Weregirl (4 page)

“This is the most uncomfortable, frustrating and amazing thing ever.” She leans away to rub her belly with one hand, still holding me with the other.

I smile at her predicament, wondering for the first time what it will feel like to welcome a life in my own body. I can’t even imagine.

The party has broken up into chattering groups of witches and vampires now Meira is finished with opening gifts. I’m grateful they seem to avoid us, leaving us to catch up in the center of the lawn. Do they sense I want to be alone with those I love the most? Possibly. I’ve always felt welcome in the Hayle family, since I bonded with Syd, that is. Our first meeting wasn’t as pleasant, though I was in the employ of the Dumonts at the time. But from the moment I encountered Syd and her family, I knew my life would be changed forever.

And so it has been.

Ethpeal and Demetrius join us, the small, white-haired sorcerer as sweetly cherubic as ever, his kiss full on my lips as his crystal blue eyes sparkle. The tang of oranges and chocolate, his signature scent, fills my nostrils. My wolf savors the taste. He’s changed since regaining his sanity. He used to feel thin to me, transparent. But after the battle of the stronghold, when he and Syd defeated Liander Belaisle and the Brotherhood, his mind healed, Demetrius’s spirit blossomed. He’s almost overwhelming to me, now, as though the joy he feels at being whole exudes from his every pore.

His touch mingles perfectly with Ethpeal’s and I can only imagine how hard it must have been for her to walk away from him so many years ago, to choose Ivan Dumont over the sorcerer she loved to save her family. Fierce pride and love wakes in my heart as I stand there with them. So hard not to love these people whose feelings are laid bare before me. Tears want to be shed, but I am expert at holding back and instead I smile and bask in their presence, as though soaking them up now will sustain me later.

“Thank you for the lovely outfit.” Meira gestures beside her to the bag I carefully prepared, the pink fur hooded bag I had custom made peeking from the top. “And all the sweet toys. Charlotte, you shouldn’t have.”

I feel a blush rise on my cheeks. “A friend is a wood carver,” I say, one of my werepack the most talented I’d ever seen. My eyes drift over the stunning creations of wolves and people in the family’s likeness before meeting hers with a shyness I wished I could get over at being complimented. “I’ll tell him you like them.”

“Like them!” She motions to her father who bends and retrieves one of the wooden statues. Syd’s likeness is perfect, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, with her dark ponytail down her back. “Zuza is a very lucky girl, having a wonderful auntie like you.”

“Zuza.” I grin. “I love the name.”

Meira rolls her eyes, lips twisting in a wry smile as she leans in to whisper in my ear. “Well, it’s really Zuzameirhaylynn,” she says. “Stupid demon tradition and their overbearing sense of self-importance. But at least she has a cool nickname.”

“It’s perfect,” I say, piecing the bits together. “Syd must have been touched.”

Meira’s nose wrinkles, taking the maturity from her face a moment, the girl I knew shining through. “She doesn’t know yet.”

“Then your secret is safe with me.” I kiss her softly, heart gaping wide at the gift she’s given me. What have I done to deserve such kindness? And how can I possibly walk away from it forever when all I want to do is make it permanent? Visits won’t be the same. And I’ll never have the connection I do now, not with the weight of the werenation on my shoulders. But I refuse to waste these moments and squeeze her hand, letting her feel my gratitude. “Thank you for sharing with me.”

Her eyes glisten with sudden tears. “Dear Charlotte,” she whispers before clearing her throat and forcing a smile.

I listen then to her chatter with her mother and grandmother about her pregnancy, happy to remain quiet, to simply be with these people. And as I do, the last of my resistance fades despite my longing to stay here and never, ever leave.

It is time to stop running. Doing so, rejecting my fate, would be an insult to the trials and struggles of the people I care about. Each and every one of them has given of themselves to make the world—the Universe—a safer and better place. I’ve learned responsibility through pride and passion from them, that has nothing to do with fear and oppression.

My question to Syd has been answered for me. How can I turn my back on my race’s future now? Now we are finally free, I can’t just abandon them. And the love and acceptance I feel here and now, there’s no reason I can’t take these lessons I’ve learned and recreate what I long for in my own family. There’s nothing to say I have to endure a loveless mating or fulfill my duty to the detriment of my heart. And while I might not be able to claim the one I now love as my own, the possibility remains another could wait for me, one I can trust to rule at my side.

