Chapter 26 #2
I find a door to the outside and walk down to a firepit, far from the side of the house.
Mud on my shoes, I take a seat on a faded wooden chair and lean back.
The trees shoot up into the sky, white clouds drifting overhead.
If Darwin is close with Pratt’s cohort, why did he want to hurt me so bad?
It’s not like every single one of them wanted to be my friend, but most were civil enough.
Nikolas helped the situation, being so cheery.
I missed him. Pratt spent so much time here.
I glance over at the yard and house. He lived a life I only knew a glimpse of, and he should’ve told me more.
I might’ve been jealous of a lot of it, but knowing he had a life outside of protecting me be would have been something.
“A red sky?” I say upward. The painting told nothing and so much at the same time. I missed the way Mom’s eyes looked when she turned. The green was bright like Stark’s blue.
“There you are.” Kiya comes and takes a seat across from me. Jocko follows, his face withdrawn as he looks out at the trees behind me.
“Where’s Stark?” I ask.
“He took off after you got dragged in for that meeting. I saw his black coat through the window,” Kiya says.
I knock my feet together. “I told him to go back to dinner, not leave.”
“Why would you tell him that?” Kiya looks at me.
“Darwin, he, um, he’s the one who shredded my back.” I rub the invisible scars, leaving out part about the council attacking Stark. “Stark was being protective . . . but I’m not his to protect.”
Jocko leans forward with his forearms on his knees. “Aloka, why would you say that?”
“It’s not like Stark and I are even friends.
I know you two heard him at the lake. The Elders are already mad at him, so he didn’t need to make things worse by hovering.
” Imagine if Darwin decided to add more punishments.
My mom warned me the Elders would try to force me to turn by pressing burning metal to my skin.
With all the stories I now believe to be true, what they did to us is only the beginning of their methods.
“Even if that’s why he left, there’s something wrong.” Kiya palms her neck.
“Maybe he’s just upset he’s not with Nikki?” They say mated pairs struggle to be away from each other, the bond so strong that it’s like they leave part of their soul behind each time and can’t get it back until they’re united.
“Why Nikki?” Kiya asks, her face confused.
I make the same expression. “His mate? You must miss Mitus.”
Jocko bursts out laughing, and Kiya shoves him from her chair. “Don’t be mean. Nikki means well.”
“Does she?” he asks.
“Can someone explain to me what is going on?”
They both look at each other, and Jocko laughs again. I’m not grasping what is so funny about missing a partner.
“Just because we don’t know what it’s like doesn’t mean we should laugh at what others go through.” I let the frustration edge into my voice.
“That’s not it.” Jocko holds in a laugh as he composes himself, taking a big breath and relaxing his face.
Kiya rubs her eyes. “Nikki and Stark aren’t mates. Nikki refuses to believe it and thinks she can force it, but Stark’s never been interested. She never gets any of his hints.”
“Hints? He told her to give up how many times now?” Jocko says.
“Wait.” I stand and pace at the edge of the damp-logged firepit. “You mean Stark is not mated? Like not just unofficially? Nikki and Stark are not together?”
“No. Why would you think he was?” Kiya says.
“She said they were.” I grind my hands into each other.
Kiya shakes her head, and an exhausted look forms on it. “Nikki has been saying that since we were teenagers. The only one who believes it is Lirea, and that’s because they’re best friends, so she has a bit of a blind eye to her.”
“So they’ve never been together?” My hands sweat, and I rub them onto my shirt.
Jocko stands and puts a hand on each of my arms. “Aloka, I’m going to simplify this for you.”
I roll my eyes.
“Stark has never been with Nikki. He is not mated to anyone.”
“I, um—” I break from his grip and start running. I don’t know where to go.
“Where are you going?” Kiya calls.
“I’ll be back,” I yell.
My feet slip in the damp moss, and I run harder, letting the magic that grew during Darwin’s visit flood through me. There are muddy prints that go in every direction. I try to remember where the road was when we come in and change course. He wouldn’t run to the road.
I run and run, then stop and listen. Water runs in the distance, and I head for it. I let my pace pick up, absorbing into the fire and using it. I can’t turn, so I do my best to be fast as I am.
The water sound grows, and I break through the trees to a clearing.
My lungs burn, and I pant for a moment to catch my breath.
I look up and down the river, banked with rocks and last year’s grass.
