Taken In by the Pack: Second Chances (20 page)

His head canted to one side, considering me for a long moment. His lack of reaction to my annoyance was incredibly… well, annoying. Even completely exasperated, though, I couldn’t help admire him, in a physical sense. I hadn’t seen him much in the daytime with proper lighting, just that first day at Applebee’s. Not to mention properly dressed; he had on a very tasteful blue and green button down shirt and a pair of faded but neat jeans, that clung to his muscular thighs in all the right ways.

“We need to talk, Ada. Can I come in?” he finally asked, opting to ignore my question, apparently.

“Not if you’re going to continue to refuse to answer my questions!” I fumed.

He chuckled softly. “I did answer you, honey. I’m here to talk to you, about things that are not really appropriate for a public hallway.”

That drew me up short. “Oh. Right.” My tone was clipped; I was still miffed at him just showing up and startling me, even if that did make sense.

For a minute, I seriously considered telling him to go jump off the balcony. That was just the annoyance, though, and mostly just at having been caught unawares.

I chewed on my lip as I thought it over, fiddling with my keys, which were still in my hand. “If I let you in, will you finally answer some questions?”

“I’ll do my best. It’s hard to remember that things that are totally obvious to me, to us, aren’t to you. Gram really adores you, she’s spent all week ragging me about how little I actually told you and how I acted and all. You have quite the champion there.” He grinned, but the way he ducked his head and the look in his eyes had an air of apology as well. “I really am trying, Adalyn.”

I sighed heavily, feeling mildly defeated. “I guess, in the end, that’s all anyone can really ask,” I muttered grudgingly. “Alright, fine, you can come in. But if you start being all Mr Enigmatic again I am throwing you out!” I was fully aware that this was rather akin to a kitten threatening to ‘throw out’ a pitbull —
or a wolf, haha
— but it was my home, dang it!

He grinned, that gorgeous, playful, boyish grin that I’d always loved so much, and nodded firmly. “Deal.”

I narrowed my eyes at him to make sure he knew I was serious, then moved to the door, unlocking it and stepping inside.

❖ ❖ ❖

I moved to one side and held the door open, and Bryson followed close on my heels; even still, in the close quarters of the entryway, he brushed against me as he went past, and it made my breath catch, as tingles radiated outward from the contact. Once we were both inside, I closed the door and locked the deadbolt out of habit. I let my book bag drop next to the door, since there was something much more immediate to deal with than putting it in its usual place. I remained facing the door for a long moment, collecting my thoughts.

I finally turned, and nearly jumped back — not that it would have done me much good, I was almost touching the door behind me as it was — to find Bryson no more than a handful of inches away from me. I looked up into his face, wide-eyed. My breath came more quickly, and an aching knot formed in my belly. I could feel the heat radiating off of him, and my own body seemed to grow hotter to match. Part of me wanted to run in terror, and part of me wanted to throw myself on this magnificent man who would so obviously welcome it.

He lifted his arms, clearly with the intent of wrapping them around me, drawing me to him in an embrace. In a snap decision, I ducked a bit and slipped past his arm before it encircled me. I wasn’t quite ready for that, not just yet at least. I wanted my head to stay relatively clear for at least a few minutes. There would be plenty of time to get lost in the moment with him,
after
I got some answers and
if
I decided that was what I wanted after I had those answers.

“Uhm. I need to — to go change. I was just at the gym.” I plucked at the hem of my shirt, as if that would somehow clarify my meaning. Of course, I hadn’t worn these clothes there, and I’d showered before I put them back on, but there was no need to tell him that. I just needed an excuse to put some distance between us for a minute.

He frowned slightly, and there was a deep hurt in his eyes. Was that a look of rejection? Did he think that was an answer on my part, a refusal? He pushed the hurt aside quickly though, his face crinkling up in a mockingly lecherous grin. “I could come help you change if you want?”

I rolled my eyes, giving him an exasperated look. “I think I can manage to change my clothes by myself. I have been managing for quite a few years now on my own, anyway. And besides, if you tried to help, I don’t think the new clothes would be likely to make it on any time soon.” I began to step backwards slowly as I spoke, putting more space between us as I headed toward my bedroom.

“Well, sure, that’s the point.” He grinned more broadly.
Damn, he’s sexy when he grins like that, with his eyes all lit up and
— I stopped that line of thinking in its tracks.
Not. Helpful.

I scrunched my face up at him, kind of like an annoyed version of a duck-face. “Oh, you’re impossible. Just have a seat,” I waved a hand to indicate my threadbare couch, “and I’ll be back out in a couple of minutes, okay?”

He sighed, shoulders slumping somewhat, but nodded. “Alright, alright. Just don’t take too long, yeah?” How could a young man so obviously used to being in charge, to being powerful in every way that mattered, look so incredibly pitiful at such a minor disappointment?

I bit my lip, and just nodded shallowly in response, before turning to flee into the sanctuary of my bedroom, closing the door firmly.

❖ ❖ ❖

I leaned back against the closed bedroom door, trying to get my emotions in check. I felt like I was on the verge of a panic attack again; I’d only had panic attacks like twice in my life before these last few weeks, and they were both in situations far worse than this one.
Then again, there isn’t much that’s more stressful than deciding the entire course of your life on barely more than a moment’s notice, and on relatively scarce information at that.

I closed my eyes, trying to take deep, steadying breaths. It wasn’t the easiest thing in the world to do when it felt like my chest was being constricted to the point of pain.

