Hope(less) (35 page)

But Clay didn’t come back in.  Instead, I heard a knock on
the front door and then the murmur of several voices.  I waited shivering with
exhaustion and pain from pushing myself too hard too soon.

An hour later, the police left and I flipped back the covers
to dress.  The full light of a new day lit my room.  Wednesday morning, the
beginning of Thanksgiving break.

After giving my statement of events and description of the
men, I’d asked if it was okay to stay somewhere else for the rest of the
night.  No one augured with the idea.  The police believed it a simple break
in, which suited me fine.  I could just image the line of questioning I’d
endure if I’d mentioned they’d broken in to take me.  After seeing the second man,
I had no doubt that had been their intent.

Clay washed up while I dressed.  He’d worn his blood along
with the other men’s blood.

Tugging a t-shirt over my head, I decided we’d go to the
compound a day early.  I’d waited long enough.  I had too many questions to
answer on my own.  An Elder waited for me at the compound.  I needed to talk to
him and he had better keep it to himself.

Grabbing my messenger bag, I began to cram clothes in it.  I
didn’t treat it anymore gently than Clay or Luke had when they packed it. 
Agitation over the pull I’d felt still filled me.  When I turned toward the
door and saw Clay waiting, already watching me, I dropped my gaze to the floor
unable to meet his calm regard.  He sighed and stepped aside motioning for me
to lead.

In the kitchen, he had my jacket and shoes waiting.  I
slipped them both on remembering at the last minute to call Rachel to let her
know what happened.  Thankfully, she hadn’t been home.  She promised to only come
back home with Peter just to be safe.

I spent most the ride napping, still regaining my strength. 
We both remained tense during our brief lunch stop.

Several times, I’d woken to the sound of him tapping his
grey nails against the steering wheel with his canines elongated.  At those
times, I wanted to reach over and pat his leg, but I held myself back.

When I woke to see his ears pointed too, I quietly studied
him for a few minutes.  I knew I was the cause of his agitation.  He sensed my
withdrawal.  I withdrew from him because I didn’t want him to see my
confusion.  I wanted to talk to Sam first, before saying anything to Clay.  But
my approach obviously wasn’t the right one.  Clay had stuck by me through
everything.  I needed to trust that he wouldn’t turn away from me after I
revealed what happened.

Quietly, I asked him to pull over to the snowy shoulder.  I
hadn’t changed my mind about telling him first, just about withdrawing from
him.  He paused his tapping to lift a brow, but did as I asked.  Once he had
the car in park, I quirked a sad smile at him and tapped my lips.  He calmed
and shook his head in amusement before complying.

We both needed the distraction of the moment.  I needed
affirmation that we still had our connection.  Boy did we ever.  And he needed
reassurance I was fine.

He cradled my face in his hands kissing me tenderly.  I
clutched his shirt dragging him closer.  When he opened his mouth to nip my
bottom lip, I groaned and willingly let him in.  We steamed the windows while
the car idled on the back road.  My lungs burned for air.  Finally, I had to
pull away to catch my breath.  He continued to kiss me, small gentle kisses to
the top of my head.

His neck hovered in my line of sight.  I could give him what
he wanted.  A quick bite and I wouldn’t need to worry about other potential
mates.  I could Claim him as my own.  But I didn’t want to hurt him anymore. 
Physically or emotionally.  I pulled back from our make out session.

Clay gave me one last kiss on the lips before he put the car
in drive again.  The smooth pink skin of his very human ears called my
attention.  He looked content, no longer tapping his fingers while staring
ahead at the snow-covered roads.

I turned away and pretended to sleep, condemning myself for
my lie.  My hesitation didn’t stem from a concern that I would hurt him.  No, just
like Sam said, I selfishly didn’t want to give up my plans, unwilling to bend
to try to make it work as Clay had.

*    *    *    *

We arrived at the compound just as the sun’s last rays sunk
below the tree topped horizon.  Vehicles crowded the parking area.  I didn’t
worry though.  Holidays always drew a crowd.

Clay grabbed my bag and then walked around to my side to
open the door for me.  Staying close, we walked inside the compound.  Jackets
and shoes filled the entry.  It meant cramped quarters for the holiday, but I’d
done it before.

