Chapter 13 #2
Once the supposed-to-be-indescribable feeling between the two of you starts, there’s no fighting it.
Some explain it as happening in an instant, but for others, one mate senses it before the other.
Your soul clings to the other’s without warning, and once you acknowledge it, there’s nothing you wouldn’t do for each other.
It becomes a drug. Well, that’s what the books say.
Nikki shuffles around the house. I keep to the couch, still dressed in what I slept in, or more so laid around in. She eyes me sometimes when she walks past but keeps to herself. I have no idea what she’s getting things organized for, but she enters the bunk room a few times.
My hands warm, and the heat crawls up my arms into my chest. Twelve hours until the full moon. I can’t run and hide with Nikki keeping watch. She might be a bit insufferable at times, but she isn’t dumb. She can also turn into a wolf and find me pretty damn fast. I lucked out last time.
I grab a few snacks and drinks to hold me over.
“Hey, I got a brutal headache so I’m just going to go lay down,” I call to Nikki in the bunk room. I have no idea what she’s doing in there.
“Feel better,” she says through the crack in the door.
I shuffle past and drop my snacks on the dresser. Then I lock the door and slide the chair over to wedge underneath it. I open all the windows in the room and bathroom. A wind whips across my skin, chilling the room.
A door slams in the house.
I need to see her. Stark’s thoughts roll through my mind.
She didn’t leave . . . all day. I want to yell into his mind.
The chill in the room helps, and I draw the coldness in before closing all the bedroom windows again, pulling the latches tight and drawing the curtains, including the one with a mismatched tone—a replacement Stark found.
I push back the rug that comes under the bed out of the way.
In the bathroom, I hang a towel over the small frosted window.
Magic flames in anticipation, but I shut it down. This isn’t going to be like a regular full moon.
I hear sounds out in the yard, and voices—a lot of them.
I dig my nails into my palms. Of course Stark doesn’t stop the socializing for a full moon.
The voices outside the windows drift and come back into the house. Some are recognizable, but the odd one I can’t place.
I tune them out and lay back on the bed. This might be the worst thing Pratt has ever done to me. I close my eyes and focus on keeping control.
Two knocks on the door and my eyes flip to it. The handle shifts but doesn’t turn, and then a bang happens on the other side.
“Why’s your door locked?” Stark demands.
“If it’s my door, I can have it locked.” I yell across the room.
The door hinges creak.
“Come open it. There are pack members here who want to meet you.”
“No, thanks. I’m not some show doll you can parade around,” I say, disgust on my tongue. No one wants to meet me. They want to meet the hidden-from-the-world girl Lirea mentioned. They just want to put a face to the story so they can share their own. Werewolves love stories.
“Just open it or I’ll break it down.” He pounds against it.
“You won’t.”
“Come out. I’m not asking.” There’s a slight rage to his voice now. “I’ll be in the kitchen getting dinner ready.”
Like hell am I going out there.
I lose hold of myself and overheat from head to toe. Spirits damn it, I need to focus. I close my eyes again and count my breaths in and out, letting my chest rise and fall. This is the only way.
Another knock, too soft for Stark. It has to be Jocko.
“Aloka, come eat. It’s going to be a good night. We all go for a run up to Lake Fawnett, then come here to crash.”
Perfect.
“That’s great for you. Have fun.”
“Come on, I’ll go slow so you can keep up.”
“No, thanks. Bye, Jocko.”
The breathing on the other side of the door fades with the foot shadows.
Hours pass by as laughter fills the other side of the house. Pratt never told me about this. He would spend full moons with me on the cliff. My shoulders sink back into the bed as I think about the fact that he gave up so much. Tears prick my eyes, and I let them fall.
Too warm, I take another deep breath in and out, but it does nothing.
Stark knocks again. This time, the door nearly bends when he shoves his shoulder into it, but the chair holds strong. It isn’t going to be enough to keep him out all night.
My hands start to tremble, and I get up to start the shower. Letting ice water run, I don’t need to look at a clock to know what time it is. I’ve got an hour left max.
The ice water relieves my skin for a few minutes until the burning beats it. The water drips off me, warm and steaming. My legs burn with each movement, and I keep the water running.
A howl rips out from outside, then a string of them. They’re finally heading out.
I step out of the shower, and the water on my skin evaporates in seconds.
