Hope(less) (9 page)

Sitting on the edge of my bed, swinging my bare feet over the
carpet, I thought over my options.  Stay and accept my fate or find a way back
home to continue with the plans I’d made for my own future?  Sure, I could stay,
and make an effort to understand and learn more about Clay.  But I’d already
made my plans.  How fair was it to expect me to change them?  If Clay truly
lived in the wild, it’s not as if he had any plans.  Maybe he didn’t even
understand the concept of planning.  I wondered if I could talk Clay into
letting me go.  He didn’t seem too fond of me.

Absently, I started to towel dry my hair.  When I hinted we
might not be mates, he hadn’t turned away to ignore me.  Did that mean that
maybe he had doubts too?  If he did, maybe I had a chance to escape the fate
Sam planned for me.

Determined, I rose from my bed not bothering to finish
drying my hair.  Due to the pull I had on human men, I’d honed my skills of
reason and avoidance.  If reasoning didn’t work, I avoided them.  This would be
no different.  Piece of cake.

I gave myself a pep talk as I hurried through the halls
drawing a few curious glances from some of the men I passed.  I remained focused
on finding Clay, while thinking of, and rejecting, the possible reasons for his
doubt.

Pushing open the main door, I hopped off the porch, stepping
back into the sun and winced when my bare feet met with the sharp gravel.  Too
absorbed in my purpose, I hadn’t thought of shoes.  Resolute, I tiptoed across
the parking area as quickly as possible.  Clay still tinkered with the truck.

This time he turned to watch my approach.  Other than a few
quick glances at him to ensure he didn’t leave, I focused on placing my feet in
the smoother areas where tire treads had cleared the stone, leaving sand
behind.  My ill-timed stiff steps made a prancing dance.  I hoped no one had a
video camera.

As I neared, he took a shop rag from his pocket and set it
on the ground near the truck.  I paused mid-prance and looked down at the filthy
rag.  I just showered.  What was with getting me dirty?  Not a fair thought.  My
feet were probably already dirty.  The insistent bite of the gravel on the
bottom of my feet decided it.  I stepped onto the rag, wiping my feet on the
grease and carbon stained surface to dislodge the piercing shards still stuck
to them.  The relief made it worthwhile.

“Thanks,” I said looking up at him.

Since he’d set the rag in front of the truck, I stood closer
than I would have liked.  I could see brown eyes staring at me from behind the
stringy hair.  He studied me intently and I felt that strange pull in my stomach
again, reminding me of my problem.  We had an obvious connection, one I didn’t
want and one he might not want.  Instead of trying to figure out why he might
doubt our connection, maybe I needed to explain why I didn’t want it in terms
he could relate too as a Forlorn werewolf.

Taking a breath, I plunged into a lie.  “Sam just told me
that you’re to be confined to a bachelor’s room for the remainder of the day.  With
me.  They want to see how we react to each other so they can determine if you
really do have a claim on me.”

I knew I played with fire.  Living with Sam had taught me
werewolves could sense a lie through increased heart rate, smell of fear or
anxiety.  The simple beauty of the situation made the lie hard to detect.  If
Sam had really just told me they wanted to lock me up with this guy, I’d have
freaked out.  So smelling anxiety wouldn’t be out of place.  And the dash
across the gravel had elevated my pulse already.

A low growl rumbled from him before I finished speaking.

“What?  You don’t want to spend time with me?”  I asked
feigning confusion.

He stopped his growling and quietly looked down at my feet
on the rag.  I looked down at them too and noted what the gravel hadn’t done,
the rag had.  They were filthy again.  If Charlene found me walking though the
hallways with feet this dirty, she’d give me an earful.

I looked back up at him getting back to the topic.  “You do
want to spend time with me, don’t you?”

He shrugged, still looking down.  Not staring at my feet
then, but thinking.  I pushed hoping to press my point before he caught on.

“So, it’s not me…  Don’t you like being indoors?”  He
shrugged again, this time looking up at me.  “Ok.  If it’s not me, and not
being indoors, then what?”  I let the question hang briefly before saying what I
already knew.  Ultimately, Forlorn didn’t join packs because…  “You don’t want
to be told when or how to spend time with me, told what to do.  Is that right?”

He didn’t look away.  Didn’t move at all.  After a moment, I
said quietly, “Yeah, me either.”

