we…we didn’t really want to leave you alone here. You’re perfectly safe,” he said in a rush when he saw my expression. “Pete’s just had to go and do something for a bit, but we can go back home, if you’d prefer.”
I looked around the room as if seeing it for the first time. I could tell polygamy was a common thing here by the architecture. The house was much bigger than ours was, with multiple bedrooms, presumably for growing families, along with the huge beds. I tried to imagine just Kade and I knocking around in here, and the space felt cavernous.
But I needed to stand on my own two feet, check in with my son. He had attached himself to Aidan since I’d woken up, which was worrying in itself. He was a stranger, and he preferred him to his own mother?
Does he resent me for what happened? Does he blame me? Those ideas smashed into me bodily, leaving me reeling from the implications. I looked at Aidan, saw him shifting uncomfortably as he waited for me to reply. I felt both a gratitude that he’d stepped up when I couldn’t, and a resentment that he’d had to, followed quickly by a swirl of guilt.
You should have left long before this happened. You shouldn’t have let it get this bad. You should have protected Kade. You could have gone back to the city with him. Now your son prefers to be with complete strangers. Aidan’s just trying to help, and you’re getting all pissy and—
I jumped when I felt the hand on
my arm, and I was even more surprised to see it was Aidan’s.
“Ophelia said we’re here under your sufferance. We’ll go if that’s what you need.”
“What?”
I had hoped to never hear that tone in my child’s voice again. He walked out into the lounge room, mouth still covered with toothpaste. Kade looked from me to Aidan to me again.
“Mum?”
Tears sprang unbidden at the sound of that one word. There was so much fear and anger and need in it.
“Mum?”
His voice was getting higher, shriller.
“Look, mate, if Mum says it's OK, I’ll come back—”
“No!” His toothbrush dropped to the floor, and some sickly conditioned part of myself wanted to rush in and clean away the toothpaste, rather than go to my son. But I did. I walked over, went to fold him in my arms, but he thrashed in my grip, sharp little elbows colliding with my injuries, forcing me to bite back my yelps. I was forced to let go of him, my hands on my aching midriff.
“Kade! Kade!” Aidan tried to calm him, but my son just wrapped his arms around the other man’s waist and hung on tight, as if to prevent him from leaving. “Look, mate, it’s OK. Just take a deep breath. Mum’s hurt, and I need to see if she’s OK.”
But he shouldn’t have. It was far more painful to watch my child crumple up into a small sobbing ball, arms wrapped around himself when there was no one there to hug, rocking himself back and forth in that absence.
“No,” I gasped through the waves of pain as Aidan came closer. “Kade.”
He nodded, picking my son up, my heart breaking when Kade hugged the man’s neck, burying his face in Aidan’s hair. Like he used to do to you, I thought, and that realisation hurt almost as much.
Of course, that was when Peter walked in. He blanched visibly at the chaos he surveyed. Kade was sobbing hysterically now. I watched Aidan’s hand rub up and down Kade’s back over and over with hungry eyes. Just this morning, he’d been curled up against me when I woke and then… Peter nodded, his eyes lingering on the way I held my stomach, then he crossed the floor and placed a hand on my shoulder. I shrank back, not wanting it, the comfort or the reassurance that came pouring down the bond. Not wanting him to be caught up in the spiral of shame and disgust that churned inside me.
“C’mon,” was all he said to all of us, and then steered me gently to the bed I’d slept in. I watched as Aidan came with us, carrying Kade. He went to one side of the bed and laid my son down, calming him when he began to fret. Then he kicked off his boots and nodded to me.
“Mum’s gonna lay down, and you’ll curl up next to her like you did last night.” He held up a hand when Kade went to reply. “We’ll be here as well, on either side, OK? We’ll keep the nightmares from coming.”
Nightmares? The word was like a grenade lobbed into my heart.
Aidan unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a singlet underneath. He sat on the end of the bed, his hand on Kade’s back, and then nodded to us.
“Put this on,” Peter said to me, taking off his shirt and passing it to me, then both men turned around to let me get changed. “It’ll be more comfortable, and the scent will help you sleep.”
I just stared at it for a second, then shook my head and did as I was told. He was right. I’d only worn soft sweats, nothing constricting, but the fall of the voluminous fabric and the woody smell permeating it helped soothe my ragged nerves a little. I climbed on the bed almost tentatively, Aidan smiling encouragingly. That hurt, that he felt like he had to. I moved to the centre, wanting to bury my head in the pillow and pull the blanket over my head, but instead, I reached out a tentative hand to my child.
As if able to sense it, Kade opened his eyes and then scrambled closer, grabbing onto the shirt I wore and burying his head on my chest. Aidan watched my hand fall down to rest on Kade’s shoulder blade with a smile, and then, with a questioning look, shifted to lay down beside us. I nodded, feeling Peter doing the same as he moved nearer, until I could feel the hot weight of his body against mine.
