Wolf Bonded

by Eden Beck

  I have to pass by the boys on my way there, and try as I might to avoid any more uncomfortable eye contact, I can’t help overhearing another snippet of Rory’s voice whispering to Kaleb.

  “Just because it’s difficult to stay away doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try,” he says under his breath. “Do you think it’s easy for Marlowe and me? Let me tell you, it’s not. It fucking sucks not feeling like you can control yourself. But it’ll get easier, assuming that you don’t do anything foolish in the meantime.”

  Control yourself?

  I think back to Rory’s face up at the house. Control. He was barely in control.

  I must have slowed down, because suddenly Rory’s eyes are on me again. This time when he speaks, he makes sure the whole hallway can hear him.

  “Move along and mind your own business, Sabrina,” he says sharply. “I know it’s apparently hard for you to stay out of other people’s business, and their homes, but maybe you could try giving it a shot.”

  I feel the blood rush to my cheeks as the hallway quiets. No one even pretends not to be looking at me now.

  “Sorry,” I murmur as I duck my head down and hurry off to class before the stinging tears in my eyes start to show.

  If I wasn’t already dreading my Civilizations class with Rory, I am now.

  It’s not even the project that has me the most upset, because I know I can do it myself. By the end of last week I’d already resigned myself to doing it alone anyway. Strange to think that just a couple days ago my biggest worry was that Rory and the others wouldn’t come back.

  Now that they’re here, it’s all I can do just to avoid them.

  The anxiety of knowing I’m going to have to face Rory again, and so soon after that embarrassing display this morning, makes my stomach reel until I think I’m going to regurgitate my lunch.

  “I’ll switch with you if that makes you feel any better,” Aimee offers, once I finally relent and tell them why my face apparently looks like I’m about to have a mental breakdown. “That way, you won’t have to go anywhere near the sexy asshole.”

  “Sexy asshole?” Jess says, nearly snorting milk out of her nose. “Geez, Aimee, really willing to take one for the team there, eh?”

  Aimee’s face goes a bit red as she splutters to find an explanation that doesn’t make her sound like the opportunist she is. Which is fine by me.

  Let her have the asshole. Right now, I don’t want him.

  “Well, despite Rory’s ever-present buzz-kill,” Tom says, after several minutes of back and forth between Jess and Aimee, “you have to admit those wine cellars were wicked cool. And we got away with it, which makes it all worthwhile.”

  “What exactly is it that you think you got away with?” I ask. “We got caught. We’re lucky Rory didn’t tell his dad.”

  At least I hope he didn’t.

  Aside from the fact that his father owns the cabin we’re staying in—which we don’t exactly have a proper lease for—there’s the little fact that his father kind of terrifies me. His warning that first night felt empty at first, but the longer I stay here the more it keeps coming to mind.

  The more I start to worry it might have actually carried some weight.

  “Eh, who cares about that prick,” Tom says, shoving a chip in his mouth. “He’s just lucky I didn’t have time to steal a couple of bottles.”

  I roll my eyes at him and then stand up from the table before the urge to smack him grows too strong to ignore any longer.

  “I’m going to go tell the teacher about our partner switch,” I say to Aimee. She nods, unable to say anything since she has a mouthful of brownie, but I can tell she’s pleased.

  I get the slightest twinge of annoyance, but I force it down. Let her deal with Rory and the others. They seem determined to hate me, but maybe Aimee won’t turn out so lucky.

  However, when I get to class Rory is already there. He pushes past me on his way out of the classroom … and before I can start to question what he was doing there, he answers that for me.

  “If you’re going to ask if we can switch partners, don’t bother. Apparently, it’s not allowed,” he says, looking disgruntled.

  Rory starts to walk away, leaving me in the classroom doorway looking awkwardly at the teacher.

  Am I really going to just let that stand? Just like that?

  I should, but I can’t.

  “Rory, wait!” I call after him. I chase him down a few steps as he turns to face me.

  “What is it?”

  “About what you were saying earlier. I honestly didn’t mean to pry.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “But—”

  I want to remind him that whatever it was I overheard was important enough for him to make a fool of me in front of half the student body, but that doesn’t seem to matter now.

  “Sabrina, forget it.”

  I stand there staring at Rory awkwardly. I just don’t understand him. When it comes to me, at least, he’s all sharp edges.

  Aside from the fact that he’s now caught me breaking into two buildings on their property … first the barn and now the house. Marlowe warned me Rory was territorial, so yeah, I guess that explains it.

  Standing here, staring at Rory, I feel like a total idiot.

  Rather than storming off, as I’ve come to expect him to do, Rory bites his lip a second as if thinking—and then barks out a question.

  “What are you doing here anyway?”

  I stumble over words for a moment. “We … we just wanted to check out the house. Everyone does, you know. Granted, most people probably don’t break in, but it’s kind of a rite of passage if—”

  “No, not that,” he says, cutting me off. “I mean what are you really doing here. You, your mom, in this town.”

