by Roxanne Lee
I walked ahead to the car and thought about my actions. I needed to focus less on the insignificant little annoyances and more on what I plan to do next. I needed to get back to that man and my vengeance, I had time still but that doesn't mean I should be satisfying this need with random humans. And that's what it was; a need. A craving to not be touched, an urgency to inflict pain for trivial slights and a compulsion to see them bleed.
I was disappointed with myself. I'd taken a memory and enforced it on someone else, someone undeserving. I don't think I could live with myself if I turned my nightmares, my living demon's on others. Maybe hurt someone I cared about, maybe hurt Sam. I would be lost then, a wandering delusion of guilt and anger, a solider of war in his hapless return home.
This all consuming yearning was a two headed coin of reward and punishment. The ecstasy of my own justice and the torment of this living death, an afterlife of abnormal reactions.
At this point I just hoped Carver wouldn't be the one locking me away for my inability to control such responses, or failing that, then at least I hoped for the time to complete, to get to my end and fulfil the promises I had made to myself.
Chapter 15.
We had returned to the car with curious glances from Carver. I assumed he could smell the blood. No matter how clean I'd wiped that knife the smell would linger for a while yet. I certainly wasn't admitting to anything.
We continued our rather silent journey for another hour until entering a town that at first glance could be called nothing but country. Fields spanned the horizon for what seemed never ending, large farmhouses adorned the wilting woodlands beyond. On the highest hill overlooking the sea stood a centuries old Castle in ruins amid a backdrop of crystal blue, beauty in devastation.
Further in the houses turned old Tudor, cobbled streets leading to black and white façades, old forgotten English brought back to life in stone and slate. I knew at the very edge of this rather picturesque village would be the bay, a sandy beach with a long pier on stilted legs stretching far into the sea. An odd mix of those old houses and modernised properties catering to summer visitors. Colwyn Bay was an attractive place to live, I was surprised that this was where the guards lay their swords, I suppose I was expecting a more medieval setting.
We turned off a mile into the town and the road turned from tarmac to gravel stones. It continued at an incline and we soon ascended much higher than the sea, almost on level with that Castle. Surrounded by woods and fields as far as the eye could see, the landscape was a haven for wolves.
The rough drive took us beyond twenty foot high iron gates, the only entrance I could see to a solid, cream coloured stone wall. The property enveloped inside was not just one singular house but several. The land covered around ten acres, more than enough for the ten or so houses, each with its own little plot of land, and the ridiculously large farmhouse in the middle. The building was perfection to a young girl, a doll house on a grander scale. A slate coloured arching and sloping roof, cream wooden panels interspersed with light sandstone walls, huge colonial pillars holding up the second story, standing strong on a wrap around porch. A dream house for little girls that dream pretty things.
I was not surprised to find Carver stopping in front of that farmhouse, the other four trucks peeled away to drop off guards at the rest. I sat and stared at the monstrosity in front of me.
"What do you think, Arya? Do you like it?" That gravelly voice was careful in its question.
I didn’t really know how to reply, yes the house was nice, no I didn't like it. It was not just a house, it was a life in material form. It was a promise of something I wasn't willing to give. A life I could never have. In the end I shrugged and went with honesty. "I suppose some women would love it."
The clench of his hand on the gear stick caused a cracking of plastic and metal. A crumble of little black pieces fell from his grip as he released it. His voice was stilted and forced,"why don't we go inside and you both can pick a room."
I’m sure it annoyed him that I didn't like his house. His wolf wanted to provide, to care for and look after its mate. He'll be disappointed in what he finds in me.
I followed Sam and the dogs as we walked to the porch, the afternoon was fading to evening and the wind picked up as the sun set. Sam entered the house first followed by the dogs and myself, Carver brought up the rear, most of the bags hanging from his arms. I stood in a hallway of red and brown tiled flooring and a wooden curving staircase. I gave a passing glance to each room I could see on the ground floor and continued upstairs to the bedrooms. It was all the same as the outside, pretty and nice and not for me. I missed wooden floors and walls and tiny uncomfortable cots that creaked and moaned in protest.
