by K Matthew
“Indeed.”
We were silent for a few moments before he spoke again, “It looks like you missed lunch. Want me to fix you something. I killed some squirrels and found a couple of eggs this morning. It's not much, but it will tide you over until dinner.”
“No, thank you,” I replied quickly, despite my looming hunger. Squirrels were those cute little fluffy tailed critters that ran around the park, and I certainly couldn't see myself eating one. “I best get back though. I definitely don't want to miss dinner again.”
“Well, take some jerky for the road then. Don't worry, it's deer.” Rex said before handing me a few strips of dried beef from a box behind his chair.
“Thanks,” I tried not to sound too unappreciative as I took it from him.
“And if you want to talk some more . . . or just want to get away, feel free to stop back by.”
Despite the frown I had walked into his house with, I walked out feeling like I understood Rex a bit more, what he had done, and why he had done it. It still didn't lessen the blow against me, but knowing that Rex was willing to help me get through this was somehow comforting.
As long as his house was unoccupied, I shouldn't have any problems hiding away during my first shift. Then I could return to the office the next morning to give my report, and my real research into finding a cure for the lycanthropy disease would begin.
I gave a strip of beef to one of the compound staff when I went to turn in the ATV as proof that I had a successful run for once. They seemed just as enthusiastic as I was about it, perhaps hoping that I wouldn't need to borrow the ATV again. In truth, I didn't think I would be making another trip out to see Rex before I left the reservation. During this last visit, I had gotten all the information I needed plus a bit of closure.
After dinner, Chris challenged me to a game of ping-pong. Feeling refreshed, I was more than happy to accept his invitation. We stood on opposite ends of the table in the recreation room. By some miracle, no one else was around. Usually, at any given time, the recreation room had at least two or three people in it. I guess we had the luck of being the two for that night.
“Let's make this interesting,” Chris said as he bounced the ping-pong ball on the table, trying to look skillful but doing a terrible job at it.
I smirked. “What do you have in mind?”
“Well, we could bet job points, but since you don't really use yours, I don't see how it would benefit you to win. How about if I win, you have to answer a question that I ask you, no matter what it is, and if you win, you get to ask me a question. But we both have to answer honestly.” Chris pointed his paddle at me, indicating that he thought I would lie.
My heart fluttered with childish wonder at the question I wanted to ask but knew I never would. Did Chris like me? There was no way I could ever ask him that though. No matter what the answer was, it would only hurt one or both of us in the end. No, I had to think of something else—something not quite as interesting.
“Deal,” I agreed.
“Prepare to lose to the ping-pong master,” he said proudly, and for a moment, I wondered what I had gotten myself into, but after a few serves into the game, I realized that we were equally horrible at it.
“So much for being a master,” I teased.
“Hey, I was a master of the one time I played it before this,” Chris told me, and we both laughed.
Back and forth, we batted the small white ball over the net, all the way up until it was the game point. We eyed each other nervously before I served the final ball. In the blink of an eye, it was over. My breath hitched as I thought I would miss the final shot, but by some miracle, I landed it, sailing the ball past his paddle and scoring the winning point.
“Yes!” I cheered, holding my hands and paddle up in the air triumphantly. “Victorious!”
Chris smashed his paddle flat against the table, obviously a sore loser. “I almost had you,” he huffed, trying to regain his composure.
“Hmm, now what should I ask you?” I grinned like the Cheshire cat, hoping to torture Chris with anticipation. In truth, I had won by luck, so I had to make this question good.
“Well, what do you want to know?” he asked hotly, still pouting over having lost the game.
I hesitated for a moment. “What do you think of Sasha? I mean, do you like her . . . you know, like her like her?”
“That's two questions. You can only ask one,” he insisted, being a complete brat.
“Would you hook up with her?” I said plainly, trying to hide the fact that his answer could potentially hurt me.
Chris shrugged, looking away. “I don't know. Why?”
“You don't get to ask me a question unless you win,” I told him, turning his game of words back on him. “I'm going to take that as a yes, because I don't know usually means yes.”
“No. I don't know means that I don't know,” Chris insisted before thinking about the question a bit further. “She's pretty, but a bit raw for my taste. Too aggressive.”
“But does pretty beat out aggressive?”
“Beat me and find out,” he smirked.
Damn, I fell right into that. “Alright, let's go, bratty mcbratacus.”
“Ohhhh, so we're lowering ourself down to name calling now, are we?”
“Just shut it and play ball already.” I gave him a playful glare.
It didn't take Chris long to beat me the second time around. Thoughts of his uncertain answer, and perhaps a nagging fear that he'd actually end up hooking up with Sasha one day, had thrown me off my game.
“My turn,” Chris said with pure pleasure in his voice, doing some funky football victory dance that caused me to double over laughing. It amazed me that he was capable of being so happy. When I had first met Chris, the only thing he seemed to know how to do was scowl.
