Page 9 of Until Forever Comes
“I believe my friend told you to keep walking,” he growled at the other half-souls. “This is your last chance to listen to his advice. Because if you don’t walk away now, you won’t be walking. Ever.”
Lord, he sounded cold and cruel. I did as I’d been told and walked in the opposite direction, quickly but quietly. It sounded like at least one of the half-souls hadn’t taken Miguel’s generous offer, because another scream rent the air. This one was cut off just as quickly as the first, so I reckoned the half-soul had been injured, or worse.
Okay, so I might have underestimated how dangerous Miguel was. Maybe I even underestimated how dangerous it was for me to be in Kfarkattan. But I was right about what was important: Miguel was my true mate. That meant my home was with him. Even if he was a vampire and a male and, all right, I’ll admit it, a bit of a ruffian.
Because if I knew anything, it was to be grateful for whatever blessings were sent my way. Nature hadn’t gifted me with much in my life, and I was starting to suspect that my share of the good stuff had been set aside because I’d been slated for a whopper: I had myself a true mate. Now I just had to figure out how to prove it to him.
Chapter 5
YOUwant to know the good parts about me leaving Miguel and going back to my parents’ den? First, my parents were fast asleep, so they didn’t know I’d left pack lands, which meant they hadn’t been fretting. End of list.
Were you waiting for something else? ’Cause I can’t give you no more. That was the only pro. Truly.
I know you might be thinking another good part was that I hadn’t been injured in the fight with the half-souls, but here’s the thing—it wasn’t as if I was fit as a fiddle anyhow. The paralyzing feelings inside me weren’t new: lungs that seemed unable to open enough to take in necessary air, heart pushing so hard I swore it was fixin’ to beat out of my chest, skin so tight it almost burned. Those kinds of pains were the reasons I’d never been able to keep up with the other cubs in the pack. So, yeah, the discomfort, the pain, they weren’t new.
Whatwasnew, though, was that I finally felt like I knew how to remedy it. For the second day in a row, I’d not only stopped hurting, but I’d shifted. And both things happened after I’d been wounded.
I was quiet as a mouse when I got home, tiptoeing into my bedroom and then slowly shutting the door so I could lift it a tad and prevent the hinges from squeaking. I shucked off my shirt and pushed my shorts down, leaving them where they dropped on the floor. Then I knelt in front of my dresser and gently wiggled the bottom drawer open. I kept all my extra whatnots in that drawer, so I had to dig past worn paperbacks, a pinecone that struck my fancy a couple of seasons prior, a photo album, three pencils, a smooth rock, and an eraser shaped into a tree silhouette by repeated and strategic use, and then I found it. My pocketknife.
Wearing only my drawers and clutching the knife tightly, I walked over to my bed and sat on the brightly colored quilt my mother had spent hours stitching. I didn’t move. Heck, I was barely breathing. I just held on to that knife and considered my next step.
My hand trembled as I pulled out the blade and set it against my wrist. It seemed backward, I realized, hurting myself to stop the pain. But it had worked before. I pressed down and watched the skin turn red, then white, and then, just as I was about to pierce through, I pulled the blade back.
This wasn’t a decision I should make in the middle of the night after a long, emotional day. I forced myself to peel my fingers off the knife and set it on my nightstand. I’d get some sleep and figure out what to do in the morning.
“WHOis Miguel?” my father asked when I walked into the kitchen the following morning.
I froze.
“You was calling his name in your sleep, Ethan,” my mother added softly. She wiped her hands on a towel and set it next to the sink before walking over to me. “Is he one of the vampires who attacked you and your friends?”
I understood why that was her first thought. After all, she knew everyone I knew. I rarely left pack lands without my parents, and when I did, it was with their permission and other pack members were always there.
“It sounded like you was crying.” My mother hugged me and petted my hair. “You’re safe now. They can’t hurt you none here.”
My night hadn’t been peaceful. That much was true enough. I had tossed and turned, dreaming of Miguel, aching for him. By the time I woke, I was sweaty, frustrated, and more exhausted than I’d been before I went to sleep.
He was one of the vampires from the other night, obviously, so that was true too. And he had injured the others, true again. But the kind of attack he’d waged on me wasn’t anything my mother could imagine. I trembled at the memory of his scent, his taste, his hands on me. Lord, I needed him.
My father, misreading my reaction and concerned about my lack of verbal response, pushed back his chair and stood. “We know you must be right petrified about what happened, but your mother’s right. The bloodsuckers won’t dare come onto pack lands. That there Miguel will never be able to get to you here.”
Hollow, that was how I felt upon hearing those words. My eyes were wet and I was practically gasping for air. My father was right. Vampires and shifters didn’t mix. The feud between our kinds was so long-standing, so assumed, that I honestly had no clue how it had started. It just was.
My mother squeezed me tightly. “Ethan, son, you’ll be fine.”
“How about we shift into our wolves and go for a run?” my father suggested. “I ain’t ever had a chance to run with you.”
No, he hadn’t. I had often longed to run through the woods with the other males, hunting and enjoying nature in all her glory. And I knew my father was disappointed that he’d not had that experience with his only son. On the tail of the comments about Miguel, my gut said my days on pack lands were numbered, which meant my father might not have that opportunity again. He was due. We both were.
“Okay, Pop. I just need to, uh, do something right quick. I’ll meet you outside shortly.”
He nodded and I walked into my bedroom and shut the door. I already knew what would happen if I tried to shift, but I decided to give it a go anyhow. After removing my clothing with shaky hands, I opened the window, crouched on the floor, and called my wolf.
The pain was blinding, literally blinding. Everything went black as I tried with all my might to shift into my other form. My heart felt like it was going to explode, I couldn’t breathe, and then I felt a warm trickle on my upper lip. It drizzled down and I darted my tongue out to get a taste. Blood.
I knew what to do. Letting my wolf rest, I breathed deeply and tried to calm my body. When I could see again, I swiped the back of my hand across my nose, wiped away the blood, and stood on weak legs. My pocketknife was still on the nightstand. I took it with me as I climbed out the window.
Hiding behind one of the trees next to the house, I opened the knife again. I was still nervous, but also determined. My father deserved to run with his son, and I wanted this memory to take with me, whether to the grave or to wherever it was I’d have to go to be with my mate for as many days as I had left. So this time, when the blade pressed down, I didn’t stop.
