Awakening: Book 1

by L. T. Marshall

  It’s not happening. The very thought of it chokes me to the core, and makes my heart constrict, and pulse, painfully. That uncomfortable heaviness in my gut, reminding me that I can never forgive and forget that he gave up on us and did what hurt me the most. I can’t move past the betrayal, or what he did, and I definitely cannot become some tarnished femme willing to have someone else’s mate, just because she can’t physically be here. It makes me sick to my stomach that he would even ask that of me. Love means nothing when you’re mate bonded to another. It’s against the rules, the pack laws, and against my own moral code. I deserve more.

  “So, what now? Alora is in danger if Juan now knows she’s here. He may try and pull together enough wolves to attack the homestead!” Matteo breaks the silence, bringing all eyes to him as he nestles in the armchair. His words bringing me out of my own thoughts and I sit up on one elbow to look at him from a semi lounging position, my gut swirling a little, and anxiety piquing, that my being here might just endanger everyone I love. More so than already, and I can’t really predict if that’s true.

  “No. My mom life linked to her…. if anything happens to Alora, then my mom dies too, and as she’s still bonded to my dad, it’ll be his end. He’s crazy, but not stupid. He’d never jeopardize his own life. He won’t attack because we outnumber him in terms of warriors, and he already lost at the mountain, there’s also no point in trying to get them back now. He knows we have the truth and soon we’ll spread it among our pack to let it free. Containing it won’t be his goal anymore, as he can’t turn back time. The only threat now is Alora rising to fulfil the prophecy that he can’t do a damn thing about. We protect her, we keep her close within our circle, same as any of the rest of us. We shield her and my mom. They’re the two most important people in this, and to me.” Colton turns and leans against the mantle and exhales heavily. His own fatigue evident on his face, his pallor pale, with dark smudges under his lower lids, his body sagging instead of the usual confident, strong, and tall posture he normally has. He catches my eye across the room over the heads of those on the couch and e gives me that soft, almost nothing, smile, that makes my heart giddy and insides erupts in fluttering butterflies. I look away quickly, my face flushing with the stupid reaction to him, and lay back down to avoid his eyes on me. I don’t want to feel his pull constantly, always sending my body into crazy spins and tingles, I want to sleep and to not feel, and not be torn every second with this gnawing need for him.

  “Right now, all we have is time to kill. Sierra is a couple of days before we even know how much recovery she’s going to need. It may be weeks before either of you are unbound. For now, we need to spread this among the pack and let them decide whose side they are on. Hybrids have always been a secret, and now their leaders are mixes of the enemies they hold within them. The pack needs to know everything, and after, those who are still here, and choose to stay, they can’t ever hold it against any of us again…. we are who we are.” Meadow gets up and stands beside Colton, turning to the rest of the pack and drawing my eve back across the room at them from my horizontal position. What she says makes perfect sense and yet it’s utterly terrifying.

  Outing everything to the rest of the pack. Telling them what I am, what he is, what they are, and opening all out and laying it bare for them to choose which side they want to follow. We may lose everyone. There has never been an outpouring of such honesty among this pack for decades under Juan’s rule. Some may not want to accept the truth.

  “We give them a choice and until my mom wakes up, to make a decision. Stay and accept me and Alora or go back to the mountain to my dad, whom they might deem their true alpha if they think I’m impure. From now on, no more secrets. We let the Shaman teach what he knows to be true in the school hall, and whoever wants to know can join in.” Colton’s voice is hoarse, a husky undertone of fatigue, and he rubs his hand over the back of his neck, rolling his shoulders before exhaling heavily. A sign he’s stressing about this choice, but he knows it’s inevitable. His intentions are the right thing, but much like me, there’s apprehension in him and a fear the pack will up and leave when they know what he is. What I am.