There’s one set of prints that disappear right at the edge.
I walk further down to where a few bigger rocks stick out.
The water rushing fills my ears. I can do this.
I launch myself onto one, the largest of the four.
The next is slick, and my arms fly out for balance.
Two more. This is dumb. They’re even smaller.
I stare at the rushing water flowing over the rocks right beneath the surface.
It’s only water, I remind myself. I jump over the last two and fling myself onto the shore.
I land on my knees and scrape one on a root sticking out.
Rising up, blood flows down my knee into the muddy mess.
I give myself a shake to calm my nerves before I start running again.
A tree brushes through my hair when I duck, and I pull out a few twigs.
He’s not mated. All this time.
Harder, I push myself, until a large cliff rises in the distance, and I veer to the left.
If he’s not there, I might need to take a break.
I climb up the back of the slope, stepping over huge rocks, my hands filling with mud and moss as I search for handholds.
It’s much steeper when I am on two legs, but I find a narrow animal trail that zigzags up the backside of the cliff.
Time ticks by, and I push, my mouth drying up as I pant.
Finally, the land beneath my feet starts to flatten and I relax a bit.
I’m so close. When I step out onto the dry rock, the view is breathtaking.
Oliver’s log home sits in the distance across the river.
I may have been running for way longer than I thought.
I look around, but there’s no black wolf sitting or standing anywhere along the rock’s edge.
Where else could he have gone? I saw the fresh wolf tracks climbing up.
There’s no movement in the trees below except a group of birds taking flight.
“Stark,” I yell, then listen carefully, but there isn’t a sound.
I walk over to the edge of the cliff and sit. My body deflates. All of this for nothing. The blood has dried on my knee, along with the layers of mud.
“Stark, where are you?” My words carry off with the wind.
A low growl comes from behind me, and I twist to see two blue eyes between the trees.
I push up and bolt toward him, colliding with his coat. I sink my head into his chest, filling my lungs with his scent. It’s so soft.
He shifts away and crouches down as the tingles fade to the edge of my limbs.
“Can you, um, turn into a human?” I can’t hold back the massive smile on my face as I rock back on my heels.
He turns, shifting into a standing position right in front of me. Unlike me, he looks like perfection, but his face is withdrawn.
“Aloka, why are you out here?” He avoids looking at me as he moves right to the edge of the cliff.
“Why won’t you talk to me or look at me?” I move close, embracing the phantom tingles. “You—” I wipe my hands off on my shirt and reach up to his face, inching closer until my chest comes into contact with his abs. I pull down on him, and his eyes flare, not acknowledging it.
I kiss him hard. His mouth parts, and I circle my tongue across it. He groans and lifts me into the air. I sink into the kiss as the tingles flood my brain. This is all I wanted.
When we both come up for air, he puts me down and stalks away. I watch his eyes narrow, and he scowls. “You told me you’d mate a werewolf but not me.” He sinks down onto the edge of the cliff, letting his legs dangle over.
“I . . .” How did I not think this through on my great hike over here?
“What the fuck was that?” His words gut my stomach.
“You tell me you don’t want me and then come up here and kiss me?
Red, I’ve wanted to kill every werewolf who’s touched you this week.
You disappear with another Alpha and then walk toward me, smiling and holding his hand.
You got upset and cuddled my best friend in my fucking back seat.
A guy you have some history with tucks you into him and makes you laugh harder than I’ve ever heard.
Then today, you demand I leave after what that piece of shit did to you .
. . I have no restraint left.” He grinds his face with his hands.
I move and sit next to him, but he shifts away. I didn’t know he noticed or cared about any of that. They weren’t anything. Jocko is like a big brother to me, I shut Merik down, and Nikolas? He cared that I was laughing? Darwin . . . isn’t an issue . . . sort of.
“You don’t need to protect me, Stark.”
“And that’s your choice, but have you considered that I want to protect you? That what the Elders did to you flashes through my mind each time I look at you, and it’s my fault for giving you a chance to run?”
“You’re not—” I rub the dirt off the front of my calves.
“I’m not your type? Not Jocko? Not what? Get it out, Aloka.” His voice drops, and it’s like when I heard him yell down the hall all that time ago. He stands up and in a blink, a black wolf stalks the edge of the cliff, shaking his head.
“You’re not mated,” I say.
He turns back toward me.