Chapter 44 #2
“Beckett,” I call, and he immediately fills the space beside me. “Keep them in sight. Don’t let them leave the pack. Make sure all the packs in that direction know that I’ll be in the area but won’t cross into their lands.”
“You want me to stay?” He gapes with alarm. “Julian, you’ll never make it as you are.”
“You’re staying here,” I say, leaving no room for opposition. “Keep the pack together. Keep them here. I’ll make it.”
Because there’s no other option.
The days blur together again, but this time, I’m conscious of their passing.
My mind is the only thing still sharp, and I make sure it stays that way as I weave through unfamiliar lands and around claimed ones.
Finding Aiden is all that matters, and I’m not going to stop until I do.
On the third day, I know I’m where I’m meant to be—not because I see any old mill or remnants of one, but because I smell it. Apples and pine.
I run harder, burning every last drop of strength until my legs finally give out. But I’m close, so close, and maybe that’s why I buckle. Through my slitted, hazed eyes, I look across the open meadow of wild hemlock, where a small hut stands alone in the middle.
It looks peaceful, like a corner of Goddess’s Resplendent Plains, but I’m not there yet, and I don’t deserve any blessings.
My shift comes unbidden, forcing me out of the comfort of my fur and into bare skin that shivers in the open air. I reach for it, wanting the extra strength granted only in that form, but I can’t shift without Alex, and even with my hope revitalised, he remains mute.
Curling in on myself, I fight to stay conscious. The shadows creep in anyway, swallowing the edges of my vision until I barely register the figure closing in. It’s too late to muster up a defence—but there’s no need.
“Aiden,” I breathe as the scent of pine washes through and around me.
The weight of my relief buckles the rest of my mind. My eyes close, and I slip into darkness.
Coughing seizes me by the gullet, dragging me awake. I double over from the force of it. My throat aches, dry and brittle, as I look around. Light filters through the glass panes overhead and I shut my eyes tight and swallow, but my mouth is parched.
Where am I? What happened? Where’s Aiden?
“Drink.”
I open my eyes with some effort, but I’m so glad that I do when my gaze lands on Aiden—my Aiden, kneeling beside me, holding a cup to my mouth.
My heart stutters, faltering at first as if it’s forgotten how to beat, then racing ahead, thumping faster than ever as my entire body revives with his presence.
I reach for him, wanting to feel him so that I know this is real, because the tears in my eyes are already blurring him.
“Aaai…” His name breaks on my tongue, mutilated by my throat.
“Don’t try speaking,” he says as he takes hold of my hand.
It’s not a dream. It can’t be because nothing feels like this. The electric wave that washes through me when his skin meets mine too vivid, too alive. It’s real.
I tighten my fingers around his, relishing in the warmth of his palm, the roughness of his skin. Delirium hollows me, and somehow I miss him more now than in any moment of these three awful weeks, even though he’s right here.
“Drink,” he instructs again, this time pressing the cup to my lips.
I obey, sipping tentatively as he carefully angles it into my mouth. But I keep my eyes on him, refusing to blink so that he can’t disappear again. He stares back, his dark eyes narrowing into a frown before he refocuses his attention on the cup.
My chest caves. He’s still angry.
I knew he might be. I tried to prepare myself for that prospect, told myself I could handle it if it meant finding him. But I can’t ignore it anymore when he’s here and distant, even while so close.
“I’m sorry,” I croak when he pulls the cup away. Aiden’s eyes dart up to mine for a second before he looks away again. My heart teeters. “I—I’m sorry, Aiden.”
“Stop talking,” he hushes as he straightens, his hand drawing from mine. I tighten my grip, refusing to let him go, but I’m weaker than I want to be, and my exhaustion is already getting the best of me.
His fingers slip free, and as he walks away, my chest cracks open anew.
I reach for him, but my mind is already bracketing again.
I watch through drooping eyes as Aiden leans against the sink. His knuckles are white around the metal, and he says something, but the darkness swallows it up and takes me with it.
The next time I wake, the world doesn’t tilt or stir. It’s still, as it should be, and stays that way long enough for me to take in my surroundings.
They’re mismatched and unfamiliar—a bed tucked into a low-roofed corner, an apron-front sink and a wooden table, all within a greenhouse that looks out to the meadow I’d first seen when I got here—but it all feels like Aiden, even without his scent lingering.
Aiden.
I jolt upright, tussling the cushions I’m sprawled on as my eyes dart around frantically. He’s not in here. Fresh panic surges, giving me the energy to stand and rush towards the first door I spot.
It spits me outside into the meadow, into flowers and fresh air, but I don’t want any of it. I just want—
“What are you doing?”
My head snaps up, aimed in the direction of Aiden as he storms towards me like a bat out of hell. I hardly register the frown etched into his features, only that he’s still here. He reaches me just as my legs begin to shake, and scoops me up before I fall.
He cradles me to his chest, and I press close, greedy for the sound of his heartbeat. He’s here, in the flesh, alive. I take advantage of the closeness, inhaling as much of his scent as I can while he carries me back inside.
“I thought you left again,” I mumble, and this close, I can hear the way his heart stutters. Aiden doesn’t answer, only lays me back down before he tries to step back, but I don’t let him this time. “I’m sorry, Aiden,” I say, catching his hand.
