The
silence that filled the truck was stifling in its cinnamon entrenched ambience.
I refused to slide the window down, he would get no satisfaction from realising
his scent was driving me insane. Sam was strangely quiet through the first leg
of the drive. I could only imagine he was deviously planning new ways to
irritate me.
Remy
had failed at guard dog duty. He lasted a whole fifteen minutes panting in
Carver's face before turning around and dropping his head in my lap, snoring
commenced soon after. Luce was still wide awake, ever watchful, sitting proudly
in the back-seat, eyes flickering between Carver, Sam and the long winding Road
we were travelling. I had obviously picked the wrong animal.
An
hour of driving brought us to a sign proclaiming Birch-grove was three miles
away. The small town was a mostly self sustaining village, with farm production
including dairy and cattle, locally owned stores and restaurants and decent
tourism due to a naturally occurring cave system holding several hot springs
within. When we pulled into the town centre, Carver found a parking spot
outside a café, near a store that displayed its wares on starkly drawn
mannequins.
There
were three pubs on this Street alone; apparently alcohol was big business in
Birch-grove. I sat in the front seat not moving, wondering if I could get away
with just staying in the car and not having to endure the crowded shops.
My
eyebrows raised at the wad of cash Carver held out, he locked eyes with me
before passing the money to Sam. "Make sure she gets everything she needs
Sam, come find me for more if it's not enough."
I
shook my head, did he think his money was impressive to me? Sam on the other
hand was easily bought and his beady eyes lit up at the roll in his
hand."Oh tha'll do jus' fine. Girlie, let's go, got sum bills ta
burn."
I
rolled my eyes at his glee and stepped down from the high truck. I left the
mastiffs inside, one sleeping, one guarding, and followed Sam to the clothes
store.
"Ya
been shoppin' befo'?"
"With
my mother when I was younger."
He
looked at me out of the corner of his eye. "How long?"
I
shrugged, "Around five years."
Sam
grabbed my arm and pulled me faster forward."We got lots ta teach ya
then." I could see my day was not about to improve any time soon.
The
store was quaint, a small independent with details larger chains always seemed
to forgo. It was plainly a labour of love for the owner, shown extensively in
the care and attention they'd brought to the little displays in every corner. I
stood in the centre staring at living dolls in catwalk rip-offs and eager sales
women ensnaring oblivious teenage girls.
Sam
had taken that money and run with it. He had arms piled high of jeans and tops,
and shoes cluttered the floor around him. I spied a few dresses in with his
haul and had to smile a little at that, it was optimistic of him to say the
least. He'd tried his best to get me interested in the clothes he was buying at
the start, he failed miserably. I didn't care about clothes, I didn't care if
what I was wearing said the right things about my personality or were
fashionable for a girl my age. It rated not once on my internal scale of
importance, but I let him have his fun, I figured I owed him a little for
having to relocate so quickly.
I
waited outside while Sam paid for the last items, I let him carry the bags as
he was having so much fun at my expense. I lent against the wall to the side of
the shop, I could see the truck parked across the street and that Carver was
missing from the front seat. I had a thought rush quickly through my head, how
far would I get if I just left? If I left Sam and those dogs and especially
that captain. I think if I shifted I could definitely outrun them, maybe not
forever but I'd get a good head start.
I
could have done it; left and never looked back, if it was just Carver. But now
I think I'm stuck. Tied together to three other heartbeats that have aligned
with my own. Pumping and pulsing as one and drowning out that inside noise, the
one that challenges my views and questions my worth. No, I don't think I
can
leave them.
Stood
in the afternoon sun I closed my eyes to the brightness, the days may be colder
but that burning light was just as piercing. I concentrated my senses to focus
only on hearing. I filtered out footsteps and rustling, car engines and radios,
talking and laughing. Eventually I found that gravelly voice, across the road
in the café, the front window hidden by the huge truck. I heard the steam from
the coffee machine, the clinking of cups and scraping of chairs, a background
noise for the conversation he was having with one of his guards.
"
I
don't know she hardly talks
."
"
Well,
what did the old man say
?"
