Chapter 25 #2
After dinner, I stroll back to the meeting room, where I take a deep breath.
It’s only a room. I noticed the large wolf mural behind everyone earlier, and now I get to see the heart of it unblocked by pack members.
I move back to take in the painting—various-colored wolves are running through a forest. I smile at the one that’s a chocolate brown. Pratt should be here.
The door opens wider and I smile at Merik. He strolls over with his shoulders set back. He dresses a lot like Stark, covered in black. His arms are unmarked except for a tattoo of claw marks that wrap his biceps.
“Do you like the art?” he asks.
“I love the colors. I always find it so unique seeing who everyone turns out to be.” Awe fills my words.
“I’m impressed with the way you held yourself today. Being surrounded by werewolves, not being one yourself.” I glance at his eyes, the light-green reflecting back, and his smile is soft under his well-trimmed beard.
I blush. “Oh, thank you. I get they don’t all trust me.”
“You are something. Would you like to see another painting?”
“Sure,” I say.
Merik surprises me by grabbing my hand and leading me out of the room. We cross the space where everyone is chatting, walking past Stark and Kiya. Stark turns away and heads out the back door. Kiya shrugs at me and heads out after him. I look for Jocko with no success.
Merik guides me to a door and opens it up. Inside is a small office, though it’s missing the bookshelves of Stark’s. On the back wall is another ginormous painting, this one framed.
“When you mentioned colors, I thought this one might interest you. It’s a lot older than most.”
I get closer and see ten wolves standing in line at the edge of a lake—a few browns, one black, a gray, and in the middle of them all . . . It isn’t. My heart leaps. A red wolf, darker than myself, stands in the pack with everyone like it’s a normal day.
My hand crosses to my heart. “You don’t see red wolves in paintings.”
“Not very often do myths make it into art anymore,” he says. I glance up from the painting, and he’s not looking at it.
“Yes, it’s beautiful. Thank you for showing me.”
“You’re as beautiful as the painting. I’d say gorgeous doesn’t do you justice.” Merik grabs both my hands in his, then leans down with a hint of mint on his breath and closes his eyes. His lips almost touch mine before I withdraw from his grip.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I say.
“Are you not looking for a mate? I’d love to honor your heroics.” His smile and voice are so warm.
I didn’t expect this. He’s an Alpha of a cohort. Most women would be lining up at the door to be his mate.
“Even though I’m not a werewolf?” I ask.
“I’m not like a lot of the others. It doesn’t bother me.”
My body stills. “Oh . . .”
“So?” He steps closer, his body heat radiating toward me. His hands slide up my arms, and his hands are large but firm. There are no unexplained tingles from his touch.
“Sorry, I’m just not in the right place.” I ease away enough to be out of his reach.
“Don’t be. If you ever change your mind, I’d love to get together sometime. Let’s join the others.” He moves to take my hand again and leads us back to the crowd. “Where’s your Alpha?”
He’s not mine.
“Outside, I think?”
“We’ll find him.” Merik walks us outside onto a stone patio.
Most of the snow is gone here, and I’m sure home is similar with the sun out the last while. Stark stands with Kiya, Jocko, and one other man I don’t know. His eyes flick toward Merik and I walking toward them, and he says something to Jocko before retreating to the side of the house.
“Where’s Stark going?” Merik asks, letting my hand go when we reach them.
“Just needed to get something from his truck.”
Jocko flicks his eyes between Merik and I, raising his eyebrows. I mouth “Later” to him, and he nods. Kiya and Merik get into a conversation about attack plans. I tune them out and eventually take a seat on one of the patio chairs. Jocko moves to sit next to me.
“What’s that about?” he asks, staring at my hand.
I wave it. “Merik? He just took me to see a painting. I went to look at the one in their meeting room.”
“Oh, it looked . . .” He sounds almost worried. I wonder what’s wrong with Merik.
“Yeah, well, I’m not exactly interested in finding a mate right now.”
He scoffs. “Come on, Aloka.”
“What does that even mean?”
“We’re leaving.” Kiya walks over to us. Stark stands a few feet over with Merik.
“I thought we were spending the night?” I ask.
She shrugs. “I guess Stark doesn’t want to be here anymore. He’s been off this whole time, if you ask me.”
“He won’t tell me anything. Did he say anything to you?” Jocko eyes me.
“Say anything? He hasn’t said more than three words to me since we left. I walked up to him an hour ago, and he turned in the opposite direction.” He should be thanking me for making sure he doesn’t do something he will regret for the rest of his life. Not avoiding me.
