Page 40 of Wicked

Manny

Leaving Candlewick right now is wrong. I can feel it in my soul. Maybe God’s scripture says otherwise, but something deeper than scripture screams at me to return to my fated mate and see him through his heat. It’s the same voice that told me to hug Timber the day he got back from shooting his first adult film and the voice that comforted me in those first few weeks after I was rescued in the pits and thought I was damned.

Sometimes scripture is wrong. I don’t know how to explain it, but I know it’s true. I belong with Candlewick.

I walk down Dorian’s driveaway anyway. Does God want me to make love to Candlewick for two days and then say goodbye to him forever? I’ve tried hard to not be angry at God, but how is that fair? Even if I could satisfy him, and I’d do everything in my power to make that happen, am I supposed to be inside him, worship his body, and share the most intimate experience of my life with a man I have fallen hard for, and then endure the pain of losing my connection to him? How is that fair?

How is anything about life fair? And not just my life. If God is looking down on us, why does He let children starve? Why does He let them be sexually assaulted? What purpose does that serve?

I’m so angry, my body shakes with it.

My phone vibrates in my pocket. I take it out to see Anne’s name on the screen.

No, she doesn’t understand.

Five minutes later when I’m past Dorian’s driveway and walking along the side of the road, my phone vibrates again. This time it’s H.

He doesn’t understand either. He gets to have the man he loves.

Timber tries to call me. Steppe tries next. They’re coordinating with each other to prevent me from doing the worst thing I’ve ever done in my life, and a part of me understands why. We are brothers, even though we aren’t connected by blood. Sometimes a connection through trauma is enough to build ties that last a lifetime.

It just isn’t enough today. I’m not enough today. Nothing I do or say will ever be enough because of things that Candlewick claims were outside my control, and I think he might be right.

I think he’s probably right about everything.

My phone rings again. It’s Ken.

I finally answer.

“Hey.” My voice is thick with emotion.

“Hey.”

That’s it. No lectures, no judgment, no “how are you?” Just “hey.” Ken lets the silence stretch between us, waiting for me to fill it. He isn’t here to tell me what to do, he wants to listen. That’s Ken through and through.

“I’m a fuck up,” I say, letting the swear word fall from my lips. It feels good.

“We all are.”

“No, you’re not. Timber’s not. H isn’t either. Steppe might be, though.”

Ken laughs at my joke because Steppe really is a jerk sometimes. He’s the politician amongst us—the one who schmoozes with the right people so we can help displaced red wolf shifters.

I realize that I fall under that category right now. I’m not allowed to go home. I have no job. I’m probably just as damaged as the red wolf shifters staying in the sanctuary, even though I’ve been out of the pits for twelve years. There they do therapy and learn healthy coping mechanisms for stress. There’s even a self-esteem class where instructors help them recognize their own self-worth outside the community and religion they were raised in. I know because I’ve been to the parties where Steppe has explained how important the healing process is for those who have been trafficked. I’ve listened to that speech over and over again, but it never occurred to me that maybe I needed to heal too.

“Does the sanctuary have space for a fucked up alpha? Age 32. Heard he’s a bit of a religious zealot. He drives everyone in his life crazy.”

There’s silence on the other end for a few long beats.

“I heard that he’s a hero,” Ken says. “Rumor has it that he rides a dragon and saves children from slavery.”

I’ve held onto that image of myself for so long, it feels comforting for a moment. But only for a moment.

“I heard that he left his fated mate while he was going into heat. Sounds like a bastard to me.”

“A bastard, huh? Well, the sanctuary has plenty of those. He’d fit right in.”

I hate that he’s so flippant about what I’ve done to Candlewick. Doesn’t he understand the pain my mate will have to endure because I abandoned him? Why isn’t he angry with me like Anne? That’s what I deserve.

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