I picked the first room we came to, it had a small balcony which I was oddly intrigued by and it was also situated what I hoped would be the furthest from Carver's room. Closing the door on Sam’s little smile and that Captain's hardened face I looked at the bags he'd left on the floor and instantly decided to leave them right where they lay. The balcony was much more interesting.
I had barely opened the white patio doors to step outside when a knock interrupted me. I opened it expecting Sam only to find a stiffly standing Captain instead.
"I would like to show you the rest of the house."
I debated the possibility of declining but figured It'd probably be a short lived victory. I nodded at him and closed the door behind me staring longingly at that balcony.
Carver opened the first door next to mine and I found a large master suite in dark wood and cream furniture that smelt suspiciously like cinnamon. I rolled my eyes, of course I'd pick the wrong room. He had an en-suite bathroom entirely covered in black marble with tiny silver accents. He didn't seem the decorating type.
"Who's your decorator?" I asked, vaguely interested.
"My mother designed most of the house." He smiled at me, probably grateful I was talking to him, and it changed his face from starkly beautiful to sultry. With that smile came a realisation of how completely absurd it was that this man had been given me, I felt mediocre in comparison and inadequate as his mate.
We carried on our little tour without much conversation. He pointed out obvious rooms such as two separate bathrooms, the kitchen and the room that Sam had chosen. When we got to the back porch the sun was so low in the sky a ruby line dissected day from night. I could not deny this place was stunning, it was a life to envy.
I turned to Carver, he'd been silent standing next to me watching the same sunset I was. "Who's house is this?"
Carver looked at me his eyebrow raised, "Ours."
"What do you mean ours?"
He let out a suffering sigh, "Mine and yours, Arya. Ours."
I laughed at his answer, he still didn't understand did he? "What, you thought you'd buy a pretty house for your pretty mate? And have a pretty little life? How bitter you must be."
He clenched his hands, those big fists curled in exasperation."No I thought I'd build you a house. And I think you're more than pretty, and I know we have a long way to go but I am in no way bitter. I could not have chosen better myself."
I huffed at that, like it made a difference to me. "Doesn't change anything."
He took a step closer and my wolf peeked out, the six inches between us was not enough.
" Let me touch you, Arya, just a hand, I want to show you something."
My beast let out a little rumble, she did not like to be pushed. "That is not a good idea."
Carver took a tiny step forward and held my gaze,"I promise just your hand in mine, please let me try."
That husky voice did things. It made me waver, it made me hesitate, it made me wonder on possibilities I shouldn't. He took my silence as consent and slowly reached out a rough hand, those large fingers so close to my own.
My breath came in pants, trying to stop that snarling wolf from pushing her way to the surface. She was circling inside, prowling back and forth, waiting for his touch so she could pounce.
<
br /> The tip of his finger reached the back of my hand, his skin was warm and calloused, a working man's hands, a warrior's hands. She snapped inside but I held her down, he wasn't hurting, he wasn't pushing more than I could bare. I felt a tiny tingle, so small I would have missed it if I wasn't so concentrated. A little shiver on my skin, a tiny spark that lit up the hairs on the back of my hand like twinkling fairy lights. His finger ran from my wrist to my finger tip, so light a touch it was almost nothing. He moved to my palm, the skin more sensitive, the tingle more pronounced.
A rumble forced it's way out again, a little warning not to continue. Carver didn't listen, his finger drew circles on my palm, little shivers turned to bigger tremors. His whispered rough "Arya" was as hypnotising as his touch.
His hand grew more confident. One finger became two and his touch harder until his palm rested on mine. I looked at the two of us joined and found myself confused at the moment we shared. I looked up to his charcoal eyes and saw pleasure on his face, he gripped my hand harder and pulled me towards him.