  I’m not sure what possesses me to tell Rory anything. It’s not like he’s been at all friendly toward me. But something prompts me to open my mouth and tell him a fuller version of the truth than I’ve told anyone.

  “We’re running away,” I say.

  I think that’s it. I think it’ll end there. But maybe it’s because his eyes feel like they’re already seeing inside of me, but the rest of the sorry truth spills out of me here, in this hallway.

  “From my father.”

  He looks at me a moment, and I know that he sees more than words could ever say. I see a recognition dawning on him. I see the way his eyes register something, and I know he’s putting it all together.

  He’s a sharp one in other ways too, Rory. Too sharp.

  He grows quiet, which is a first. It seems like he’s going to say something but isn’t quite sure how to say it. After a long drawn-out moment of silence, I realize that I probably shouldn’t have said anything at all.

  Even though it’s not like I told him every deepest, darkest detail of the trauma that led to us running away from my father, it still feels like I did. In just a few, honest words, I feel like I just beared my soul to him.

  And he’s left it here, hanging between us, as he stands in front of me saying nothing. What was I thinking?

  “You shouldn’t be here,” he finally says. “If your goal was to stay safe, then coming here wasn’t the best choice.”

  And there it is. That’s all he has to say about it.

  There was a brief moment there where I thought we had an understanding. I thought wrong.

  I just nod, turn on my heel, and storm off without saying anything else.

  Because that’s all that he deserves.

  Throughout the rest of my classes, all I can think about is what Rory said to his brothers in the hallway, and what I said to him outside the classroom. I hope I don’t end up paying for opening my mouth. I usually know better. What Rory said sounded a lot like another threat.

  It didn’t feel like a threat at the time, not in the same way that Romulus’ warning did.

  The more I think about it, however, the more I wonder if I’ve made a terrible mistake. I should
have been more careful. I should have watched my back. I’ve been so caught up in these fictional wolves in the woods that I didn’t look out for the real worry, the real wolves.

  They warn you about the wolf in sheep’s clothing, but they don’t warn you about wolves in well-fit designer jeans with eyes that look like they’re staring into your very soul.

  Rather than dulling, the feeling of unease grows for the rest of the day. By the time I get home from school, even the scent of freshly baked lasagna wafting down from the cabin does nothing to ease my nerves.

  My mom can sense it when I step inside, the front screen door slamming shut behind me as I throw my backpack on the couch and reach to shuffle through the junk mail accumulated on the side table.

  I can see her glance up at me from the corner of my eye, and then just as quickly look away.

  “Hey, did you hear that someone broke into the big house on the hill over the weekend? I thought maybe some of the kids might have been talking about it at school.”

  “Uh huh,” I mutter, still focused on shuffling through the letters on the table. I’m not really paying attention to anything, not even the mail in front of me.

  We never get mail since we’ve been careful not to officially register at the new address. It’s more of a nervous tick than anything. Something to keep my mind occupied while I try to shake this growing feeling that something is just off.

  “I hate to think of you here alone,” my mother continues, the sound of silverware clinking together as she sets a sorry set for two in front of the TV.

  “It was fine,” I say absentmindedly, picking up the last coupon booklet from the stack and glancing over an advertisement for half-off tick bite cream. With all the breaking-in I’ve been doing, it seems highly appropriate.

  I start throwing it with rest of the recycling when something catches my eye and makes me freeze.

  “You didn’t see anything, did you?”

  I hear the start of my mom’s question, but then her voice seems to trail off as I stare down at the booklet.

  “Sabrina?”

  Her voice sounds distant, as if I’m in a dream.

  More like a nightmare.

  Because when I turn the booklet back over and take another look at who’s name is printed on the front, I know why I’ve been feeling anxious all day. I know why this sense of foreboding has been growing, why I’ve been so worried.

  The coupon booklet isn’t addressed to “current resident” as all the other mail is. As it should be.

  It’s addressed to me.

  Without saying anything, I hold out the booklet towards my mother with trembling fingers. She takes one look at it and her face whitens.

  We both know what that means.

  If my name is registered to this address, then my father can find us. He will find us.

  It’s only a matter of time now.

  14

  Sabrina

  Sleep doesn’t come easy after that.

  My nerves are all over the place. Every creak in the cabin makes an image of my father at the door instantly flash across my eyes. I hear the wolves howling outside again, as if reminding me and only me that danger lurks just outside these walls. They seem agitated, or excited, I can’t tell which.

  When mom leaves for work in the morning, I lock the door behind her and stay put.

  I’m not going to school today. In fact, I’m not even leaving this cabin at all. Not now. Maybe not ever. I doubt anyone will notice if I play hooky anyway and it will serve Rory right having to work on some of the project by himself.

  If he even knows that the project is.

  Let him sit and twiddle his thumbs in class like I had to. Maybe, if I’m really lucky, the teacher will just give in already and let us work on our own. That would save me from having to interact with that asshole ever again.

  After all, that seems to be what he wants.

  I stay home the next day too. Fortunately, Mom is already getting too burnt out at her new job to pay attention to whether or not I’m actually at school during the day.

