Masked SheWolf

by Yara Gharios

  "But after that, he was very busy with his work, and I started seeing him less than usual," I go on. "He tried to be in my life more often, and when he was, he was the greatest father I could ask for. A great leader, too. But he still could have been there more often."

  That's a very big thing for me to admit, and I've never told anybody how I felt about this, but I know this will bring comfort for both of us.

  Michael pauses to take it in. "Did you ever resent him?"

  "Sometimes," I acknowledge. "Believe it or not, I even resented my mother at one point, for leaving me with him. For leaving me at all. He was still in his drinking phase, and I was angry at the world because I felt abandoned by both of them."

  The silence that follows on Michael's side is contemplative. I've given him a lot to think about. I'm interested to find out how this relates to him. I can almost feel the wheels turning in his head, making him reflect on his own situation.

  "Did you always know you were going to become the alpha after him?" he asks.

  "Of course," I confirm. "That was always the plan."

  "Didn't you ever want to be something else?"

  That's when I start to piece together everything and figure out what's bothering him. Michael had a fight with his family that somehow involves his future.

  "It wasn't forced on me," I assure him. "I was raised to become a leader since I was born, but I had a say in the matter. It's my future; I have a right to decide what I want to do with it."

  "And you chose to be an alpha?"

  "Yes."

  "Why?"

  I shrug. "I didn't want to be anything else," I say, not knowing how else to explain it. "It became who I am."

  Another pause during which the only sounds come from the game. "Do you think your parents would have resented you if you chose something else?"

  This hits a new nerve; I still worry every day whether or not I'm making my parents proud, and I don't have them around to ask them about it. However, this isn't about me right now; it's about Michael. Everything I say is to help him, not myself.

  "I imagine they would have been a little disappointed," I admit, "but they would have been okay with it. They're my parents; they loved me. All they wanted for me was to be happy."

  This is as far as the serious conversation goes, because Michael goes back to his usual joking manner after that.

  When we part ways a while later, I get the feeling that I am just as affected as he is by what was said, if not more. So affected, in fact, that I take a walk a few days later, to the one place which I haven't yet gone to see since we got here.

  It was my father's gift for my mother on their honeymoon, because they couldn't leave the pack that long. He built her a small cabin in the middle of the forest, right next to a waterfall and river, where they would go to be alone for a few hours every day during their honeymoon. After I was born, they spent some time with me here. Uncle Cliff says I fell asleep to the sound of the waterfall faster than I did at the pack house in my crib.

  Then the pack moved, and no one has been here ever since. It's clear by the way the dust is gathering on the empty floor. I bring with me some cleaning gear and a folded cot that I place on one side of the cabin. Then after that, I take my jeans off, having used my shirt as window cleaner, and shift. The scenery is too beautiful not to enjoy.

  Being here is very therapeutic, and I soon find calmness from my previously raging thoughts. I also find a renewed hope to make up with Reena.

  She's in our room when I get home, reading. That's what she's been spending her time alone doing when I'm not there, ever since I suggested she finds something to do with all her free time. I would have asked her to come to the cabin with me, but the place feels too private, and I can't accept having anyone else in my parents' refuge.

  She looks up at me when I walk in, and she smiles tentatively. "Hey. How was cleaning duty?"

  Instead of answering her, I join her on the bed and lean over to give her a long kiss. Her confusion is evident at first, but then she melts into me and returns the kiss. I wrap my arms around her and pull us both down on the mattress.

  She pulls back, and I continue trailing butterfly kisses down her jaw, her neck, her collarbone.

  "Logan," she sighs. "What-?"

  I shush her and then kiss her lips again. "Don't say anything," I request. "Let me make everything up to you."

  She smiles, and complies.

  Chapter 27

  Michael

  Dad's idea of giving me space is to ignore me during the entire week. He's not being hostile or anything, but he doesn't acknowledge me in any way. I know what he's doing; this has always been his tactic to get my brothers and I to think about what we did while we wallow in guilt.

  By the time he finally has a talk with us, we will have changed our minds and made up an apology speech. Too bad for him I don't want to change my mind. I'm tired of my secret controlling every aspect of my life. It would have been fine if I at least had an outlet, but I don't; my family is denying me even that.

  Logan was right; it's my future. I should get a say in what I want to do with it. It's not like I suddenly want to wear dresses, go out with boys and go shopping. I still want to be me, even if that means being a boy. All I want is to have purpose; otherwise, what's the point of living?

  What do they think? That I'm just going to live with them for the rest of my life? What happens when my brothers leave and I'm the only one still at the house? What happens if they die? Am I to live with one of my brothers? I can't spend my entire life with a babysitter. And it's not like I'm asking for too much; college is not that big a deal.

  It surprises me how radically my thoughts and opinions have changed for the past month. Before, I never thought my parents' security measures were extreme; I always knew they were there to protect me. But now, it's like every rule they have ever laid out only serves to suffocate me more. I can't imagine how I was able to take it all for almost eighteen years.

