Chapter 37: A Plan: Part 4

“He doesn’t care that you have a special gift. He wouldn’t entertain the topic—shut me down and bombarded me with his disappointment in my lack of putting my pack and responsibility first.”

His crestfallen face and the surge of pain that hits me in the chest tell me his father’s words wounded him.

It serves to remind me, though, that this is not all about him doing the right thing. It’s also about pleasing someone he looks up to and loves and has always obeyed as he’s meant to.

He swings the door open and steps aside, making it clear he’s depositing me like a gentleman and nothing else.

He’s done talking about this, and he won’t argue about it either, no usual Colton touchy-feely, no intimacy, or any kind of anything.

He just steps back and holds it wide as the lights flicker on automatically, putting space between us and fixing a look on me that screams more of a commander than a boy who loves me.

He’s closing off, shutting me out, and my heart starts to bleed.

“If you need anything, then mind-link me. There’s food in your room. I had it put here before I came to the communal. Enjoy your dinner and get some rest. I’ll come for you at dawn.”

His words are empty and devoid of emotion.

He moves to leave as I step inside, but panic forces a sudden response out of me, that churning nausea that he’s being like this, slicing at my guts and ripping my soul in two.

“Colton… what did I do?” I blurt it out like a needy, sad Carmen type, and he stops mid-step, frowns, and turns back to me with a very noticeable wince of pain flashing across his face.

It kills some of the rigid stance, and he seems to sag a little.

“You didn’t do anything. It’s me. My father wants me to stand up and take my place. He wants me to mark Carmen at the next moon and resolve what he calls our little issue.

“Nothing I say makes a difference, he won’t bend, so maybe we should keep our distance and hope that something changes or that marking her kills our bond.”

He’s deflated, as broken as he’s making me, looking so much younger and vulnerable than his years at this moment and giving up so easily.

My instinct is to get mad and yell at him like I’ve done so many times already in our short acquaintance, but my plan of earlier pushes through, reminding me he’s lost and set afloat right now.

He’s in pain, too, and struggling to navigate it as much as I am. So much weighing on his shoulders that I don’t understand and can’t see.

I need to bring him in and secure him to my harbor—stop letting him pull all the ropes alone, stop expecting him to sail against the storm without direction, making all the moves.

Don’t push, I tell myself, even if my instinct is to feel disappointed in him and seethe with anger. I need to stop, breathe, and look at him another way, as someone who needs gentle coaxing and nurturing.

He’s stubborn, and he’s bound by duty, but I have his heart, all of it, and I need to help that power grow from the inside out.

I lower my tone, gently whispering as I cross toward him, fighting my nerves and inexperience and putting faith in the fact I know he loves me, taking my cue from Meadow.

I step across the gap and raise myself on tiptoes to reach him, laying one hand flat on his muscular chest and gently lifting the other to his jaw.

My eyes rest on his, locking onto him in the way that always makes me feel safe, my heart swelling, and my body tingling with the nearness of him.

“Don’t give up on us,” I breathe out, almost against his lips. I get so close, my insides somersaulting with the need to kiss him.

I run my fingers up his cheek and cup his face, pulling him close so softly my mouth grazes his lips, and I feel him physically sag into my touch.

He melts against my briefest connection, his pupils dilating as I bring his forehead to mine.

No matter what he says or how he acts, his truth is always in our touch, and he cannot deny its effect on both of us, that need to pour into each other and the inability to fight when we touch.

“I’m not worthy of you. Today showed me that,” he says, huskily, strained, and low.

It’s self-pity, exhaustion, and defeat because his father knocked him down again, leaving him reeling from cruel words.

I refuse to accept what he’s saying is true to what he’s feeling, and instead of anger, I lean up and press my lips gently to his—startling him with the sudden contact and refusing to back down.

It takes a second of pause, his body going rigid, before he relaxes, pushes his face forward to kiss me, and his hand comes to slide around the back of my neck as he takes over.

