Tales of the Otherworld (27 page)

This was why I hadn’t been looking forward to telling Nick about Elena. “This is what I want. Elena and I— It’s not—”

“You’re in love,” he said.

“What?”

“You’re in love. She’s the most amazing girl you’ve ever met and you want to spend the rest of your life with her.”

“Uh, yeah.”

“And that’s why you didn’t tell me. Because of the whole ‘no long-term relationships’ rule. You didn’t want to tell me something that could get me into trouble with the Pack.”

“Yeah …”

He leaned forward and thumped me on the back. “I’m still pissed, but I understand.”

“You do…?”

“Your secret is safe with me. No need for the others to find out. So when does your term end?”

“April.”

A small, almost superior smile. “Should be just about right. For now, though, it’s my turn to educate you. I’ve been waiting a long time for this. Make up for all those days you left me in the woods to help me get better at tracking. I know tricks you wouldn’t believe—make your girlfriend so happy she’ll never let you out of bed.”

“Thanks, but I think I’m doing pretty good—”

“Sure you are.” That smile again. “Now, the first thing you need to remember is that girls aren’t like us. They need foreplay—the more the better. It’s like exercise. If you want to get the most out of it, you can’t skip the warm-up. Takes time and it can be frustrating, but it’s worth the effort …”

I considered telling him that Elena didn’t seem to need much warming up, but he looked so happy at finally having the chance to advise me that I couldn’t bring myself to interrupt.

My last night at Stonehaven I had a dream. I don’t have them often, and when I do, it’s usually a mishmash of images. This one came as clear as a daydream.

I was at Stonehaven with Elena. We were out back. Running—only I’d changed to wolf form and was play-chasing her, the sound of her laughter leading me. Finally, I saw her hiding in the bushes, naked, peering out
and trying not to laugh. I snuck up behind her and dropped into a crouch. When I pounced, I was careful, making sure I hit her only with my body weight, keeping my fangs and claws clear of her bare skin. When I pinned her, I resisted the urge to put my mouth around her throat, even in play.

She laughed and crawled out from under me, and I Changed back right there beside her as she waited, patient and unperturbed. When I finished catching my breath, she jumped up and ran again, and I chased her, catching her easily this time. We fell, laughing and rolling, then kissing and groping, working each other to a fever pitch before I slid inside her.

We started rolling again, mock wrestling as we made love. Her teeth nipped at my upper arm, her nails dug into my back, each dart of pain only adding to the pleasure. My mouth went to her shoulder. I felt her skin there, under my teeth, but held back, knowing I couldn’t. One last thrust and I came, and as I did, my teeth closed on her shoulder, chomping down in a hard bite. I pulled back, but it was too late.

I wiped the blood from her shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured.

Only I didn’t feel sorry. I felt relieved.

I woke up streaming sweat. I pressed my palms to my eyes and tried to push back the images. But it wasn’t the images that were making my heart pound—it was that overwhelming sense of relief.

As I gulped air, my door eased open. Jeremy looked around the edge.

“You cried out,” he said.

“Me?” I took a deep breath and shoved the covers off me. They were soaked with sweat. “Nightmare, I think. Can’t remember.” A pause, heart thudding, then I forced myself to look up at him. “Did I…say anything?”

He shook his head. “Just a shout.”

I mopped my face on the sheet, then kicked it off the bed and lay down, hoping he’d leave. All went quiet, but I could still hear his breathing.

After another couple of minutes, he said, “If you ever want to move out, Clayton, you can. Things change. I know that. Most kids grow up
saying they never want to leave home.” A small laugh. “You were never
most
kids, but I still didn’t expect you to stay forever. If you’re staying because you think I need you—the company, the protection—then, as much as I appreciate that, it isn’t necessary. I’d be fine.”

“I’m not leaving. Not until you kick me out.”

Another soft laugh. “I’d never do that, no matter how badly you tempt me sometimes. This is your home and you can stay as long as you like. But …” A pause. “Being away these last few months, it obviously—well, you certainly don’t seem to be suffering. Maybe that means something, even if you don’t want it to.”

I mumbled something and feigned a yawn. I doubt Jeremy bought it, but he took the hint and, with a quiet good night, closed my door.