  There's only one thing that takes my mind off the fight with my parents during those days they leave me alone; War Day retaliations. I handle one brother each day just so I can keep myself distracted for as long as possible. It's a shame I don't feel as good about myself when successfully pulling each prank. It's like the life has been sucked out of me this whole week.

  I'm not depressed or sad or anything, but I'm also not happy or even relaxed. My emotions are just... neutral. All the time. That's how I know my time of the month must be coming up. It's been almost four weeks since last time, anyway, so I'm not looking forward to another four days of hiding out in my parents' house, and I try to get out as much as possible. Talking to Logan was probably the greatest help in strengthening my resolve.

  Being with Sadie and Cade is the only other way I can pass the time, but I have the judgment of my parents hanging over every awkward moment we have. They asked me only once about it, and I was so nonchalant in the way I answered that they didn't dare ask again. Sadie was dying to, I could tell, but Cade wouldn't let her. I'm very thankful for his presence. He's been a better friend than I thought he would be.

  Friday after school is when Mom and Dad finally acknowledge me. When my brothers and I walk into the house, it takes one look from our parents to let them know what's about to happen.

  "Uh, we are going out," Mason announces. "We've promised some of the SMP guys that we'd go for a run together, and they've been waiting since camp night."

  "Yeah, what he said," his twin replies just as the four of them get out the way they came in, giving me some final encouraging looks.

  Their expressions are not how I expected them to be. I was waiting for their disappointment, or even their anger, but not the relaxed and even inviting looks they're giving me.

  I stand there awkwardly waiting until Dad says, "Take a seat, Mickey."

  Mickey, I repeat with shock in my head. That's encouraging.

  My bag drops at the side of the armchair on which I plop down. I try to gather my c
onfidence since I want to be able to hold my ground without wavering. It's hard to do that, because seeing their faces is making the guilt begin to rush through me again and my arguments to slip away from my mind.

  Plus, Dad is not just my father; he's also my alpha, which means I'm anatomically inclined to obey him. It's not impossible to resist an alpha, but it triggers your sense of right and wrong in a way inclined towards him and blurs the line between obedience and your own principles. Distinguishing between your own beliefs and those influenced by your sense of duty toward your leader becomes hard.

  My parents sit next to each other on the sofa facing me, and the way they're handling themselves together makes me think of a powerful political couple. Intimidation begins to creep up my insides. It's when he's most composed that my dad exerts his authority and power the best. Anger, I could have fought against; even disappointment might have been easier, but not this business-like approach he's taking.

  Maybe I was wrong yelling at him the way I did. Should I apologize? Perhaps I should have heard them out and explained to them calmly what I'm going through. He's a fairly reasonable person and he would have listened. It's not like he's ever been unfair towards me and my brothers, and he treats my mom very well.

  Mom. All my thoughts are focused on Dad and how I should apologize to him alone. This must be his alpha side affecting me indirectly, otherwise I would be thinking of apologizing to both of them.

  Focus, I tell myself. Don't lose your head.

  A moment after sitting down, Dad clears his throat. "Son, I think we've all had more than enough time to calm down and think logically about this."

  I don't know how, but hearing him calling me son is like having a bucket of ice thrown down my back. Strange. Usually this happens when I'm referred to by my girl name. My mind is suddenly clearer than it's ever been; I may have been harsh in the way I talked to them, but I spoke the truth, and I'm not going to apologize for that part or change my mind. So I wait for one of them to talk.

  "We understand your frustration, darling," Mom tells me gently. "As much as it hurts to admit, you had every right to think that way. We understand what you're feeling."

  I almost snort. They can't possibly comprehend what I'm going through. They just treated me like another one of their boys. Keeping the secret was my burden alone; they didn't carry it with me, not really. No one ever did.

  "It's true," she insists when she sees my skepticism. "It's not easy for a mother to raise her daughter in a way that goes against everything she wants to pass on to her. There were so many important moments in your life when I wished to have the relationship I want to have with you. But I care about you more than I care about myself, and I would do anything to keep you safe, even if this means I have to sacrifice what I want."

  Suddenly, I see my mom in a completely different light. From what I've seen and heard, mothers are responsible for the 'where do babies come from' speech for their daughters. Girls talk to them about boys, complain about school, confide secrets in them, and a whole bunch of other things I don't even know. My mother and I never had that kind of relationship. I love her, of course, but we're not as close as mothers and their daughters should be.

  I've thought about this before, and I can't say I never wished things could have been different between us. But I've always seen it from my perspective, like I'm the victim; I'm the girl whose mother treats her like a boy and doesn't bring her chocolate ice cream when she's having a bad day or teaches her about periods and how to be a good friend or even girlfriend.

  It's never occurred to me before now that maybe my mom wishes for the same things. That maybe she's having just as hard a time as I am not being able to talk to her about whatever I want and confide in her or let her in my private life. Other than her life with Dad and the fact that she doesn't have any siblings, I don't know much about her. How sad is that? It's almost as if we're strangers.

  "I'm not trying to make you feel guilty, honey," she assures me when my face twists into a frown. "I only want to remind you that, although you feel like it, you aren't alone."

