Caged

by J. A. Belfield

  Giving a low growl at him for the ambush, I padded forward a little.

  As expected, Gabe flicked his head, and the rabbit arced, landing at my front paws in offering.

  I lowered my muzzled to it, sniffed, looked back to Gabe as he settled onto his stomach—his show of respect whilst I ate.

  The moment he dropped his chin onto his forelegs, I pounced.

  A half second too late, he thrust forward, meeting my attack.

  Our chests collided.

  We plummeted, impacting with the solid earth.

  One over the other, we rolled, dust spraying up like a mushroom cloud, claws scrabbling for control. Despite the thunderous snarls, neither of us had intent to harm.

  No more than our established ritual of greeting, we grappled until our tongues hung loose, and our breaths steamed the air.

  When he squared his shoulders and sent me a grunt as he jerked his head toward home, I knew he hadn’t called round for a simple frolic.

  Gabe had come to talk.

  • • •

  Changing as regularly as I had meant I’d increased the speed at which I could perform it, but not without a price. Arms rigid, muscles taut, sweat left my flesh glistening as I remained in my crouch and attempted to regulate my breaths. By the time I’d even a modicum of composure, steps crunched toward me from the east, and Gabe rounded a naked silver birch into my clearing.

  As I reached for my clothes, he padded across to me, jeans slung low and undone, shirt hanging from his shoulder.

  Eyes still bright from his change, he held out his hand. “Come on, old man.”

  “Show some respect, pup.” I climbed to my feet and stared at the blueness of his irises, the colour in his cheeks, and the grin, noting that only a hint of perspiration tinged his scent. “You’re looking good.” Sounded good, too.

  He gave a nod. “I’m okay. Had six weeks to heal.”

  I didn’t need reminding of the time that had passed—the length of time I hadn’t seen Shelley for.

  “But you already know that.” His head cocked to the side. “You probably know down to the last hour how long you’ve stayed away for.”

  I flinched at his phrasing as I stepped into my boxers and tugged them over my hips. I hadn’t stayed away out of choice.

  He kicked at the dirt, as though he’d caught my reaction, face ducked for a second or two. “So … what’s the deal with you and Mum?”

  “There is no deal.” Jeans and shirt bunched in my hand, I turned to walk off.

  His low growl pursued me. “Bullshit.”

  I halted, spun back. “Mind your tong—”

  “You think I haven’t noticed the looks you two’ve been sending each other for months?” He shook his head, eyes aimed at the treetops.

  “I haven’t—”

  “Man, who’re you kidding?” He delved into his pockets, tugging his jeans lower over his hips. “’Course, now you’re refusing to even see each other.”

  “I’m not—”

  “Something’s gotta give.” More toeing of the soil. Another headshake. “I can’t take it anymore.”

  I shook out my jeans, bent to feed my feet into them, and yanked them over my thighs to my hips before straightening to stare at him.

  He seemed uncomfortable as he met my gaze. “What’re you gonna do about it?”

  I hooked my shirt over the waistband of my trousers. “I know you’re young, Gabe, but even you can figure out that it takes more than one participant to make a relationship. Your mother wants nothing to do with me. So just quit with the hassle, okay?” I turned away, took three strides.

  “More bullshit.”

  Halting again, I gave a deep sigh.

  “She’s done nothing but mope about. Nothing but mope and stare at her phone like she’s waiting on something important. For the entire six weeks since she last saw you.”

  I turned back to him, his expression intense like all I had to do was say the word and I could solve all his life problems—pretty much as he’d always looked at me.

  “She’s there now … on her own. I’m here for a bit.” He shrugged, the action taking his jeans up a notch. “Mum thinks I’m with Mia for the night, but I figured I’d come talk to Nathan about a place in the pack, seeing as I managed to get out the apartment without her shadowing me for once.” His gaze flitted away before returning to me. “For fuck’s sake, Ethan … go and sort this shit out. Please. She’s miserable.” He drew in a deep breath.

  She’s miserable … without me? I stared away, toward the town fifteen miles away, as though I could somehow bring to mind Shelley sitting in the apartment there. Nothing quite like a talking to from a nineteen-year-old to put everything in perspective.

  Would she listen to what I had to say?

  I’d never been too good at talking; I’d always preferred to just act.

  Would she even let me in?

  I swivelled back to Gabe and his heavy scrutiny, the strong plea in his bright eyes, and found myself nodding. “I’ll try.”

  His footstep echoed mine as I wove through the trees toward the arches. Neither of us spoke. Maybe we both thought plenty had already been said. Or maybe I realised the thoughts inside my head would be best saved for Shelley.

  By the time I reached the sparse patch linking brickwork and forest, Gabe’s shoulder brushed mine, our bare soles crunching dirt to the same beat. Even his gait mirrored mine, with his hands buried deep in his pockets and his gaze aimed at the ground.

  No one occupied the garden when we entered, though the conservatory door had been left wide and Lia’s blanket decorated the lawn with a mauve square. Her three teddies sat alongside it, each one of them bigger than her, and I veered to scoop them up on my way to the house.

