She rarely spoke about what had happened, but the others knew not to push the matter. They gave her just enough space while offering comfort and understanding in their own way, and while it was hard for April to endure, she knew it came from a loving place. She didn't have any right to refuse her duty, no matter what she'd been through.
Then, of course, there was Cyan.
Just as thoughts of Harper filled her with grief and regret, thinking back to the night she'd spent with the wild outsider was just as hard. She began to question what she'd done as her memories of that evening became more distant, wondering what had driven her to it in the first place. Had it been panic? Desperation? She hoped so, but part of her wasn't so sure. The way he'd touched her, the way his rough lips had tasted as they enveloped her own, the grip of his calloused fingers around her arms as he held her with a firmness and a confidence that had left her feeling so possessed and yet so desired at the same time...
The memories brought with them feverish shivers, recalling the peaks of pleasure he'd brought her to as though they were part of some euphoric dream. How could she have possibly been made to feel like that at such a terrible time?
Their night together was like a glowing coal in the back of her mind, warm and soothing, yet searingly painful whenever she sought to touch it.
It would have been so much easier if she could just forget, if she didn't feel anything beyond regret or guilt, but it was more than that. In the moments between sleep and consciousness she imagined Cyan's body close to hers again, the hunger of his touch and the need she'd felt for him in return; the understanding he'd given her, the things she'd told him that she could never share with the rest of her pack.
There was a want. A desire. And its impossibility made it all the more difficult to cope with.
She tried her best to avoid Cyan, keeping to herself and fighting the urge to glance in his direction whenever they saw one another at meal times. Even when the practical needs of day to day life began to distract April—even if only for a short while—from her sadness, she still stayed indoors as much as possible, reluctant to venture outside knowing that he might be nearby.
But just as Cyan had said, the days started to get easier. She would lose herself staring into the fire as she watched twigs of kindling curl and whiten in the flames, or savour a few minutes stitching a torn piece of clothing, or catch herself watching a bird or a flake of snow through the window, and for a few moments she could almost have been the same girl she was a month ago, before any of this happened.
It was time to start moving on, or at least to try. The wound Harper's loss had left still pained her terribly, but there were fleeting moments where life no longer seemed bleak enough to keep her curled up in her bed all day long.
She had to try, and maybe if she tried, she could succeed.
Winter had set in properly by the time she stepped out of her cabin just over a month since the night Harper died. The layer of snow coating their camp was permanent now, and the gazebo over the central fire had been fastened more firmly in place to endure the harsh winds and keep the meeting area free from snow.
April wrapped her thick scarf around her neck and snuggled into the warm fur lining of her leather coat, making her way quickly down the path towards the wood pile. She needed to see to her daily chores, get back into her daily routine. She needed fresh wood cut, and then she'd help the others with preparing the evening meal. The youngsters would be back with the pack by now, maybe she'd go and ask them how they'd found their last few weeks away from home. She smiled at the thought of seeing them again. She missed teaching them things, helping them learn how to mend a broken tool or toy, telling them about plants and wild animals, and watching them play together just like she and Harper had when they'd been...
She swallowed the lump that came to her throat and took a deep breath through her nose, focusing her thoughts on the task of woodcutting again. Her eyes flicked back and forth as she skirted the edge of the camp, still wary of the one person she hoped not to see.
Thankfully the morning was quiet, and her short walk to the wood pile was uneventful. She liked coming out here to the edge of the camp, where the pine trees on the lower slopes of the mountain crept up to their front door and the air was still and quiet. She unlatched the door of the tool shed next to the pile of freshly cut logs and took an axe from amongst the racks of bows and other woodworking tools, before hefting a thick log under her arm and carrying it over to the tree stump chopping block.
The axe felt heavier than she remembered in her hands, but it felt good to split the log into sticks of kindling one swing at a time, the tension in her muscles building into a satisfying burn as she worked her way through one log, and then another. She lost herself in the mindless focus of the task, and it wasn't until she heard the thunk of an arrow striking one of the targets hung from the nearby trees that she realised she was no longer alone. She blinked flakes of snow from her eyelashes, brushing a tangle of hair out of her face as she turned to see Cyan standing there, eyes fixed on the target in front of him as he strung another arrow to his bow. Her heart jumped in her chest and she stumbled, resting the head of the axe against the ground for support, and he looked at her.
Rather than terrifying her as she'd feared, his smile eased the discomfort she'd been struggling with for so many weeks. She returned it, her brow creasing with relief, and sat down on the stump to watch him while he loosed a few more arrows, then tucked the bow over his shoulder and approached her.
"How have you been?" he said. No words of polite comfort, no lingering awkwardness, just genuine curiosity.
April gave him a hesitant nod. "It's getting better, like you said it would. I... I think I can cope with it, now. I'm sorry you had to see me like that the night he died."
"I was worried," Cyan said, then added with a smile: "But you're a tough one, aren't you? It's good to see you out and about again."
"I had to face the world some time."
"Ingrid was worried about you, too. You didn't tell her what you told me?"
