Chapter 3 - Rhys
Once I get to Folsom, I quickly lose my bearings. I took a picture of the old map, but it’s almost impossible to follow in the new world full of buildings and developed land.
For all I know, the dot was right in the middle of someone’s swimming pool. Which damn house do I go to?
Cruising up and down the streets, I begin to feel a faint pull to one in particular. The map isn’t really helpful at this point, so I test my instincts by driving down the street and then back into the surrounding blocks a couple of times.
I’m definitely being drawn to this place. Let’s try and get a bit closer.
I park the car and walk up and down the street, trying not to look creepy. It’s a homely little scene—old ladies gardening, kids playing, and dads talking as they lean over the fence between the neat little suburban houses.
I try not to pay too much attention, but seeing the kids has an effect on me.
I’ve always wanted to have children, but dreaded the idea of having them with someone I didn’t choose.
The fact that I’m here looking for an unknown woman to become my mate—and a human as well—cuts a bit too close to the bone.
How will my kids grow up to be powerful wolves if their mother is human? I’m inclined to side with Darla here. I can’t see this going well.
After walking up and down the street, I finally begin to feel a pull towards a certain house. It looks a little beat up compared to the others, and is closed up as if the occupants are still asleep.
Great, my bride-to-be is a shut-in. This is a fantastic start.
I move my car to the driveway, sitting there for a moment and looking up at the windows.
I’m half hoping some old dude comes out and chases me off, then I can just go back to the council and say the spell failed and we have to try something else.
Staring up at the house, I keep trying to convince myself, but the sense of gravity just doesn’t go away. I know something is here, and even if my fated mate isn’t the one behind the door, there is something here I can’t walk away from.
I get out slowly and walk up the little steps to the porch. Chills run up my spine, spreading out across my skin and making me shiver. I turn my nose up and catch the faintest hint of a scent I can’t identify, but it thrills me to the bone.
Deep in my soul, my wolf wakes, and I feel the primal heart beating, fresh blood pouring through me. It brings a surge of well-being, and suddenly, my eyes are sharper, my hearing expands, and the scent gets far stronger.
My senses are enhanced! What’s going on?
Excited now, I step right up to the door and press the button. The chime rings through the house, and I practically hold my breath in excitement.
This must be my mate! The spell worked… there’s no other explanation.
I can hear movement inside, but no one comes to the door, so I try a hard knock. With every breath, my senses double in strength, and a lightness soaks through my muscles, making me feel as if I weigh nothing at all.
My strength is returning! I could rip this damn door right out of the frame using my bare hands!
I crack my knuckles, wondering if I should just go ahead and try that, but then I hear footsteps in the hall.
Oh my God. It’s about to happen. I wonder what she looks like? What am I going to say to her?
The door creaks open slowly. At first, I can’t see much through the screen, but then the handle clicks, and the screen door opens as well.
The intoxicating scent hits me full force, and it’s like the wave of heat from the oven when you open it to pull out a cake, and the back of your tongue gets coated with butter and vanilla.
I close my eyes briefly to savor the scent, and I open them slowly, ready for anything, and so full of curiosity I’m about to burst.
Then my eyes focus, and my heart leaps up into my throat and stays there, pounding so hard and fast, it’s like I’m on the chase. I clench my fists, freezing in place as I fight to control myself.
“Sadie?” I whisper in disbelief.
“Rhys?” she asks, sounding equally shocked.
In the next five seconds, my mind races through that night three years ago—the way she caught my eye the second I walked into the bar, how I couldn’t keep my eyes off her, but I had to keep telling myself no—she’s human!
When she came up to me, I thought a quick chat wouldn’t hurt. How could it? We probably had nothing in common, and it would help to kill my attraction. I didn’t expect to get drawn into a four-hour-long conversation and find that this girl was smart, witty, and extremely funny.
I told Owen and Shane to go. I was just hanging out with her. They believed me, thank the gods.
I tried to leave, I really did, but I just couldn’t. Then, when she touched me and took me outside, I was beyond all reason.
I had to have her. Oh, Sadie. Oh my God.
I stare at her, going over every detail. All these years, I thought I’d forgotten about her, but all I’d done was lock the details away in the deep recesses of my mind.
She hasn’t changed, not really. She’s been tempered with hard work—her hands are rough, and her eyes hold a deep sadness—but other than that, she’s still the same Sadie.
“Sadie, I—”
“What are you doing here?” she asks, her voice completely flat. Emotion is surging in her. I can hear her heart beating faster, sense her blood running hot, and I know her voice is only staying even through an act of extreme will.
I shake my head a little, looking her over.
She’s wearing rumpled flannel pajamas, a pale pink color that contrasts with her rosy skin and brown hair.
The long chestnut locks are falling chaotically over her shoulders in tousled curls, and she reaches up self-consciously, trying to smooth them back behind her ears.
Her face is blank as if she’s still not fully awake, but deep in her dark brown eyes, I can see fire brewing, and I realize I’m about to get hit with three years of pent-up frustration and betrayal.
I didn’t mean to walk out on you… I just… walked out on you… No. Shit. I can’t say that.
The moment stretches out, and I know I have to at least try to answer her question, but I can’t. I have absolutely no way to explain my presence here or tell her how I knew where she was.
Do I just launch straight into an explanation of the magical world? Would that even work?
I know from experience that humans can go completely insane if they are made aware of our world, even if they think they’re ready for it, so I decide not to fully disclose everything yet.
But what the fuck am I going to say?