I watched him closely waiting for some sign that he
understood I’d lied to him.  His motionlessness felt like a standoff,
temporarily shriveling my hope.  Maybe there was no reasoning with Clay.  No, I
just chose the wrong tract.

Ignoring the pain, I stepped off the rag and bent down to
pick it up.  I shook it out and handed it back to him.  “I’m sorry I lied to
you Clay.  I thought maybe if you knew how it felt to have your choices taken
from you, you’d understand why I want to leave.  It’s nothing personal.”

He took the rag from me and turned back to the truck. 
Someone had brought him more tools and he was in the process of taking
something off what I assumed was the engine.  He picked up a ratchet and
started to loosen a bolt.

I had to keep trying.  “Your instincts say I’m the one.  I
don’t have those instincts.  Instead, I just keep thinking how I don’t even
know you.  And the little bit Sam told me, that you spend most of your time in
your fur, doesn’t help me understand how there could be an ‘us’.  I have no
fur.  I can’t just run off into the woods with you.”  My softly spoken words
appeared to make a difference.  The clicking of the ratchet began to slow.  He listened.

“I’ve enrolled in college, one I chose despite Sam’s
opposition.  Do you know why I picked it?  Because it was far enough away that
I knew it’d be harder for people to tell me what to do.  Major decisions up
until this point, have been made by others based on what they thought would be
best for me.  Sure, they ask me what I think and try to consider it, but not
always.  How do you think Sam got me to Introductions for the past two years? 
It wasn’t by asking me each time if I felt like going.”  The ratcheting stopped,
but he remained facing the engine listening.

I continued speaking softly, rationally.  “I don’t mean to
sound heartless.  I’ve been through enough Introductions to know what it means
to your kind.  I’m not trying to throw your traditions back in your face, I’m
just asking for some compromise.  Don’t ask me to forget the one thing I’ve
chosen on my own.”  My pleading didn’t appear to sway him any further so I
switched tactics and offered him a little hope.  “If you’re serious about me,
then come to the city with me and learn while I learn.  We can get to know each
other.  I need that in order to even consider there being an ‘us’.”  Still he
didn’t move.  Frustration crept into my words.  “I know I’m asking a lot. 
You’d need to start talking, stop growling, and bathe.  No offense meant, but
you look like a crazy man the way you are.”

He moved slightly as if I’d poked him in the ribs.  So he
did understand he looked bad.  Inside, I jumped up and down on the balls of my
feet, clapping my hands excitedly.  Leaning against the truck to take some
weight off my bare feet pressing into the gravel, I pressed my case further,
“And I know it wouldn’t be easy on you.  You’ll be surrounded by people.  It’ll
probably be uncomfortable after you’ve been on your own for so long.  But we’d
be able to spend time together to get to know each other the normal human way
and see how things go.  We’d both be giving a little then.  Well… you’d be
giving a little more, but will you think about it?”  I didn’t wait for his
reaction.  I turned and walked back to the compound.  It had to work.

I spent about five minutes trying to wipe my feet clean on
one of the entry rugs before giving up and walking back to my room, my speech
running through my head.  Either it would work or not.  We both knew I couldn’t
live in the woods.  He needed to rejoin society.  He’d see I wasn’t worth the
effort.

With a mental sigh, I pushed it from my thoughts and focused
on the present.  I planned on lounging in the apartment and finishing a novel
I’d started over a month ago.  My stomach rumbled loudly.  And eat.

*    *    *    *

The next morning I woke early.  I’d grown so bored reading
the day before that I’d gone to bed by eight.  No surprise when I opened my
eyes, my phone flashed five a.m.  Sam would kill me if I woke him up this
early.  I only hesitated a moment before I threw back the covers and got out of
bed.  In the pitch-dark room, I managed to pull on my zipper hoodie and tiptoe
to my door, opening it without a sound.

I’d only managed three steps into the living room when Sam
grumbled from the foldout bed, “Doesn’t anyone sleep around here?”  The light
near the sofa clicked on blinding me for a moment.

“Sorry,” I whispered.  “I should know better than to try not
to wake you.”  His hearing made him a very light sleeper.

“What are you doing up already?”  He sat up and ran his
hands through his hair as if trying to wake himself up more.