  “Let’s get to it at first light. We can split up and project on small groups at a time, let them pass it on. Won’t take long to cover the whole pack and spread the memories. That gives us the whole day to get through all of them, but right now, we should all sleep. We’ve had a long night and the new patrols are out doing the walks already. We need rest.” Meadow claps her hands to get everyone up, and the air of heavy mood and simmering anger at the lies they were drip fed their whole life is evident in the smog around them. It’s thick, and dense, like I could cut it with a knife.

  The subs are angry, hurt, confused, but one thing is clear. It didn’t change the loyalty, or love, within any one of them and through all of the emotions swirling in this room, one stands out the strongest. The unity and devotion they have for one another. The sense of solidarity, that any one of them are one hundred percent behind Colton with whatever he wants to do. That’s a real pack, that’s the bond of family, and I know I’m not officially one of them, but they make me feel as though I am. They’re my pack, no matter what happens with Colton, they’re not going to lose me for a second time. I need these people.

  One by one they stand and begin to shuffle out of the room, some of the boys stopping to fist bump Colton on the way by in that very bro way they have with one another, they wave my way, and I sit up properly, pulling myself to the edge of the bed to stand ,and find out where I’m meant to go, but Colton’s voice in my head stills me.

  Stay put. You look beat and need the rest. This room is fine, and no one will come in here without my say so. His voice inside my head, always that aching wave of intimacy, and yet sorrow, and all I can do is nod his way and avoid direct eye contact. I’m too fatigued for more emotional head mess and his lips are still lingering on mine from his kiss earlier, tingling softly, reminding me that when it comes to him, I’m stupidly weak, especially when I’m this tired.

  I flop back down, glad I don’t have to now find the energy to go anywhere, but at the same time, I feel a little disorientated at the thought of staying here by myself. I’ve been alone for weeks, knowing only the solitude, and sounds of nature, and the wilds. Now here I am, thrust back into civilization and tossed around for the last twenty-four hours in a bizarre and noisy manner and I haven’t really had a moment to reacclimatize, or even catch my breathe. It’s all a muddled mess of crazy, and now with the opportunity to lie back and let it sink in, it seems terrifying. I’m sort of depending on their company to keep me sane, and stop my mind from wandering, and I’m not sure I want to be alone anymore. I think I had my fill of it in the forests, the reminder of the never-ending loneliness I experienced, and I stop him as he goes to leave.

  “Where will you be?” I sound as desperate as I feel, blurting out a delaying tactic and I scold myself for the neediness. I guess I feel out of whack and set adrift now all my plans were upended, and life got completely side-tracked. And having no answers, and no direction, other than just waiting, is like having the rug pulled out from under you. It feels awful and he’s been the constant, stable, wise words, knows what he’s doing, in all of this. Right from day one that in this moment, I need it.

  “Across the hall in the infirmary with my mom. You can have this room until we figure things out. If you need me, then link me, and I’ll come back.” He throws me that sexy, genuine smile, his voice low, and fading, because he too is exhausted.

  “This is your room?” I blanche, wondering why the alpha of the pack isn’t upstairs in a grand suite like is normal within a pack manor. Now I also feel guilty, that I’m taking his bed when he needs it, and also a little worried that he’s setting me up in his room because he might think he can wear me down and start something in time.

  “Yeah, space is at a premium with a lot of families needing bigger rooms. It wouldn’t have been right to monopolize one when I can pu
t a bed in here and double up the communal and my room. It’s not like I sleep in here much, plus, with all the building work out back as they construct small homes, we’ll soon move a lot of the pack out into the forest we’re clearing behind us. This is all temporary while we get this place capable of being our permanent home. You need it more than I do.” It all sounds so plausible and logical, and I can’t help gazing at who he’s become, seeing him somehow in a new light.

  In just a few weeks he’s grown so much, and the needs of his people have taken the forefront of his priorities, as they should. There’s a new level of serious, and commanding, to him, a hint of mature beyond his years, and all it does is weigh me down heavily. Liking this about him, and all that does is make it hurt more. Colton really is everything I would ever want in a mate, and it just kills me, ripping my insides apart that he gave up on me.