My finger tips ached, a roar built in my stomach. Higher and higher until it released in fury and pain. She forced her way up as I forced her back down, a struggle of man and beast. A single claw pushed through my fore finger, a searing four inches of diamond cut talon. I looked at the hand he still held, his grip forcing me forward, his skin touching mine. And still he pushed.
That claw lifted without thought, I stabbed forward piercing shirt and skin and flesh. Blood trickled down my hand, a gasp from a husky voice above. I ripped my hand back and let the blood fall freely, a dark wet stain on his dark black shirt. He put a huge hand on the side of his stomach, covering the hole that blemished his otherwise faultless torso. His hand left mine, finally freeing me.
He fell to his knees and looked up at my stone face. "Why?" that husky voice made no difference this time.
"Now do you understand?" My words spat from my mouth in distaste, "do you understand me wolf? There is nothing here for you."
I turned my back on his fallen image, walked away from the desolation on his impeccable face. Denied the match that was made for me, lay waste to the purity of fate.
Chapter 16.
When I returned to the house Sam was in the kitchen, both dogs staring up at him preparing dinner with expectant eyes. He glanced at me when I leaned on the granite counter.
"Watcha done crazy? Tha' face ain't innocent."
I had thought my face was just as straight as it had been when looking at Carvers pain.
I shrugged, "I may have told the Captain a truth or two."
Sam laughed. Full on belly laugh. I peered at his obvious madness.
"Oh girlie, ya dun half amuse me."
I frowned, I don't think he understands what I mean.
"Ya tell him ya not interested? Ya tell him it ain't goin' ta happen?"
I nodded in response as his grin got wider. "Tha's wha' they all say." He chuckled again and went back to chopping onions, the smell starting to burn my eyes.
"No I mean it." I was adamant in my answer.
Sam stopped his chopping and scraped the onions into a heating pan on the stove. He turned back to look at me, putting his knife down. "You think it goin' ta be so easy? You think fate make mistakes? No girlie, she a wondrous thing. She put two people togetha', she make them strong where tha otha' weak and she make them hard where tha otha' Soft."
He grabbed a couple of glasses from the cabinet and pulled a bottle of whiskey from a mysterious hiding place. He poured long and slow as he continued. "He'll love ya like no otha' can. Maybe tha dun mean much ta ya righ' now, you think ya got everythin' straight an' ya know exactly wha' ya can handle but ya dun know him and ya dun know how she move, twists an' turns your path till ya end up righ' where she wan' you, righ' wherever tha' Captain is."
I screwed up my face, "she can try, I think she's got a fight with me."
Sam bellowed again,"yeah, ya might be righ' on tha' one."
I took a long gulp at the glass he handed to me and sighed in pleasure and frustration,"It wasn't meant to be this. I'm not giving up my end for him."
Sam matched my gulp with one of his own, "why ya hav'ta give anythin' up? Tha' man be happy wit' a part of ya, dun hav'ta be everythin' all at once."
I looked at those old eyes, aged in life and experience."I don't think there's any part of me that would be good for him."
Sam scoffed, “got me a piece of ya didn' I? Kinda like tha bit I got."
I was utterly unable to stop a little smile at that, "yes, I suppose you did."
Sam huffed as he grabbed meat from the fridge to add to the frying onions, "damn righ' I did and ya ain't getting it back neither."
I found I couldn't stop smiling for a long time while watching that old man cook.
When Carver didn't appear for dinner I assumed he'd let his wolf out and gone on a run. I had thought on Sam’s words as I ate. I understood the facts on wolves and mating, I seemed to have underestimated the reality though. There was not a single part of me that could envisage this life that he seemed to so desperately want, all this time he'd spent building this home in hopes of the mate he hadn't yet met. Buried deep, Submerged in nebulous, gnarled versions of myself there was one vivid element that so wished I could be that for him. That small indistinct piece of me however, would never break free, it was wrapped in memories of fear and pain; a by-product of my previous complacency.
As we sat at the table, dinner finished with, Sam sipping his whiskey and Remy staring at my leftovers with mournful eyes. The doorbell rang, I got up to open it, expecting a guard for the still missing Carver. The man at the door however was not a guard. The blonde hair that hung to his jaw, broad shoulders and scowl disfiguring his face were instantly recognisable.
