Hope(less)

by Melissa Haag

  * * * *

  The next morning I woke snuggled up against Clay, who must have snuck in at some point during the night. Though Rachel had technically turned on the heat, she kept it low. It made Clay’s extra warmth nice.

  When the sleep cleared enough from my head, I realized he laid next to me on his back...in man-form. I held still, trying to decide how I felt about it. When I’d been sick, he’d done it to help me. There hadn’t really been a choice. I wasn’t sick now. But he wasn’t being weird about it. So, should I really make a big deal out of it? I decided not to. Warm feet felt nice; a warm all of me felt better.

  Considerately, he wore a shirt, and although I wasn’t going to check, I felt sure he’d included shorts. I shifted my head from against his side to look up at him.

  He lay with both arms behind his head. His hair again covered the majority of his face. I thought he’d gotten over that phase. Since the party, he had kept it pulled back whenever he was Clay-the-man.

  “It’s annoying not being able to see you,” I said in place of a good morning. I flipped to my stomach and propped myself up with my elbows to get a better look at him.

  “If you don’t talk, and I can’t see your face, how am I ever supposed to figure out what you’re thinking?”

  I reached out to move some hair out of the way, but he stopped me in a blurred move, catching my wrist gently in his hand. He didn’t let me any closer. First, he ditched me on dinner night then he wouldn’t let me touch him? The thought stopped me. I really hadn’t touched him before either, at least not as a man. Maybe he was like me, a little standoffish. I could understand that.

  “Seriously, Clay, what kind of bribe is it going to take for you to get rid of some of that hair?”

  He flashed his elongated canines at me again in explanation.

  “Can’t we at least trim it back some?” Okay maybe a lot, but I knew to start with baby steps.

  He tugged my hand to his chest, laying it flat. So much for my theory about not wanting to be touched. I patiently allowed it because with him, everything was guessing or pantomime. His chest warmed my palm.

  Using his free hand, he tapped my mouth. I frowned, perplexed.

  “What, you want me to be mute like you?” Was he hinting I talked too much?

  He shook his head and reached out again. This time, he cupped my jaw and lightly ran his thumb over my bottom lip. The gentle touch caused the pull in my stomach to intensify. Though I couldn’t see his eyes, I read his intent.

  “Whoa!” I scrambled out of the bed as if it had caught fire.

  He stayed where I left him and turned his head to study me as I stood trembling beside the bed. I nervously rubbed a sweaty palm, the one that had moments before rested on his chest, against my leg. His whiskers twitched down. I couldn’t recall him frowning at me before.

  I almost asked where that idea suddenly came from, but guessed it was long overdue. According to the Elders, when an unMated male finds his female, he begins a courtship of sorts. The end goal is to Claim his Mate.

  But Clay hadn’t courted me. He just lived here in his fur. And sometimes cooked for me. And sometimes helped me with chores...and when he wasn’t around, I felt disappointed and missed him. My fearful expression slackened to one of stunned amazement. He had been courting me these last few months. Clever dog.

  Not comfortable with simple contact to begin with, I naturally balked at his request. Then I paused, reconsidering my hesitancy. Yes, I’d held myself back from everyone. Contact meant an emotional connection, either for me or for the other person. But Clay didn’t act like the rest. He wasn’t compulsively drawn to me.

  Maybe I needed to stop treating him like the rest. Hadn’t I already started doing that? I’d sat next to him to watch movies, ate dinner with him, and, yes, technically snuggled with him at night. At least, my feet did regularly. And I had to admit, I liked looking at him—the parts I could see. Thinking of that caused a blush. I sent another panicked look his direction, but he remained motionless.

  But he didn’t ask for just a simple kiss. Our current relationship placed so many strings on it. Strings I’d never before had to deal with. It definitely took us one step closer to Claiming in his book. As I thought of it, I realized my stance on Claiming had subtlety shifted. I wouldn’t mind having Clay around indefinitely. We meshed well together. But there still existed aspects of a werewolf relationship I wasn’t ready for. Like biting his neck hard enough to break the skin and establish my Claim. My eyes drifted to his throat. That didn’t sound like something nice to do to someone you cared about.

  Clay waited patiently for me to consider his request. Would it really hurt to give in to just one little kiss? I wiped my hands on my pants again.

  The male’s drive to Claim his Mate increased with each passing day, building to a compulsive need. There’d never been a courtship that lasted more than six months. Paul and Henry shared that tidbit with me long ago.

  I calculated back and cringed. We’d just passed six months. He hadn’t pressed for anything from me in that entire time. I’d been so focused on school that I hadn’t given any thought to the Claiming stuff I’d learned other than to be glad he wasn’t pressing me.

  I edged closer to the bed and touched my bottom lip, thinking. Was he struggling to hold back his aggressive side? Could that be why his canines were elongated more often than not? Had I put too much faith in his control? But the toughest question was if I trusted Clay. If I did give him what he asked for would it be enough to satisfy him or would he want more and then become unbearable to live with?