April shook her head, resting her boot on the axe head and rocking it between her knees. "I was just being silly. I don't know why I said it. She's been so good to me and I just... it wouldn't be fair to put all that on her, not after everything else that's happened."
"It's not fair to tell her the truth about how you feel?"
April looked up at him sharply. "I've heard people talking at meal times. They're questioning her, and if I went and told her I'm having some silly doubts about finding another mate, do you know what she'd do?"
Cyan raised his eyebrows, waiting patiently.
"She might agree with me," she continued, "and then people wouldn't just blame me, they'd blame her, too. She doesn't need that right now and I—" April paused, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. "I don't need this either."
"So what's next?" Cyan said. "You'll have to find another mate? Do you get a choice in who to pick?"
April sighed, suddenly feeling very tired. "I wouldn't even know where to start. I think Ingrid wants to pair me with Hazel, he's been after a mate for a long time."
"Who's Hazel?"
April nodded to the weapon slung over Cyan's shoulder. "That's his bow you're carrying."
Cyan paused, looking down at the bow, and for a second her skin heated as she caught a flash of something in his expression, something that reminded her of the night they'd spent together. What had it been? She hid her face behind a mittened hand as she rubbed her eyes, and Cyan spoke again.
"Why not Blackthorn? He seems like the obvious choice."
April couldn't help but give a little snort of amusement. "He'd never agree to that."
Cyan looked over at his archery target, half a dozen arrows protruding from the rough circle of sacking. "So Hazel, then."
April nodded.
"He's good looking. Seems like he knows a lot about bows," Cyan said.
"He makes all of our archery things for us, but I never
really got to know him that well. He was a bit too old to be part of our group when we were growing up. Me and Blackthorn and Harper, I mean."
"Would you be happy with him? Someone you barely know?"
"Why do you keep asking me about this?" April said, her cheeks colouring. "It's just the way things are for us. I know it might seem strange to you, but it's not my choice."
"I'm asking because I believed what you told me the night Harper died. You can put on a brave face for the rest of your pack, but at least be honest with yourself. If you don't want this, tell me."
"Why?" April said softly, her eyes moistening as she looked up at him. "What can you do about it? What does it matter? What's the point in hoping for something you can't have?"
Cyan gave her a long, hard look, but she set her jaw and held his gaze.
"Do you want something else?" he said at last.
"I don't know," she replied, and her expression faltered. The memory of their night together still burned in the back of her mind. The way he'd been with her... was that what she wanted?
"Don't hide from what you want," Cyan said, "and don't let your instinct tell you what to do. Are you sure it's not just your wolf telling you to settle for second best?"
"Are you sure it's not yours making you push me like this?" she retorted. Her throat was starting to hurt. She wasn't ready for this yet. "What even is your instinct anyway? You said something about it when we... you know."
"It doesn't matter, and it's not why I'm here talking to you. I'm just worried about the girl who opened up to me that night, and I don't want to see her making a decision she'll regret for the rest of her life."
April looked down at her feet in silence, burying her face in one of her mittens again as Cyan stepped closer. She was tired. She didn't want to keep going over this. Why wouldn't he just let her make a decision and move on?
She felt his hand come to rest on her shoulder, and the tensed.
"Have you been in your wolf form since the morning we came back together?" he said softly.
She hesitated, a rebuttal on the tip of her tongue, but it died before she could muster the energy to voice it.
She hadn't. Why? What had been stopping her from curling up in front of the fire in her animal form all these weeks? There had been nights when she'd have welcomed a warm coat of fur.
"I don't let my wolf take charge any more unless I'm willing to listen to my instinct," Cyan continued. "It's easier to keep it quiet if I leave that part of myself buried beneath the surface."
April shook her head, swallowing a painful lump in her throat. "I don't want to feel like I'm fighting against myself all the time."
"Then stop pretending you're okay with doing what your pack wants. If you don't do something about it now, while you still have a chance, you'll end up feeling that way the rest of your life."
"But what can I do?! You keep telling me to do something about it, but it's easy for you, you don't have anyone relying on you, looking out for you—"
"Do you know why that is, April?" he cut in sharply, jerking her around by the shoulder and crouching down so that she was forced to look at him. "It's because I didn't have the strength to stand up to my wolf when it mattered. I had my own pack. I had someone I cared about. And now I've got nothing, because my wolf took it and he destroyed it."
"That's not what I—"
"It's the same thing!" Cyan's amber eyes burned into hers. "Your wolf wants to be loyal to her pack, and you're giving in to her because it's easier than standing up for what you want. Believe me, April, if you don't confront it now it'll only get harder, and then one day..." He shook his head. "You'll end up looking back at your life and all you'll have is regrets."
April let the axe drop to the ground between her legs, reaching up to curl her fingers around Cyan's wrist on her shoulder. "Then tell me what I should do," she said weakly, her eyes brimming with moisture.
"Just listen to what you want. The human part of you. Ignore the wolf, just be April."
"April's selfish."