It doesn’t take much to ignite a fire in him, and I groan as he gives me what I’m yearning for.

Kissing him is so familiar, and as I open my mouth to let things progress quickly, all those feelings and crazy urges rush back like a massive tidal wave hitting the shore.

My lips part wider to give him access as his tongue slides against mine, and he kisses me with passion and expertise that makes my toes curl and my stomach tingle.

It’s so easy to become consumed and intoxicated with need when we’re touching this way.

Colton stirs against me, his body easing against mine, relaxing into our hold on each other and meeting my groan with his own murmured growl of enjoyment.

Neither can deny our bond when we kiss. It’s potent and all-consuming. We’re made for kissing, and I can’t imagine anyone ever tasting this good or making me feel this complete.

Just as his hands slide down my back and over my ass, bringing my pelvis to his, hinting at his sexual excitement, he stops abruptly. Catching himself, he pulls away fast, so suddenly, he rips us apart.

I’m stunned by the sudden release; my eyes flicker open, and I totter on unsteady legs.

He steps back, fully releasing me, almost letting me topple with the sudden loss of support, but I catch myself on the nearby door frame, breathless and panting with how hot that make-out session was.

I glance up at his shell-shocked expression.

“We shouldn’t… it’s only going to make this harder.” He closes right back down inside his head.

That softness of his expression, the dilated pupils and stirring body, it all reels back at top speed as he regains perfect control.

I, however, am fired up and burning with crazy heat, which triggers severe frustration at the sudden halt.

“I disagree. I think we should take what time we have and have no regrets about it. My body yearns for you, and I could feel it was mutual.

“We’re doing nothing wrong in the eyes of the Fates. This is what they wanted for us. Stay with me tonight, share my bed, give us something more than this.”

It’s brazen for me, and I swear I hear Meadow’s voice in my head, egging me on as the words tumble out.

Confidence is growing that I never knew I could possess, and a shameless need to see this through. I’m all in and willing to lose my virginity tonight. I want it badly.

I don’t care if I’m not marked; I’ll let him in my bed and make him bond to me in other ways if it makes him fight for his right.

Sex will bind us, and I’m willing to use any tool to get my mate’s head out of his ass.

“I can’t. I’m sorry.” Colton can’t look me in the eye, and I can feel the agony waving his way from me, the turmoil, the regret, the confusion as he fights his willpower.

My boy’s screwed up in the head and fighting with his emotions and morals.

I realize this will be tougher than I thought, and it’s not just Juan’s command. Colton’s fighting with his inner voice about what’s right and what he should do.

I can taste the indecision, as it’s thick enough around me to color the air.

He steps forward, eyes still downcast, and surprises me with a quick yet soft, fleeting kiss on the forehead that renders me mute.

It’s a moment of his gentle, affectionate side to let me know he cares, even if his refusal makes it seem otherwise.

“It’s not that I don’t want you… just, please don’t hate me.” He doesn’t wait for an answer, turns on his heel, and heads back the way we came at high speed.

He doesn’t look back, wounding me with how much he’s fighting this.

My heart thuds through my chest, stomach in knots as I watch him go, but I remind myself that I’m not a girl who falls at the first hurdle, and I won’t give up.

~“If you change your mind, my door will always be open for you. I’m not giving up on us.”~ My mind-link follows him out of sight, my heart aching harder the farther he gets away.

I’m close to tears but bite them back, refusing to break down and be weak over this. Colton needs strength, and I’m going to prove I have a lot of it.

I survived my family’s death and my makeshift pack’s. I’m tougher than I ever gave myself credit for, and it’s time I owned that.

I wait for what seems like an eternity of agonizing silence in the air until he’s far out of reach emotionally, and the sounds of his footsteps on wood have drifted hopelessly away.

I almost break down and cry when no response comes at all, desolate and alone when he delivers that one little ray of hope.

~“I love you, Lorey. I won’t give up on us, either.”~