Destiny

by Rachelle Mills et al.

  “You too, Dallas. Thank you for that.” My eyes meet his in thanks, and another blush creeps on his face. I find that cute in a flattering way.

  Aurora comes into my office, sipping a fresh cup of tea.

  “Don’t you think it’s sweet of Luna Catherine, always bringing Kennedy with her to meet other packs, molding her for her future role as a Luna? You know what I find really nice? That all the Lunas of the other packs hold a nice welcome dinner for them. All the unmated male pack members are expected to show up so they can meet this future Luna. Catherine has been dragging her around for years doing this. She refers to it as hunting.” Aurora blows on her cup of tea before taking a sip, eyes watching mine. “You didn’t hear that from me.” Before I get to say a word, she turns around, leaving me open mouthed.

  After finishing with my work, I decide to walk home, just in case the Luna drives by and doesn’t see my car. I don’t want her stopping by.

  Nothing but little puddles are left in the wake of the storm. Everything else is dry underneath the sun’s hot eye.

  Walking down my driveway, keys jingling in my hands, I notice how the wind lifts the willow tree’s hanging limbs in a gentle dance, swaying back and forth. Green eyes glint at me in the shadow of the tree.

  Stepping into the sun, he looks like a vision…a horrible, wonderful vision…

  “Rya.”

  Chapter Six

  Sliding In, Falling Out

  Static crackles between the two of us…

  He doesn’t move.

  He doesn’t speak.

  He doesn’t do anything but stare at me.

  His eyes capture mine, and everything slides away. Nothing else exists, just him.

  A chemical reaction of the purest, simplest elements merge together, creating something that feels combustible. This moment will always loiter in my mind. This one real moment between the two of us without witnesses.

  He begins to step toward me, one long stride at a time. Watching, he inhales deeply, eyes closing, a shudder quivering his muscles. Another step toward me, his hands shake like my heart. Core muscles tighten. My tendons are taut, my bones quaking with the assault inside my body. His muscles are contracting, causing spasms under his exposed skin. Another step toward me. I can actually hear his erratic heartbeat inside his chest. Our bodies sync with each other.

  Bliss so pure runs up my spine, wrapping around my shoulders, hugging me in its embrace.

  I let my eyes caress every curve, every edge of his body. I try to ingrain every detail of skin, the curve of his lips, broad shoulders, muscular neck…my scent giving off just how much I appreciate what’s standing in front of me. His eyes are blazing bright green, the desire pouring off him in waves. He sucks a breath in…

  This is how it should have been for us…this moment. This is what was meant to happen.

  Finally, he’s standing right in front of me. His head angles down, and my head angles up, eyes not leaving each other. His violent shivers shake the both of us. Just an inch separates our bodies. Dipping his head down toward my neck, he inhales. Growls vibrate his expanding chest as they percuss into mine.

  My heart flutters wildly, and his nose almost touches my flesh. Lips are so close to my skin, and his fingertip almost touches me, just hovering…waiting…Can he feel my breath on them? He pulls himself away, just a step back, but it feels like we’re now standing miles apart. If I were quick enough, I could claim him now. No one would look down on that…except him.

  Opening up his mouth, letting a long breath out, he looks me in the eyes. By the way he is squaring his shoulders, I know this is going to hurt.

  “I love her, but I can’t stop myself from wanting you. I can’t stop myself from wanting to touch you. I want to stop myself, but I can’t.” His agony hurts my ears with the pain he’s feeling, the conflict his body and mind are waging within himself.

  “She’s what I love, but you’re what I need.” He takes another long inhale into his lungs, and his eyes close for just a fraction of a moment before they open into the color of a deep dark forest canopy. My turn to reach for him, fingertips extending, but he’s standing just a feather’s breath too far.

  “I don’t want to hurt her,” he whispers.

  “What about me?” I ask him back.

  He can’t answer me.

  My heart breaks.

  The magic between us fades.