"Then be selfish."
She looked at him a moment longer, then grabbed the collar of his coat, pulled herself forward, and kissed him. She tasted his coarse stubble rubbing against her lips, breathed in the masculine scent of his body that was so different than anything else she knew, and clutched his clothing tight for a few heady moments before he pushed her away. Slumping back against the tree stump, she looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes, a bitterly stubborn expression on her face.
"Is that what you wanted me to do?" She said.
"That isn't what I meant." He straightened up uncomfortably, clearly taken off guard by the kiss.
"Do you get why it isn't as simple as you make it sound now?" April winced, glaring at him as she wiped her eyes. "It's not worth listening to what I want if it's going to hurt everyone else."
"Look, I know how it was that night, but I told you—we agreed—it can't be anything more. Maybe you just need more time—"
"Don't treat me like a child!" She grabbed the axe, stood up, and shoved it into his hands before turning her back on him. "If you want to help, do something helpful, otherwise stop making this harder for me than it already is!" Without another word she marched back in the direction of the camp, snowflakes melting on her cheeks as they met with a fresh flood of hot tears.
* * * * *
Cyan ran a hand through his hair as he watched her walk away into the snow, his head reeling from the kiss and the sweet perfume of her body that still clung to his senses, a scent that brought back the memories of their night together in vivid detail. Perhaps he shouldn't have pushed her away. But what would that have led to? Something even worse?
He cursed under his breath and swung the axe into the tree stump with a dull thunk, his eyes wandering over the pile of freshly cut kindling that April had left behind. This was what he'd wanted, wasn't it? For her to move on, to make her own choices rather than listening to what her pack decided for her?
He just hadn't expected to become part of it himself.
He crossed over to his archery target and yanked the arrows out of it sharply, trying to dispel the phantom touch of April's soft lips that lingered against his skin as he worked to free a particularly stubborn shaft that had lodged in the tree trunk behind the target. When it finally came loose he growled in frustration as the corner of the arrowhead nicked his thumb, drawing blood and sending a pair of crimson droplets spattering into the snow between his feet. He clenched his fingers around the cut, wondering whether he'd made a mistake by staying here. Getting involved with another pack like this was the last thing he wanted. Maybe it would be better for everyone if he just left right now, before things got any worse. Could he do that? Or would it just leave him with more memories of regret and another girl he'd lost, lying awake in the cold night wondering what she was doing now that he was gone?
He paced back to the stump, his boots punching holes in the thick snow as he notched an arrow against his bowstring and turned to loose it at the target in frustration. It flew wide, and his second arrow splintered as it struck the frozen tree trunk instead of the padded target.
I do want her, his thoughts growled in the back of his head, grating like a coiled spring desperate to be released. It was the voice of his wolf, the hungry hunter that longed for fresh prey.
"I'm done with that," he hissed under his breath, glaring at the target as he drew back the bowstring a third time, the twine digging into his fingers as it went taut. He wouldn't take advantage of a conflicted girl like April to get what he wanted. Not again.
He took a deep breath and sighted down the shaft, holding his shot until his aim steadied. But before he could fire a gloved hand slapped down against his arm, knocking the arrow loose and sending it spinning into the snow as he lost his grip on the string.
Cyan whirled around with a glare to find Blackthorn's steely gaze fixed on him.
"What did you say to her?"
"Who?"
"Don't gi
ve me that." Blackthorn grabbed the bow and yanked it out of Cyan's hands. "She was in tears, what did you say to her?"
"Maybe if you people talked to her for once rather than deciding what's best for her behind her back you'd know."
"Was it about Harper? Are you making her blame herself for what happened again?"
Cyan narrowed his eyes at the other male, blood dripping through his clenched fingers from the cut on his thumb. He held Blackthorn's gaze for a moment longer, then relaxed his grip. "We just talked. She's still upset, that's all."
"What did I say about staying away from her?"
"We can't avoid each other forever."
Blackthorn clasped his fingers around the upper limb of the bow, resting the tip beneath his chin as he peered over it at Cyan. "Did something else happen out there the night Harper died?"
"I've told you all this before."
"And I still don't think you're telling me everything. April won't talk about it, and now I see her running away in tears the second you go near her."
"You've seen what that avalanche did to the bridge for yourself, if you still think I had anything to do—"
"I'm not saying you did," Blackthorn snapped. "But if something else happened that night, whatever you said to her, whatever you did, I want to know about it."
"Well sorry, Blackthorn, but there's nothing else to say. Why don't you spend your time trying to deal with the ferals responsible for all this rather than wasting it on me."
Blackthorn grimaced, twisting the bow back and forth between his palms. "I would, if Ingrid would let me. This pack hasn't been the same ever since you showed up."
Cyan ignored the barbed comment. "Why? What's so different now?"
"You've heard the others talking. We don't want to spend all winter afraid to go hunting because of those wild beasts out there. We need to deal with this once and for all, and more and more of us are starting to realise that."
Broken Moon: Part 3 Page 2