Chapter 32 #2
I dropped my gaze back to the fluffy animal and absently ran a hand over its head as if it was something I’d done a thousand times.
Suddenly, I wasn’t staring into colored-plastic eyes.
I was looking into eyes as green as mine.
They belonged to a man with soft brown hair and a kind smile that left a dimple on one cheek.
My fingers tightened around the animal—the wolf—as the memory of my father came back to me.
I’d gotten into trouble because Harkers weren’t supposed to like wolves.
They were supposed to kill them. But I did like wolves.
I liked them a lot, and I favored the timber wolves over all the others.
I thought they were beautiful and wanted more than anything in the world to meet one.
That was why my father had gotten me one.
To be my friend and keep me warm. To protect me. Our little secret.
“Josh?” Elijah’s soft voice pulled me from the edge of a total breakdown.
“Jasper,” I whispered. “His name is Jasper.” I looked at Elijah, rebellious tears heavy on my lashes.
He smiled at me. “He’s been watching over you this whole time.”
I nodded wordlessly as I rubbed my hand over the back of the animal again, revealing more of the reddish streak so like Elijah’s. Even as a child who knew nothing but hurt and rejection, I’d been looking for him. I clutched the wolf tighter, heedless of the dust rubbing off on my clothes.
"Josh? Are you okay? I didn't mean to upset you." Elijah stepped closer, and I emphatically shook my head as the press of forgotten memories pushing to be free threatened to become too much. He reached out a hand, and I finally met his gaze.
"My father gave him to me." I struggled to see Elijah through the haze of tears.
"My… my father loved me." With those four words, my legs gave out, and I crumpled to the carpet-covered hardwood floor, clinging to the stuffed animal like it was a lifeline.
In a way, it was. A stuffed wolf, covered in decades of dust, was the only thing in the entire house—in my entire life—that remained of my father.
And I would know. Goddess knew I'd searched this house from top to bottom after my mother finally moved to her own estate for any trace of him.
She'd even scrubbed him from the family history.
Now that she was gone, I could finally put him back.
I wasn't sure how long I'd been sitting there, swept up in a tide of repressed memories.
Not all of them were pleasant, but in a shocking twist, most of them were.
Eventually, I registered Elijah had joined me on the floor and was rubbing soothing circles on my back.
I wiped clear a section of the stuffed animal, then buried my face in the plush fur, like I'd done countless times before.
"I'm right here," Elijah whispered.
"My father—," my heart squeezed painfully, "Papa, was the only one to ever show me affection, though he was always careful never to do so in front of my mother.
I wasn't allowed to have friends or go to a normal school.
I remember them arguing. He was so angry when he found out she'd struck me.
Their voices were so loud. They were in a room Papa told me never to go into, but Mama kept trying to take me.
When he realized I was there, he yelled at me to go to my room.
" I clutched the wolf tighter, curling in on myself.
"I was so scared. Papa never yelled at me.
I ran so fast that I fell on the stairs and skinned my knee.
Later that night, he brought me Jasper and apologized for raising his voice.
'Our little secret,' he called it. We had a lot of those. "
I sniffled, and Elijah wrapped his arm around me, tugging me closer. "You're safe now, moonbeam. She can't ever hurt you again."
Tears stung my eyes. "She's taken so much from me. Why did she have to take him too?" I pulled my face out of Jasper's wet fur and tucked the plush wolf under my arm before turning to curl into Elijah's comfort.
He hugged me tighter and kissed the top of my head. "She was a terrible woman who would have destroyed anything that jeopardized her sick mission." His words teased another bittersweet memory free.
"He was going to take me away from her. I'd gotten attacked by a werewolf on a hunting trip she insisted I be on.
She refused to have a doctor see me. She said I deserved to die for hesitating to shoot the wolf.
I was only seven. I'd never seen a werewolf that close before, or that big.
It was terrifying and beautiful. I screamed when it altered course and lunged at me.
I can see the look of disgust on her face as I cried for help, as the wolf's teeth sank into my back.
Then suddenly all of its weight fell on me.
Papa had shot it and was pulling me free.
" The pain was so fresh. Not just the agony of serrated teeth tearing into my flesh, or even the look on my mother's face as she watched it happen and did nothing.
But the realization that a beautiful creature had to die so that I could live.
"Do you remember what happened next?" Elijah asked softly.
I nodded into his shoulder. "She wouldn't let Papa see me.
He was livid about the whole thing—taking me on the hunt, letting me be attacked, not allowing a doctor to look at me, waiting for me to turn or die, though they would have been the same.
It felt like a miracle when neither of those things happened.
That's when Papa started to come see me when she wasn't at the house or late at night after she'd gone to bed.
He told me we needed to get ready to leave, but we had to be careful not to let her know what we were planning.
"The day she told me he'd abandoned us, I remember thinking she was wrong.
Papa would never leave me. He was coming back to take me away from this awful place of darkness and death.
But he didn't." The overwhelming sadness from that day swelled to blanket me, and I finally asked the questions I'd wanted to ask him all those years ago.
"Was it me? Did I do something wrong?" I asked with a broken sob, clutching Elijah and the stuffed wolf as if my life depended on them.
