Losing Myself in You (7 page)

Bridgette didn't get much sleep the rest of that short night. She wasn't sure why she was here, in the middle of a pack of werewolves, being kept alive besides the fact that it obviously had something to do with the bite on her neck. And she also had a feeling that Marcus wasn't exactly thrilled with having to humor his pack by bringing her here. What? Did he need to show them everyone he had bit in his lifetime?

How many people could werewolves actually bite anyways? Was it a one time, one person thing, or could a werewolf have multiple partners? Bridgette didn't want to think about it, so she didn't.

That day, she slid in and out of an uneasy sleep, completely unaware a young woman, probably no more than eighteen, came in frequently to check on her.

Though Bridgette was formally educated in the matter of werewolves
, she didn't know the way pack members interacted on a more informal basis. She knew there was an Alpha male who was expected to get married and reproduce so that if anything happened to him, he would have his pups to reclaim his place when they were of age. Though werewolves seemed like a very patriarchal society, females were of equal or even greater importance. It was the female who bore the men their children, and for that reason, they were honored. Normally, males made no brash decisions without discussing it first with his mate. And in such a culture, the males weren't seen as being whipped, but rather considerate.

She didn't know, of course, about bonding with someone completely. The physician spoke little of the actual side effects she would experience, especially concerning her logic and her emotions. He thoroughly told her about the science behind it, though, but to be honest, Bridgette didn't exactly care about that part. He told her that due to the strength of Marcus' venom, she would
more than likely turn into a werewolf, but he couldn't tell her when.

It was then that she realized humans didn't know very much about the werewolf culture
even if they were educated about said culture.  She couldn’t even ask her werewolf colleagues about it since most of them were lone wolves and didn’t know much about pack traditions themselves.

It was all so complicated that Bridgette felt herself getting a headache.

It was nearly four in the afternoon when she threw her legs over the bed and stood, stretching as she did so. She glanced straight across from the four-poster king size bed and found a full-length mirror. Gazing into it, she saw that she was still in her t-shirt and boy shorts, and she felt slightly relieved about this. Of course, something inside told her Marcus would never take advantage of her, but it was nice to know that nobody had come in and changed her. Her hair was messier than normal and she realized it would take a little longer to get through the knots that had accumulated while she slept. Everything else about her looked pretty normal; she didn't seem harmed in any way. There were no cuts, blood, or bruises. But…

But there was that mark on the side of her neck.

She hated the sight of it. It basically informed the entire world that she was his property, and that she was taken, however beyond her will it was.

Bridgette snapped her eyes to the squared window on the adjacent wall, refusing to look at it anymore. Fall was surely here; for the forest surrounding the manor was devoid of any leaves, save for the blankets of color they made on the ground. The backdrop brought a grin to her face and her thoughts strayed, the mark momentarily forgotten
.
Bridgette had always preferred fall above every other season, preferably for scenery like this. Some might call it barren or dead, but she thought it was nothing short of beautiful.

How wonderful it must be
, a small voice inside of her murmured,
to live here throughout all four seasons, and experience each one individually
.

Immediately, Bridgette shook her head to rid herself of the thought.
  Her finger reached up to play with the tresses of her messy hair. She wouldn't even deny the thought because she refused to think about it at all. Instead, she turned around and glanced at the bed she had slept in.  Silk crimson sheets.  A matching quilt she would no doubt need once winter came – if she was still there for that long. After an inspection, she found that there were two fully stocked wardrobes on either side of the full-length mirror, and a desk next to the window should she ever decide to write. When she turned around to check out the opposite wall, she found the entrance to the room and a large painting of two brown-grey wolves staring up at the night sky with a crescent moon. For a moment, Bridgette did nothing but stare at it, until a knock at the door startled her.

Her body tensed and she could feel her heart beat dramatically increase, her expression remaining oddly calm. She didn't answer the call, hoping they would think she was still asleep and leave her alone. However, the door suddenly opened, and the familiar
wolf she had seen when she went in and out of sleep stood before her.

"Oh, miss!" she exclaimed, quickly entering the room and shutting the door behind her to give Bridgette privacy. "I wasn't sure if you were up or not."

Bridgette kept her mouth closed and her eyes narrowed. Sure, this girl
seemed
friendly enough, but Bridgette didn't trust any of them, at least not yet.  Bridgette inwardly slapped her head.  More like never.  She was a wolf and helping Marcus keep her here against her will.

The
maid seemed to recognize the unsure look on Bridgette's face, and offered the her a warm smile. "I'm Abigail," she said, introducing herself. "I'm your maid. Whatever you need, I can get for you if you just ask me for it."

"I'm Bridgette," Bridgette murmured, though
her distrust was still readable on her face.

"Hi Bridgette," Abigail said and smiled once again. "It is so good to finally meet you. Everybody here has been waiting for you, and to be
one of the first people to see you… Well, it's an honor, really." She finished with a blush on her face, and Bridgette couldn't help but smile, even though she didn’t want to.