I stayed awake, thinking about the dream. That initial rush of emotion past, I could analyze it logically. Did I want Elena to become a werewolf? Sure I did. Had I thought about it? Of course I had. Did I plan to give her that option when I told her the truth about myself? Absolutely.

The process would be difficult, but not dangerous. Yes, most people didn’t survive a werewolf’s bite, but that was because they were bitten and abandoned, as I’d been, left to deal with the physical changes unaided and unprepared. Elena wouldn’t have that problem. She was young, physically fit, and strong willed, and she’d have Jeremy to guide her through it, as he had for Nick and Logan. Like them, she’d know what was happening, and what to expect, which is why it had to be her choice, an informed, unequivocal personal choice. Anything else…well, nothing else would do.

T
HE DAY CLAY LEFT, JASON CALLED. HE’D PROBABLY
been phoning since Christmas Eve, but I hadn’t been back to my dorm since then. Had I been thinking, avoiding Jason would have been the perfect excuse to take Clay up on his offer to spend the week in his apartment. Instead, I was stuck in my crappy little dorm room, answering the phone every time it rang in case it was Clay. Half the time it was Jason.

For two days, I fielded his calls with excuses, demurrals, and, when that failed, hang-ups. Then, on my way to the gym, I walked out the side door and saw Jason heading in the front.

My first thought was “Whew, I missed him.” Then, on the verge of making a run for it, I turned around and strode to the front of the building.

“Jason!” I called.

He stopped and squinted my way, shielding his eyes against the sun. As I drew closer, confusion passed behind his eyes, but he flashed a wide smile.

“Merry Christmas, baby.” He lifted a garish metallic bag. “Thought I’d better deliver this in person, or you’d never get it.”

“Thanks.”

When I reached for it, he didn’t move, just clutched the bag and stared at my outstretched hand. Then, almost reluctantly, he passed it over.

“I—uh—hope you’ll like it.” As he regrouped, his gaze shifted past me
and fixed on the path leading into the bushes. “How about we grab a coffee? We can cut right through there and head up to Bloor.”

“That doesn’t lead to Bloor. Or to any coffee shops. But I’m sure we could find a nice shadowy parking lot somewhere.”

His gaze went blank.

“I’m sorry, Jason, but I don’t have time for coffee. I was just heading out to meet my boyfriend. So thank you for the gift, and please, give my regards to your mother—”

“Boyfriend?”

“Right. You’ve met him, remember? A few months ago? In the park?”

A flash of recognition with a chaser of fear. “Is that a threat, Elena?”

“No, it’s a hint. I’m with someone else and never was, or will be, with you.”

The hurt look fell again. “Aww, baby, I know we’ve had some problems—”

“But if you choose not to take that hint, then yes, it will become a threat. Not that I’ll sic my boyfriend on you. He has nothing to do with you and me. I’m talking about the restraining order. I’m tired of doing this the nice way, Jason. If you phone me again or visit me again, I will go to the police. Is that clear?”

“You don’t need to get mad, baby—”

I stepped toward him and lowered my voice. “It had better be clear, Jason, because I’m serious, and a hundred nasty phone calls from your mommy won’t change my mind. Understood?”

I gave him a moment to answer. When he didn’t, I walked away.

Jason didn’t call again or stop by again or “accidentally” bump into me again. With any luck, my outburst had solved the problem. And if it hadn’t? Well, it had felt damned good, so I didn’t regret it.

Clay came home in as good a mood as he’d left, proof that things were finally hitting an even stride. Better yet, those strides were advancing in the direction I wanted, because almost the first words out of his mouth were “When do you want to meet Nick?”

Nick’s visit didn’t happen as soon as either of us hoped. Clay kept inviting him, but Nick was always busy. Work commitments, he said, which made sense to me, but only seemed to infuriate Clay. I didn’t care. The point was that Clay wanted me to meet his best friend. It was only a matter of time before he introduced me to everyone else in his life. Then I could stop worrying.

Clay’s next big relationship move was quite possibly the last I would have expected. The night before Valentine’s Day, we went to a movie, and Clay insisted on cutting through the mall instead of heading out the theater’s rear exit, which was the first sign that something was afoot.

When he steered me into a jewelry store, my heart sank. I knew what was coming: He’d want me to pick out a gift for myself. Very sweet, but I’d been hoping he’d follow up on hints about my fraying backpack instead.

