by River Ramsey
I get off the swing, letting it flip back. “If that’s how you feel, then you’ve made my decision even easier.”
“Danica, wait!” he cries.
I ignore him, running deeper into the woods even though I know I should go back. It’s been so long since I shifted, but the pain in my chest makes the transformation happen automatically. My wolf is small with stone gray fur and white flecked throughout its coat. What it lacks in strength, it makes up for in speed and agility, and I weave through the trees to escape him. I keep running until I sense he’s given up.
It’s not like I’ll get far. I wouldn’t make it past the territory line before the Eternus guards caught up with me. I can feel them watching me now through the trees, but I don’t care. This is the only escape available to me, even if it, too, is an illusion. All I want is to get away.
All I want is to forget how I feel, even if it’s only for the night.
Chapter 14
At some point in the night, I must have come into the house in my wolf form, judging from the leaves and brambles on my clean white sheets. It takes me only a moment to remember that I don’t have white sheets. Mine are tan with little pink polka dots.
I sit up sharply, looking around the unfamiliar room. It smells like Mace, so I must have wandered back to his house during the night. He’s nowhere to be seen, and I can tell he hasn’t slept in the bed recently. I must’ve gotten confused and broken into his room.
I throw the tousled sheets off, torn in places from my claws trying to make a nest. I gather them up to hide the evidence before I realize my own nakedness is more of an issue.
I open Mace’s dresser and pull out a shirt that’s big enough to be a dress on me, then pull it on over my head. The idea of wearing something covered in his scent, however faint, chaffs against me, but I don’t have much of a choice. I gather the sheets and take a deep breath before opening the door, hoping desperately that I woke up early enough to miss him entirely. There are some nights he doesn’t come home at all. Please let this be one of them.
When I open the door to find him sleeping soundly on the couch, I realize it isn’t. My breath catches. I’m afraid to make a sound and risk waking him, but I have to get past him somehow. The question is, why wouldn’t he just wake me up and throw me out of his room?
It’s still early enough that Aspen won’t be awake for another couple of hours. I can only hope Mace had a late night. As I slip past, the floorboards creak and I freeze in place, wincing.
“Good morning,” he says knowingly. When I turn around, he’s just sitting up and he slips on his glasses. He’s still wearing his clothes from the night before.
“Hi,” I mutter, my face burning with embarrassment. “So, I guess you saw me in your room.”
“You seemed rather… feral,” he says politely. “Long run?”
“You should have woken me up.”
“You were out of it, and I didn’t want to disturb you.”
“So you slept on the couch?”
“It seemed like the gentlemanly thing to do.”
I snort. “Right. Well… next time, just wake me up and kick me out.”
He raises an eyebrow. “You plan on making a habit of turning up naked in my bed, do you?”
My face is molten hot now. “You know what I meant!” I snap, bundling up his sheets to fit them into the trash. “Sorry about your sheets.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
I try to pretend like I don’t notice him watching me as I move around the kitchen to make coffee. I can tell it’s going to be one of those days, so I could use the caffeine.
“You can keep the T-shirt, too,” he remarks.
I freeze when I realize I’m still wearing it. Too late to slink off modestly now. “I figured you’d already seen enough,” I mutter.
I expect him to make some snide remark, but his “Not really” is clearly a lie meant to save me face. Why he bothers, I don’t know.
“How do you take your coffee?” I ask, deciding to at least try to be civil, since he’s making the effort. Doesn’t mean I don’t still hate him.
“Black with sugar, please.”
“That’s a surprise.”
“Why, because I’m a doctor?”
“Because you’re a robot,” I say before I can stop myself. Old habits die hard.
Mace just chuckles, sitting at the counter. “I know I’m probably the last person you want to discuss what happened last night with, but if you need a listening ear, I’m here all the same.”
“You’re right. You are the last person,” I admit. “But nothing happened.”