“Alright, sock it to me.” I tried to stifle a laugh.
“Well, you never answered my question from that night.”
“What question?”
His expression softened, and while he still looked playful, I knew that the question Chris was about to ask was a serious one. “Who is your type in here?”
“Must both of our questions be about who likes who?” I crossed my arms over my chest, not wanting to answer.
“There's nothing else I want to know.” He shrugged.
I screwed my face, the answer on the tip of my tongue, not wanting to leave. “Ask me something else.”
“That's not how the game is played. I answered honestly, now you answer honestly.”
“You said that you didn't know. That hardly seems like a solid answer.”
“It's because I don't know. It may not be solid, but at least it's honest. Now, you tell me,” Chris smirked, and I feared that he already knew the answer.
“Well, I suppose, if I was stuck in here and had to choose one person that I was most comfortable with”
“—It's not about comfort. That wasn't the question. Let me repeat. Who is your type?” He said the words slowly as if I was hard of hearing, and while I knew he meant it to be funny, I couldn't help but be offended.
“You're such a brat.” I furrowed my eyebrows.
“And you're not playing fair. I'm not going to tell the person. Besides, it's not like it matters anyway. You're leaving in two weeks.”
“Exactly. It doesn't matter.”
“Then say it,” Chris kept his playful tone, despite knowing that I was quickly becoming upset.
“You, alright,” I said in a burst of emotion and then instantly wished I could have choked back the words and swallowed them. My fear of his reaction was paramount.
“Awww, Taya has a crush on me. Taya has a crush on me,” Chris teased.
“Oh, shove it. I'm done with this.” In a dramatic gesture, much like his had been when he lost, I slammed my paddle down on the table and then began walking off. What was supposed to have been a night of fun had turned into pure misery and embarrassment. It was stupid of me to think he could take my feelings ser
iously.
“Taya, wait. I was just playing with you.” Chris trailed beside me, though there was still gaiety in his voice, only fueling me to walk faster.
“Leave me alone, Chris.” I tried to brush him away.
“Stop,” his voice suddenly turned serious, but I wasn't listening.
Finally, Chris grabbed me by the arm, jerking me around to face him. Before I could open my mouth to yell at him, his lips were on mine, taking my breath away. My whole body went rigid, feeling the heat of his mouth, looking at his eyes, which were closed in the most adorable passionate gesture. Despite everything, I allowed myself to melt, my lips to soften against his, moving in time, as if they had known each other for so long.
It wasn't until Chris pulled away that I realized people were staring, and my breath caught again, not from a kiss this time, but from fear. The two of us kissing looked beyond suspicious. It looked scandalous, and if someone reported it to the compound, we would both be in grave trouble.
Whack! My hand sailed across his face without a second thought. “Don't fucking touch me,” I yelled at him while keeping the onlookers in my peripheral vision.
Chris was bewildered, gazing at me wide-eyed as if he couldn't process what had just happened. Regret clawed into my stomach. Would he ever forgive me for slapping him? He needed to understand why I did it. I had to make him understand without disclosing what had happened to me.
“I'm sorry Chris, but . . . it can't be like that between you and me," I told him, my heart breaking with every word. Already, I could feel the warmth from his kiss dissipating from my lips and an iciness taking over my heart with a feeling of intense loss. To save myself, I had to let Chris go.
Without another word, I continued to my room. By the time I got there, tears were streaming down my face, stinging my eyes. What could I say to him to make it better? Nothing. It was best to push him away now. Us being together would only lead to further suspicion once talk got around of the kiss. Besides, I couldn't have Chris anyway. There was no use in pretending that I could.
The next day, he ignored me as he had after the hierarchy trials, and the day after that as well. I decided to numb myself to everything around me, focusing only on my job. For some reason, it wasn't like last time when I felt hopeless and desperate. Now, I had a purpose. Maybe someday I could help Chris and the others be released from the reservation, and we could reunite. Then, I could explain to him my actions, and perhaps we could have the happily ever after that I so wanted. At the moment though, I had to be strictly business.
The remainder of the month was pleasantly uneventful. I had gotten so many interviews done during the first half of the month that I was able to take my time during the second half.
Despite Devon's warning, no one went out of their way to try to take the notebook from me. In fact, the only person who had glanced inside of its pages beside myself was Chris on the night that we played hangman.
I decided not to interview Chris a second time before I left the reservation. It wasn't worth subjecting us both to the awkwardness of it when he had already told me what I needed to know, that he was settling into his new life in the werewolf community.
Finally, it was my last day, and as I stood several yards away from the gates, hugging all the werewolves that had become my friends, I couldn't wait to get back on the other side and tell their stories. Of course, I would have to take care of my own condition first, but hopefully that wouldn't be an issue with the information Rex had given me. After I compiled and turned in my report, I would devote my life to helping the werewolves' cause, researching all the unexplored possibilities for the cause of the lycanthropy disease and appealing to the government for a better way to contain it.