Clay had never been the roses, candy, and jewelry kind of boyfriend, and I liked it that way. But I guess Valentine’s Day brings out a certain set of expectations in even the least conventionally romantic lover. So I slapped on a smile and let him lead me to the jewelry counter.

A salesperson flitted over, her smile as wide and fake as my own.

“Can I help you, sir?” she trilled.

Clay waved her away. She didn’t leave, but he acted as if she had, turning sideways to face me.

“How about one of these?” he said, tapping his fingers on the glass.

Inside the case were rings. Diamond engagement rings.

I bit back a laugh. “Uh, wrong type. I think what you want is over there.” I pointed at the regular ring display on the other side. “Offer me one of these and you’ll find yourself forced to make good on that first and last thing.”

“That’s the idea, isn’t it?”

My heart skipped. For a minute, I stared, certain I’d misheard. When I finally opened my mouth, Clay’s gaze slid to the hovering clerk. He tugged me aside and lowered his voice.

“That is what you want, isn’t it?” he said. “Marriage? Doesn’t matter to me. I said first and last, and I don’t need a piece of paper to hold me to it. But it’s important to you, right?”

“I, uh, well—”
Oh God, were we really having this discussion in a shopping mall?
“I don’t
need
it. Not now, that’s for sure. I’m only twenty. But someday, of course, well, that
is
where I’d like to end up …”

“It’s important, then. Getting married.”

I nodded. “Yes, it’s important to me.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do. Whenever you want it. But even if you don’t want that”—he jerked his thumb at a bridal photo—“just yet, you should have
that.
” He nodded at the ring display case. “Make things clear.”

“You mean, if we’re engaged maybe I’ll stop being so damned stubborn and move in with you?”

“Makes sense. That roommate of yours—”

I lifted my hand. “I’ve heard all the arguments, and I’m not going to promise that an engagement ring would change my mind. I’m funny about that, I guess. Old-fashioned.”

“You want to do it right. So do I.” He nudged me back toward the counter. “If I’m going to do it right, I want to make sure I get something you like.” He pointed at the biggest rock in the display. “How about that?”

I laughed. “You can’t afford that.”

“Don’t be so sure.”

The clerk sidled back again.

“Even if you could, I wouldn’t want it,” I said. “Definitely not my style.”

“So pick your style. Anything you’d like.”

I surveyed the selection. “I don’t know. Something simpler, I guess. Any ring can be an engagement ring, right?”

The clerk cleared her throat. “The diamond ring is the traditional choice, and you have lovely long fingers, perfect for showing off a large solitaire—” At a look from Clay she swallowed the rest of the sentence. “Or, if you’d like something nontraditional, it is, of course, your choice.”

I moved to the standard rings, frowning as I looked them over.

“I want something simple,” I said. “But…I don’t know. It should still
look
like an engagement ring, I suppose.”

“How about this?”

Clay pulled a box from his pocket. Now it was the clerk’s turn to glare, arms crossing over her chest. Clay opened the box. Inside was what looked like two rings, one crossed over the other. When I looked closer, I could see that the thin bands were fused in the middle. The outside one was white gold with diamond chips across the front. The other was
yellow gold, inscribed with a delicate pattern. Very simple…and yet not simple at all.

“Wow,” I said.

“You like that?”

“It’s— Wow.” I stared at the ring, speechless, then blinked hard. “Can I try it on?”

“Nope.” He snapped the box shut and shoved it back into his pocket. “Haven’t proposed yet.”

“What—? Didn’t you just ask—?”

“No. I was just checking. Even I know better than to propose in a shopping mall.”

“So when are you—?”

“Eventually. No rush, remember?”

“I didn’t mean—”

He headed out of the store, leaving me sputtering. The salesclerk rolled her eyes. I ignored her, laughed to myself, and hurried after Clay.

I woke up early the next morning to make a surprise Valentine’s Day breakfast for Clay. The night before, I’d cracked open the blind so the sunlight would wake me. From the way Clay was snoring, though, I could have set the alarm without disturbing him.

I rolled over. Strange, seeing someone lying beside me. Not that I’d never awoken to find someone in my bed, but when it had happened, it hadn’t been by invitation. Those first few times with Clay—well, waking to the sight of a person beside me had brought back a rush of memories, and I’d scrambled back so fast I’d fallen out of bed. Now the neural pathways of my brain were changing course, coming to accept that this wasn’t a cause for panic.