"Did I get my father killed because I was too weak? "
Elijah moved so that he could completely wrap his arms around me, pulling me partially into his lap.
"No, moonbeam. You didn't do anything wrong.
Your dad's death wasn't your fault. It never was.
" We stayed like that for a few minutes, even though the floor was uncomfortable and I had this increasing sensation that something—something important—was coming closer. Maybe it was more memories.
When the heartache and sadness receded to tolerable levels, I asked in a whisper, "Do you blame yourself for your dad's death?" He stiffened, confirming what I already suspected, but I needed to hear him say it.
"Yes," he finally admitted. "He… he'd asked me to come home to help during the Restructure. He said things had gotten bad between the town and the pack. But I didn't go. I was having fun at university. I could be myself. I didn't have to be so careful all the time."
I looked up at him through damp lashed surprised to find his eyes misty. "What do you mean?"
He closed his eyes as though the question, or perhaps the truth, hurt him.
"My dad realized I was a genetic Alpha when I was very young.
Other pups in the pack would follow me, doing whatever I did, whatever I said.
You have to understand, Conrad was already Alpha and hated my father for taking my mother from him.
If he discovered the man he hated more than anything had a son who was a genetic Alpha, he'd have killed us both. "
I was tempted to ask if his parents had been bonded mates like we were, but I suspected not, given that his mother had died in a bus crash and his father had gone on to raise him for over a decade before his death. So I kept my silence and waited for him to continue.
"My dad explained that I'd have to be careful with my behavior.
I couldn't be as open with my friends as I had been, because I was pulling their allegiance.
We didn't know it at the time, but it was already too late for Eric.
When we did realize, it became that much more important to keep any Alpha influence I might exude completely tamped down.
So, yeah, I selfishly chose the freedom of college over going home to help a pack I'd been forced to keep myself apart from.
When the word came that he'd died in an altercation with the town…
" He raised his head as if trying to stem the inevitable tide of grief and the tears that accompanied it.
I was viscerally familiar with the guilt weaving through his scent. I nudged deeper into his embrace, still clinging to the stuffed wolf, to offer what comfort I could with my presence.
"It was a few years later, after I'd come back, that I learned about Conrad's hand in my father's death."
"Why didn't you challenge for the pack then?"
He sighed and dropped his head to look at me with sad eyes.
"You sound like Eric. I'd like to say it was because I was already so used to hiding what I was.
I'd never learned to control or use my Alpha influence.
But it was more than that. I was scared.
I'd never been a fighter, didn't even like violence.
How was I supposed to beat a mature lycan in battle?
As the challenger, I wouldn't have been able to call a champion to fight in my place, not like Conrad could.
Not that I would have. It seemed easier to follow the status quo.
I… convinced myself that helping on the fringes would be enough. "
"Enough for whom?" I asked.
"For me, for the pack. Deep down, though, I think I knew the truth, but I couldn't admit it. Not even to myself."
I finally sat up, wrapping both arms tightly around Jasper, and looked at my mate.
"I know you don't enjoy talking about this, but I need to know.
Why did you let Conrad live? Why did we leave the pack?
It's your pack now." I didn't bother mentioning Tommy and Kale, or even Remus, who were technically my pack.
"Fuck, you're not holding back." He groaned and rubbed his hands over his face before sweeping his hair into a messy bun with the hair tie on his wrist.
"When do I ever?"
He gave me a smirk. "Pretty sure you held back when we fought at the cabin, or I'd be dead."
I couldn't help but give him a sly grin. "Maybe. Will you answer my questions?"
"Yes." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I didn't kill Conrad because I couldn't. He's a horrible person, and he let his prejudices against humans isolate the pack, but I'm not a killer."
"I am."
He cupped my face. "I know, moonbeam. I know. But you've been forced to kill practically your whole life. I wouldn't put that on you."
I took one of his hands and placed a kiss on his palm.
"You still could have taken the pack, Elijah.
You defeated the current Alpha, and you left them with nothing.
We left them." That sensation of something getting closer became a sharp pull, then relaxed as I took in his pained expression.
"You're a genetic Alpha, Elijah. The pack became your responsibility the moment you defeated Conrad.
I don't say that to hurt you or to guilt you. It's the truth."
"I may be a genetic Alpha, but I'm not a leader.
They deserve someone who will put their needs above all else.
Not a coward who couldn't even be bothered to come home and help his father.
" He gave me a sad look, and I knew what he would say next.
"I not only protected their ancient enemy, but I took away any chance they might have had for retribution.
What right do I have to call myself their leader? "
I set Jasper aside, taking a moment to ensure he wouldn't fall over, then turned to Elijah.
"You have the right because you've earned it.
You seem to forget all the positive things you've done for the pack over the years.
" He shook his head, and I grabbed his chin.
"No. Don't do that. You wouldn't let me ignore the good I've done, and I won't let you.
Yes, being a leader is hard and requires sacrifice, but you've also been acting like a leader for years.
I didn't need to be a werewolf to see how the pack looks up to and respects you.
They trust you to guide them. That's leadership.
Not whatever Conrad was doing. You don't have to rule with fear. "