It’s hard to think with her scent rising all around me, the vanilla, almost buttery texture of it coating my tongue and making me think of kissing her, trailing my tongue down her neck, tearing open the soft flannel shirt, finding her nipple with my mouth—
“Rhys!” she snaps. “What the fuck are you doing here? How did you find me?”
“I, ah—look. It’s involved, okay? The first thing I want to say is, it’s really good to see you.”
Sadie stares at me, her face paling with shock.
“So why did you walk out on me, then?”
“We both said it was out of character for us and that it would be a one-night thing,” I answer, my voice getting hard.
“You didn’t have to just disappear on me,” she shoots back. “Class act, Rhys.”
“Look, there is a reason,” I say. “I can answer all your questions. It’s going to be a bit weird, but I promise, it will all make sense. Can I take you out for breakfast, or—”
“Why would I say yes to you?” she replies, her voice a low growl.
“After what you did. You think you can just show up after all these years and ask me out on a date? Furthermore, the only explanation for you being here is that you’ve stalked me, or hacked into a computer database, or—wait!
Did you track me through social media? That’s creepy as fuck, Rhys! ”
“No, I didn’t do any of those things!” I protest. “I swear! I barely even thought about you for years—”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” she cuts me off.
I want to snap right back, but instead I put my hand over my face and step back.
Just calm down. Work through this somehow. Don’t fight with her.
I take a deep breath, and it comes out as a sigh. “Sadie, I’m sorry. For everything. But I really need—”
“Mommy?”
A tiny voice speaks from the hallway behind Sadie, and she pales, grabbing the doorframe to hold herself up. Her dark brown eyes get bigger as she backs up a little, and her heart drums like a rabbit’s.
“What…” I whisper, suddenly aware of another scent, one that is like Sadie’s, but also like mine.
“Who is it, Mommy?” the little voice asks, and Sadie makes a small gasp as if she wants to scream.
I can tell Sadie wants to just run—slam the door in my face, grab the kid, and race out the back door—but she’s frozen in place, clinging to the door as if it’s the only solid thing in the universe and reality has become a senseless storm no one could survive.
I know the feeling. I’m having it, too.
A tiny girl comes up beside Sadie. She takes her hand and looks up at me, her big brown eyes exactly like her mom’s but lighter in color.
Almost gold. Like mine.
The child has long, silvery blond hair that frames her face like a glowing halo, and she’s wearing the same pink pajamas as her mother.
I want to struggle against the information my senses are giving me and deny it with stupid ideas, like maybe Sadie is just babysitting, but the evidence is too concrete.
This is Sadie’s child—and mine!
Staring at the girl, I feel my entire body harden as my muscles tense. Adrenaline is rushing through me, getting me ready for a fight. I tilt my head, taking in another dose of the scent, and there is absolutely no doubt in me that this is my daughter.
How did I not know? How did I not feel this? I don’t understand… how could Sadie keep this from me?
A faint thread of common sense remains, reminding me that Sadie had no clue where I was, but I push it away.
I’m not in the mood to be rational.
I stagger back a step, putting my hand to my head, thoughts reeling. Sadie tightens her grip on the little girl.
“Rhys,” she says, gulping down her fear. “We need to talk, okay—”
“Yes, we do,” I reply, controlling my voice with effort. I want to scream, and trying to hold it in gives my words a strange resonance. “We really do need to talk.”
“Who are you?” the little girl asks in a challenging tone.
I look into her eyes again, and all I can see is myself.
Sadie starts talking, desperately imploring me, but I can’t hear her—it’s just a distant chatter of incomprehensible noise. I turn around and walk back to the car, and I can hear Sadie’s voice rising behind me.
“Are you just going to walk away? What the hell, Rhys? Where are you going?”’
I open the back door of my Viper and pull out a long coil of rope, specially made for restraining shifters and other magical beings.
I have a full armory of weapons in the back of my car, because I never know when I might have to execute a witch or chase down an errant pack member and drag him back for justice.
I walk very slowly up the steps, my eyes down. Sadie is backing away, talking rapidly, and her heart is beating so fast, I know she can hardly breathe. I follow them into the hallway, and as Sadie turns to run, I reach out and grab her, wrapping her in the rope in one swift movement.
The kid gasps, but before she can scream, I bind her, too, and she goes limp in my hands.
What the fuck am I doing?
Again, common sense threatens my fugue state, but I push it away. I don’t want to think, and my instincts are burning so hot, it’s hard to argue with the primal urges ringing through me.
I bend over and pick up Sadie, throwing her over my shoulder.
“Rhys, what the fuck?” she hisses. “Have you gone insane? What the fuck are you doing?”
I don’t say a word, I just bend over and grab the ropes that bind the little girl, picking her up like I would a suitcase.
As I step out the front door, I do a quick scan of the street, but no one is directly within line of sight, so I quickly run down the stairs and throw the girls into the back seat.
“Rhys, what are you—” Sadie tries to talk, but fear closes her throat, and her heart rate speeds up so much that she almost passes out. As I put the little girl next to her, she struggles as if she wants to put her arms around her daughter, then wails a little when she can’t.
“Hey, mister,” the little girl says.
My eyes meet hers, and I’m surprised to see the cold light in her eyes and the firm set of her chin.
I don’t say anything, and the girl sets her mouth in a hard line.
“Don’t hurt my mom,” she whispers.
The words seem to brush against my skin. It should be a plea. A child begging a big, scary man not to hurt her or her mom.
So why does it sound like a threat?