“Julian …” he grumbles, avoiding my eyes.
“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said—” I swallow, choking around the memory. “What I said. It was wrong. I promise I won’t hurt you like that ever again.” I vow as I tug him to look at me, but he keeps his gaze averted.
“I’ll be better. I’ll be a better mate. I won’t hurt you again! I’m so sorry!” My apologies morph into tears as fear swallows me. “Just don’t leave me again. Please.”
Aiden’s eyes finally find mine, and this time they soften until they look like they used to. He seems to waver, warring between the hurt still mounted there, and the love that won’t die. It pushes and pulls until finally he gives in. He sits beside me and pulls me into his arms.
I don’t waste the opportunity. I wrap myself around him, whimpering as I delve into the crook of his neck, where his scent and warmth soothe the ache in me.
“Stop crying,” he whispers as he forces me back so he can wipe my tears away.
His touch is amazing, and I never want him to stop, but I can feel the difference already. He’s holding me, but not tightly; touching me, but not vehemently; and his eyes never seem to hold mine for too long.
Alex whines, low and uncertain, and the sound echoes the hollowness I’m feeling.
“Are you going to break our bond?”
I don’t know how I find the courage to ask it, especially when the answer is the thing I fear the most now, but I’m glad I do.
The question lands like a blade between us, and for a heartbeat, Aiden’s face contorts with horror.
It’s gone too fast, but I hold onto that flicker of fear like proof he still cares.
“No,” he answers, and the weight that took residence on my shoulders crumbles instantly. Setting me back down gently, Aiden rises despite my protests.
“You need to eat,” he states as he makes his way to the kitchenette. “When was the last time you ate?”
“The day you left,” I mumble.
“What?!” He spins around, eyes wide. There’s no anger anymore, only worry.
“I couldn’t,” I defend as I shrink beneath his gaze. “I couldn’t keep anything down.”
It’s the truth. It isn’t as if I’d stopped eating on purpose. I just wasn’t hungry, and when I tried to make myself eat anyway, it all came back up.
“Julian,” Aiden breathes, sounding lost and looking it too as his gaze passes over me.
I pull the blanket higher, hiding what I can. I hadn’t paid any attention to myself, so I hadn’t noticed how deeply my abdomen had sunken or how thin my wrists had become, but now, with Aiden looking at me with such misery, I feel decrepit.
I look down at the knitted fabric, toying with its ends and hiding from Aiden’s knowing stare until I hear the rustle of plastic. When I look up, Aiden’s back is to me, but he’s making a sandwich by the look of things. He brings it over as quickly as he can, offering it in supplication.
“Eat,” he demands, setting the plate in my hands.
For the first time in weeks, my stomach growls. I don’t bother being clean about it as I scarf it down. The bread sticks to the roof of my mouth, but it tastes like heaven. Aiden waits for me to finish it before he speaks again.
“How did you find me?”
I freeze, gauging the look in his eyes before I answer.
“Your parents,” I admit. “But really it was your dad.”
Aiden’s eyes widen a fraction. “I thought they’d die before telling you anything.”
“I sort of … threatened them,” I admit, which widens his eyes even more before his lips quirk into a small smile. It’s like a shot of dopamine, the first thing to warm my soul since he left.
“They told me there would be an old mill here.”
“There was,” he admits plainly. “I broke it down and built this place over the years.”
“Really?” I ask, looking around with a new appreciation. It’s well constructed, rustic but loved; that’s clear by every well-placed beam and perfectly applied coat of paint.
“It took a few tries, but it came out alright in the end,” he replies, his smile returning as he looks around for himself. He looks light—happy.
It is more than alright. The place is beautiful, quiet, serene, and a whole list of other things I’d never expect Aiden to like.
“Why didn’t you tell me about it?”
“Why the hell would I tell you?” he snaps, making me freeze.
All that softness drains from his face. His eyes are dark, cold, and I feel Alex sink deeper as I shift under it.
“I—I just meant—”
“I didn’t even tell my parents what I did with it, but I’m supposed to tell you? You, who—” He stops, but it’s enough to rouse the pain lurking between us. It rises like smoke and wraps around my throat until I can barely breathe beneath it.
“I was going to tell you,” he whispers under his breath, voice catching as he reins himself in. “I was even going to bring you here. I wanted to tell you everything.” His expression turns absolutely miserable. “But then …”
He doesn’t have to finish. The reminder is enough.
I want to wash it away, to wash all of it away, until we’re how we were before—happy and safe with each other, when he trusted me.
“Aiden,” I plead, reaching for him, but he stands before I can touch him. “Aiden, I’m sorry.”
“You’ve said that,” he affirms tersely.
“I mean it.”
“I know that,” he snaps, finally looking at me. His eyes burn red. “But it doesn’t make it all better.”
If he notices, he doesn’t care. He doesn’t turn away or try to hide like he used to. He faces me head-on.
“You hurt me, Julian. You fucking—” He stops to breathe, seemingly to curb the emotions that have his clenched fists shaking. But the emotions bleed from him anyway, making his shoulders slump and his hands hang limp.
His eyes are full of grief when they find mine.
“You hurt me.”
And then Aiden leaves. He heads outside, and the door slams shut behind him—hard enough to make the glass rattle.