“What is the standard way a werewolf secures his nonexistent mate anyway?”
“I would have taken my time, learned you, worked for the approval and acceptance of your family.”
“Good luck with that. Would you have traded a few cows and chickens for the privilege?”
“Traditionally gifts are exchanged, yes.”
“So, what would I be worth? Some hens? A couple of deer? A bear?”
“Bears are a legendary hard kill.”
“No, seriously. What would you be willing to give my vampire father for me?”
Distaste shines from his face with the mention of that.
“You can’t even disguise your reaction! He’s my father! How are you going to be with me if you can’t stand the very mention of him?”
“You’d rather choose the past over the future. Surely, you realize how short sighted that is? Eventually, you have tae let the past go.”
“No, that’s not true. I’m choosing the known over the unknown. Surely, you see the logic in that.”
“No, I doona see it that way at all.”
“Of course not! You don’t see anything from anyone else’s perspective. You don’t acknowledge another’s view unless it agrees with your own.”
“You’re accusing me of denial?! When you choose tae deny the very existence of anything or anyone you doona want tae accept?”
“Actually, I just deny the existence of paranormal B.S. because—wait for it—it’s paranormal B.S.!”
He growls at me, but I could care less. This is my family we’re talking about, and I refuse to toss them aside for some man.
Then, suddenly, he calms. The sneer disappears. His eyes soften.
“You’re right. I can move past this. Nothing would be too much. A mate is an once-in-a-lifetime gift. I'd give anything.”
“Have you ever considered that maybe, just maybe, the promise is better than the reality? Your expectations are built up from the time you’re a pup, and then one day you find that person and you need to realize that they’re only human.”
And humans are scared, spineless creatures; truly we are. I’m not brave enough to face this. Fight or flight, I’m always going to flee; but now I can’t, because Gavin, who is not scared or spineless, is insisting we fight. Though, I can be reassured that he wants to return home to Scotland. It makes him more like me, because isn’t that a retreat of some sort?
A previous promise from Gavin flashes through my mind.
“We’ll eliminate the threat.”
No, it’s not a retreat. Gavin doesn’t know the meaning of the word. He’s just going back to regroup. Watching him now, having witnessed the gentle way he handles me, he’ll stash me with Athol and Heather after Liam is born, before he goes out on a crusade to eliminate the threat of the vampires.
I understand him all too well, considering how little time I’ve known him. So why am I fighting so hard to run? I go to Scotland, see a country I’ve never seen before, enjoy the protection, and then when Gavin takes his Were army to defeat the vamps, I hightail it to Astoria and grab my family for an extended vacation.
“I promise I won’t try anything.” I relent, rewording the promise he wanted me to give.
I’m not going to say that I’ll behave, because in truth, I won’t. Besides, I’m an adult; I don’t have to promise to behave.
“Thank you,” he says.
He doesn’t believe me! His stance hasn’t changed, there’s no relief in his expression, and his shoulders are still tense. I guess, to be fair, I haven’t given him much reason to trust me, but it still irks that he doesn’t.
“Really, I won’t run,” I insist. Adding a silent for now to my promise.
“One day, lass, we shall have trust between us. I hope that day is soon. For now, let us continue to move forward.”
Just like in the hotel when he listened to little Liam’s heartbeat against my stomach, I feel the world slow beneath my feet as I experience something I don’t want to feel. He’s disappointed in me, which isn’t a travesty in itself. However, his disappointment inspires answering emotions inside of me: shame and discontent. I feel disappointment . . . in myself.
Chapter Fourteen
We’re not far from civilization. They’re letting me walk on my own, but only because we’re so close. Gavin leads, with me not far behind him.
He keeps glancing behind him, to assure himself that I’m still following behind, like he believes his obedient little mate should. He appears more anxious the closer we get and the louder the cars and sounds of life get.
“I would think you’d be in a hurry to rejoin modern civilization. Prenatal vitamins are an important part of pregnancy preparation and care,” I goad.
“You’ve been drinking the herbal mixtures?” Gavin asks without looking back.
“Yes.” Reluctantly. Connor keeps handing them to me after every snack or meal. They taste like barley.
“Then, I have every assurance you’ll be fine.”
“Look, if this baby is to be born, I’m going to need real drugs, the good stuff. I demand an epidural!”
The more I think about it, this is one fight I can’t back down from. I know giving birth won’t be pleasant, but natural births hurt. I was so focused on preparing everything in my life and figuring out how to change diapers via baby doll, then trying to survive the vamps, that I’ve managed to avoid thinking about the actual birthing process, but now, now I’m scared.
“Medicated births can affect a baby in negative ways.”
“I don’t think you understand. I’m not asking. I demand an epidural.”
I nearly stomp my foot with that. A girl’s gotta draw the line and take a stand somewhere.
“We’ll discuss it again when the day has drawn near,” he responds in a completely frustrating, placating way.
He doesn’t even glance back to see my reaction, as if my opinion doesn’t matter.
I stop walking. He may dictate every breath his pack takes, but he will not dictate how I deal with the pain and birth of my child. He won’t! I sit down on the edge of the path we’re hacking through the woods and ignore the shocked, disgusted, and amused (Hawke’s only) glances, as the rest of Gavin’s little tribe keeps blindly following him.
