“Um… we thought… you could be our Alpha?”
I know right away that Zac’s question is not one Aiden wants to hear, and so I speak up. “I’m sorry, I know this is a difficult situation for you, but we both of us have responsibilities in London at the moment.” Being the sympathetic one is not something that comes easily to me, although the wash of gratitude and pride I can feel from Aiden makes me feel twenty feet tall. Next time, if there is a next time, he can be the good cop.
“The vampire problem is more than just Walther Sutcliffe,” Aiden adds. “I need to be hunting more than one of them down, not spending all my time here. Don’t worry, I’m not the best fighter Blackmarsh has. There won’t be any shortage of protection.”
“Can’t we just tell people Aiden’s our Alpha, to stop Robert and the others coming back, ‘til we can find someone strong enough?” pipes up the talkative teenager, and the pleased reaction I’ve been sensing from Aiden a
I should feel happy that things at Blackmarsh have been sorted out with Badger’s Den. I should at least feel relieved. I should feel proud that I’ve proved myself to Sarah’s family. Family present and past. Instead I feed numb. Numb, and tired. Blackmarsh has reminded me that I can never go home. Because they believe I’m dead, I’m cut off from Shining Water, an Exile even though I wasn’t made one in the usual way. It has to be that way, or someone would realise that I’m still alive. It hurts that I can’t even feel the loss of the mental connection, because it’s one I never had. I can punish others by taking away from them something that I never had. They asked me to be Alpha. They. Asked me. To be their Alpha. I almost laughed in their faces. I almost cried. I can never be Alpha, not a proper one. How could I? I had to keep my feelings buried, and come up with an excuse that wasn’t ‘hey, guys, thanks, but actually I’m a freak and not a proper werewolf at all
Waking up with my head on Aiden’s shoulder is not quite enough to compensate for the back-ache and cricked neck I have as a result of sleeping so long in the car. The journey has taken far longer than it should have done, because of motorway closures following an accident. It leaves us no time now to talk. Maybe our kiss would have become something more, but Aiden will be late for class. I make him promise to sleep at his place tonight, so he gets some proper rest.Hughes drives me on home after dropping Aiden off. I’m not sleepy any more, and the rumbling of the car is the sort of white noise that’s good for thinking. I feel as if I have had no time to draw breath since before the polo match, and I know, at some point, that I will have to have a good talking-to with myself.I have always been one to think before acting. Instincts are primitive things, not well suited to the complexities of modern human life. We are predisposed to believe things that
The room beyond the door’s pretty much the same as everywhere else I’ve seen in the building, except, right away, I notice that there’s no windows. The only way out is the door I came in by. Mr Tail-coat Guy’s probably waiting right outside it. There’s a fireplace laid for a fire, but this one is not lit, and in front of it two men are standing. I look more closely, and change that to two male vampires. One of them is blonde, a sportswear model type. The other is naturally darker skinned, because I don’t think vampires get sun-tans, and looks like a boxer. Neither of them can be Cavendish, unless he’s bleached his hair since Sarah met him. Both are in bland suits. Probably bodyguards. There’s a few chairs around the room, more well-stuffed, spindly-legged armchairs that look shabby and expensive at the same time. The rug in front of the floor is… I sniff… yes, the rug is an actual tiger skin. The heads of a dozen stags stare down accusingly at me from the walls. Ther
This is the National Gallery, I think. I can’t remember why we decided to come. Aiden’s hand is warm in mine as we wander through the corridors. Brian never did hold hands in public. Cartoon sketches fill every ornate and gilded frame, splashy and incomplete. Around the next corner should be the portrait gallery. When we turn to look, every painting is Cavendish, spray-painted onto the walls. “It’s okay,” Aiden says. “He knows you’re mine now. You’ll be safe. Look, do you like them? I painted them myself.” Cavendish’s eyes are everywhere, staring at me. I remember those eyes, looking through me, snaring my mind and my heart with their gaze. I wait for them to draw my soul out and bind me to him, to entice me to dance willingly to his whims and into his arms. I hate myself for the longing I feel, for wanting the freedom of giving myself up completely into the will of another. It feels as if I have walked through a cold shower when nothing happens. The eyes are
Frost is running through the forest, running through the fall leaves that tumble down around us. Wolves should run together. He is alone, because his Mate cannot keep up. He stops, and howls, because he is alone. “Don’t worry. I can ride,” Sarah says, and her horse rushes past, chasing the wind. Frost joins the race, leaping after her laughter. The ground flashes past beneath us. This is right. This is what wolves should do. Sarah is our Mate, and we should run together. I catch her in my arms, breathless and laughing as we tumble to the ground and I land on my back. She sits astride me, her thighs around my hips, smiling at me from the cloud of her hair. Her breasts sway slightly as she leans forward. I buck up into her and she laughs again, drawing patterns with her nails across my bare chest. “Do you like what you see?” she asks, reaching down with her other hand to stroke me into hardness. I’m half way there already. “Mmmm, you do, don’t you?” “Sa
We’ve already played each piece at some point this season, but it’s been a while since we did this one. It’s a fairly tricky one, and I have to play solo. My mind is already on what is to come as I walk into the hall. It is only later that I realise the lack of greetings. I find my seat and flip through the music on the stand, scanning the pencil notes that scatter the margins. It’s Roberto’s own arrangement of the Sonata, and he’s given us a lot of input that goes beyond what’s printed on the pages. Charlotte gives me a sideways look as she sits next to me at our stand, then turns her head away quickly and starts tuning her violin.We’re still working on the first movement, coming up to the first of my solos, when I’m struck by a moment of light-headedness. The concert hall spins about me. I feel as if I am falling off my chair. My playing falters, and I completely miss my cue.Roberto signals the orchestra to sile
My eyes are open, but I can’t move them. I’m looking through a tunnel with walls of shadow. I can’t feel the ground under my cheek. I can’t feel my own body. Everything sounds different, as if I’m in a cave. My nose still works. The dusty scent of vampires is suddenly tickling my nose and making me want to sneeze, and if I could feel my stomach it would be sinking. I can see along the path, everything sideways, the paved surface a wall and trees at my feet and my head. My friends had walked on before I fell. They’re turning to look at me now. “Run,” I try to tell them, but nothing comes out of my mouth. “Aiden?” Jade starts towards me. I try to shake my head, but nothing is working. I will her with my eyes to stay away, to get away. “Get back, run!” I think at her. “What happened?” Tala asks, following Jade, and I would scream, if I could. “Wait!” Reese calls after the girls. “Wait, come back.” “There’s something wrong, he’s hurt.” Jad
I cried myself to sleep. I haven’t done that since I was a kid in the children’s home. I wake on the sofa, still in last night’s clothes. My mouth is stale and sticky and my face a mess of makeup and dried tears. Everything aches. I can barely move. I wince as I drag myself stiffly to my feet and totter to the bathroom for the hottest shower I can stand, wincing at every movement I make. I feel cleaner, after the shower, but it does nothing for the pain that permeates every muscle. Even my nose hurts. I always feel horrible after a good cry, but not usually this bad. I hope I’m not coming down with something. I’m probably transmitting all this to Aiden. Good, a little, selfish voice in my head says. He’s not here to comfort me, he’s off somewhere else. I know we didn’t say anything, but he must know I’m feeling awful, through our Bond. He must have felt how upset I was last night. Why isn’t he here? It’s not asking for much, is it, just wan