  “I understand Clayton.” His fists clench, his canines descend, and his jaw start to take on an irregular shape as his muscles start shifting into his wolf’s form. He gives a grunt, shaking his head back and forth, pain etched across his face. He’s trying to prevent a shift from happening, fighting with his wolf nature…

  “Stop.”

  He says this out loud, not to me, but to himself before his face goes back to his skin side.

  “She’s always been there. She’s all I have ever known. Ever had.” He’s trying to explain himself.

  “I have known no one,” I counter back. He nods his head at me as if he can even grasp the understanding of this. He has someone.

  “I grew up with her. She was my first kiss, my first love, my first everything.” His eyes aren’t leaving me; his truth is killing me.

  “I never had a first kiss. I never had a first love. I never had any of that. I was saving all of that for you.” His eyes close, looking so pained.

  “I’m so sorry,” he quavers. My hand goes over my mouth, a sob trying to escape from my hand that’s trying to keep my cries silent, trying with every ounce of dignity to control myself…I just can’t.

  “What’s so wrong with me? I could have been everything to you…” The words are hardly recognizable with the crack of my voice, the sobs pouring out. My chest burns with the emotions I’m feeling.

  “Rya, nothing is wrong with you. You’re perfect in every single way. It’s me.” He touches his heart. “I just can’t let her go, but I can’t stop myself from being here with you.” He clutches the material of his shirt in his hand. I want to be that material.

  “Since you came back, I can’t get you out of here.” He taps his head.

  “I want to touch you, but I want to hold her.” He raises his hand up so his fingertip almost brushes my lips. I can feel the electricity from his almost touch tingling my lips.

  “I want to kiss her, but I can’t, because all I can think about is kissing you. It’s so messed up.” His soul is starting to open up to me. I can feel it reaching for me, trying to pull me in.

  “It was easier for me when we were younger. You looked like a little girl with nothing that I wanted except your soul. Even then, I wanted your soul in mine,” he says, letting his voice whisper the last words out.

  “I thought that I could fight it, that it wasn’t that hard. You went away, which made it much easier for me. After the first year, I could pretend you were never here. But then you came back. I always knew you would. I just didn’t expect this. I never expected this…You are the most beautiful thing ever.” His hands are clenched so tight that small droplets of blood start to splatter on the green grass.

  “You stand in front of me looking at me with those eyes; I can’t stop thinking about them. I want to lay you down and just stare at them. I want so much from you, yet at the exact same time, I have so much from Kennedy. She has given me so much. She is my best friend, my lover, my everything. I can’t just give that up. I want to for you, but I can’t for her.

  “I’m sorry. This is how I feel.” He just studies me, waiting for my words to tumble out.

  Inhaling for a long moment, he lets his breath out slow through parted lips, tongue licking them, moistening them. I want to groan with the sight I have at the moment.

  “I can smell you, Rya. I can catch you on the breeze when I least expect it. You smell innocent, as if your skin is waiting for mine.” He takes just the tiniest step toward me. I could reach out now and touch him if I want to. I don’t. Instead, I take his scent into me, inhaling long and slow. I smell the compl
ete maleness of him, the sweet desire of him.

  “I can smell you, Clayton, yet underneath all your layers, I can smell Kennedy. I can smell her in every pore, every crack of your skin, everywhere. I’m not sure she could ever really fade away from your smell.” I want to weep with this thought.

  “I don’t want her scent to fade off my skin, but I want to be on your skin.”

  “Does she know you’re here?” I wait for his answer.

  “No.” Shame fills his face.

  “You need to leave me alone, Clayton. I can’t do this. I’m not the other female. I’m not that type of person.” My eyes are stinging from all my crying.

  “I can’t.” He’s looking at me again. “I’m sorry. I want to leave you alone, but I just can’t. I can’t stop loving her, either. I can’t turn that off.”

  “You can’t have the both of us.”

  “I know that.”