Jocko and Kiya exchange a glance, then nod.
I glance from one to the other. “What is it?”
“Let’s just go before Stark kills Merik,” Kiya says.
“Um, yeah, okay?” I stand and head over to Merik. No wonder Jocko sounded so irritated with me earlier. Maybe Merik isn’t a good Alpha. He didn’t give me that type of energy, though.
Merik gives me a hug goodbye, and I swear I hear someone growl. He drops my arms and steps back. “Sorry, Aloka, you didn’t say.”
“I didn’t say what?”
He dismisses my question, turning his head toward the others. “Have a great next visit, and please, all of you, don’t hesitate to come by. We’ll see you in the next few weeks.” Merik squeezes my hands, then heads back into the house.
Once we’re back in the truck, Stark revs the engine and races down the road.
We’re not supposed to be at the next cohort until tomorrow.
I settle back into the seat and lift my legs up.
Leaning against the door, I picture the beautiful painting in Merik’s office, and sadness wraps around me. It’s so far from my own reality.
A few hours later, the truck stops at the small entrance to a lake. Thick, washed-up ice chunks edge the shore. The water has near-smooth ripples in the moonlight, while shadows of ice still line the lake along the tree edge.
I stretch my limbs out. My body is on fire.
“Stark, you’ve got to let us put the AC on. Your truck is way too hot,” Jocko says, lifting his arms overhead.
“It’s fine, get over it,” he says, and walks over to the lake edge.
“Full moon run instead tonight?” Kiya asks.
Stark doesn’t turn around, though I can see his head nod. How did I forget there was a full moon? I guess my heads been so full of everything, and being hot around crowds was probable. I breathe in and let the flames flicker in my extremities. It’s not far away.
“You finally taking us up on a run?” Jocko stands next to me.
“No, I’ll just sleep in the truck while you all go.”
“Come on, it’ll be fun.”
“If she wants to be left here alone, leave her alone,” Stark snaps.
Jocko turns to face him. “Since when do you leave Aloka alone?”
Stark ignores his question, walking off toward the ice between the trees and water. I guess Kiya is right—it’s worse than I thought.
“You going to be okay?” Kiya asks.
I smile at her. “Oh yeah, I could use a break from everyone. No offense. I am used to spending time with myself.” They just need to leave.
“Well, start screaming if you change your mind. We won’t be so far away that we won’t hear you.”
I laugh, yet her face doesn’t change. “Thanks. You should all get going.” So I can come up with a plan.
“Come with us. Ignore Stark,” Jocko tries again.
I take a seat on a chunk of ice. “No, it’s good. You all need to run; I’ll be safe here.”
“Okay,” he says, and in seconds, he turns. His light-brown fur blows in the breeze from the lake. He nudges my arm before taking off, then Kiya joins, and Stark is gone from the lake before I get a chance to check.
I absorb the cold from the ice chunk below me, but soon, the water starts to drip off it to the ground.
Stark didn’t say goodbye and Kiya is right—he isn’t himself; it must be something else.
He talked to me after we kissed. I prevented him from making a life-altering mistake—which is so strange, because who cheats once mated?
I didn’t know it was physically possible.
The way others talk, the pull toward each other is so strong once you accept it.
The spirits continue to mess with me, because the pull to my mate must be insane if it’s anything in comparison to what I feel for him.
I can spot him in the crowded room of werewolves filled with different scents.
I know when he’s looking at me or not, and lately it’s been on the not side.
Those blue eyes never hold my gaze for more than a second.
As my temperature rises, the moon aligns, and I stop fighting the heat.
Magic pumps through and I let it turning into my red self.
Standing at the end of the lake, the ice underneath my paw breaks under my weight.
I step carefully over to the water. I can’t leave prints. The water flows at my ankles.
Pratt would tell me not to risk it.
But they won’t be back for at least an hour; I’ll be safe and turn in half that. This is the longest I’ll get to be me in months.
The further into the ice water, the more it soothes.
My fiery fur glows in the moonlight. I sink up to my shoulders and duck my head under.
Just one lap across the lake and back, then I’ll turn back.
The heat in me warms the chilled lake as I make strokes.
I hear a howl and tread water, but it’s from far enough away.
I reach the other side where a few ice chunks remain and tread onto them.
My paws sink through to the ground. It’s a comfort when I’m turned—the magic stops trying to win and flows through my blood without wreaking havoc within.