"
Just
not to touch her and go slowly
,
he said it was her story to tell
."
I
heard that rough voice sigh a little,
"Honestly
I don't think I want to know, my wolf is already pushing me because hers is so
angry. He thinks she's been hurt, he wants to cause damage just on his suspicio
ns
."
"
Well
if I were you I'd listen to Sam
,
he's a smart man
,
just let her
have her space for now
."
So
concentrated on their conversation I was shocked out of my eavesdropping by the
shove to my side. I lost my breath on the way down, the concrete pavement an
unforgiving landing. I shook my head to clear the fog left over and reached
into my pocket. Words were buzzing around my head, an annoyance I wasn't paying
attention to. Bright eyes shone in my mind, catching the glint off the sun,
watching and waiting and sharpening her claws.
I
flicked a glance up at a man and curled my lip. I saw black hair streaked with
grey, broad shoulders on a mature frame and a slight paunch in his mid section.
He took a step closer and bent down, shiny leather shoes caught my attention.
Those fucking shoes.
A
reach of his arm and he almost touched me, that dirty hand very nearly touching
my uncovered arm.
The
knife followed my hand out of my pocket and fit so perfectly inside my palm. I
rubbed the steel over my skin and it cut off the snarl bubbling in my chest; my
wolf's approval of my actions. He peered curiously at me, not quite
understanding the object I'd retrieved. I threw my hand out carelessly, a swipe
so similar to my wolfs that she enjoyed the kindred motion. I felt nothing when
the knife slid through his dirty shirt, no resistance, no effort on my part.
Such beauty in that steels creation.
A
thin red line appeared on his shirt, his gasping breaths filled my ears. The
thin line grew, tiny rivulets running down at gravities pull. He fell to the
floor moaning softly at the landing. I sneered at the pathetic figure he cut on
the ground, it wasn't even that deep.
I
heard Sam walking towards me, that soft tread so familiar now. The drop of bags
behind startled me away from the fallen. I looked back at the man on the ground
and furrowed my brow. The dark hair had been replaced by blonde, the paunch no
longer visible.
The
man on the ground, the one I had stabbed, was a complete stranger.
"Girlie,
whys tha' man bleedin' at ya feet?"
I
lifted my shoulders in a shrug, "I'm not sure, I think maybe he walked
into me."
"Oh.
Well tha' seem perfectly reasonable then."
I
huffed,"Okay I may have overreacted just a little."
Sam
moved to stand at my side and peered down at the moaning man, "He goin' ta
live?"
"Yes
I believe so, I don't think it was that deep just a lot of blood."
Sam
looked around, the area we were standing had cover provided by several cars
parked up. "Uhuh, well maybe we keep this our little secret, dun need no
Captain knowin' you a little crazy."
I
squinted at him," Thanks, I think."
His
permanent grin widened a little. "Can' take ya anywhere huh?"
I
snorted at him. "I'll try and refrain from stabbing anyone else in
public."
Sam
chuckled,"Tha's all I askin' girlie, only got so many ditches ta bury them
bodies."
My
lips twitched while I tried to keep a straight face. Sam picked up the bags,
pulled a slim phone out of his pocket and proceeded to phone an accident
through to the ambulance service.
I
walked ahead to the car and thought about my actions. I needed to focus less on
the insignificant little annoyances and more on what I plan to do next. I
needed to get back to that man and my vengeance, I had time still but that
doesn't mean I should be satisfying this need with random humans. And that's
what it was; a need. A craving to not be touched, an urgency to inflict pain
for trivial slights and a compulsion to see them bleed.
I
was disappointed with myself. I'd taken a memory and enforced it on someone
else, someone undeserving. I don't think I could live with myself if I turned
my nightmares, my living demon's on others. Maybe hurt someone I cared about,
maybe hurt Sam. I would be lost then, a wandering delusion of guilt and anger,
a solider of war in his hapless return home.
This
all consuming yearning was a two headed coin of reward and punishment. The
ecstasy of my own justice and the torment of this living death, an afterlife of
abnormal reactions.
At
this point I just hoped Carver wouldn't be the one locking me away for my
inability to control such responses, or failing that, then at least I hoped for
the time to complete, to get to my end and fulfil the promises I had made to
myself.