  “Then I will make that choice for you. Stop looking at me, stop following me around, and stop trying to contact me. I need you to just leave. Turn around and walk away like you did that day. Go to her. Go to where you belong.” He doesn’t move.

  It’s my move, and I choose to give him my back, taking the first real step away. It’s not forced out of embarrassment or to not cause a scene. This is my choice to walk away willingly. In a way, I can breathe just a touch easier than before.

  I turn around one last time. He’s still standing in that same spot, unable to move away from me.

  “Screw you, Clayton, for doing this to me.” I’m not malicious in my words; they aren’t harsh. I don’t scream them out. They are just my soft truth.

  Closing my door, I breathe out a slow, painful breath.

  The mirror above the basin of the sink holds my reflection in the glass. The image staring back has red, puffy eyes and tired lungs. I watch as the smallest breeze finds its way in to gently blow the delicate curtains up. Staring at myself, I just see a female who is only trying to exist. Nothing more, nothing less, just existing.

  Stepping into the shower, I wash away the faint layer of his scent that was trying to cling to me. Down the drain, the soapy water takes him away, nothing to linger, nothing to remind me that he’s been here.

  My walk back to the clinic is quiet. Nature’s background noise is soothing to my soul. Dallas is there locking the door, head down, a backpack slung over his one shoulder as if he’s just getting done with school. He walks away in the opposite direction, his hand in his pocket. I watch as he goes by my car; a fingertip traces the front, gliding across the length of it before ending at the back. He puts his hand back in his pocket. Even strides carry him away. I just stand there looking at him before I decide to call out to him.

  “Hey, Dallas! Do you need a ride home?” I jingle my keys in my hand, waiting for an answer.

  Surprised, his smiling eyes meet mine.

  “If you’re going that way, sure.”

  “I’m not sure where you even live, but I can drive you. I’m not really busy at the moment.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate this.” He’s at the side of my car. Opening it, I let him in. He’s nervous but maintaining appearances.

  Rolling down his window, he takes some deep breaths in as the wind swirls around inside between us.

  “Turn right here, just at the end of this road.” I pull off the main road onto a dirt road winding like a snake into the forest. A small cottage just like mine sits solitary on the edge of the lake. It’s on the opposite side from my house.

  I wasn’t expecting this. I thought he would have something grand, doctor-ish. Looking around, it’s a simple, small home, well built with dark grey siding that blends well with the scenery.

  “Would you like to come in? I could make us dinner if you haven’t eaten yet today.” I can tell he’s slightly nervous with the way he says it.

  I hesitate, not sure of what to say.

  “It’s okay. Sorry. I just thought if you haven’t eaten, and I haven’t…it’s just better sometimes, not eating alone.” His words hold a touch of hollowness.

  “Why not?” Putting the car in park and shutting off the engine, I get out, following him to his home.

  “I wasn’t expecting company, so it’s a little messy.” Opening the door to his home, he waits for me to walk in first.

  It’s all open concept, everything in one room except the bedrooms and bathroom. It’s clean, modern; the only thing out of place are some big medical books and a guitar on the couch. Some of the sun-ripened vegetables that I brought to the pack gathering are sitting on his table just waiting to be eaten.

  “Come, sit.” He pulls out a chair for me at the island. The gas range sits in the middle, high quality.

  “Drinks.” He says this to himself as he looks into the fridge.

  “I have wine, beer, vodka, pop, water? Whatever you would like.”

  “I’ll take a glass of wine.”

  He pulls a bottle of blushing pink wine out and pours two glasses. My fingertips brush against him as I take the glass from him. His eyes find mine before he looks away.

  I notice his deck outside is bigger than his home, layered steps and landings that go all the way to the lake. He notices where my eyes are wandering.

  “Would you like to go outside?” He opens the glass doors, letting the hot summer breeze in. Stepping outside, I see he has canoes, kayaks, and stand-up paddle boards that line the side of the deck.

  “Wow, you have a lot of stuff.”

  “I like the water. Do you kayak?”