Abigail was no more than five foot three, maybe five foot four if she stood a certain way. She had dark, auburn hair that probably looked redder in the sunlight. She was wearing a white, long sleeved shirt underneath a sage green jumper. She had white knee socks on and black Mary
Janes on her feet. She was a cute girl, with freckles sprawled out over her pale face, and dark blue eyes that could be mistaken as mischievous.

"Um, thanks," Bridgette said, a subtle hint of flatness in her voice due to the fact that she was slightly uncomfortable. She never thought
anyone, let alone strangers she didn't even know, would want to see her.

"In fact," Abigail said. "It's a good thing you're up too.
Everyone’s waiting. Dinner should be ready in a couple of hours, so we should probably start getting ready."

"Getting ready for what?" Bridgette
practically yelped, her defenses on high alert. She even took a step back to ensure there was some sort of distance between herself and the girl in front of her.

"Dinner, of cour
se," Abigail said, pausing.  Her brows were furrowed, as though she were unsure of what caused Bridgette’s sudden change in demeanor.

"Dinner?"
Bridgette in the same tone before shaking her head. "No. I'm not eating with him."

"But, miss, he
insists
," Abigail said. "And I know that sounds as though he's requesting it, but he's really not. He's ordering you to be dressed appropriately and down in the dining room at six sharp."

"I do
n't care," Bridgette said, her tone firm.  Her ice blue eyes didn’t flinch as they looked at Abigail. "You go tell him I won't eat with him."

Bridgette could tell
Abigail kept a look of frustration from crossing her features before nodding a couple of times. "I will go tell him," she agreed, and turned around to head out the door. "But he will not be happy."

When Bridgette was finally left alone, she rushed over to the door handle and immediately locked it.

It was a good thing she did too, because in a manner of moments, she could hear someone stomping up the stairs, to her room, before banging on her door.

"You are
coming
to dinner," a familiar, gravelly voice ordered in a booming tone.

"No I'm not," Bridgette replied, just as firm. Marcus, she realized, could definitely be intimidating when he wanted to be
.  She was glad they weren’t face to face; she couldn’t even imagine his expression on his features, just outside the door.

"Yes you are," he argued before banging on the door once again.

"No I'm
not
," Bridgette said; fists forming at her side. At that moment, she was all but afraid of Marcus. In fact, she was boiling mad at him. "I'd rather starve than eat with you!"

There was a moment's pause.

"Fine," Marcus said after a while. His voice was no longer booming, but it still had the same effect. "
Fine
. If you won't eat with me, then you won’t eat with
anyone
."

“That doesn’t even make sense!” Bridgette screamed from behind the door.

Bridgette felt her body tense again, preparing for another fight, but she heard his footsteps disappear back down the stairs.

And then, it was silent once more.

She would rather starve than eat dinner with him.

Well. That was a new one.

Marcus had to clench his teeth together and coil his fingers into fists in order to prevent himself from turning around and banging on her bedroom door until she finally relented and decided to eat with them. He gave her the whole day to rest. He didn't force her to get up and eat breakfast with them, nor did he force her to eat lunch with them. She
had
to be getting hungry. Couldn't she just put on some kind of dress and impress the Elders for a couple of hours?

But wait… Marcus froze as a tingling sensation began to slither up his spine. He wanted her to fail at this whole dining thing, didn't he? At least, that's what he had originally thought. If the Elders refused to allow him to claim her as his mate, then she would no longer be a part of his life anymore, and that was what he had wanted in the first place. Plus, it wasn't like she was going to argue with him on the matter, because she didn't want to be with him on the same level that he didn't want to be with her.

So they had an understanding.

Except…

Marcus started to walk again, but instead of heading downstairs, he turned and walked into his bedroom. It was the biggest bedroom in the entire house and it even had a private bathroom attached to the room. Whenever Marcus was troubled or something was weighing heavily on his mind, he would lie down on his bed and stare up at the ceiling, breathing evenly until his frustrations faded away and he had some sort of solution to the problem. He highly doubted he would be able to find one now, but that didn't stop him from trying.

Marcus had always been familiar with his culture. He knew that by him nipping at Bridgette's neck, by literally marking her as his, that they were connected on a deeper level than one of mere possession. In fact, he didn't necessarily believe that he owned her in any way, but if some guy tried to hit on her, he would do something about it. It was actually hard to explain. But they were connected.

There were times when he could feel what she was feeling. It was only subtle, of course, and he knew that once she went through the transformation, if she survived it at all, those perceptive feelings would only enhance. Right now, he could detect that she was feeling an assortment of emotions. Because her presence was drastically closer to him than normal, he could pick up more of her emotions that he did before. She was angry, frustrated, confused, and maybe even a little scared. It's not every day she gets thrown over a shoulder and led into a pack of werewolves, he realized.