We
had returned to the car with curious glances from Carver. I assumed he could
smell the blood. No matter how clean I'd wiped that knife the smell would
linger for a while yet. I certainly wasn't admitting to anything.
We
continued our rather silent journey for another hour until entering a town that
at first glance could be called nothing but country. Fields spanned the horizon
for what seemed never ending, large farmhouses adorned the wilting woodlands
beyond. On the highest hill overlooking the sea stood a centuries old Castle in
ruins amid a backdrop of crystal blue, beauty in devastation.
Further
in the houses turned old Tudor, cobbled streets leading to black and white
façades, old forgotten English brought back to life in stone and slate. I knew
at the very edge of this rather picturesque village would be the bay, a sandy
beach with a long pier on stilted legs stretching far into the sea. An odd mix
of those old houses and modernised properties catering to summer visitors.
Colwyn Bay was an attractive place to live, I was surprised that this was where
the guards lay their swords, I suppose I was expecting a more medieval setting.
We
turned off a mile into the town and the road turned from tarmac to gravel
stones. It continued at an incline and we soon ascended much higher than the
sea, almost on level with that Castle. Surrounded by woods and fields as far as
the eye could see, the landscape was a haven for wolves.
The
rough drive took us beyond twenty foot high iron gates, the only entrance I
could see to a solid, cream coloured stone wall. The property enveloped inside
was not just one singular house but several. The land covered around ten acres,
more than enough for the ten or so houses, each with its own little plot of
land, and the ridiculously large farmhouse in the middle. The building was
perfection to a young girl, a doll house on a grander scale. A slate coloured
arching and sloping roof, cream wooden panels interspersed with light sandstone
walls, huge colonial pillars holding up the second story, standing strong on a
wrap around porch. A dream house for little girls that dream pretty things.
I
was not surprised to find Carver stopping in front of that farmhouse, the other
four trucks peeled away to drop off guards at the rest. I sat and stared at the
monstrosity in front of me.
"What
do you think, Arya? Do you like it?" That gravelly voice was careful in
its question.
I
didn’t really know how to reply, yes the house was nice, no I didn't like it.
It was not just a house, it was a life in material form. It was a promise of
something I wasn't willing to give. A life I could never have. In the end I
shrugged and went with honesty. "I suppose some women would love it."
The
clench of his hand on the gear stick caused a cracking of plastic and metal. A
crumble of little black pieces fell from his grip as he released it. His voice
was stilted and forced,"why don't we go inside and you both can pick a
room."
I’m
sure it annoyed him that I didn't like his house. His wolf wanted to provide,
to care for and look after its mate. He'll be disappointed in what he finds in
me.
I
followed Sam and the dogs as we walked to the porch, the afternoon was fading
to evening and the wind picked up as the sun set. Sam entered the house first
followed by the dogs and myself, Carver brought up the rear, most of the bags
hanging from his arms. I stood in a hallway of red and brown tiled flooring and
a wooden curving staircase. I gave a passing glance to each room I could see on
the ground floor and continued upstairs to the bedrooms. It was all the same as
the outside, pretty and nice and not for me. I missed wooden floors and walls
and tiny uncomfortable cots that creaked and moaned in protest.
I
picked the first room we came to, it had a small balcony which I was oddly
intrigued by and it was also situated what I hoped would be the furthest from
Carver's room. Closing the door on Sam’s little smile and that Captain's
hardened face I looked at the bags he'd left on the floor and instantly decided
to leave them right where they lay. The balcony was much more interesting.
I
had barely opened the white patio doors to step outside when a knock
interrupted me. I opened it expecting Sam only to find a stiffly standing
Captain instead.
"I
would like to show you the rest of the house."
I
debated the possibility of declining but figured It'd probably be a short lived
victory. I nodded at him and closed the door behind me staring longingly at
that balcony.
Carver
opened the first door next to mine and I found a large master suite in dark
wood and cream furniture that smelt suspiciously like cinnamon. I rolled my
eyes, of course I'd pick the wrong room. He had an en-suite bathroom entirely
covered in black marble with tiny silver accents. He didn't seem the decorating
type.