“Is that why Christopher was sulking in the tavern at three in the morning? Nothing?”
I frown. “What happens between me and Christopher is none of your business, honestly.”
“Fair enough.”
I set the coffee in front of him and he thanks me unnecessarily.
“It’s your day,” I remind him.
“Yes, it is,” he says casually, blowing off the steam.
“So, what am I in for?”
He gives me a quizzical look. “I’d assumed you would rather bypass the day altogether.”
“Of course I would. But why would you go along with that?”
“You know where my interest lies, Danica. And I know where your heart lies. The rules have changed and the choice is yours now. I understand that forcing you to spend time with me isn’t going to change it.”
He lays it out so logically, like he does with everything. Sometimes I wonder if the man has ever had a thought driven by pure emotion. Then I remember his face that night when Dan attacked me, and the answer makes me regret asking the question, even to myself.
“It’s no secret that Eternus wants me to choose you,” I say, deciding to just come out with it and see how he responds. If he’ll deny it. “We should at least spend the day together for the sake of appearances.”
“If that’s what you want, that’s what we’ll do.”
I study him carefully, trying to figure out if he’s manipulating me or if he’s actually that agreeable. “I should get dressed,” I decide, not wanting to stand there in his T-shirt any longer. I take my time showering and by the time I’ve changed and come back out, I already smell food.
“I was going to cook,” I tell him.
“Looks like I beat you to it.”
Aspen’s door cracks open and he comes out, rubbing his eyes. His hair is all rumpled and he staggers a little. “Dani, I don’t feel good,” he mumbles.
I rush to his side, forgetting my hatred for the man in the kitchen for a moment. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” I ask, kneeling down to get a better look at him. His face is flushed and when I touch his forehead, my hand is burning up. “You’ve got a fever.”
“My nose is stuffed,” he sniffles, putting his arms around me so I’ll pick him up.
“It’s probably the flu,” says Mace. “It’s been going around all the kids in nursery.”
Young wolves generally have a good immune system, but we’re immune to human vaccines, so when they do catch something, it spreads like wildfire. Poor kid. Like he hasn’t been through enough.
“Go back to bed,” I tell him, giving him a gentle push. “I’ll go get you some medicine and make you something light to eat with it.”
“Okay,” he yawns, wandering back into his room.
“I’ll make him some oatmeal,” Mace offers. “There’s medicine in my bag, if you check the closet by the door.”
I nod, following his orders. Sure enough, there are a few effervescent tablets to dissolve in water. “Will these work?”
“There’s not too much you can do except let it burn itself out, but those will help with the fever and congestion,” he says, getting a bowl down from the cupboard. “There’s a vaporizer in the bathroom closet.”
I find it easily enough, since everything in Mace’s house is meticulously organized, and it only takes me a few minutes to set it up. When I feel
someone behind me, I turn around to see Mace offering me a jar of salt.
“Oh, right. Thanks,” I mutter, pouring it into the humidifier. Soon enough, the hot steam tinged with eucalyptus oil starts billowing up into the room. It’s a good thing, since Aspen is already coughing.
“Feel better, kiddo?” I ask, sitting down on the edge of the bed.
Aspen nods sleepily. “But I’m bored.”
I can’t help but laugh. “You still need to rest.”
“We could move him into the living room,” suggests Mace. “I’m sure there are cartoons on.”
I’m surprised he’s willing to let his living area be turned into a sick room, especially considering that this is the only day he has a right to demand my time. “Are you sure?”
“Very,” he says, carrying Aspen into the living room, blankets and all. He seems content, especially once he’s settled on the couch with the remote. A few minutes later, the vaporizer is set up out in the living room and I settle in beside him.
“Can I get you anything else?” asks Mace.
Aspen looks up at him. “Watch cartoons with us, Mace!” he pleads. For some reason or another, the kid idolizes Mace. Then again, he’s too young to have any idea what he’s really like.