  When there’s a knock on the door this time, it’s followed by another healthy dose of panic usually reserved for knocks in the middle of the night. This time, however, I don’t fully freak out and grab a lamp—ready to smash it over somebody’s head.

  Not, at least, until I’ve snuck a peek through the blinds to see who it is this time.

  Despite my heightened nerves, I don’t actually expect to see my father. That would just be too easy. Too expected.

  What I don’t expect, however, is to see Marlowe and Kaleb standing outside my door.

  For a minute, I think about pretending I’m not home and crawling back up into the loft to hide. But Kaleb catches my stare through the window and there’s something about his eyes that I can’t ever seem to ignore. So, I reluctantly open the door.

  “What are you guys doing here?” I ask. “I’m legitimately sitting in my own house this time,” I say sarcastically. “Unless you’re about to tell me something about that too.”

  Kaleb chuckles.

  “Can we come in?” Marlowe asks.

  “Uh, I guess?” I don’t mean the inflection in my voice to come out sounding like a question, but it does.

  Why are they here? I tuck my wild hair behind my ears and realize that I haven’t actually looked at myself in a mirror for a couple of days. I also become keenly reminded of the fact I haven’t showered in just as long, when Marlowe takes a big inhale right next to me.

  It just wasn’t worth the cold trek outside to the shower, not when I wasn’t expecting to run into anyone out here that might be offended but myself.

  Or my father. And in that case, he’d deserve it.

  The entire time Mom’s been on another work spree, I’ve just been hunkering down in the house trying to avoid everyone and everything. With the way things have been going lately, these two are the last people I expected to show up on my doorstep.

  This seems like the last place they’d want to be. At least Rory isn’t here with them.

  I’m not sure I would have answered the door if he was.

  “Why haven’t you been at school?” Kaleb asks, cutting to the chase.

  Damn those eyes. I can’t pull myself away from feeling that I’m getting swallowed up by him every time I look into them.

  “I haven’t been feeling well.”

  “You look fine.”

  “What, are you the new doctor in town or something?”

  “We were just worried about you, Sabrina,” Marlowe says. “Rory’s worried too.”

  I make a huffing sound. “Yeah, right.”

  “What makes you say that?” he asks. While he stands still, Kaleb has started moving around the cabin, his eyes drinking in the place like a long-lost memory. “Whatever happened between you two at school the other day, I hope you realize he’s just being overprotective.”

  I arch an eyebrow at him.

  “Overprotective of what?”

  Kaleb stops looking around and stares at Marlowe, who returns the look. They both seem to be at a loss for answers.

  “There’s lots of things that are a threat,” Marlowe says. “I’m sure it wasn’t anything in particular, he’s just trying to look out for you.”

  That’s definitely not a good answer, it isn’t even an answer at all. There’s something weird going on with these boys. It’s like one minute they’re acting like I’m an intrusion and the next minute they’re showing up to make sure I’m safe.

  “Does all this have to do with your weird religion or something?” I blurt out before I can stop myself. “Everyone at school says you guys practice some sort of Paganism or something.”

  After I finish my impulsive rambling, I realize that if they are Pagan after all, they’re probably going to put a hex or something on me now for being such an ignorant and obnoxious idiot.

  Kaleb laughs and steps up close enough to me to touch my hair with his fingers and twirl a stray piece of it around h
is thumb. I freeze up. Normally touch like this makes my skin crawl, but this time I find myself dreading the moment he pulls away.

  “Not Pagans,” he says quietly, treating the word as if it should be revered when it passes through his lips. “We’re not really very religious at all. Not in the strictest sense.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, hardly daring to breathe.

  Kaleb shrugs. “It’s hard to explain without really experiencing it, you know. We do have something coming up actually. Soon. Maybe you’d like to—”

  “Kaleb,” Marlowe cuts him off. “That’s enough. We got what we came for. Sabrina is safe, so we should be going.”

  Kaleb turns to look at his brother, who already has his hand on the door handle. He seems reluctant to let go of the strand of my hair that he’s still holding in his fingers. He turns his face back to look at me and I get lost in his eyes again.

  I don’t think I’ve stood this close to him for this long before, and it’s entirely intoxicating. I want to reach out my own hand and put it in his hair as well, or maybe rest it on his muscular chest so that I can feel the rise and fall of it beneath my palm.

  Marlowe is waiting for him, and staring at us, and yet Kaleb seems unable to move. When he finally releases my hair, he lets his hand slide gently down the side of my neck for just a moment, the touch of his skin on mine burning like embers before walking over to his brother at the door.

  “We’re glad you’re feeling alright,” Marlowe says. He seems irritated with Kaleb and I know why. Kaleb almost said too much. “I hope you’ll be back in school tomorrow.”

  Marlowe pulls the door open and both boys walk out, but just as Kaleb is about to close the door behind them, he turns and takes one step back into the cabin.

  “Kaleb—” Marlowe tries again, but his brother won’t be stopped. Not this time.