"Who's
your decorator?" I asked, vaguely interested.
"My
mother designed most of the house." He smiled at me, probably grateful I
was talking to him, and it changed his face from starkly beautiful to sultry.
With that smile came a realisation of how completely absurd it was that this
man had been given me, I felt mediocre in comparison and inadequate as his
mate.
We
carried on our little tour without much conversation. He pointed out obvious
rooms such as two separate bathrooms, the kitchen and the room that Sam had
chosen. When we got to the back porch the sun was so low in the sky a ruby line
dissected day from night. I could not deny this place was stunning, it was a
life to envy.
I
turned to Carver, he'd been silent standing next to me watching the same sunset
I was. "Who's house is this?"
Carver
looked at me his eyebrow raised, "Ours."
"What
do you mean ours?"
He
let out a suffering sigh, "Mine and yours, Arya. Ours."
I
laughed at his answer, he still didn't understand did he? "What, you
thought you'd buy a pretty house for your pretty mate? And have a pretty little
life? How bitter you must be."
He
clenched his hands, those big fists curled in exasperation."No I thought
I'd build you a house. And I think you're more than pretty, and I know we have
a long way to go but I am in no way bitter. I could not have chosen better
myself."
I
huffed at that, like it made a difference to me. "Doesn't change
anything."
He
took a step closer and my wolf peeked out, the six inches between us was not
enough.
"
Let me touch you, Arya, just a hand, I want to show you something."
My
beast let out a little rumble, she did not like to be pushed. "That is not
a good idea."
Carver
took a tiny step forward and held my gaze,"I promise just your hand in
mine, please let me try."
That
husky voice did things. It made me waver, it made me hesitate, it made me
wonder on possibilities I shouldn't. He took my silence as consent and slowly
reached out a rough hand, those large fingers so close to my own.
My
breath came in pants, trying to stop that snarling wolf from pushing her way to
the surface. She was circling inside, prowling back and forth, waiting for his
touch so she could pounce.
The
tip of his finger reached the back of my hand, his skin was warm and calloused,
a working man's hands, a warrior's hands. She snapped inside but I held her
down, he wasn't hurting, he wasn't pushing more than I could bare. I felt a
tiny tingle, so small I would have missed it if I wasn't so concentrated. A
little shiver on my skin, a tiny spark that lit up the hairs on the back of my
hand like twinkling fairy lights. His finger ran from my wrist to my finger
tip, so light a touch it was almost nothing. He moved to my palm, the skin more
sensitive, the tingle more pronounced.
A
rumble forced it's way out again, a little warning not to continue. Carver
didn't listen, his finger drew circles on my palm, little shivers turned to
bigger tremors. His whispered rough "Arya" was as hypnotising as his
touch.
His
hand grew more confident. One finger became two and his touch harder until his
palm rested on mine. I looked at the two of us joined and found myself confused
at the moment we shared. I looked up to his charcoal eyes and saw pleasure on
his face, he gripped my hand harder and pulled me towards him.
My
finger tips ached, a roar built in my stomach. Higher and higher until it
released in fury and pain. She forced her way up as I forced her back down, a
struggle of man and beast. A single claw pushed through my fore finger, a
searing four inches of diamond cut talon. I looked at the hand he still held,
his grip forcing me forward, his skin touching mine. And still he pushed.
That
claw lifted without thought, I stabbed forward piercing shirt and skin and
flesh. Blood trickled down my hand, a gasp from a husky voice above. I ripped
my hand back and let the blood fall freely, a dark wet stain on his dark black
shirt. He put a huge hand on the side of his stomach, covering the hole that
blemished his otherwise faultless torso. His hand left mine, finally freeing
me.
He
fell to his knees and looked up at my stone face. "Why?" that husky
voice made no difference this time.
"Now
do you understand?" My words spat from my mouth in distaste, "do you
understand me w
olf?
There is
nothing
here for you."
I
turned my back on his fallen image, walked away from the desolation on his
impeccable face. Denied the match that was made for me, lay waste to the purity
of fate.