We searched out the apartment I usually stayed in with Sam,
but another family with small cubs had commandeered it.  After several minutes
of knocking on doors, we gave up trying to find an apartment in the main
compound.  We turned down a hall I typically didn’t travel, the unmated wing,
and found the majority of the dorm quarters also occupied.  Several men passed
us as we searched, giving us curious looks as they scented the air.  I stayed
close to Clay.

Clay and I grabbed the first open dorm room and put our
stuff on the twin bed there.  We would figure out the exact sleeping arrangements
later.

In the hall, I said, “I need to talk to Sam.”

Clay nodded and led the way unerringly to Sam.  Hopefully,
Sam would have the answers I sought.

He and several other men conversed at one of the many
sitting areas in the main hall.  Charlene and her crew had done a wonderful job
decorating.  Cornucopias with harvest produce sat on each of the long tables. 
Several paper cutout turkeys with construction paper hands for feathers hung on
the walls.  The cubs had obviously partaken in crafts while visiting.  It
amused me that Charlene insisted on celebrating the US holiday while living in
Canada.  Her extended adopted family didn’t seem to mind.  I could hear women
laughing in the attached kitchen.  Fresh pumpkin pie perfumed the air.

With his back to me, I noticed the weary slope of Sam’s shoulders. 
Part of me, the part that lived with him for so long and thought of him as
‘grandpa’, wanted to run over and hug him.  I ignored that part.

Before he noticed me, I strode over and interrupted their
conversation with a terse, “It’s time we talked.”

He stood to greet me and nodded farewell to the others who
got up to move to another group.  “Gabby, I didn’t think you’d be up until
tomorrow.”

Clay and I shared a glance.  The main hall didn’t afford
privacy since all the werewolves present could hear me.  Then again, very few
places in the compound qualified as private to that degree.  Not that I cared
who heard me, expect maybe the grey-blue werewolves.  I did a quick scan of the
room and managed to hold back a wince of pain.  The sparks all appeared normal. 
Well, for a werewolf anyway.

Clay gave an annoyed grunt, but gently rubbed my back trying
to sooth me.  He’d become adept at knowing when I used my gift.

“We came early because two werewolves tried breaking into my
house.”  I watched Sam closely as I said it.

He looked at Clay sharply.  “What?”

Although I hadn’t thought Sam responsible for what happened,
I’d still wondered if he might know something about it.  But he appeared
genuinely upset and concerned by the news.

I frowned at him, still a little peeved about the recent Introduction
and holding a grudge.

“He’s still not talking,” I mumbled before slumping down on
the closest chair, not minding if we had this part of the conversation in the
open.  “I believe their intentions were to take me.”

Clay lowered himself into the chair next to me.  The
armrests of our chairs touched.  He always stayed close and I couldn’t imagine
it any other way.  If it hadn’t been for Clay, the men probably would have
taken me.  What would have happened then?  I thought about the blonde man who’d
been lying on the floor and my stomach clenched with worry.  My troubled gaze
swung to Clay.  He met my look with calm brown eyes.  Staring into their depths,
a tense breath eased out of me.  Sure, I had questions, but I wouldn’t let any
of them affect the tie we had.

With resolve, I watched Sam move to sit on the sofa across
from me.

Maybe I’d be stirring up trouble with my public questioning,
but I was tired of waiting.  “Is there more than one kind of werewolf?” I asked
bluntly.

Sam frowned leaning forward.  “Not sure what you mean
exactly.”

I thought back to the original challenger, physically he’d
looked like any other werewolf.  If it wasn’t something Sam already knew, I
didn’t think there would be a way for him to differentiate.  Only I saw the
colors.

Sam watched me closely.  I nibbled on my lip trying to
remember anything helpful and then thought of the last one I saw on the floor.

“When you go fur, what color variations are possible? 
Different shades in fur, eyes… what about nose, or nails?”

The door to the commons opened and a few more werewolves
drifted in slowly walking toward other groups.  While they progressed across
the room, they kept their heads titled listening as if already aware of the
important conversation occurring in our small group.

