by Melissa Haag
I stomped over to the counter, scooped some eggs onto a plate, grabbed a milk, then purposely ignored him and went to the table near the window.
Since finishing high school, I often found myself alone, watching the world when I wasn’t so angry at it. At times like those, I would pick up the phone and call Ethan.
We’d tried working together after I’d graduated, but the emotions from him and everyone else in the bar had been too much for me. He’d come up with the cage idea after the first time I’d quit. I’d tried again, working for a few hours then fighting. It’d been great. But I’d started drawing too much attention, and Ethan had worried. Thus, I’d found myself in the white-collar employment pool, only working at the bar when I needed a fight. Still, I’d known Ethan was only a phone call away whenever I needed to talk.
It felt like we were on one of our long stretches where we were both busy, and all I needed to do was pick up the phone. If only it were that easy. I missed him.
“Isabelle.”
Carlos’ voice, so close to me, made me jump. I turned and found him next to the table. He was looking down at me, his dark eyes focused on my face.
“We leave in thirty. I’ll get your bag, unless you need to go back to the room for something.”
“Thanks.”
He looked at me for a second longer then left. I breathed a sigh of relief and went back to not eating my cold eggs.
* * * *
“You gunna drop kick me into fairyland?”
Bethi’s voice penetrated my misery, and I pulled my blank stare from the window just in time to see her flop into the chair across from me.
“I should. When you asked to sleep with me, I thought that meant me and you in a bed.”
“I know. I’m sorry. Luke wasn’t willing to bend.” She smirked at her choice of words.
“No more sleepovers for you,” I said, balling up my napkin and tossing it on the plate.
“Come on. You looked like you were pretty comfy.”
“Don’t go there.”
“It’s funny that you’re doing everything you can to stay away from Carlos. I was the complete opposite with Luke.”
“Why?”
“Once I realized he was one of the good guys, I thought he might be my ticket to a few dreamless nights. After all the memories of dying...” She shook her head. “I was desperate. Still am. Anyway, I tried to bite him countless times. He dodged every attempt. I can’t even count how many times I ended up with his hand in my face.”
“Wait, bite? Why bite?”
“Yeah. It’s the werewolf version of being engaged, I guess. I was hoping that Claiming him would stop the dreams. It didn’t. Then, I’d hoped Mating would do the trick. It didn’t either. But at least I’m safer. Mating is essentially tying the unbreakable knot. No, seriously. It’s unbreakable.” She leaned forward and grew serious. “If they catch us, they can’t force us to bite one of their own if we’re Mated. It won’t work as long as our Mate’s alive.”
I heard the words and even registered their meaning on some level, but I was still stuck on biting meaning engaged. My eyes narrowed. I knew biting would have been a bad idea.
“Excuse me,” I said, picking up my plate and standing. “I need to talk to Carlos.”
I tossed my food in the garbage then took the stairs two at a time. He was just leaving the room as I turned the corner. I marched up to him and put my hands on his chest, pushing him back against the door.
“Still want that bite?”
In a blink, I was the one against the door. One of his hands was in my hair and the other gently held the back of my neck. His entire body seemed to curl around me, shielding me from everything. My anger slipped a notch as a burst of desire exploded inside me.
“Yes,” he breathed.
It took me a second to recall I’d asked a question. I pulled my anger around me like a protective blanket and kicked the desire in its teeth.
“Did you maybe forget to mention that biting you would have meant we were engaged?”
He gave an angry growl.
“Yeah, that’s how I feel. What was that run last night? Another trick?” I pushed at him. When he didn’t move, I pinched the inside of his bicep. He winced and pulled away from me. “I don’t like liars, Carlos. Watch yourself.”
I picked up my bag and left him standing in the hall.
By the time I reached the lobby, I saw everyone was already outside, milling around in the parking lot. As soon as I pushed through the doors, they started piling in their assigned vehicles, and I slowed as I realized I’d be stuck in a car alone with Carlos again.
The door opened behind me, and Carlos moved past me, his bag over his shoulder.
“I’m not getting in the car with you,” I said, crossing my arms.
He stopped walking but didn’t turn.
“Why not?”
“Because you’re not following the rule.”
He turned to study me.
“What rule?”
“The don’t-touch-Isabelle-or-she’ll-break-your-damn-hand rule.” I glared at him.
He considered me for a moment and slowly closed the distance between us.
“You’re afraid,” he said, sounding too much like Ethan.
I wanted to hit him. Instead, I marched over to the car to yank the door open and get in. Hopefully the echo of the slammed door let Carlos know just how angry I was.
* * * *
It was a long, tense ride. I spent the time staring out my window.
Three hours into the drive, Carlos suddenly spoke, taking me by surprise.
“What is it you don’t like about me?”
His hesitant tone launched a pity party in my heart. I quickly closed the door on that noise.
“Your persistence.”
I felt him glance at me but refused to look.
“I don’t understand why you keep trying. Nothing’s going to happen. I’m not biting you. I’m not dating you. I’m not doing anything with you.”
“Okay.”
That was it, just a calm, measured okay. I finally turned to look at him. He met my gaze.