  Dad peered up from his paper at the kitchen table as we stepped inside, and Mum turned in her spot beside the chilli-smelling pot on the hob. Both raised their eyebrows, their attention flickering between Gabe and me.

  Rounding the kitchen table, I dumped the bundle of Lia-Gear, as we titled it, on Sean’s seat and headed to the rack for my truck keys.

  “Going somewhere?” Dad asked.

  I sent him a nod over my shoulder. “Some business Gabe needs me to take care of.” Buttoning up my jeans, I shied away from the questions in Mum’s eyes by reaching for my T-shirt and tugging it over my head. “I don’t know what time I’ll be home.”

  Without allowing them a second glance, I ducked into the hallway and strode for the front door.

  “Ethan?”

  I halted at Gabe’s call, and spun to find him in the doorway behind me.

  He stared at me for a long moment, his jaw tight. “If you hurt her … I’ll …” He blew out a breath, but his gaze never once wavered.

  I inclined my chin in acknowledgement. “I know.”

  • • •

  Last time I’d visited the pack’s ‘safe’ apartment had been to talk Jem into coming home after she walked out on the pack. Standing outside D3, hand poised to knock, shouldn’t have seemed much different to then. After all, I’d come to find a female, one I needed to convince. So why did I feel so much more concerned I’d never get Shelley to listen? Why did it feel as though my future rode on getting her to answer the door?

  Because it does.

  Taking a deep breath, I rapped a couple of times with my knuckles.

  Silence preceded the faint shuffle of feet across carpet, the rattle of a security chain, a twist of the key and catch.

  The door opened.

  Shelley stared up at me, her green eyes unreadable, lips slightly parted.

  My heart thudded just at the sight of her, banging out its approval as my gaze trailed south over her delicate frame encased in jeans, her aqua-painted toenails poking out on the ends of her b
are feet, and all the way back up again to hair that had once been a fiery shade of red.

  She reached up, tugged at the strands of blue and black, longer since I’d last seen her. “I changed the colour.”

  I nodded, swallowing the no shit balancing on the tip of my tongue.

  Her brow creased a little. “You don’t like it?”

  “Sure.” I almost went to touch where her fingers had slipped from but dug into my jeans pockets instead. “You smell amazing, so …” I shrugged.

  She rubbed a hand around the back of her neck, the movement drawing her shirt up from her waistband and exposing her navel. “You want to come inside?”

  “Yeah.” The word tumbled from me before she’d barely finished asking, and she peered up at me for a moment before stepping aside.

  Not much had changed since I’d last been in the apartment. The same neutral colours graced the walls in the living room I entered. The same furniture decorated the space. It didn’t smell the same, though. The old combination of scents had faded, replaced by an infusion of Gabe and Shelley.

  The door clicked shut behind me. “I’ll put the kettle on,” Shelley said

  I tracked her as she trotted across the room and into the small kitchen. Running water sounded out, along with a click, and the clank of cups. I moved across to the sofa, sinking onto the soft cushions, though my focus remained on the room where Shelley pottered. Maybe I figured staring that way would get me a faster glimpse of her.

  Yeah, or emerging to my beady eyes’ll creep her out.

  I took a deep breath, forced myself to turn away, told myself I had plenty of time for absorbing what my senses had missed out on for too long. She had, after all, allowed me through the door. She hadn’t kicked me to the kerb. Maybe she’d be prepared to listen.

  To what?

  What the hell did I intend to say to her?

  “Here.” Mug extended, Shelley scarcely made any noise as she brushed across the carpet to me.

  I took the offering and watched as she folded herself into the singular armchair with her own drink. “Thanks.”

  She nodded, sipping on, what the aroma identified as, coffee.

  I mimicked her, sampling my own whilst trying my damndest not to stare at her like a freak.

  Her left calf balanced on her right knee; she flexed the toes of her outstretched foot, her eyes aimed at them over the rim of her mug.

  I rested my elbows on my knees, lacing my fingers around my drink. “How have you been?”

  She lifted to me. “Okay.” Sip, swallow, shrug. “I guess.” Sip, swallow, sigh. “You?”

  Out of it. All over the damn place. My shoulders bunched up. “Okay.”

  She nodded.

  I peered down into the liquid beneath my nose. “You seem settled here.” I raised my gaze to her green-eyed one. “You like it?”

  “It’s a bit small.” She looked across toward the far wall that separated us from the bedrooms. “But it’s better than facing the neighbours back home would have been. Better to be where no one knows us.” She glanced back to me. “Fresh start, and all.”

  “I heard you’re relocating the shop, too.”

  She nodded.

  Her little bookshop of oddness, with way more to it than what remained visible on the surface, had been where we’d first met, where I’d first met Gabe, too, and offered to lend a guiding hand.

  I watched her, thinking she’d elaborate, but she dropped her gaze back to toes she wiggled about again.

  Seconds passed with only breaths and heartbeats as conversation, each one ticked off by the kitchen clock. Shelley never once took her focus from her foot like she couldn’t bring herself to look at me.

  Or maybe she just had nothing more to say.

  Resigned, I pushed to my feet and strode into the oak-fronted kitchen. My coffee splashed the stainless steel as I poured it down the sink before heading toward the exit.