I doubted it would work and didn’t think he’d appreciate an
offer to make him coffee given the time.  He’d rather just go back to bed.  “I
was going to check on the truck,” I explained.  “He had it mostly taken apart
yesterday afternoon.  I wanted to see if he started putting it back together.”

“What did you say to him yesterday?” he asked, tiredly
getting out of bed.  Sam surprised me when he started to strip the sheets from
it.  We changed the bedding just before leaving making it ready in case anyone
else ever used the rooms.  But it was five a.m….

“What do you mean?”  I took a few steps backward to lean against
my door and watch his progress.  I couldn’t believe he actually got out of bed
at this hour.  He almost tripped over his bag while pulling off the fitted
sheet.  “Do you want me to start some coffee?”  It wasn’t normal for werewolves
to be anything less than agile.  Coffee couldn’t be good for him.

“No, I’m fine,” he answered my last question first.  “I
mean, he asked for the keys to the truck last night and brought them back
earlier this morning.  Truck’s fixed.  I checked myself.  So, I’m wondering
what you said to him.”

My mouth popped open.  I couldn’t believe he’d actually
listened to me.  A silly smile tugged at my mouth.  Did this really mean he’d
let me go?  My barely formed smile faded.  Or would I just wake up back in this
apartment tomorrow morning if I tried to leave?  I watched Sam remake the bed
with the clean sheets from the hidden compartment in the matching sofa ottoman.

There had to be a catch.  Sam had told me a tied pair didn’t
part until completing the claim.  When Clay had scented me, and I recognized
him openly, the Elders saw us as a tied pair.  They in turn announced it to
everyone over their mental link.  Every werewolf, whether in a pack or Forlorn
recognized our tie.  If my words truly changed Clay’s mind, great!  But Sam’s
question caused me to begin to doubt and I struggled to come up with what I’d
overlooked.

“The truth,” I answered Sam.  “I pointed out that I needed
to go to school.  Let’s say he is my mate.  He’s an uneducated man from the
backwoods.  How are we going to live?  I can’t turn on the fur like you guys can
and live as a wolf like he’s done for most of his life.  Where does that leave
us?  I need an education to get a good job to support myself because he
can’t.”  Sam had stopped remaking the bed and looked at me in disbelief. 
“Well, I said it nicer than that,” I defended myself.

He gave me a disappointed look and said, “You don’t know
anything about him, Gabby.  He may have lived most his life in his fur, but it
doesn’t mean he isn’t intelligent, or more wolf than man.  You may have caused
yourself more trouble that you intended.”

I shifted against the door.  I knew I had to be missing
something.  “Hold on, I didn’t say either of those things to him.”  Granted, I
did tell him he needed to bathe.  “And what do you mean ‘more trouble’?”

“He said that you suggested he live with you to get to know
each other better.”

I froze in disbelief.  That is not what I said.  But more importantly,
I asked, “Did he actually talk to you?”

“Well, I had to put on my fur to understand him since he was
in his, but yes.” 

Sam’s kind communicated in several ways when in their fur, typically,
through body language or howls.  Claimed and mated pairs shared a special bond
using an intuitive mental link.  Once establishing a claim the pair could sense
strong emotions and each other’s location.  Mated pairs had the same ability to
communicate with each other as the Elders had with everyone in the pack.

I closed my eyes and thought back to what I’d said.  “I
didn’t say we should live together, but that he should come back with me to get
an education.”  Fine, I hadn’t worded it well, but how did he get ‘hey, we
should live together’ out of that?

“Like I said, you’ve got trouble.”  Sam said with another
disappointed look.  He folded the bed back into the sofa and then picked up his
bag from the floor.  He strode to the bathroom, closing the door on any further
conversation.

Crap.  I needed to talk to Clay again and find out what he
intended.  I’d been counting on his feral upbringing and his need for freedom
to cause him to doubt my suggestion.  A suggestion that hadn’t included him
living with me, but finding a place nearby so we could go through the motions
of human dating, which was the extent of my willingness to compromise.

Leaving the apartment, I stole through the deserted
hallways, pausing to put on shoes before opening the main door to the pre-dawn
darkened sky.  Silence embraced the dimly lit parking yard.  The yard light
cast shadows near the vehicles, disturbing me, creating places for things to
hide.