  I glance at the window as though trying to see out into the darkness at the building work being carried out, but really, it’s an excuse to break away from the way his eyes are holding me hostage and I’m suddenly on the verge of stupid tears. The burning intensity of them pooling in my eyes and I have to swallow hard and blink them away to regain control. That same lingering need coming from him that gnaws at my soul constantly, and I lose my courage, sounding feeble, and weak, as I utter a few words breathlessly.

  “I could use something to sleep in.” I hesitate, knowing fine well it’s a lie and I could strip off, but something in me just doesn’t want him to leave yet, even if it’s just prolonging the agony and making me feel worse. Since I came back, we haven’t really separated properly for any length of time, and now I’m experiencing some crazy anxiety about him leaving when I feel like there’s so much still left unsaid, unresolved. He’s the anchor in my boat, and I’m on a stormy sea. I need to break this dependency on him if I’m to survive here from now on.

  The whole Carmen thing, his saying he still wants us, his kissing me outside, Sierra, the doctor… the future. It’s all too big for me to handle, or think about, and my brain is scared that letting him leave will open a damn in my brain I have no energy to deal with. He already has me teetering on emotional break down with tears threatening to push out.

  “The middle cupboard has everything you need. I wasn’t about to leave any part of you behind because I wasn’t going to rest until we found you. Sweet dreams, baby.” What he says confuses me enough to distract me completely; screwing my face up in confusion and as he walks out the door. Too focused on discovery and already climbing off the bed to open the center oversized wooden cabinet to see what he meant by that.

  Much to my shock, every single belonging I left in my room in the manor is in here, folded neatly, stacked up, and waiting for me to reclaim it. From clothing, to shoes, to my boxes of sentimental items, and keepsakes. All has its place and fits neatly in here, taking over an entire cupboard in Colton’s room.

  A lump forms in my throat that almost chokes me half to death, and tears sting my eyes with venom, so that I know I won’t be able to hold them back for long. My emotions take a sudden nosedive, and I cough on a sob trying to escape my throat. My hands tremble as I reach out and touch the first of my sweaters, my legs turning to Jell-O and a wave of lightheadedness because of my extreme reaction to something so basic.

  I don’t know why this gets to me so badly, but it does. The fact he took the time to pack up everything that was mine, so carefully, and brought it when they all left the manor together. Sure they were limited in time to pack, considering they were leaving under hostile terms and had to get out, yet he made sure he left nothing of me in that place. It’s all here. Every single little thing that I never knew I missed until now. All clean, and pressed, and set in here in almost military precision. He took care of my things in the hopes he would bring me back here one day.

  I try and not to ponder on it, to push it out of my head and focus on a task of doing, instead of thinking. It’s all I can do if I don’t want to succumb to these overwhelming feelings, and all the questions about Carmen, about us. Starting to doubt myself and what I felt in the forest, but there’s nothing else to explain what that was. It had to be him marking her or betraying our bond in another way. Nothing can compare to the level of pain, and heartbreak, and betrayal I felt, and I should remind myself of that and not get lost in him as he tries to win me round. I need to stay true to the fact and ignore how much I still love him. How every sense, and fiber in my soul, aches to be reunited with him in even the smallest ways.

  I inhale heavily to self-calm and level myself out, shake my head and give myself an internal rattle to snap out of this. I haul out an oversized night shirt that Meadow gifted me in the manor, my all-time favorite, and underwear, and quickly strip, loving the feel of fitted soft delicate lingerie and an actual cozy and loose t-shirt, printed with delicate pastel florals, over grey sweats any day. It’s the little things that can restore you in weird ways.

  I yank out my toiletries bag and find my hairbrush, facial wipes, and all manner of self-grooming products I left behind, as they were too heavy to lug around, and start to put myself to rights. There’s a mirror over the mantle and it’s only now I can see how grubby and scruffy I look and decide to quickly remedy it. I look like a hobo who hasn’t seen water in weeks, and my hair is a dull brown because it’s so dirty.