The goodbyes were bittersweet. Emmett gave me a bear hug that was a little too close for comfort. Devon was gentle, making a snide comment that I wasn't bad for a human. I decided that we had never really become friends. After all, he had been absent for almost half of my stay, doubling up on his job points like a greedy little sneak. Rick shook my hand like a professional. Sasha twirled me around, another gesture that made me uncomfortable. Terry and Margaret both gave me a big hug, sobbing all the while. Chris didn't even look like he was going to approach me at first, but when I stepped through the crowd toward him, he welcomed me into his arms, hugging me with a desperation that broke my heart and caused my eyes to water. Over Chris's shoulder, I could see Rex standing at the back of the crowd. Even he had come to see me off. We simply stared at each other with a look of understanding. I dare not approach him.
Then it was time for me to go. The gates opened, the werewolves all stepped back, and John Edward was smiling, ready to greet me on the other side. I waved at the werewolves a final time before approaching him, wondering if I'd miss the reservation at all. There was at least one person I would miss, I knew that for sure.
“Ms. Raveen.” John beamed at me, gently placing his hand on my elbow to lead me back into the compound.
I cast a quick glance over my shoulder, watching the gates roll closed behind me. Some of the werewolves were already walking off, the excitement over. But Chris just stood there, staring at me as if his eyes never wanted to let me go.
“How was your stay inside the reservation?” John asked, drawing my attention back to him.
“It was pleasant,” I replied.
“Did you get enough information for your journalism piece?”
I nodded. “I believe so. To be honest, I probably could have gathered all the data in less time, but it was a nice little vacation.”
“I'm glad.”
We walked past the supply room where I had been issued my yellow jumpsuit. At first, I thought nothing of it, imagining that he was going to take me to a different changing area. Then I noticed where he was actually leading me to . . . the Containment Center.
I tried not to act suspicious, seeming unfazed by the strange detour all the way up until we were standing in front of a cell. When I noticed that it was empty and the door was open, I looked up at John curiously.
“Now, I know that you don't have the disease,” John began, and as soon as he did, I thought I would throw up in my mouth, knowing what was coming next. “But we need to keep you overnight just to make sure. I hope you don't mind this inconvenience. We will allow you to keep your notepad and pen so that you can work on compiling your report while you wait.
“Tonight, we'll take you to the shifting room. If all goes well after the full moon comes out, you could be released as early as midnight. I apologize for the inconvenience, but you've been with the werewolves for a long time, and we need to take all safety precautions.”
No. This can't be happening. My mind was a panicked daze. Once I stepped inside that cell, it was all over. If I ran though, they would catch me, and it would be just as good as an admission of guilt that I had knowingly done something to contract the disease.
“Is this absolutely necessary?” I asked, trying not to seem shaken. “I have a very strict deadline to meet. My boss will be mad if I'm late.”
“Oh, we already cleared it with her,” John told me, and there was a flash of suspicion in his pale gray eyes. No wonder he had taken the time to warn me at the hierarchy trials. He knew they were going to do this afterward. I cursed myself for not expecting it.
With a sigh, I stepped inside of the cell. “Alright, lock me up. You're wasting your time though.”
“It's not a waste of my time, Ms. Raveen. It's my job. Besides, it should make you feel safer knowing that we aren't taking a chance of letting another werewolf out into society.”
Before coming to the reservation, I might have agreed with him, but now . . .
“Your meals will be served to you in here. Feel free to watch the television or work on your report. We assure you the utmost privacy while you do so. Thank you for your cooperation.” John pushed a button on the wall, and the glass door slid closed, locking me inside, jailed like a prisoner. Without another word, he was gone.
> I sighed in exasperation, trying to keep the desperation from my face. Despite the fact that I was screwed, I couldn't give anything away, not a hint of emotion that would make them suspect what I feared John already knew to be true.
It would be many hours until that glass door would open again, and I had to think of something before then—some way to escape. If they took me to the shifting room, it was all over. Surely, I could contact my boss and raise hell. As much as I thought about it though, I knew that nothing I could say or do would work. This was a very reasonable security measure for the compound.
With a deep sigh and a heavy heart, I waited. The best that I could hope for was that they would turn my journal into my employer. Because of that, I needed to compile my findings into a cohesive report before they took me to the shifting room. I doubted my notebook would be worth much if I handed it in as it was. And so, I wrote, furiously, and thoughtfully, and with every emotion I had felt while inside the reservation. I told not just the werewolves' story but my story as well—the entire story, leaving nothing out. The world needed to know.
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Other books in this series
A Month with Werewolves
A Week with Werewolves
A Day with Werewolves
A Night with Werewolves