I thank Syd silently for the truths she’s taught me as I drift away from the group and head for the edge of the lawn, ready to act despite the pain in my chest.

I pause at the hedgerow, looking back over the party. I’ve dreaded this moment, but now my heart is lighter. My magic reaches for Syd, only to find her gone. I’m sad I don’t get to say goodbye, but it’s not as if either of us need those words or that moment together. I know I’ll see her again soon.

My magic hums to the heartbeat of my wolf and I let it out to stretch. It’s grown well, though I still sense part of it is cut off from me. Syd seems to think the Black Souls used stolen demon magic to create the werewolves, tying wolf spirits to human. And because I’m not part demon, she suggested it’s for that reason I don’t have full access.

My wolf whines, sad about the whole thing, but recovering quickly, practical in the way of wolves. I wish at times I could speak to her, as Syd does to her alter egos, but, like the wolf pack at home, the best I get from her are impressions, feelings, scents. One thing I know she agrees with, it’s time to grow up and be Princess Sharlotta Moreau and let Charlotte Girard go.

Only one last thing to do before I can move on. I slip into the park and head for the dojo, Sage’s handsome face in my mind. He’s the last reason I’ve held back from committing to my future and that of my people. I’ve managed to keep my affair with him quiet. Foremost to protect him from my grandfather’s wrath. If he knew I’d been seeing a normal… not that such things are illegal for werewolves, but I am the heir to the throne and have spent the last five years resisting my place. Oleksander would surely blame Sage for that hesitance and I wouldn’t put it past the king of the weres to take action against my lover if he thought it might be an issue in the future.

But, I’ve also kept Sage from Syd. She would never judge, but this way I don’t have to endure her sympathy. It will be easier to cut ties and say goodbye without questions and sorrow from more than just my love. But that doesn’t mean this is going to be easy.

The dojo is only a few blocks from Syd’s house and I’m almost there, wrapped in my thoughts, in what I’m going to tell him, when my wolf growls and I come to a halt. This time, I know I’m not imagining things. The same pressure on the back of my neck, the same dark feeling of being observed, draws a snarl from my lips. I spin in place, glaring into the night, toward the source.

Show yourself
. I push my mental voice outward in a swipe of claw-like magic. Someone flinches from the attack, melting into the dark. I almost go after my watcher, an odd feeling stirring in my gut as my wolf sniffs the air, distressed by what she senses. But whoever it is has fled and my wolf settles, as though nothing happened.

Could it be my grandfather sending weres to keep track of me? Anger burns, smothered behind my mask of control. That means he knows about Sage. But if he does, why has he never said anything before? It’s not like Oleksander to stay quiet if something is upsetting him. Regardless, we will have a sharp conversation when I return home. For now, the lurker has left and I have a goodbye to complete.

I turn with a heavy heart and a prickling sense of nerves toward the dojo, ready—or thinking I’m ready—to say goodbye to the true and beautiful love I have in my heart.

***

The dojo is already closed, as I knew it would be. I keep moving, circling around to the side and the fire escape climbing to the third floor. I climb gently but quickly, avoiding the squeaks in the old metal stairs, the familiar places where the treads might protest my ascent. My fingers already seek the key in my back pocket, the key Sage gave me long ago, after our first night together. The night air is fresh here, though filled with the smells of civilization, unlike my quite forest home. My nose quivers at the mix of aromas carried to me on the evening breeze. It takes me but a moment in a low crouch to undo the padlock on the narrow door at the top and slip silently inside.

It’s dark, but my eyes adjust the moment I pass into the lightless room, the wolf in me seeing clearly after a blink or two. I hear and smell him before my eyes settle on the bed in the corner of the room, old memory and habit leading me forward into a ray of moonlight falling through the single window.

Sage sleeps, the slow, steady rise and fall of his chest even, peaceful. Faint green light casts odd shadows across his cheek from the steady glare of his alarm clock. One of his arms lies over his head on the pillow, bare skin of his torso exposed, one foot dangling outside the covers. The smell of him fills the room, flooding my senses, making it hard to breathe, to focus. So delicious, a perfect match for mine.