  "I know you won't believe me when I say this," Dad says, "but we've been having as much of a hard time as you have keeping your secret. It hasn't been easy for us either, especially denying you the life you want."

  A flicker of hope shines somewhere deep inside of me. Maybe they can understand. "Then why did you?" I finally speak up. "I understand having to pretend to be a boy, but you're keeping me on a very tight leash, Dad, and it's suffocating me."

  "I know that, I really do," he assures me. "But you know it's necessary. You can't go to college. We've discussed that endlessly before; it's for your own good."

  Whatever shred of hope I felt dies the second he says those words. I tried anger and I tried reason, and they don't listen to either. I was deluding myself thinking they will ever get it.

  "No, Dad, it's not for my own good," I say, deadpan and hopeless. "Because in that scenario, my life may be intact, but I'm not living in any way."

  I can't handle staying around here any longer, and I don't listen to them calling after me when I leave the house. I expected them to be mad about Sadie and Cade knowing my secret, but I guess I should have known better than to hope they would be okay with the college idea.

  For a moment, I stand silently outside the front door. I wait to see if they'll come after me, but nothing happens. I take off in the direction of the forest. I may not be able to shift, but I need the solitude right now. When I get to the edge of the clearing, I keep walking until I reach a boulder under which I can hide.

  While I'm sitting there not knowing what to do, something spurs inside of me very suddenly, something that makes my heart beat faster and my eyes go wider. At first, I think maybe I'm going to cry, but it turns into a rush of elation instead of the sadness that should be there.

  I've never felt anything like this before, but I need to understand it. It's like there's a magnetic field surrounding me and pulling me towards wherever the center of it is. I can't describe it better than that, but I do know that there's a deep seeded need to follow it. So I let my feet carry me while the pull increases more and more with each step I take. My mind becomes numb to anything other than the pull, to the point where I don't even know where I'm going or how I'm walking anymore.

  I wake into awareness for a moment when I go deeper into the forest than I've ever been. Then I reach someplace unfamiliar, even though I was always so sure I've seen every part of this forest. I can hear running water somewhere close by. The smell of the wet earth overpowers almost every other scent within its vicinity.

  The trees here are so high, and their tips so close to one another that there are rays of sunshine filtering through the spaces between them, making visible patterns that are so beautiful to look at. Craning my neck up, I can also see patches of the sky through the holes between the tree branches. It's amazing that none of my brothers nor I have ever found this place.

  I'm so caught up in the beauty around me that I don't realize that the pull has unexpectedly magnified by a thousand, and that there's a big rock right where I just put my foot that I slip on and fall right on my face. Luckily, nothing gets seriously injured, although I do feel a bruise forming on my forehead. But I don't have time to dwell on that, because the pull suddenly feels heavy. Almost like I'm being controlled by it, my head lifts up.

  Between the trees and bushes, I can see the stream I heard a couple hundred yards away. I know where the sound came from when I notice a heavy waterfall at one side of it.

  Then I see him by the edge of the water, drinking from it. In the midst of all the brightness from the sun and the clearness of the water, he stands in all his dark glory. A black wolf.

  And then, it's like the puzzle pieces of my life have suddenly met their missing match, and the overall picture now makes perfect sense.

  Despite the blackness of his color, he is the brightest light in this entire scenery; brighter even than the sun. I, alone, am darkness
and emptiness. He is the center. He pulses with youth and vivacity, while I become old and lifeless. He is sublime; he is everything. I am nothing, and I need him.

  Being this far from him slowly and painfully kills whatever pulse there might be in me. I have to be near him, so he will take away the darkness that I am, breathe life back into me and make me whole again. No, not 'again'. I am never whole so long as we are separated, and I won't be until I am with him.

  But I don't stand. I can't even move. I want to, I need to be near him. But the magic of seeing him holds me captive. He is breathtaking. And for once in my life, I can't think of anything. He dominates my thoughts and refuses to leave them. All I want is to look at him more. No, I want to join him. But I still can't move.

  Why can't I move?

  And then, I know why. Because it's at that moment that I realize he's no longer a wolf, but has transformed into a man. A man I know very well.

  Logan stands proudly in all his naked glory, and it's impossible to look away from his face. Even if I wanted to, if was curious enough to look at his body, I wouldn't be able to. I'm captivated. My eyes follow him as he moves to a bush and fishes out something from behind it; a pair of jeans that he wastes no time putting on. That's all. Then he starts walking away from the stream and from my eyesight, until I can no longer see him.

  The spell snaps.

  "No," I whisper, horrified.

  He's too far to see, smell or hear me, but even if he wasn't, the waterfall, earth scent and my position between the trees and bushes would be enough to conceal me from him.

  This can't be, I tell myself when my voice doesn't work again; I am in complete and utter shock. How is this possible?

  True mates exist only in fairytales. This cannot be real. And yet, the evidence is in my still beating heart and the pull that's gradually diminishing the further he gets from me. I am in too much shock to do anything but keep staring at the spot where I last saw him, hoping and dreading that he will come back.