Chapter 39: The Agony: Part 2

I reluctantly roll over onto my belly and lay my cheek on the grass, enjoying the cool feeling on my previously overly warm skin.

It’s a little prickly but a welcome relief to climbing nets, sprinting, and jumping hurdles again.

The rest of the pack is still off in the distance, carrying on, and I keep hearing Meadow issuing commanding directions to them as they tackle a colossal wall they’re climbing.

As wolves, it would be easy, but today’s training was human only—stamina building, apparently.

“Just five more minutes,” I moan softly, genuinely giving up on any form of movement as my body shuts down completely, deflating with a heavy, dramatic sigh.

I yelp when his firm hands slide under me at top speed, around the waist, him jumping over me and planting a foot on either side of my hips as he lifts me in one short sharp maneuver.

My arms flail, my legs curl and swing under him before he pulls me wholly with him and drops me on my own feet.

I cling to his upper arms, making all sorts of desperate sounds, and end up with the back of my head in the crook of his neck, my butt embedded in his groin intimately.

He doesn’t let me go right away, just pulls me in tight with a sneaky hug and lowers his face so his mouth comes level with my ear.

As always, my body reacts even when I don’t want it to, and I have goosebumps all over, internal explosions, and tingles going off inside my stomach so easily.

“You should never turn your back on your mate. Gives him all sorts of dirty ideas.” That husky tone ignites hot and fiery feelings in the depths of my pelvis, and it magically revives me.

“Mate, huh? I thought you dumped my ass and were sulking over the fact we would never be,” I point out a little sassily.

His arms slide up around my ribs as he hugs me in against him fully, taking advantage of the moment and initiating a different kind of contact.

“It’s such a nice ass that I realized my mistake and am groveling at your… rear.” He chuckles in my ear, that telltale cheeky sound.

I know he’s only playing, but it strikes a chord in me that dampens the sexy mood, killing it dead.

For a moment, that bitter pang of annoyance hits me in the stomach hard, and I push away from him hastily, freeing his hold on me, stepping out of his embrace, and elbowing him in the abs as I get away.

“Don’t.” It’s a moody bite to my tone, death of playful, now stiff and prickly.

My heart is pained while he’s making light of this. I catch him out of the corner of my eye, sighing too, his whole fun demeanor changing as swiftly as mine.

“Hey. Don’t be like that.” He reaches for me, but I step away again, picking up the discarded water bottle, and turn on my heel to march to the main house.

He said shower and food, and I think we need some breathing space. Maybe I’m being too sensitive, but I can’t help the overwhelming urge to punch him in the throat while sobbing my eyes out.

“Lorey, baby?” He follows me, obviously getting the waves of wounded mood and sulkiness coming his way.

I know I chastised myself last night to be more patient and reel him in, but I’m so sick of this hot and cold thing he has going on.

It’s up and down, touch, don’t touch. Mate, not mate, and it’s messing with my head. No wonder I’m having a hard time even sticking to my plan.

I ignore him completely, annoyed at myself for once again turning hostile when he was genuinely fooling around.

But the fact I know we have two weeks before he marks that bitch has me feeling all kinds of foul things.

It doesn’t help that she spent the last few hours watching me, laughing at my attempts to keep up, and cartwheeling around me like some sort of gold medal gymnast, showing off, showing me how much better she is.

She tried to make me look inadequate and kept interfering whenever he got too close in showing me what to do.

~“Hey, I didn’t mean to upset you. Talk to me.”~ His voice invades my mind as I try to put distance between us.

It just irritates me all the more. ~“Just make up your mind, okay? Stop messing with my head and giving me mixed signals. It’s not fair.”~

The pain in my tone is obvious, and I flinch as he speeds up and catches me from behind, yanking me back by the upper arm and spinning me to him a tad aggressively.

His little muscle in his jaw that twitches sometimes is working overtime, and I stare blankly at his chest to avoid eye contact.

“You told me we should take the time we have and do what the Fates wanted us to do.” He frowns at me defensively, pulling me back a second time when I try to back off and gain distance.

His voice is edged with the same low irritation as mine. He has no right to be touchy in this, and it’s not how to handle my attitude change.

“Yeah, right before you stopped kissing me and walked away… again. You’re blowing hot and cold!” I point out, frustrated beyond belief and stupefied he doesn’t see how he’s being.

“I’m not being hot and cold. I told you I love you and want to be with you! It’s just the shit keeping us apart that’s getting to me.

“I don’t want this to be harder, but at the same time, I can’t not be with you. I’m drawn to touch you, be with you, constantly.

“That’s not mixed signaling.”

He doesn’t see it the way I do, and I almost yell it in his face as the good old inner temper explodes at him.

“YES, it fucking IS!” I shove him away hard, aware some around us have stopped to look up, engrossed in the hint of drama going on over here.

But I pull my head up and glare at any I catch with eyes this way. Downright combative and not like me at all.

Surprisingly, any I challenge look away fast, and Colton hauls me back for a third time, oblivious to his wrongdoing and feeding on my spreading anger.

“Look… I’m sorry,” he says through semi-gritted teeth.

I know it’s probably more from the fact I’m drawing unwanted attention and publicly challenging his authority than being pissed at me.

Still, it’s not the right way to handle me when I’m already overly tired from hours of physical torture and sensitive because I love him, and this whole thing is shitty as hell.