I almost hate to wake him, to deliver this terrible news I’ve brought to shatter his hopes for us. The coward in me longs to creep out the door and be gone from this place, while my wolf begs me to instead slip under the covers beside him, lay my head on his chest, listen to the steady beat of his faithful heart.

But I can’t. I’ve made my decision. Why didn’t I turn him away long ago? Because I feel for him as he feels for me. I smell it on him even now, wonder if he dreams of me as the aftertaste of his emotions flavors his scent.

The words won’t come, my body held frozen as I hover there, enjoying the moment, drawing him to me with my eyes even if I can’t with my arms. My mouth is dry, heart beating oddly, off kilter as though pleading with me to reconsider. My wolf whines softly, wanting things to be different, logic and practicality forgotten as I stand and watch him sleep.

I have to go. That’s it, then, the only choice. I’ll just leave. Maybe send him a letter, apologizing for being so cowardly as to end things long distance. But the more seconds that tick by, the more I know it will be impossible for me to let him go if he wakes.

He does, just as I’m about to turn, to run away from the longing of my soul. I feel him stir, knowing I’m too late, now truly unable to leave. Sage’s eyes open, his muscular chest rising and stopping as he holds his breath at the sight of me. A smile breaks across his face, hands rising, body leaning toward me, beckoning for me to join him.

I have to flee. I can’t allow my need to win over my duty.

“Charlie.” I hate that nickname, but his voice makes it a caress. My will crumbles and I can’t stop myself. I’m tumbling onto the bed, on top of him, my mouth locking with savage desire on his, the heat of his bare skin under my hungry hands.

Hands that know exactly what I need. And Sage is more than happy to comply.

***

His fingertips trace the line of my side over my bare skin, across my arm and up to my shoulder. I can’t open my eyes, refuse to look at him, to be caught in his endless, devouring gaze. If I can only just hold still and wait for him to sleep, I will slip away and never, ever return.

How deceitful I am to myself. My wolf growls her disapproval while my mind churns and my body aches for more of Sage.

“Charlotte.” He knows something is wrong, his scent altering to worry, anxiety as his hand falls to my cheek. “Look at me.”

He had to ask that of me! I finally open my eyes, letting my gaze settle on his muscular shoulder.

“Love,” he leans in to kiss my lips. “What’s wrong? Don’t tell me nothing.” The edge to his voice tells me I’ve used that line one time too many. I know I have, I’m guilty of lying to him more times than I can count.

I just can’t take this any longer. If I stay here, in his bed, I’ll never leave. My body acts as though on its own, twisting sideways, my feet hitting the cold wood floor, hands scrambling for my clothing. Sage reaches for me from behind, my wolf senses feeling him do it. I stand before he can touch me.

My belt rattles as I pull on my pants, my shirt whispering over my head. Sage stands, naked and perfect and so beautiful. I can’t look. I just can’t.

“Charlotte.” This time he’s angry, the smell of it pulsing in his blood, though he’s not really mad at me, just at my silence. And fear glosses through it, like he already knows we’re through and is as unwilling to admit it as I am. Has he felt me pulling away these last few visits? He’s not stupid, but he’s never mentioned it. “Talk to me for once. Please.”

“This was a mistake.” The soft hint of what remains of my Ukrainian accent wakes in my moment of distress. It happens so rarely it surprises me now. “I didn’t come here to sleep with you.”

Sage spreads his hands as I turn toward him, face grim, body tense. “How can you say we’re a mistake?”

I shiver. How easy to fall into his arms again, beg him to forgive my words, to forget and be with him and never go home. But my grandfather’s voice is in my head and, more importantly, Syd’s, reminding me I’m responsible no matter how that makes me feel.

“I came to say goodbye.” The words rush out from my lips, still haunted by my roots. Sage twitches, as though each one of them strikes him with pain. “I have to go home, Sage. We have to be through and I have to move on.”

His short, dark hair spikes as he runs both hands over his scalp. “All right,” he says. “Home it is. I’m coming with you.”

The very last words I expected from him and the most shocking. I stare while my wolf hums her confusion. “You can’t.” I certainly never expected him to offer.