It takes about three minutes for Gavin to realize I’m not where he thinks I’m supposed to be.
“Natalie!” he roars from the front of the trail of cruel wolf people.
Like the Red Sea, crazy people are thrown to either side as Gavin storms back through the line, until he is staring me down as his chest heaves with harsh breaths.
“Do no’ do that again.”
I think he might grab me, but he seems to reign in his temper with clenching fists and grinding teeth.
“Yes?” I ask sweetly. His fists clench tighter. Lines of strain etch deeper by his mouth, and his knuckles are white with tension.
“Why did you desert formation?”
“I’m not one of your troops, Gavin.”
“It would be easier if you were,” he mutters.
I ignore that.
“If you weren’t so stubborn over the decisions I make concerning my body, you would have noticed I slipped behind.”
“Oh, it will no’ happen again. Be sure of it, mate.”
His growled promises, bordering on threats, shouldn’t affect me so. They shouldn’t, but they do. Somehow, I find him charming and amusing like this. Even now, when he is exasperated with me, I can see a glimmer of satisfied contentment in his eyes. Not to mention, the fact that when he is feeling strongly about something his accent becomes much more pronounced.
I can admit to myself that his accent affects me.
He catches me staring at his lips, and they curl up with more of that attractive satisfaction.
“So, an epidural then,” he relents.
“Huh?” I ask.
His grin grows wider.
“Epidural, yes?” he repeats smugly.
“Oh, yes. That-tha
t’d be good.”
Now he grabs my hand to ensure I can’t escape, and I’m so confused and astounded by my rare victory that I let him.
“What happens if I lose the baby?”
“You will no’.”
“But if I did?”
“We’d grieve. And then, when we were both ready, we’d try again.”
“What if I couldn’t have any more or decided I didn’t want to try again?”
“That won’t happen. Legend says—”
“Let’s not call it legend; it’s too similar to a prophecy. I’ve read about those in books, heard about them in movies, and I just don’t want to be the prophecy girl. When you say that word, all I can think about is creepy voodoo priestesses, and it’s scary. There’s probably a tortured voodoo doll of my likeness hanging in some primitive wolf witch’s hut right now. So call it something else. Call it…call it a forecast. I can’t take you seriously otherwise.”
“But you can take me seriously if I refer tae the legend as a forecast? Really?”
“Yes. Now back to what I was saying. What if the forecast is wrong?”
“The forecast is no’ wrong. The stars doona lie.”
“Right. What if I don’t want an old forecast to determine my life?”
He squeezes my hand, but doesn’t answer. Maybe I should wait awhile to return to this subject. I only just managed to secure the promise of an epidural, so the rest may need to wait. Not that I’m the most patient…
Thankfully, we’ve made it out of the woods, so to speak. We stand in the tree line that tapers off, exposing our destination.
Seeing the signs for Ilwaco test my restraint considerably. Just knowing how very close I am to Astoria, my family, Meagan, our apartment, and a normal life, makes it so much harder to obey my promise to stay. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, depending on how you look at it—that shame and self-disappointment still linger. Those feelings balance out the drive to run. There’s also the all-annoying anam pushing me to keep my word to Gavin. My body and heart are at war with themselves. How can you win a civil war like that? No matter if you are the victor, you are also the defeated.
Man, do I feel defeated now, and the prospect of flying on a plane does nothing to alleviate that feeling. I’ve flown once, and my mama had to request a barf bag during takeoff. For the return flight, they medicated me with Xanax or something similar. I’ve just always feared flying. It’s unnatural. Humans were not meant for the air, and as it is also the vampires’ preferred mode of transportation, my opinion is now cemented in the negative. Even if I were able to forget the terror of the vampires’ flapping wings in the darkness on the night of my abduction, there have been several instances of planes going missing or crashing in the news lately.
There’s little to distract me from my thoughts. Ilwaco is a beautiful little coastal town, full of small bluffs, glistening waters, and busy piers. However, I don’t get to see those views, instead we emerge from the forest into a residential area. In the distance, the sun glints off the Pacific Ocean, providing a little mental relief. We’re too far away for it to be a seaplane. Does this little airport have standard planes? What if it’s a little biplane? Can I endure that?
My fear increases the farther we walk, and the closer we get to the airport. I probably resemble Gavin near a change at this point, with my fingers and hands shaking the way they are.
“Easy, lass,” Gavin mutters under his breath.
“I don’t fly well,” I admit, worried for some reason he’ll think I’m tensing to run.
The distrust that I unwittingly fostered between us has him glancing toward me with disbelief, before facing ahead once more.
“Aww, come on, queenie. It’s not like we’re flying at night where a horde of winged deamhanan can come out of nowhere and bring us down in a heap of fire and crushed meta—”
“Hawke!” Gavin barks.
With a fierce growl and glare toward his bestie, Gavin grabs my hand, his thumb stroking soothing circles.
You’re welcome, Hawke mouths in the split second it takes for Gavin to pull me into his side and continue walking.