“I just want you happy.”
The words made my insides churn with emotion. I could easily gage the mood of those around me, except for Carlos; but when it came to how I felt, I couldn’t look deep. I didn’t want to.
“Then just be my friend,” I said. “I need one.”
He returned his attention to the road, and I went back to watching out the window.
It wasn’t long after our little talk that the first vehicle pulled off the shoulder for another practice session. This time, we started paired off, fighting back to back. Carlos and I moved together pretty well. He was fast and kept up with me easily. When we stood back to watch the rest, I saw Luke and Bethi were in sync too. Jim paired well with Grey, Emmitt, and Thomas. Winifred seemed to work him a bit harder than the rest. No doubt punishment for yesterday. The normal people radiated frustration, with Bethi adding a special blend of melancholy. Probably her hangover. The not so normal people didn’t emanate as much, for which I was grateful. My tender head and stomach were getting worse by the minute. Thankfully, after our allotted thirty minutes, we were on the road again in search of somewhere to eat.
We pulled into the first restaurant we saw. It looked like a little ma-and-pa place from the outside, and the inside confirmed it. There were maybe ten tables, and three of them were taken. The cook’s eyes rounded when he saw our big group come in. This time, we didn’t try to push tables together.
Carlos stopped at a table furthest from the other customers and pulled out a chair for me. Why did that make me hesitate and my heart skip a beat? He watched me closely. I’d asked for friendship, I reminded myself as I sat.
He didn’t sit next to me, but across from me.
“Can we sit with you?” Michelle asked. Emmitt stood just behind her.
“Sure,” I said.
Michelle sat to my right and gave me a shy smil
e. Emmitt pushed her chair in for her before moving to the other side of me.
“I’m sorry if it seems like I’m being hard on you,” I said.
“You are being hard on us, but I understand why.”
I felt Michelle’s burst of pity and knew what she would say before she said it.
“I’m really sorry about Ethan.”
My eyes stung and my lungs burned for a few seconds until I locked the new wave of grief away behind the wall that held the rest. Then, I nodded.
“Bethi said you two grew up together. How did you meet?”
A smile tugged my lips as I remembered.
“At school. On the playground. He was the new kid, two grades older. He wasn’t like the other kids who’d fall asleep if I tried to play with them. He was angry. All the time. He took a ball from a girl I knew.” I could still picture his face, so stubborn and set. “When I asked him to give it back, he tried hitting me. I was already in self-defense classes so I blocked it. It was our first spar.”
“How did you learn self-defense without putting the instructor to sleep?” Michelle asked. I was glad she didn’t ask more about Ethan.
“Back then, my pull wasn’t as strong unless I really tried. Plus, grownups hide what they feel more than kids do. Where I put a kid to sleep, a grownup usually barely felt it. It wasn’t until I hit my teens that what I could do grew.”
I remembered when I’d first figured out something was changing. A boy in my eighth grade class had asked me to go to a movie with him. I’d been flattered. Ethan had insisted on going with us as a chaperone. He hadn’t trusted the boy.
Once we were in the movies, the boy had reached over to hold my hand. My excitement at the contact had quickly turned to horror when the boy had slumped next to me. Ethan, sitting two rows behind us, had jumped the seats before I’d made a sound and pulled the boy away from me. That was when I’d known relationships beyond friendship were out.
The waitress came over with waters for everyone and asked if we wanted anything else to drink as she handed us menus.
“We’re fine. Thank you,” Emmitt said politely.
From a table over, I heard Jim say, “We’re going to starve.”
He was sharing a table with Charlene, Thomas, and Winifred. Charlene shushed Jim and continued to eye her menu. Jim caught my eye and looked at me hopefully.
“He misses Liam and Aden,” Emmitt said.
“Who are Liam and Aden?” I asked.
“My brothers,” Michelle said. She reached into her purse and pulled out a photo of two little boys standing in the spray of a sprinkler. “This is from this summer.”
Pride and love clouded around her.
“They mean a lot to you,” I said, studying their faces.
“The world. That’s why I’m here. Blake, the man controlling the Urbat, kept me prisoner for my premonitions. He used my brothers to keep me in line.”
I really did not like Blake.
“Where are your brothers now?” I asked.
“Somewhere safe, I hope.”
Her melancholy rained down on me. I gently pulled it from her. She smiled at the photo once again, and I handed it back to her.
We talked about her brothers a bit more as the waitress slowly took everyone’s orders. When it came to me, I asked for a simple BLT, no fries. Carlos gave me a calculating look, but I ignored him. My stomach wasn’t ready for anything heavier than what I’d ordered.
* * * *
I only made it halfway through my BLT before I set it aside. The emotions in the little diner were making my already upset stomach worse. The cook was worried, probably that he’d undercooked the burgers, which he had. The waitress emanated impatience and irritation. She probably wanted a smoke break. And the restaurant’s other customers were just as dreary.
I felt over-sensitized to every little mood swing. My gaze shifted to Jim, and I scowled at him. Stupid drinking. I put my elbows on the table and rubbed my face. My stomach gave a lurch as a burst of concern came from the right.