My eyes instantly fell to half mast, the most tremendous feeling of contentment washing through me. Screw the medication, this took all the pain away—both psychological and physical. Peter’s hand tightened on me as I pushed back against him, almost catlike in my need for more, but then Kade sniffled.
“You need Aidan right now, don’t you?” I asked in a whisper.
And then Kade said something that sent my every hair on end.
“He is pack.”
11
“How?” I snapped.
I’d asked for an emergency session with Ophelia after the night’s revelations and she’d granted it readily, both of us sitting in her tastefully decorated office.
“Well, Flick, this sort of thing is often common when new suitors start courting a child’s mother,” Ophelia said. “Children have their own opinions and instincts about the matter. That doesn’t mean you have to accede to them. Aidan could remain a close family friend if you decide not to take him as a mate.”
“Take him as a mate… You do realise I just left my husband after he kicked the shit out of us. Like, I don’t know exactly what happened. I… One minute, I was walking towards Rick with an ashtray in my hand, and the next, I was in the car, driving away. I might have killed him, murdered him!”
“And how do you think things would have went if he’d tried that here? That he’d get a fair trial?” She shook her head sharply. “He would have been dead before he could have laid a second blow. So, let's talk about this. About Aidan, Peter, or Rick. Your choice.”
“My choice?” I got up and paced around the woman’s—no, alpha’s very nice room. I’d been told of her standing in the pack as we’d driven up. Peter and Aidan were sitting with Kade in the reception area, while I got time to ‘talk.’ “What choice do I have? I’m Peter’s mate, Aidan’s basically moved in, and everyone is being so sweet, but in some ways, that makes it worse. I only just got out from under one guy, and now I’m tied to two others. I can’t ask them to leave ever, because it hurts Kade, because it hurts…”
“Yes?” Ophelia said, sitting slightly forward.
“It just hurts.”
“In what way?” she said, looking pointedly at my posture.
Unbeknownst to me, my arms had wrapped around my body, my fingernails starting to rake against my skin. I was damn lucky every time I woke up after being next to my family that I felt a thousand times better, that the bruises were disappearing at a remarkable rate.
Family?
I looked at her, this alpha, sitting in her office chair in a pearl grey suit, looking the picture of poise and elegance.
“You know what I’m feeling,” I said, putting my hands down with effort.
“I do,” she said, nodding slowly. “I had several mates myself, men I loved dearly. They are long gone now, though I remember that bond like it was yesterday. But I was born here. I grew up expecting to be drawn to many men, to whittle down the possibles to those I could give my heart to. You haven’t had that yet.”
“What do you mean, yet?”
“Well, you can reject the mate bond, take it back if you like.”
“What?” Both our eyes dropped to where my fingers formed claws on my thighs.
“It’s not a life sentence. You’re not compelled to stay together forever. You choose to. Choose Peter, choose Aidan, choose whoever you wish, or none. The single men have been petitioning me like crazy for an opportunity to get to know you. More and more are crashing the married mess meal times to ‘catch up with family’ for a chance to see you. If you were open to a very simple meet and greet, it would be a tremendous help in managing the situation.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
She flipped a hand nonchalantly. “When a girl moves into womanhood and decides to take on a pack, we have all the single men wishing to be considered assemble in the meeting hall. Women control the process. If you wish to meet them one by one, we set you up in an adjoining room. I
f you want to just take a look, see if anyone jumps out to either you or your wolf, we have a one-way mirror set up on one of the walls. Younger women often use this, as they’re still adjusting to the idea of taking mates. Actually, I might do that anyway, even if you’re not there. It’ll keep them sweet until you decide what you want to do.”
“So, what? I just look over a group of men like I was in a shopping aisle or something, then decide which ones to take home? Do I try before I buy? And what’s the return policy?”
“Flick, I think this is all too soon for you, which makes sense. I told you this only because I wanted to be clear—you have a choice. You can take many or no mates, that’s entirely up to you. You’ll be accepted here no matter what. It will take some adjusting for Peter, but that shouldn’t deter your decision.”
She was so calm and understanding. So why did I feel like she’d cut my legs out from under me? I wanted to feel angry and trapped, and she just dissolved the cage I’d created for myself in a few words. Which led to the next question—why did I need a cage?
“So why don’t you tell me about the boys, if that’s what’s on your mind? How are they?”
“They’re lovely.” I blinked, the words out of my mouth before I could think twice. “I mean, they want to do everything for us. Aidan dotes on Kade, and even Peter tries to engage with him. But he seems more focussed on me, and I think his size scares Kade a bit. But they cook and clean, and are always there when I need them and…” I sighed. “It’s kinda sickening really.”
“Sickening? That’s an interesting word. Tell me about that.”
“Well, it's just all a bit OTT. Like I wouldn’t want some guy expecting me to slave over him.”
“And do you expect them to ‘slave’ over you?”
“Well, no. I don’t have to say a thing. Things just get done. All I say is thank you.”
“Which is perhaps why they do this ‘sickening’ stuff. If it makes you feel ill at ease, why not tell them to stop? I’m sure both would hate to make you feel distressed.”
Yes, why don’t you?