I still didn’t know what I wanted to do, I didn’t know how I wanted to proceed. Or, more accurately, I knew what I
wanted
to do, but I still wasn’t sure if I should follow that desire, given all that it would mean, all the changes it would make to my life. All the things I would have to give up. Of course, I would gain a lot in return, too.

My hand lowered to the doorknob, tempted to simply throw the door open again and fling myself on him; to just be with him and damn the consequences. My heart skipped a beat just thinking about it. My whole body yearned to do exactly that. But how much would I have to give up to have him, to join the pack? It was already clear to me that maintaining a real friendship with Angie would be exceedingly difficult, if not outright impossible; the same would hold true of anyone else who wasn’t also a shape-shifter.

What about my mother?
Would I have to give her up too, the way my father had abandoned us? That thought sent me teetering on the edge of panic again. I couldn’t lose her, and I couldn’t do that to her!

My mind went into overdrive, examining that thought from every angle I could. However, the more I thought about that point, the more sure I was that it wouldn’t be that way. My father had been forced to leave because he
wouldn’t
join the pack, not because he
did
. I would have to learn to be careful what I said around her, but there was no reason I could see why I would have to break off contact. Certainly we had never known about my father.

And of course, the elephant in the room: babies. I was nowhere near ready for children! I’d figured I was a good five or ten years from having kids, at the very least! Assuming I had children at all, which I still wasn’t sure I wanted to do anyway. But he’d said that was the only reasonably sure way of triggering the change in me; and, as alpha, he was expected to have children, to have
heirs
to continue the pack and the bloodline.

I sighed, and let my head fall back against the door with a soft thump, without even thinking about how good Bryson’s hearing was.

My circling thoughts were interrupted by Bryson’s voice. “Ada?” It was quiet, but he was clearly right on the other side of the thin wood panel. I felt like I could physically sense his presence, like he was a magnet tugging on me; it was an odd sensation.

“Ada, honey, you don’t have to be scared of me. I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do. I don’t want to do anything to you that you don’t want. I just want you to be happy. Sure, I’d love it if that meant being with me, but if it doesn’t, it doesn’t. And if you can’t decide, I can wait until you do.”

I felt a tear trickle down my cheek, and swiped it away with the back of my hand, annoyed with myself. “Just— just go sit down, Bryson, I’ll be right out!” I called. My voice had all the strength of a day-old kitten behind it; it trembled and even broke a few times, but that couldn’t be helped.

❖ ❖ ❖

I pushed off the door and scurried to my closet to change. I grabbed things off the hangers without particularly thinking about it. I had stripped down and was already halfway redressed, before I realized what all I had grabbed: my one matching underwear set, lacy and black — was I expecting him to see them? — a pair of sexy denim short-shorts, and a soft purple sleeveless button down shirt that was one of my favorites, just low cut and curve-hugging enough to be incredibly sexy, while not so revealing that it looked in any way inappropriate or slutty.

Why was I dressing to impress if I wanted to
just talk
, if I still didn’t know if I was going to accept his offer or not? Was I trying to tell myself something? I already knew I wanted to accept, I just didn’t know if I would let myself.

Well, whatever. Nothing wrong with looking nice, right? It’s not like he’s likely to pounce on me and ravish me if I don’t want that.

Do I want that?
I shook the thoughts off with a little growl at myself. This was not accomplishing anything.

I went in my bathroom to check the overall effect. I brushed my hair out quickly, since it was a little straggly from air-drying after the gym, and threw on a little lip gloss for good measure.

I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror sternly. “You can do this. You have no reason to be afraid. You want him, and he wants you to be happy. Don’t be an effing coward.” I was stalling, and I knew it. I was afraid he wouldn’t answer my questions, and almost as afraid that he would. If I was being honest with myself, I was also a little bit scared of what might happen, with the two of us alone in private, which I realized was silly.

I couldn’t, or at least shouldn’t, put it off anymore. I sighed and stepped out of my little bathroom, and went over to the bedroom door. I paused with my hand on the knob, taking a deep breath, then opened it and stepped out into the living room.

Bryson was nearby, and he was actually pacing slightly; as much as my small living room allowed for, anyway, which was only a couple of steps in any direction. His brows were drawn and he was frowning, with his head lowered slightly; he looked upset, worried, or both. My heart constricted slightly at his expression.

Stop that! Stop feeling sorry for him when he’s the one who’s put you through so much.
I couldn’t help it, though. I didn’t want to be the source of any pain for him, no matter how much he’d inflicted on me.

Is that love, or battered women’s syndrome?
I almost laughed at the thought, but managed to stifle it, luckily, since he would no doubt think I was laughing at him.

He stopped and looked up as I came out into the living room, and I was rather gratified at the way his eyes widened as he took in my outfit. Not that I wanted to tease him or anything like that, but it’s always nice to be appreciated. And he
definitely
seemed to be appreciating every last inch of me.

He lifted his arms, holding them wide, a rather universal invitation for an embrace. I wanted so very badly to run to him, to leap into those outstretched arms. It was almost physically painful to hold myself back, but I didn’t trust myself — or him, for that matter — to stay on subject if I gave in to that temptation. I crossed my arms on my chest, and leaned back lightly on the counter dividing the kitchen from the living room, facing him.

❖ ❖ ❖

He seemed to wilt like a plant in the scorching sun, the forlorn expression returning to his face. He sighed heavily and lowered his arms again, looking off to one side for a long moment, I assumed either to gather his thoughts or control his emotions. Why did I have to want so badly to go to him, to snuggle in against him and kiss that pout away?