I know I can’t stay in the bathroom—it’ll be too tight. I slip into a sports bra and loose shorts, slamming the dresser drawer shut, then ready myself in the middle of the room. I’ve already pushed all the furniture out of the way.
The howls fade. If only I could join. If I leaped out the window, I could catch up and be like everyone else—free to be myself.
Stay strong, Alo.
Pratt’s old warning echoes through me as I close my eyes. The heat overflows as the moon aligns and the magic sensation fills my nerves. I can’t hold off turning any longer.
It happens faster than normal. My vision rims with fur, the tops of the bedposts coming into view.
I retract my claws and circle into the tightest space I can manage.
My tail swipes a picture off the wall, and it smashes on the hardwood.
In careful movements, I lower my head and curl into myself on the floor, trying not to tear it to shreds.
This is the worst full moon of my life, in this prison shaped like a house.
A thump outside the window makes my ears twitch, and then it happens again. Something is bumping into the glass, even though everyone should be gone. My claws come out and grip the wooden floor. Another thump. I can’t go to look without knocking everything over and jeopardize being seen.
I always thought hearing each other’s thoughts was more of a curse.
Stark’s inner voice makes me lift my head. Why the hell is he here? Does that mean others are here too? I don’t have magic scent to smell him through the wall.
I grip into the floor, and the splintering stops my heart.
Curls of wood poke out from under my paws.
Fuck. I slow my breath and still my entire body.
My back is touching the bed, and my snout is an inch from the dresser along the wall.
The fire in my limbs slows to an ashy burn.
I can fight it when the moon moves further, but not until then.
Taking it a breath at a time, seconds turn into minutes. I would do anything for fresh air. I pull the warm air of the room in and fight the magic’s desire to stay a wolf. The shortest full moon ever.
My fur disappears, leaving me curled on the ground, nearly bare, on top of some of the inch-deep cuts of the floor. I move the rug right away, pulling it over the marks. It has a slight angle to it now, and I push the chair back away from the door. Glass breaks, and I whip my head to the window.
When I don’t see anything, I slide over to it, and darkness fills the entire space. A jagged hole drafts cold air through the middle of it, I unlock the window and twirl the handle.
Stark backs away from the house and scratches at the ground. I shake my head, and he lets out a huff, shaking his head back at me. He stomps his feet on the ground with more effort. He never has to practice turning back early on a full moon. I wonder if he even can.
My head sticks out the window, and he nods. I’ll just use the door. I back away, and a growl rips into the room. He doesn’t trust that I’m coming out. This is ridiculous, there’s a reason we’re supposed to communicate with thoughts. It’s not like he can talk.
I unlock the bedroom door and head outside to the back deck, barefoot.
The coolness drapes over me like a blanket and eases some of the burning.
Stark stands at the bottom of the stairs and I hold back a laugh as he stomps the ground again.
Can’t say I expected this. I descended the stairs and look up at those blue eyes, vibrant in the moonlight.
He nudges my shoulder with the end of his nose.
“What do you want?”
He walks off in the way he was looking, then stares back at me, flicking his eyes to the left once more.
“Fine. Where are we going?”
The snow on my bare feet is the best feeling I’ve had all day as I trail him around the house. Weaving between a few trees, we come to a small clearing I didn’t know about. A tall, cone-shaped pine shoots up in the middle.
Stark looks up and I do the same. At the tip of the pine, the moon rests like it’s balancing on the point. It’s bright in the clear night, fueling the fire under my skin, and I let it tip the edge —bracing the magic at the breaking point, just before I turn. I blow out a breath and close my eyes.
Stark’s shoulder brushes mine.
The moon’s energy buzzes around me, and I want to fall into it, to give back in.
To communicate with Stark, with someone.
There’s no one who gets it. They think I’m just a weak human, not trapped being something I’m not.
All so they don’t want to kill me. More than half of them seem to want to kill me anyway, even without knowing the truth.
A howl comes from far away in the forest. Screw them.
I sink into the ground and the snow around me melts into a puddle. My tears join it my knees as the brokenness in my chest cracks open, and I sob.
I’m stuck like this. The moon pulls on everything we have —every emotion.
A large paw bumps against my knee as Stark lowers himself to the ground next to me.
Not to be a wolf on nights like these. In my favorite spot.