  “No, I have never been.” He looks surprised.

  “I really was never invited, plus my parents don’t live on the water. I always wanted to, but I just didn’t have the opportunity.”

  “Well, if you want, I could teach you. Maybe if it’s a nice weekend, you can come over in the afternoon and we can take a little tour of the lake.” He’s looking at the water, not at me. I can tell he’s waiting for an answer.

  “That would be fun, thanks.” He lets out a breath with my words.

  Sipping my wine, I look out at the lake shimmering in the afternoon sun.

  “Beautiful,” he says.

  “It is,” I agree, but when I look at him, he’s looking at me.

  Chapter Seven

  Almost

  A light wind from the east pushes the water toward the shore. A loon calls its haunting song out as it drifts lazily in the hot summer sun. The retreat and advance of water leaves the sand on the beach wet one minute and dry the next. The bright rays beating down on my back has me wanting to jump into the cool water.

  This week at work was good. I didn’t have anything exciting happen. It allowed me to just concentrate on getting things where I like them. I haven’t felt nor have I seen Clayton since that day. I feel good about that. Out of sight, out of mind. The Luna has even left me alone. On Friday, Dallas approached me to see if I was still interested in a canoe trip on Saturday, and at first, I said I was busy. His reply was that he “understood.” The way he said it was like he understood it had something to do with him. So I told him I would be there, and here we are.

  There’s a little island in the center of the lake that Dallas is taking us toward. We’ve been out canoeing for at least an hour, and my shoulders are burning with the effort. It doesn’t look like it would be this hard, but it is.

  “You okay?” he questions behind me. “You can stop paddling if you want.”

  “No, it’s okay, I’m just not used to this,” I reply, trying to push through the fire my arms are feeling.

  “This is called Blueberry Island.” He jumps out of the water, getting his shorts wet, pulling the canoe toward shore. He puts his hand out to steady me as I get out. When our hands meet, he looks away. I can’t see his eyes because he’s wearing sunglasses. It feels weird not being able to see wolves’ eyes. They hold our soul.

  I walk into the bushes, and the moss is so thick my feet sink down into the forest floor. Small wild blueberry plants line the sponge-soaked soil
, carpeting it in specks of blue. These tiny morsels are so abundant and packed with the taste of deep summer.

  Sitting down, gathering the blueberries up, I start gorging on the feast nature is providing. The coolness of the shade and the earth smooths out the mid-day heat.

  “Here, take some of mine.” He fills my hand full, watching me eat what he has just given me. He has a small smile gracing his face that makes him look cute.

  He’s in a short sleeve shirt that’s loose against his chest, but when he moves, it becomes slightly tighter, showing off muscles hidden by the material. His bicep flexes, peeking out his sleeve as he reaches and bends for more blueberries. Gazing at his forearms, I see something that makes me gasp.

  Reaching out my fingertip, I trace the single line that runs from his inner wrist to his elbow. The scar is raised, more white than pink in color; it’s old. Silver did it. He did this to himself…he meant his death when he did that; only the serious who think they want to meet the moon try to end their own life with that kind of cut. They don’t understand that if you end your own life, you will never meet the moon.

  “What did you do?” The question hangs in the air between us.

  He looks down at his own arm, and his face takes on a solemn look.

  “I’m surprised you haven’t seen this before now.” He doesn’t try to hide it behind his back; instead, he traces the delicate line. “I was young. I just thought that ending my life was the solution I was looking for. I was wrong.” He looks away from me as if remembering everything. “My mate, she died, and I thought that I just couldn’t go on without her. I gave up.” His voice shakes slightly, but he holds himself together.

  “Sometimes I feel the same way, but I just can’t do it.” I let my confession leak out. I have never told anyone this. He takes his glasses off so I see those eyes of his that hold the color of a perfect blue sky.

  “Don’t ever think that. Promise me. He’s not worth your life.” His hands grab my arms, not roughly, just to hold me slightly.