“Are you all right?” Michelle asked.
“I want to kill Jim,” I mumbled through my hands.
She set a sympathetic arm on my shoulder.
“I’ve been there. Hungover because of Jim, I mean.”
“And because of yourself,” Jim said from the other side of the room.
“Quiet,” someone said in a low voice. I thought it was his mom.
“Do you want something for your head?” Michelle asked.
I dropped my hands. Everyone was watching me.
“No. I think I’ll just step outside for a while.”
Even the simple motion of standing made me feel worse. My skin crawled, my head throbbed, and my stomach squeezed and rolled in a sickening way. I made my way outside and gulped in the fresh air. The emotions of everyone inside still drifted to me. I moved away from the building, walking toward the sparse trees near the back of the property. Passing the dumpsters made me gag.
I leaned against the first tree I came to.
“It’s more than a hangover, isn’t it?”
Carlos’ voice made me jump. I should have known he would follow.
“The hangover isn’t helping. I think I’m more sensitive to everyone’s moods because of it.”
He moved around me so we faced each other.
“Then we need to do something about it.”
I cringed.
“I’ll throw up if I have to spar. I just need a few minutes.”
He studied me and shook his head.
“No, I think waiting will make it worse.”
“I’m not fighting, Carlos.”
“What if you tried pushing again?”
I frowned.
“We’re too close to people.”
“Then let’s go for a walk.” He held out his hand.
I ignored his hand and shoved away from the tree.
“It would be better if I did this alone. I don’t know what I’m doing, and I don’t want to hurt anyone.”
“I was fine yesterday.”
I walked as I thought it over. I doubted he’d leave, even if I asked him to.
“Fine. Stay.”
I stopped walking. I could hear the occasional car pass in the distance, but felt nothing around me. A squirrel chittered at us from its branch above. Glancing up, I considered it.
“You know, I’m going to be really upset if dead rodents start falling on my head because of this.”
I closed my eyes, rolled my shoulders, then tried to relax. I took several slow breaths, and on an exhale, I tried to push out. After my third attempt, I opened my eyes and looked at Carlos.
“Why isn’t it working?”
“What’s different from last night and today?
I shrugged.
“Last night you were more relaxed.”
“I’m trying to relax.”
“But you’re still worrying. You need to let it all go.”
“You think I’m worrying? About what?”
“Hurting me. Hurting the squirrel.”
He was crazy. I wasn’t worried about that. I looked up at the squirrel staring down at us and realized it had stopped chittering. Why? And the sudden worry I felt affirmed Carlos was right. I sighed. How did someone let go of all worry?
No matter how hard I tried, I cared about whether or not I would hurt someone around me. If I couldn’t push the overflow out, that meant I needed to spar. My stomach shook its head at the idea.
“It’s not working.” Facing Carlos, I gave him an unhappy look and put my hands up. He shadowed my move. “I might puke on you. If I do, I’m really sorry.”
“I can handle it.”
“I can’t.” I gave a half-hearted jab.
He swatted it away and returned the swing. It was so unexpected that I almost didn’t block in time.
“What the hell?”
“Fight,” he growled.
“I hope I do puke on you.” I started to swing like I meant it.
I gagged twice within two minutes, and he was quick to dance away. But after that, some of the nausea started to ease. He seemed to sense I was feeling better because he drove me harder. Sweat started to glue my shirt to my back. I hated that feeling. And it was unlikely that I’d get a shower until after dinner. The thought of yet another restaurant dinner made my stomach twist. I didn’t understand why it would be so picky now after months of feeding it TV dinners.
“Do you know what?” I said, trying to find a way under his guard.
“What?”
He blocked my jab to his head.
“I want a sandwich. Just a plain ‘ol PB and J.” He was a second too slow on raising his arm, and I caught his jaw. I almost apologized, but he was too quick to return the blow. Blocking became more of a priority than saying sorry.
“What kind of jelly?” he asked.
“Doesn’t matter. I’m just tired of the heavy restaurant food. And I want cereal for breakfast.” When I stopped talking, I stepped back. “I’m done. For now. If I get any more sweaty it will just annoy me more than we’re helping me.”
He nodded and relaxed.
“Thanks, Carlos.”
“Anytime, Isabelle.”
My stomach dipped in a pleasant way as he said my name like it was an endearment and a secret promise. I awkwardly nodded then started walking back to the restaurant as Carlos’ request to run and later to bite him bounced around in my head along with Bethi’s words.
“Would it be all right with you if Winifred and Bethi took your place in the car? Just for a little while?”
“Why?”
He didn’t sound objectionable to the request, only curious.
“I have some questions.” Questions that might result in me wanting to beat him again. Or me blushing. Either way, I didn’t want him around.
“All right. When it gets to be too much, tell Winifred to let me know. We can stop for a break.”
“Thanks,” I said, glancing at him. The slightly pink mark on his cheek caused a pang of regret. I was tired of hitting people. Well, I wouldn’t mind hitting a few more of those Urbat. Better yet, Blake. But it wasn’t like Blake or his men would just hold still for me while I—
I grinned.
“You’re happy,” Carlos said, opening the door for me.