So, Hawke is playing matchmaker. It suits him, and I find I can’t be annoyed when the result is Gavin’s comforting touch. Something inside me settles when he’s near, easing my worries and fears. At the same time, something inside also catches fire, giving me a little thrill and sending exciting tingles along my spine.
Civil war. I can’t win with him. It’s impossible to keep my distance when there’s that intangible bond pulling us together. That dang bite and the resulting anam is to blame. It’s like the biggest move in a Were’s playbook, or the entire first chapter in Mating for Dummies. Bite your intended before she gets away, and then you won’t have to worry about chasing her down!
At the edge of someone’s fence, Gavin turns back to face the pack.
“Silas, you know what tae do.”
The big man nods gravely, one arm around his wife, the other hand atop Piper’s head. She still looks miserable. Guilt flares up once again at the reminder of Nolan and my part in his death.
“What’s going on?” I whisper
My eyes are flicking back and forth among our little group looking for zip ties or sweatpants scraps, and I take a step away from Gavin’s side, just in case.
“We’ll have to separate. Connor, Gavin, and I will go with you through Ilwaco’s airport. Silas and Duncan will lead the rest to follow,” Hawke explains.
“It’s a biplane. Isn’t it? A little bitty, biplane.”
My words come out half-question, half-dreaded realization. I called it. The shaking intensifies. If I were a Were like them, I would have transformed by now.
Gavin reacts to my fear, attuned to me as always, tugging me close and removing the distance I created. He tucks my face against his chest with one hand cupped behind my head. Hiding my weakness?
I’m crying; I can feel the tears welling between my skin and his shirt. It’s not very queenly of me, but fear is not reasonable or controlled by rank or position. It’s like a wild animal, tearing at your heart, sending adrenaline to pulse through your veins while your mind goes haywire. It’s not something you can tame easily, if you can manage to tame it at all.
“Aye, tis a smaller plane, but hardly little bitty. We’ll be flying in a Cessna.”
Gavin’s assurances are not enough to stow away the fear. I appreciate the effort though, I do. Hawke mentioned the vampires not being able to take down the plane because it’s daylight, but what about their mindless minions?
What kind of firepower would it take to down a plane? With what I saw of their lair, the vamps have advanced technology. Could that include otherworldly firepower? Would they risk shooting down a plane with me in it? I remember their poor aim as they shot at us while we tried to descend their cliff side; they never aimed for me directly. They don’t want me dead, because they want my child. At the thought, I rub my stomach soothingly. I need to sleep soon; my exhaustion cannot be good for the baby.
“Robert has been trailing behind tae ensure the deamhanan doona get close.”
“Right. Robert,” I mutter inanely.
I don’t even know who Robert is. I’ve bothered to learn the names of the few I’ve interacted with, such as Hawke, Piper, Elder Duncan (bleh), and Silas. One of the women is named Heather, and of course there is Athol and her husband. Maybe that’s Robert? I haven’t seen him standing with our group. Athol’s expression of disgust is likely unschooled without his supervision; I’m glad Gavin’s chest prevents me from seeing it.
Peeking out from my place against Gavin, I see Athol’s husband come up from behind the group, confirming that he is this Robert, the guy who was following behind as the . . . What’s that position called? I know the leader of a group takes point, but for some reason the only title I can think of for Robert’s position is the caboose, and that can’t be right.
Silas and Robert nod to each other. I half expect them to salute Gavin and ma
ke some sort of vow to rejoin him in Scotland with their group.
“Time tae be off, lass,” Gavin says gently.
I lift my head and see that Hawke is holding out his arm. I suspect he wants me to follow him to the side and leave Gavin to instruct, strategize, or whatever else displaced alphas do with their packs. However, I don’t have a mind to be obliging, because through my fear I’ve come to a realization that is putting severe strain on my decision to follow Gavin.
They’ll need a major airport to transport this large a group of people. There are two airports I know about in this area, one being the private one we’re about to use in Ilwaco. The other? Astoria’s regional airport.
If they’re going back to Astoria, they damn well better take me with them!
I didn’t mean to say the words aloud, but I know I have when Gavin squeezes me a little too tightly in his arms.
“Remember your promise,” he whispers into my ear.
I’ve done quite a number on his kingly, all-powerful image with these people. But he had to know this confrontation was coming! If I had thought through everything earlier, maybe if I had some sleep under my belt rather than bags under my eyes, maybe then I would have realized the obvious. The pack is going back home. My home. And though the anam inside protests at that thought, my outrage and disillusionment is strong enough to overwhelm it for once.
“You might want to have this discussion in private, Gav,” I offer, almost sweetly.
I pride myself on the self-restraint it takes to even suggest the option. His chest swells underneath my cheek as he inhales. In frustration? In preparation?
“Silas, you know where tae go. Luciah will procure a vehicle, and I trust that Hawke has already given instruction on the phones and future communication?”
“Aye, bràthair. All is arranged,” Hawke promises beside me, dropping his arm.
Is he just realizing that my biddable phase has ended? The look he zings my way is filled with disappointment and is that a touch of anger? What right does he have to be angry with me? Gavin may be some sort of wolf king, but I am human.
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