Chapter 7
Tara
Something is really wrong.
Mom has been sleeping deeply lately, thanks to the pills doc gave her a few days ago.
She never used to trust pills, but things have changed.
Without them, she can’t sleep at all. She’s been walking around like a zombie for a week, like she’s lost in a dream where her mate wasn’t actually killed.
Like she’s still searching for him around every corner, looking up and expecting to see him whenever the front door opens.
Declan worries she’s escaping reality by sleeping as much as she does, but I get it. Reality is too painful.
Still, she’s been up in her room for hours and hasn’t eaten since last night as far as I know. “Mom?” I’m as gentle as I can be when I call up the stairs. I don’t want to startle her. “Mom? Do you want to come down and eat dinner? I’ll heat it up for you.”
Nothing. The silence sends dread skittering down my spine like a warning. It’s not strong enough to keep me from starting the climb up the stairs. I don’t want to see, but I have to. My legs won’t stop moving, no matter how much I wish they would.
I reach the top of the stairs and look down the hall to where the door is partly open, and the light is on. “Mom?” My mouth is so dry. When she doesn’t answer, I take one slow step, then another. “Mom? Please, answer me.”
She doesn’t.
I don’t want to move. I don’t want to know why she’s sleeping so much deeper tonight.
My feet are lead, but that doesn’t stop them from moving me down the hall even when I want to go back downstairs and pretend I never came up here.
“Mom?” I croak, touching my fingertips to the door and giving it a tiny bit of pressure to push it open.
At first, I can lie to myself and pretend she’s just asleep.
She found the time to tuck herself in after emptying the bottle that now lies on its side on her nightstand.
She took every single pill, then pulled Dad’s pillow into her arms so she could hug it before she died.
I was downstairs making dinner, and she was killing herself.
For the first time since Dad died, she looks peaceful and happy. Because being dead makes her happier than being with us.
“Tara. Tara, wake up.”
The sensation of being shaken makes me swing my arms. “Watch it!” Kyran mutters, grabbing me, and holding me still until I realize I was dreaming. Remembering. It was so painfully vivid, like being back in that moment. Finding her. Being alone in the house with her corpse.
Slowly, my heart goes from pounding to regular beating, and my chest expands enough for me to be able to breathe. I’m here. Not back there. Granted, here isn’t all that much better. Here, I’m on the verge of being killed.
Somehow, that’s still better than finding my dead mother a week after losing Dad.
“You were crying,” Kyran tells me before I have the chance to ask why he woke me up. “You sounded like a wounded animal.”
God, this is so embarrassing. “Sorry I woke you up.”
“I wasn’t looking for an apology.” It’s like he just realized he’s still touching me, and he lets go like my skin burns him. “I couldn’t let you keep dreaming whatever it was that made you cry like that.”
There’s so much bottled up in me. I’ve never talked to anybody about what it felt like that night. Not even my brothers. It’s weird, but if I’m going to die, I want to get this off my chest. Sort of like a last confession. “I was dreaming about the night I found my mom dead in her bed.”
“Oh.” Because of course, what do you say to something like that? I don’t blame him. I wouldn’t know what to say, either.
“She overdosed on sleeping pills,” I explain, forcing the words out over the lump in my throat.
“It was on purpose. She couldn’t stand the pain of being without her mate anymore.
She spent the whole week between Dad’s death and hers falling apart a little at a time.
My brothers and I had to learn how to take care of the house because she sort of checked out. She was completely devastated.”
“That tends to happen when one mate dies suddenly,” Kyran muses in a heavy voice. “Especially when they have a family. Shared children. The bond only deepens. I’ve heard it’s the worst psychological torture one of our kind can go through.”
That definitely describes what Mom went through. Sort of floating in a sea of pain for days. Staring out the window for hours at a time, waiting for him to come back.
“My dad did die suddenly.” Just mentioning it brings back so much of the horror of those early days. “You probably remember. It was eight years ago. He was killed by some of your clan.”
When I sneak a peek at him, I see the understanding that scrunches his forehead and pulls his mouth into a thin line.
“But the thing is, he didn’t cross the border for shits and giggles.
He was protecting a little girl whose father left her in the woods to die.
He found her there and gave his life for hers.
We only found out around a month ago,” I explain.
In the middle of all my sadness and sense of loss, a tiny glimmer of pride glows in my chest. Dad died a hero.
Does he feel even the slightest bit sorry? I would if I just found out my clan was responsible for killing an alpha who didn’t deserve to die. I can tell he’s trying to weigh his words carefully, since he doesn’t say anything right away. “Well, the law is the law.”