“What does this have to do with…” Sam started speaking, but
I held up a hand.

“Bear with me Sam.  I need answers to give answers.”

Sam turned his attention to Clay and opened his mouth.

“He’s still not talking,” I repeated with a sigh.  “Is there
another Elder I can talk to?”

I wanted to take my smart words back when Sam’s face fell.

The expression cleared quickly and after a moment, he slowly
answered.  “Fur is like hair and varies just like a human’s.  Same with the
eyes.  We are more like dogs when it comes to our noses.  Mostly dark, but we
sometimes have unusual markings.  Did you see an identifying mark Gabby?”

I ignored his question, “What about the nails?”

He shrugged and said, “Shades of grey.  Mostly a dark grey.”

“Black?”

“Well, like I said, a dark grey is possible.”

“No.  I mean black.  A very glossy black you could see your
reflection in.”

Sam remained introspectively quiet for a full minute.  The intense
silence claimed my attention.  Looking around, I caught the eyes of a few
others in the room before they quickly looked away.

“I don’t think I’ve ever paid that much attention to our
claws before.  But, no, I don’t believe so.”

I slumped back in my chair thinking.  Everyone in the room
watched me waiting for what I’d say next.

Could there really be another species of werewolf?  The
sparks I saw indicated the possibility.  But if I followed that line of
reasoning, did that then mean I was another species of human?  Maybe these
werewolves just had different abilities.  I chewed on my lip for a minute. 
What about the nail color?  Could that small difference carry enough
significance to classify two separate species?  I was grasping.  I needed to
grasp.  If there were two kinds, maybe it explained why I had two potential
mates.

Frustrated and still tired from my stunt with Rachel, I
scowled getting to the heart of my angst.  Sure, I wanted to know what the
color differences meant, but I needed to know why I felt what I did when I saw
that man unconscious on the floor.

Sam cleared his throat and I ignored him.  Someone spoke
softly further back in the room.  Others moved restlessly.

So what if I felt the same pull for another guy.  It just
meant I had a choice.  Isn’t that what I wanted all along?  Yet now that I had
options, I couldn’t see myself walking away from Clay.  Not for school, not for
a career, not for some creep who snuck into my house...

I peeked at Clay unable to hide my turmoil.  He reached out
offering his hand.  His hair hid his eyes again making it hard to read him.  I
looked down at his hand, calloused and so real.

Realization dawned.  Clay and I held the answers.  I kept my
eyes trained on his hand to hide my thoughts.  When I’d focused on Luke, I saw
the yellow-violet spark.  When I’d focused on Rachel, I’d expected to see Peter
only, but hadn’t.  Human vs. werewolf testing.  If I was right about different
species and tried the same test with Clay, I saw two possibilities.  I would
see myself as his mate or I would see two potential mates for myself, thus
supporting my theory of another werewolf species.

Doubt crept in.  What if I didn’t see myself?  What if it
didn’t work that way and I saw the other werewolf who Clay had knocked out?  I
needed to know.

Knowing Clay would try to pull away if he knew my train of
thought, I closed my eyes and focused.  I held onto my need to find the perfect
mate for Clay and my hope I’d see myself.

The shock jump from my hand to his and my vision of the real
world narrowed.  I held my breath, terrified of the answer.  My second sight
exploded into existence.  Not the great void filled with billions of sparks,
but with the vibrant intensity and color of the sun.  The white yellow core pulsed,
its energy radiating outward, cooling to a molten orange.  Hope flooded me as my
own spark filled my vision.

The other world collapsed and my eyes once again focused on
the real world.  My hand still rested within Clay’s, but I caught the change in
his expression.  Clay glared at me.  First time ever.  He knew what I’d done,
but I couldn’t feel bad about it.  Joy filled me.  I’d been right.  It didn’t
answer my question about the variances in sparks, but I didn’t care.  It gave
me the answer I needed.

I smiled sweetly and leaned over to kiss him lightly on the
lips.  When our lips touched, something tangible changed.  The joy I felt
remained, but something else crept in.  I pulled back, eyes wide.  My heart hammered
and my stomach clenched as I stared at him unable to look away.  Mesmerized.