Mace hesitates, looking to me. It would be so easy to use this as an excuse to get close to me, but he isn’t. Not knowing why makes me even more frustrated, but I can’t very well say no.
“Sure,” I say, moving over to make room for him on the couch.
He sits down, still leaving enough room between us not to touch, even though he could easily get away with that, too. Somehow, his ability to be so chivalrous in the little things makes his callousness in the big things even more unsettling.
I’m sure watching cartoons with a perpetually sneezing five-year-old is the last way Mace wanted to spend the afternoon, but he goes along with it like a good sport. I’m actually starting to relax, which I know I’ll end up regretting.
Before long, Aspen falls asleep and I can tell from the sound of his snores that he’ll stay that way for a while. “I should put him to bed.”
“I’ll clean up,” he offers as I gather Aspen into my arms and carry him into his room. By the time I come back, all the dirty tissues and cough drop wrappers are gone.
“Hungry?” Mace asks.
I have half a mind to say no, but my stomach won’t let me. “Starving.”
He goes over to the sink and starts washing vegetables.
“You know, normal people just eat cereal when it’s late and they’re exhausted.”
He chuckles. “What kind of doctor would I be if I fed my house guests processed sugar and dairy?”
I roll my eyes, but I can’t say I’m complaining about the idea of a hot meal. I was usually the one who cooked at the shelter, so it’s kind of nice to have someone do it for me. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you actually liked cooking.”
“I do,” he says, drawing a knife from the cutting board. I wince instinctively as he brings it down on a radish, nearly grazing his fingertips. “It’s a bit of an art and a science.”
“Not the way I do it.”
He smiles. “I’ve noticed.”
“Hey!”
Mace just laughs. I never realized how different the sound is when he actually means it. If I didn’t already hate him so much, I might actually enjoy his company.
Rowan’s warning is a sobering reminder not to get too complacent. If he’s right, Mace isn’t just an opportunistic traitor who betrayed my father. He might have betrayed the entire pack.
For whatever reason, his interest in me seems genuine enough. Maybe I can use that to get the proof I’d need to do anything about it.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Of course,” he says without looking up.
“You’re not going to like it,” I warn him.
His eyes meet mine, calm and unsurprised. “I didn’t expect that I would. Ask all the same.”
“Okay.” I take a deep breath and force myself to come out with it. I don’t expect an answer, but I’m hoping there’s something I can glean from his response. “Why did you do it?”
“By ‘it,’ I assume you are referring to the report that led to your father’s exile?”
“Yes,” I mutter.
He pauses, studying me closely. The knife in his hand has never left my thoughts, even though somehow I know Mace would never hurt me. Not physically, at any rate. “I don’t suppose you would be willing to entertain the possibility that I said what I said because it was the truth. Because I had every reason to suspect your father of treason against the pack, and turning him in was a matter of life and death.”
“Of course not,” I hiss. “Stop playing games and just tell me the truth.”
He gives me a strange, rueful smile and goes back to murdering vegetables. “Your defense of him is admirable. Any other omega would have taken every chance to distance herself from the family shame.”
“Is that what you hoped I’d do?” I ask, losing my inhibition. Why I thought I could have an impartial conversation with him is beyond me. “Fall into your arms and beg you to save me from my traitorous father’s tarnished reputation?”
“It doesn’t matter now, does it?” he answers coolly. “The tables have turned and you’re not in a position to be rescued by anyone.”
His words surprise me, and I’m not sure what to make of them. “I may not know who I’m going to choose,” I concede. “But we both know it’s not going to be you. There’s no harm in coming out with the truth now that Adam is dead and you’re right. The rules have changed. So just tell me.”
“You really want to know?” His eyes grow cold as they lock on mine and I freeze solid. “You want to know why I turned him in?”
Suddenly I’m not sure I do, but I nod anyway.
“Because he was in my way,” he says simply. “Because I saw an expedient way to be rid of him and gain Adam’s trust and I took it. Is that what you want to hear?”