My god, what is wrong with him? Would it kill him to show even a little bit of empathy? He’s like a damn robot. The law this, the law that. There’s no room for nuance. No extenuating circumstances.
The bed suddenly feels very chilly. Rolling away from him, I draw the blankets up over my shoulder and curl up in a ball. So much for trying to reach out and connect a little. I guess I’m only good for screwing, then rejecting all over again.
He’s quiet for so long, I’m already half asleep again before his voice pierces the silence. “I’ve lost a lot of important people in my life over the years. I know how it feels.”
Does he want a cookie?
“My brother and I could have been the same person. That’s what Mom used to say.
” There’s almost a hint of humor in his voice.
Until now, I’ve only heard him angry or frustrated.
“Where one of us went, the other couldn’t be far behind.
All of that ended the day a hunter clan tracked us into the woods and shot him not a hundred yards from where I was standing. I watched him fall. I watched him die.”
Anguish lances my heart when I try to imagine what that must’ve been like. It’s obvious from the sound of his voice the memory is still fresh, like my memory of finding Mom. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, rolling onto my back and staring at the ceiling like he does.
“My parents both died a few years later,” he continues. “I became the clan’s alpha, which I always knew would happen someday. I didn’t expect it to happen as soon as it did. And in the years since…”
He clears his throat like he’s feeling a little choked up, though I can’t be sure.
He’s good at hiding himself. “We’ve lost a lot of our members.
The elders are dying off. Younger bears are moving away, joining other clans or founding clans of their own in different territories.
I can’t help but wonder if any of that has to do with me, since it seems like a lot of it coincides with me taking my dad’s place.
The elders who’ve stayed have told me this started way before his death, but sometimes… I’m not so sure.”
No wonder he’s so torn about what to do with me. He’s probably worried about what’s left of his clan. Now I understand why he did all that pacing today.
“So I understand what it means to lose,” he concludes. “You’re not alone.”
Okay, so maybe he’s not totally a robot.
I guess living alone like he does, there’s not a lot of opportunity to open up and learn how to share his feelings.
“Well, thank you for waking me up from that nightmare,” I reply.
Why is it so hard to talk to him? Oh, right, because he screamed in my face today and reminded me he will never, ever accept me.
It doesn’t feel that way when he reaches for me, though. He slides an arm under me and draws me close. I should tell him to stop, right? I should go all cold fish and stiffen up, unresponsive. I mean, he has gone out of his way to remind me we can never be. I would only be giving him what he wants.
But I want something more right now. Comfort.
Warmth. Connection. That’s why I melt against him and let him stroke my back slowly, his touch falling into a rhythm that soothes me into peacefulness.
This is all I want. To be in his arms, to feel his warmth and hear his heartbeat and know I’m home.
It’s that simple. Why does it have to be more complicated?
He complicates it pretty quickly when his touch turns into something more. Slower. Lingering. The arm wrapped around my body tightens, like he wants to crush me against him, both body and soul. I guess my soul alone isn’t enough. He wants all of me.
And the sudden rush of blinding heat that catches me and steals my breath is proof that I want it, too. I want it with every part of me. It’s so easy, the way the flame leaps to life and turns into a blaze that blinds me with its sudden intensity. “Little wolf…” he whispers against my throat.
This is different than before, outside under the open sky. I move against him, skin sliding against skin, burying my fingers in his hair so I can hold his mouth close. Yes, yes, my soul sings. This is all we need. This is how it’s meant to be.
Only it isn’t. I can’t pretend otherwise.
As soon as that thought enters my head, everything else is gone. My eyes snap open, and the fire goes out all at once while his heavy breathing and soft grunts continue.
No. I can’t let this happen. I can’t make it that easy for him to get what he wants, whenever he wants it.
Pushing him away is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, since all my body wants is more.
“You can’t have it both ways,” I mutter, fighting to catch my breath and cool myself down a little.
It would be so easy to give in, too. To deal with the fallout in the morning. Who needs self-respect, right?
But some things are too important to rationalize my way around, and this has to be one of them. “You need to either mate me or let me go. I meant it when I said it.”
A low, dangerous growl stirs in his chest and makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Right. I’m dealing with a very large, deadly bear, aren’t I? He could tear me limb from limb without breaking a sweat. And I’m denying him.
He doesn’t lash out, though. He can’t because of who I am to him, or maybe he has more self-control than I’ve given him credit for.
It doesn’t matter why. It only matters that he rolls over, practically hugging the edge of the mattress to be as far away from me as possible while still being in the same bed.
Right away, I wish I never stopped him. Even if I know it’s right. All I can do now is try to piece my lonely, broken heart back together before sleep finally comes back around and pulls me under again.