  Glancing up at him, I considered my options while he continued to watch me in silence. I really wanted to see his eyes again.

  “I have some questions before we talk about my bribe and your price.” I crawled back upon the bed and sat on my heels once I reached his side. “Will you try to answer my questions?”

  He continued to watch me without answering.

  “Are you able to physically speak?”

  After a brief hesitation, he nodded.

  “Are you ever planning on talking to me?”

  He smiled wide and nodded again.

  I nervously noted his teeth were bigger than they’d been a minute ago. My stomach did a flip, and I could feel the fading blush rekindle and spread across my face.

  “Clay, were you asking for a kiss?” I had to know for sure.

  He nodded slowly and reached out to twine his free right hand with mine. His thumb soothed the outside of my hand while he waited for me to decide what to do.

  “Clay, I can’t even see your mouth to know where to kiss. I hope this bargain includes a shave.”

  His whiskers twitched, and I guessed he smiled. He appeared laidback, completely calm as if my answer didn’t affect him at all. It bolstered my courage.

  I let go of his hand and leaned forward, bracing myself on his shoulders. I could see the glint of his eyes as he watched my slow descent. My stomach churned with nerves and anticipation. Despite my teasing comment, I found his lips without any problem and lightly touched mine to them. His warm breath fanned my face, and I pressed closer. Something inside me melted a little.

  Closing my eyes, I reached a hand up to gently brush against his face, exploring his brow, ear, and jaw. He changed the kiss by tilting his head slightly. His lips began to nibble at mine, slow and easy. My stomach dipped, and my heart started to flutter with desire.

  When I realized how easy it would be to keep kissing him, desire changed to panic. I pulled away then gasped at the sight of the black eye I’d exposed.

  “What happened?” I said, forgetting desire and panic. Then, thinking of Rachel I dropped my voice to a whisper. “I thought werewolves weren’t supposed to get hurt like this.”

  Seeing his eyes again gave me a nice advantage. I easily read the frustration in them. Before he could try something else, I bounded off the bed
again.

  “A deal’s a deal. Go shower and shave. After you’re done, we can play charades until I have the story behind the black eye.” The stubborn look in his eyes had me adding, “That or I call Sam.”

  I stayed well back while he ran his hand through his hair in agitation. Then he sighed and sat up. The flex of his abdomen under his snug shirt dreamily distracted me. When he swung his feet over the edge of the bed, he turned his back to me. Part of his shirt had ridden up exposing more bruises on his back.

  Forgetting to stay away, I rushed around the bed. He heard me and stayed where he was. He didn’t fight me when I started tugging his shirt over his head, either. Numerous bruises covered his torso.

  “What happened?” I demanded again. I nudged his right arm away from his side, saw a huge, ugly purple mark, and lightly ran my fingers over it. He held perfectly still for me.

  “This is really scaring me, Clay. I thought werewolves were supposed to be this tough, nearly indestructible, race.”

  I’d lost my mom to a car accident and my grandma to cancer. With no other family, I had endured as an orphan, truly alone in the world. Then, when I’d realized Sam’s plan to pair me with one of his kind, a single thought had resonated with me: If I found a werewolf Mate, he would never die on me and leave me alone.

  “Is this why you were gone last night when I came home?”

  He didn’t move at all.

  “Fine.” I turned to leave him, but he caught my wrist again and gently tugged me to his side. He brought my hand to his mouth, kissed the back of it, then my knuckles. I felt a tug in my stomach. That stupid, annoying, kinda-growing-on-me-a-lot pull which tied us together. My annoyance at him evaporated. Unable to help myself, I brushed my fingers through his hair. I liked the feel of it.

  “I’ve lost everyone that’s ever really mattered to me. I thought caring about a werewolf would be safer,” I admitted softly.

  He raised his head to look at me for a long moment then pulled me into his arms.

  Normally, I wouldn’t like someone hugging me like that. But with Clay, it felt safe. I hugged him back gently, not wanting to hurt him more, and hoped the safety I felt wasn’t because I’d already lost too much of my heart to him. I’d never fully recovered from losing my mom or grandma. I doubted I could lose much more and remain the same person. Losing Clay, even now, might break me.

  Eventually, I pulled away first. His stomach began to rumble and mine answered. I tiptoed out of my room and moved my car, knowing Rachel would need to leave soon. Then, while Clay waited in my room, I made him breakfast. I didn’t want Rachel to see him when she woke. We ate together on my bed. Before we finished, I heard Rachel leave.

  While I washed dishes, he slipped into the bathroom with scissors and a razor.

  It would be an understatement to say I was a little curious about what he really looked like under all the fur, er, whiskers. The anticipation built while I put away the dishes.

  I walked by the bathroom door but couldn’t hear anything. Trying to keep busy, I went back to my room and sorted laundry before deciding what to wear. It didn’t take me long to dress. I paced around the house listening to the shower run.