  Meadow was right though; I do look different. My hair is longer, my face slimmer, and I seem to have aged a little in my time in the wilds. My green eyes seem brighter, the color more intense. My skin tanned gently from being outside all the time, and I have a natural rosy glow to my cheeks, nose, and forehead, that have brought out a few light freckles. I seem taller, but I think it’s because I stand differently now. Upright, almost proud, and the small amount of growth my hair has had, makes all the difference. Even dirty, the layers are softer and hang around my face and past my shoulders in a much more flattering style than how the orphanage used to cut it. I like this look, and I might just let it grow out fully.

  I clean my skin, brush out my tugs as best I can and find all manner of debris and twigs in the knots. I feel grubby now I have clean pastel clothes against my skin and try and make myself presentable while contemplating linking Colton to ask if he has a bathtub close by. Although it’s late, and I am tired so maybe I should just clean myself up, sleep, and worry about bathing in the morning.

  It feels good to have the ability to cleanse some of the grime off with wipes and I look around for a means to brush my teeth, as that in itself will make a huge difference to how gross I feel. I wander around looking for a water jug, or something I could use, and stumble upon a door I previously missed because it’s stained the exact color of the wood around it. A small door in the corner, next to the desk, that was almost completely concealed, tucked in and narrow, right at the side of the last cupboard, that I open in hopes of finding something useful. To my delight it slides open behind the wardrobe to reveal a tiny bathroom.

  There’s a shower that looks newly installed, with an array of toiletries in a basket sat within, some towels hanging at the side, and a fluffy mat on the floor that hints this is where he gets ready most days. The smell of sealant and paint are faint in the air, as though this was a recent conversion, and I guess that makes sense if Colton had this room repurposed. He can get up, shower, and get ready here without having to go find an available bathroom. There’s a small wash basin, and toilet, fitted into the space snugly, but not so much that it’s crammed and I strip back off without hesitation, the urge to jump right in, desire overtaking tiredness with a need to be clean and hygienic once more.

  The outside living is great when you’re outside, but once you’re back among people, and cleanliness, it really does make you feel all kinds of yuck. This right now, as I slide under hot water from powerful jets, is as close to heaven as I’ve been in a while. I close my eyes and tilt my face up at the jet, and let it wash over, cascading all my worries and aches away with the kind of goodness only a hot shower can bring.
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br />   Hot water, soap, shampoo. It all feels amazing to be back in civilization with real home comforts. No more river washes or using stones to scrub my clothes, and plain water to brush my teeth that always had a faint tint of fishiness to it. I can lie to myself every day and say that I was doing great out there and would happily have existed that way for an eternity, but one shower and it unravels all of it. The bed calling to me, soft sheets, and springy mattresses, and being able to walk barefoot on soft carpeted surfaces and not having to choke half to death on fire smoke to get any kind of lights in the dark. I was never built to be truly off grid, and isolated, and being back here highlights all of it.

  I spend a good forty-five minutes scrubbing every single little inch of me and lathering up the shower products deliciously. They smell like Colton, but I don’t mind it at all. It’s comforting, familiar, much like his presence always is. He always smells good; citrus fresh, with subtle undertones of musk, a luring heady scent that ignites so many memories of being close to him at just smelling his products. On me it’s maybe a little masculine, but it’s better than woodland damp, and stale river water. It makes me feel human again, although it does kill any urge to sleep, and revives my energy levels which maybe I shouldn’t have done.

  I brush my teeth when I get out, oddly obsessed with peppermint toothpaste now I get to use it again and redo my teeth four times just because I can. Running my tongue over shiny smooth enamel and the breathy fresh taste when I inhale. I brush out my damp hair after I rub it almost dry with the soft towels hanging nearby, and cover my body head to foot in the lotion from my bag that smells like tropical fruit, in a bid to smell female again. It does a great job of blending with Colton’s scents and I end up sort of pineapple tinted and smelling rather edible. I redress in my underwear and night dress quickly, and revel in how good clean feels. There’s no comparison to this kind of sensation.