“Aren’t you always?” I raise a brow, sarcasm oozing like molten lava from my lips. I slap his hand off my arm, not caring if it stung, and make a fast dash to put distance between us before he reaches out again.

~“Leave me alone!”~ I shout at him mentally and don’t let up, sprinting for the door and dashing forward as soon as it comes into view.

At least super speed has its advantages sometimes, and I almost collide with a group of young teens coming out the main door and have to skid to a halt.

Someone large and familiar crashes into the back of me with equal speed and emergency braking in such a way it almost sends me flying.

Colton catches me around the waist as I topple headfirst from the impact and rights me just as fast.

He pulls me up so we weirdly end up back in the position that started this whole bickering argument, me in his arms as he’s wrapped around me from behind with his mouth at my ear.

Only this time, it doesn’t ignite a desire to snuggle in. Fuming and ready to claw his eyes out, I turn in his arms to face him down.

“You want me to ignore all this and just go with my heart?

“You want me to share your bed every night, act like everything is rosy and perfect, and my father won’t do everything in his power to end this if I try to defy him?

“You don’t know what he’s capable of, Lorey. You don’t know the lengths he will go to stop someone he loves from doing something he deems wrong for our pack.

“I may be his son, but that means nothing.” His biting tone and flash of fierceness in that usually relaxed expression snap me to attention at the strained way the words rush out.

His eyes, softening from almost angry amber to that dark brown under lowered brows, knock a little wind out of my sails.

“Like what?” Tears bite in sheer agitation, my emotions getting the better of me that here we are, arguing over this again, caught suddenly with the pain in his eyes, and he lowers his voice.

“You never stop to wonder where my mother has been all these years? Our luna, who should be here for her people, and is the heart and glue that tends to our vulnerability?”

That low, raw question that brings amber to his eyes winds me with the unexpectedness of it, and I try to claw at the memory banks for an answer, remembering my suspicions from before.

Sometimes accessing his memories is not that easy. There are so many, jumbled together, out of sequence, so sometimes it’s better to know what or who you’re looking for if trying to find an answer.

There are snippets of confusion and nothing concrete that I can pull out in a second, except she was unwell.

“Well, where is she?” My fury dies a little, curiosity shining through and toning down this fight. I can’t sustain that kind of mad when my lame heart gets upset over him.

Colton is a weakness, and he seems to know how to disarm my fury and cut right to the bone without trying.

People seem bored we’ve stopped yelling and go about their day, bypassing us once more as he lets go of me and takes my hand instead.

He tangles his fingers intimately with mine, his warm, strong, and solid in my smaller, softer, and looser ones.

“Maybe we need to talk somewhere private. I thought you would have seen all this in your head, but maybe not. I guess because I have so few memories of her to share. Come on.”

That quiets me into submission, and I don’t fight him. Colton leads the way, grasping my hand, and tugs me with him through the hall.

It’s busy, filled with Santos coming and going from the mess hall in all states of sports attire as training started today, and everyone seems to be rushing about or completely immobile in groups, chatting.

There’s a sense of confusion with some, an urgency with others, and a holiday vibe with more.

I guess some don’t realize the seriousness of why everything has changed, and some are overwhelmed with anxiety and rushing around doing whatever they’re told with prompt action.

It’s chaotic and overwhelming, and I close down and allow him to lead me through.

Colton takes me away from the swarm of moving groups and heads toward the hallway to the communal room on this floor.

He walks fast, and I fall in step obediently. It only takes a silent minute to turn into the passage and head down toward the room, where everything seems strangely hushed.

As soon as he hits the digits on the keypad, the door clicks open, and the lights flicker on. I blink at the change from dull to bright and follow him inside quietly, waiting for him to move me in and shut the door.

He locks it behind us, and it only adds to the tension rising inside me that he doesn’t want anyone else to eavesdrop.

He motions for me to sit, his manner different—Mr. Serious on show in the form of the commander that came here last night—and heads to the bar.

He pulls it open and grabs two sodas for us before returning and choosing to sit on the floor in front of my armchair.

He opens a can and hands it to me, then he opens his own, taking a long drink before saying anything.

I can tell he’s delaying this, regaining composure, or turning something over in his mind, and I wait patiently, perched in the seat a little stiffer than I should be, cradling my drink between my hands.

It’s something he thinks I should know, so I won’t rush him.

I try to scan my memories in the long pause between us, but it’s such a jumble when it comes to his mother, of snippets and bits of conversations, so I don’t get a clear understanding of where she is.

It’s something I noticed, but I assumed it held no fundamental importance in the grand scheme of things.

“She’s not here,” he points out blankly after a moment of staring at his can as though reading my thoughts.

I don’t recognize his raw, raspy voice and the strangled way the words come out, telling me this is more painful than he can bear. “I haven’t seen her for nine years.”

It’s not the answer I expected, and I gawk, heart skipping a beat, my eyes widening with surprise, and I have no words at all.

My head tries to pull that together, and I wonder if I missed some sort of public announcement that the Santo luna had left the mountain that long ago.

I mean, I was still a kid. This was something the people had a right to know. I just didn’t realize it had been that long, almost a decade, without our luna.

“She’s in a… place, sort of… care home, I guess. A medical facility. Has been since a few weeks after they came home from the war.” He leans forward so his gaze is more heavily focused on the floor.

Yet I catch the glow of amber before he tilts away enough that I can only see the top of his head. His emotions spiral out and consume me as I feed on his despair. My stomach clenches with it.