I thought it was, but while I expected the admission to feel cathartic, or at least to make my blood boil, it isn’t and it doesn’t. Instead, it leaves me with an emptiness I don’t understand.
I stand, pushing my stool into the counter. “I’ve lost my appetite.”
“Danica,” he calls once I’m already at my bedroom door. I stop, but I can’t bring myself to turn around. His voice lowers to a whisper as he says, “You may hate me forever, and that’s fine. But everything I have done, I’ve done for you.”
The rage that wouldn’t come a moment ago suddenly fills me. How dare he say that? More mind games. I won’t stick around to play them.
I slam my bedroom door and sink down to the bottom of it, pulling myself into the tightest ball I can form. The tears streaming down my cheeks make no more sense than all the rest of it, but they flow freely all the same.
Chapter 15
Three weeks have passed since I began my official courtship, and I’ve hardly seen Mace since that night we talked. Not that I’m complaining. He’s usually gone by the time I wake up, and his scarcity saves me the trouble of having to avoid him.
I’m not sure what I was expecting by asking him that question, but as I’ve grown more distant to him, I’ve grown even closer to James and Rowan. We attend our dates regularly, but Christopher and I have agreed to table any discussion of the past—or the future.
I know this can’t last forever, but as tense as the current arrangement is, it works in a way. I enjoy spending time with James, and with the pressure of considering him as my mate removed, I’ve gotten surprisingly attached to Rowan. I’m actually looking forward to seeing Rowan tomorrow, since he promised to teach me how to fight.
That morning is like any other. By the time I make it to the kitchen, Aspen is already on the couch watching cartoons and I can tell he’s fully recovered from his illness.
“Hey, kiddo,” I say, ruffling his hair on my way into the kitchen. “How are you feeling
?”
“Hungry,” is his only answer. He doesn’t look away from the screen.
I laugh. “I’ll see what I can whip up.” I pause at the refrigerator. “Mace already left for the day?”
“I dunno,” Aspen answers. “I haven’t seen him.”
That’s strange. Usually he makes Aspen breakfast before I get the chance, and there’s no coffee on. Maybe he’s pissed at me, despite the fact that we haven’t said more than a few words to each other in weeks, or maybe he slept in. The latter seems unlikely.
I make Aspen’s breakfast and eat half an apple since my stomach is full of butterflies for some reason. His tutor arrives on schedule, so I throw on my jacket and head downstairs before James shows up. Before I can reach the clinic, the door opens and my date appears on the steps an hour early.
“James!” The look of excitement on his face is both uncharacteristic and refreshing. “What’s going on? I wasn’t expecting you until ten.”
“You haven’t heard?” he asks, searching my face in confusion.
“Heard about what?”
“Your father,” he says urgently. “He’s back.”
Time stops and I find myself staring at James, trying to convince myself I heard him wrong. I know he wouldn’t joke about something like that. He’s so much kinder than anyone gives him credit for. At least to me. But that leaves only one impossible explanation: he’s telling the truth.
“What?”
“Come see for yourself,” he says, taking my hand to lead me out into the street below. I forget about my plans to check in on Mace. Unpredictability isn’t something I can tolerate where he’s concerned.
“You must be mistaken,” I insist as James leads me through the crowded street. Something is definitely going on, but it can’t be what he thinks.
“I know what your father looks like, Danica,” he says, glancing back at me. “It’s him.”
“How is this possible?” I ask in disbelief. “When?”
“I don’t know. I just know the commander met him at the gate, and he was with a bunch of Eternus soldiers.”
My pulse pounds in my eardrums. He’s alive! But that means he’s a captive of war. Why would Eternus bring him here? Are they trying to use him as an offering to pacify the pack? It’s not unheard of for controversial prisoners to be used as a scapegoat in situations like this. At least now I know where Mace is. He’s probably leading the charge to burn the witch, so to speak.