The sly little smile that came over his mouth was disturbing and my wolf wholeheartedly agreed. She peeked out beneath the trappings I made for her, a semblance of locks and bolts that kept her caged, a pretty box for the vicious creature within, an illusion of smoke and mirrors that she allowed.
"Hello, Arya."
That sickly sweet smile widened as he put his hand out to shake. I obviously ignored it and that fake little grin dropped a little. "Why are you here, Alex?"
The beta glared at me, a length of his blonde hair obscuring his vision and ruining the image he tried to create.
"I suggest you find a little respect in your tone when you speak to me female." His purposely low and dangerous voice did nothing for my wolf, she pranced around inside, happily awaiting the opportunity to show this wolf what respect meant.
"Hm, why exactly would I do that Alex?" I smirked at his expression. Male wolves, so easy to anger.
"That's Alpha to you, " He hissed.
My smile grew wider," Oh that's right, I killed the last Alpha." My wolf let out a macabre snarl, all teeth and claws and a promise that he'd bleed.
His thick forearms tensed, that new Alpha inside pushing to show his worth. "I should kill you for that," he growled.
I stepped forward, pushing his control, forcing his wolf to strike or back down. "You're more than welcome to try Alex." My beast pushed that claw out again, showing off her talents to the new Alpha. He caught the movement in the corner of his eye and his gaze widened. He would not have that ability yet.
Sam’s sneaky feet whispered behind me and I caught a sweet scent of whisky and dog. A little growl from Luce announced their presence further.
"Alex, watcha doin' here? Look ta me like you growlin' at tha Captains mate. You lookin' ta die boy?"
That blonde head swung in Sam’s direction, surprise on his sun-kissed face. Looks like someone forgot to inform the local pack.
He clenched his hands into fists and an internal struggle began. He forced himself to take a step back and I saw little ripples in his skin where his wolf pushed at him to show this girl her place. I was amused at his wolf; he had no self preservation.
He turned his animosity onto Sam next, the only target l
eft for his frustration. "Why don't you keep out old man? You're no wolf any more."
My beast snapped inside, the push against my ribs driving me forward a step and Alex was forced to retreat again to keep his distance.
Sam, his usual calm self, only chuckled."Dun know why you so angry boy, you an Alpha now ain't you? Tha's a step up in my book."
Alex scowled at Sam’s words, "he was my friend not just my Alpha, she deserved to die for what she did. Luke did nothing to warrant death."
So that was his name."That's exactly right Alex, your former Alpha did nothing. Perhaps you can rectify his indifference now that you have the title." I sent him another smile, we were both well aware he would do nothing of the sort.
He grit his teeth and pushed parting words through them, "I can see the Captain isn't here, I'll return when he's available."
He turned around and stalked off without another word. I shook my head, he was a pubescent boy in a man's body.
"You just attract trouble now dun ya?"
I looked at Sam and raised my eyebrows innocently.
"Dun fool me girlie, you anythin' but innocen'."
I shrugged at him, nothing I could do about my less than sweet personality flaws. "Why's he here Sam?"
Sam blew out a breath, "Well, he a new Alpha now, all the new ones come here. Meet tha Captain, train wit' tha guards for a while and talk wit' them governors." His little look of distaste at the last word was poorly hidden.
"You ever met them Sam?"
He narrowed his eyes looking at Alex still stalking across the grass towards a house in the distance. "Yeah, once or twice."
"Why do the guards and the Captain allow them to dictate?"
Sam turned to look at me and put a wrinkled hand on Luce's head. "They like ta think tha's wha' they do. Lemme tell you tho', tha' Captain dun do nuthin' he dun wanna do."
Sam big grin returned and I was glad to see it,"come on girlie, we go sit on tha' porch an' relax, " he chuckled and tried an innocent look of his own," got sum whisky go real nice wit' relaxin'."