  “You’re going?”

  I nodded, continuing for the door. “It was nice seeing you again, Shel.” Real nice. Too nice.

  The creak of springs told me Shelley stood. “And there was me thinking you had something to say for yourself.”

  I paused in my reach for the catch. “I did.”

  One footstep crunched the deep pile of the carpet. “Like what?”

  “Like sorry.” I turned back around.

  She stood beside the armchair, the fingers of her left hand gripping its back.

  I raised my gaze to the ceiling. “I am sorry, Shel. Sorry for all the shit Gabe got dragged into. Sorry I didn’t turn out to be who you hoped I’d be. Sorry that I’m a major fuckup.” Sorry my lack of focus let Catherine get away … I looked back to her deepening frown. “You know, I’ve thought it through so many times. Trying to figure out what I could have done differently. How I could have prevented it from happening. And the only answer was the impossible one of turning back the clock. But …” I sighed, deep, heavy, my chest rising and falling with the effort. “… even if it were possible, I wouldn’t do it, because it would mean I’d never meet Gabe. And I’d never meet you. Don’t ask me to be sorry for that because I can’t.” I gave the tiniest of nods. “That’s what I came here to say.” I turned back for the door, spinning the catch.

  “Ethan, wait,” she said as the door sprung free.

  I rubbed a hand across my face, wondering how much more I could take when my head already felt on the verge of implosion along with my chest.

  Her fingers folded around my arm.

  I almost jumped.

  Her eyes shone when I twisted to look down at her. “I’m sorry, too.” She sighed, as though taking a moment to collect her thoughts. “I’m sorry for laying all the blame on you. I had no right—not after all you did for Gabriel.”

  “You had every ri—”

  Her fingers pressed to my lips. “I had no right. I should have listened. Given you a chance. I did neither. And I’m sorry.”

  As her scent drifted upward from her fingers, my lids lowered. “I missed you, Shelley.”

  Quiet followed except for a couple of erratic heartbeats competing for unsteadiness, and I daren’t open my eyes for fear of what I’d see.

  Fear of the rejection her expression would show.

  “I missed you, too,” she whispered after a few beats.

  When the door clicked shut, I lifted my lids to Shelley’s glossy stare. “So … what now?” I murmured against her fingers.

  Her gaze flittered to the side, returning to me as her lips curved a little. “I think this is the part where you hold me.”

  My eyebrow twitched up. I hadn’t been expecting that, half expected her to announce the joke. When she just stood staring up at me, I ducked until my nose tucked beneath her ear and slid my hands down to her butt. Her hair tickled my cheek as I inhaled, and her fingers left my lips, sliding over my shoulder as I drew her up until my chest met with hers.

  “Like this, you mean?” I murmured.

  She nuzzled into my neck, her body moulding into mine. “Exactly like this.”

  As my eyes closed, I tightened my hold, snuggled a little deeper, and finally allowed myself to smile.

  J.A. Belfield

  One day, a character and scene popped into J. A. Belfield’s head, and she started controlling the little people inside her imagination as though she were the puppet master and they her toys. Questions arose: What would happen if … ? How would they react if … ? Who would they meet if … ? Before she knew it, a singular scene had become an entire movie. The characters she controlled began to hold conversations. Their actions reflected the personalities she bestowed upon them. Within no time, they had a life, a lover, a foe, family … they had Become.

  One day, she wrote down her thoughts. She’s yet to stop.

 
; J. A. Belfield lives in Solihull, England, with her husband, two children, three cats, and a dog. She writes paranormal romance with a second love for urban fantasy.

  Acknowledgements

  Huge thanks to:

  - my man, for putting up with my sulks every time I didn’t think I could do it. Probably should thank the kidlets, too.

  - those who critiqued chapter by chapter at first draft and begged me to write faster when I couldn’t keep up with their demands: Aimee Laine, Pam Bitner, Rebecca Hart, Jocelyn Adams.

  - my beta readers: Julie Reece, who took the trouble to leave comments throughout so I understood what needed work; my sister: Jennifer Turner, who found my HUGE boo-boo, which meant I didn’t look a total tool when I subbed it to my editor; Elaine Hart, who loved it and cheerleaded and helped me believe; Dawn Whipps, who has allowed me to convert her into a werewolf-loving-fiend; Carla Huxley—who should know why without me even having to say a word.

  - Lauren Pryke for being such a great model on which to base a young teen when I needed one.

  - the team at J. Taylor Publishing for ‘getting’ what I write, for giving me a Rocking!!! cover, for putting up with me, and for doing such an ace job of spit & polishing.

  I should probably also take a moment to emphasise those responsible for Caged actually reaching completion. Because Caged was my most difficult assignment to date. I think I hit around the 60% mark when I first threatened to throw in the towel. Both Aimee Laine and Jocelyn Adams pleaded with me not to hit the delete button.

  And for the final 40% of writing it?

  You guys kept me going. Every single one of you. Every time I received a review on my other works, every time one of you sought me out just to say hi, every time one of you visited my blog … it spurred me into pushing through the tough times—for you!

  Thanks for the encouragement, it made all the difference in the world.

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