So maybe he should have tried a different approach when it came to her, but even if he had, it wouldn't have changed anything. She would still frustrate him to no end, and he would be stuck trying to get her to impress the Elders.

And then there was the fact that ever since he had marked her, his desire for her only grew. She was the only one he wanted, and he knew that from that moment on, no one would be able to satiate him the way she would. Even dreams wouldn't do, though they were momentarily satisfying. He needed to touch her, to feel her, to be inside of her. Nobody else would do. And he absolutely hated that. What had he gotten himself into? He wouldn't have sex with anyone who wasn't her for the rest of his life. He idly wondered if she felt the same way. Maybe Bridgette didn't know what she felt yet. Logic seemed to plague her, but there were moments when he had caught her eye, and he saw the same raw desire in them that he felt for her. Maybe it would take her longer to realize what she was feeling because she was human.

So while he wanted nothing more than to have the Elders disapprove of the match, Marcus knew that he needed her. He couldn't be without her. And if the Elders did disapprove of her, then he would be forced to marry somebody else. And if that were to happen, it would be pure torture.

But he couldn't force Bridgette to like him, love him, or at least entertain his company. She would have to come to that conclusion by herself, and all Marcus could do was to wait.

When he realized quite a deal of time had passed since first arriving to his room,
Marcus slipped off his leather jacket and replaced it with a black blazer. The pack, as usual, would eat together, whether it would be with Bridgette or without her. When he passed by her door, he stopped himself from trying to talk her into joining him, though he wanted nothing more than to attempt it. If she wanted to be stubborn, he could be stubborn too.

By the time he reached t
he dining table, the entire pack was seated, waiting for him. When the Elders realized Bridgette was not with Marcus, they turned to each other and started whispering. Though Marcus's ears were sharp and he no doubt could pick up what they saying, he chose to ignore them. He took a seat, and without any spoken words, servants started placing food on the surface of the table.

"So tell us Marcus," Julianne
began in a silky purr, her blue eyes locked in his direction. "Where is your betrothed?"

"She's not his betrothed yet,"
Razi murmured before taking a bite out of the prime rib a servant girl had just piled onto her plate. Once she swallowed, she licked her lips. "Not until Thane and I approve."

"Well, where is she?" Julianne repeated
, making sure that her voice wasn’t being overtly pushy.

"She's upstairs in her room," Marcus said in a low, crisp voice, his hazel eyes currently on his food rat
her than the members of his pack.

"Is she coming down?" Thane asked, waiting to start eating until he knew for sure, one way or the other, if they would be entertaining a guest. "Should we wait for her?"

"No," Marcus told the male Elder, raising his eyes to look at him. Though his face looked relatively impassive, his eyes flashed with annoyance and anger due to the fact that things weren't exactly going according to plan.

"Wait,"
Razi said after taking a sip of her red wine. "So you're telling us that the woman you have chosen as your potential mate won't even come down to dinner and meet with us?" Though she asked the question, her tone reflected that she already knew the answer.

"That's not very sophisticated," Julianne said, throwing her two cents in. "Especially if this woman is supposed to be
your
partner, Marcus."

"Did you do something?" Thane asked, turning his gaze over to Marcus.

"Why would you accuse me of doing something to her?" Marcus asked, though his tone was not in any way disrespectful. However, he was obviously offended at the thought that it was
his
fault she wouldn't come out of her room.

Although…

"Well," Thane said, not taken aback by Marcus's tone. "Sometimes we say or do something that causes our mate to get upset, and then they don't want to be around us for a time afterwards."

"She's not
his mate" Julianne pointed out.

"She
never
wants to be around me," Marcus said, all but growling.

"May I ask you a question?"
Razi said as she dabbed the napkin around the corners of her lips, wiping away any traces of residue. "Why did you choose her? I mean, look at your clan, Marcus. You have your choice of many women, all beautiful, all wolf, who would be willing to sacrifice so much to take her place by your side as your mate. So why her? Why this human who can't even be bothered to eat dinner with us?"

It took Marcus a long time to reply, but he masked it with chewing. He needed to buy time to make sure that what he said was honest and believable. He wasn't entirely sure why, but he felt as though he needed to defend his choice, no matter how incredibly upset he was with her.

"To be honest," he said after swallowing the meat, "I have no idea. But for some reason, I could distinctly sense her presence when she first stepped onto the property. I could smell her. And when I saw her… I don't know. I chased after her, and my instincts got the best of me. I bit her. Of course, this, in no way, justifies her behavior tonight, and for that, I apologize."

Thane and
Razi looked at each other upon hearing what Marcus had to say. Razi looked slightly defeated, but Thane was smiling, as though he fully understood what Marcus meant.

"Okay," Thane said, nodding his head. "Okay."