(Un)wise (10 page)

When I stepped back into the main room, Luke waited with my bag at his feet.  The knife was still on the bed but now with a holster.  His eyes roved my face as I strode to the bed and picked up the knife.  I didn’t want to see his concern.  Instead, I studied his gift to me.  I could strap the knife to my bag so it would be easily accessible, but no one would know I had a weapon because I needed to face crazed man-dogs.  Well, people didn’t know yet anyway.  So having it on the outside of the bag would make me look like the troublemaker or worse.  Moving closer to Luke, I bent and tucked the knife into the bag.  Right along the side so I could find it quickly if needed.  Convenient, yet out of sight.

“You all right?”

“Honestly?” I wondered if he really wanted to know.  Sometimes people asked, but didn’t care.  Meeting my eyes, he nodded.  “The answer hasn’t changed.  No, I’m not all right.  But the knife gives me—” I took a slow deep breath as I struggled with how to explain what it meant.  “A tiny bit of power over my fate.”  What Luke didn’t realize was that if I couldn’t use it against my attacker...well, at least I might escape rape and torture this time around.

A glimmer of helplessness shone in his eyes before he looked away.  “Are you ready to leave?”

“I think I’ve slept enough, if that’s what you’re asking.”  Shouldering the bag, I followed him out the door.

We stopped at a gas station after several hours to pick up maps so we could plan our route.  I wanted to groan when he gave me a general idea of the Compound’s location.  West wasn’t exactly right.  Try North.  Why Canada?
I thought with a shiver.  I decided then to start wearing layers of clothing.

Studying the map, I saw the problem right away.  We had plenty of options until we neared the Compound.  Our routes narrowed down to three.  I had no illusions.  They would be waiting for us.

The dreams called to me while we rode that day, but I successfully avoided succumbing to them as we wove an erratic pattern northwest.

Taking a break, we found a restaurant for a real meal.  I felt exposed walking into such an open normal space.  I wanted food, but I wanted safety more.  Luke held the door for me, and I felt his troubled gaze as I passed him, but he didn’t say anything.  Picking a booth, I slid in and he surprised me by sitting next to me.

“Relax,” he breathed a moment before the waitress came.  She gave us menus and asked for our drink order, barely looking at us in her hurry.  When she walked away, Luke turned slightly toward me draping his arm over the back of the bench seat.  I met his gaze.  He smiled and spoke his next words softly so only I heard them.  “Maybe I should have bought you a gun.”

The absurdity of his comment struck me, and I laughed as he intended.  “I don’t think it would have made a difference.”  I hesitated playfully, then said, “Well, maybe it would have.”

His grin fell, and he grew serious.  “I’ll buy you an arsenal if it would help you feel safe.”  The gruff words and the affection behind them tugged my heart making my stomach twist crazily.  His hand moved slightly, so close to the side of my face.

The waitress came with our drinks, and he straightened in his seat leaving me in confused frustration.  He ran so hot and cold.  He wanted me. I knew he did. But yet, he didn’t.  Why was he fighting it?

Our waitress asked if we were ready to order.  Without looking at the menu, I ordered a burger and fries.  She took note of it and looked at Luke.  Her smile grew just a bit brighter and she shifted her stance, cocking her hip in a flirty way.  I rolled my eyes.

“He’ll have two burgers and an order of fries,” I told her before he could speak.  She gave me a fake smile, wrote the order on her stupid little pad, collected our menus, and walked away.

“Twat,” I mumbled.

He gave me a look.

“What?  There aren’t any kids around, and I was quiet.”

His lips twitched, and he turned toward me once again.

I mimicked his pose careful not to touch him.  I didn’t want to freak out my stomach or fall asleep.  I watched his eyes for a moment, liking the amusement that still danced in them, but decided we needed to address some real issues.

“You know they will be waiting for us, right?”

“Let’s talk about something else,” he said softly.  “I like it better when you have fire or laughter in your eyes instead of what I see now.”

“What do you see?”

“Fear.”

I narrowed my eyes.

“Pardon.  Despair.”  He spoke softly, his unwavering regard making me feel vulnerable.

I couldn’t help the despair.  It lived and breathed in me.  Sometimes, he helped me forget though.  Distracted me.  Like when I tried to bite him.  A blush crept into my cheeks as I remembered my failed attempts.

His gaze changed.  A glimpse of coveting sparked in the depth of it as he lifted his hand from the back of the bench.  I dropped my own arm out of the way.  He reached forward just a bit and lightly ran the back of his forefinger along my cheek.

I barely felt his slow, soft touch, but my heart stuttered anyway.

He closed his eyes for a moment.  “I see your despair and it makes me...” He exhaled slowly, before opening his eyes.  His intensity pinned me.  “I want to hurt whoever put that emotion in your eyes.”

“I don’t get you.  If you feel that strongly about me, why can’t I Claim you?”

He abruptly shook his head, “Let’s talk about something—”

“Else,” I finished for him, annoyed.  I paused for a moment, seeing the waitress approach again.  “You’re a twat, too.”

He threw his head back with a laugh just as she stopped by our table.  Her eyes glazed over a bit as her eyes swept his face and throat.  I briefly considered clawing her eyes out before reining myself in.  Whoa, where did that come from?  Biting my lip, I quelled my immediate need to freak out over the strong surge of possessiveness that just rushed me.  Nature set him up as a possibility for me so of course I’d feel that way.  It didn’t mean anything.  I wasn’t actually stupid enough to fall for him.  But, until we reached his friends at the Compound, if I couldn’t bite him, no one else would be allowed to nibble.  Because...well, just because.

“Can I get you a refill?” she asked him softly.

“He’s fine,” I answered, staring her down.

He kept his eyes on me, and they danced with silent laughter.  Yeah, I wanted to smack him again.

She walked away to check on her other tables.

“If we can’t talk about
them
or
us
, what should we talk about?”

“You.  What do you like doing?  What are your interests?”

My mouth popped open.  “Are you serious?”  We were running toward what I considered our impending deaths, and he wanted to get to know me?

He nodded, and I rolled my eyes.  “I like breathing and am interested in staying alive.”

“Bethi,” he practically growled.

Maybe this would help convince him.  “Okay, okay.  So, interests.  Well, before I started losing my mind I—”  What had I done?  I went to school, hung out with friends, sighed over boys, worried about clothes.  “I was self-centered and immature.  My interests don’t really matter beyond that do they?  Not after everything I’ve seen.

“I think you’re being a little hard on yourself.”

“That’s just it.  I don’t think I am.  I think the human society lets me be too easy on myself.  I have more responsibility to be a better person than what I’ve been in the past.  Sure, I wasn’t horrible, but I wasn’t great either.  Shouldn’t we all strive for great?”  I thought of the dream with the Taupe Lady and my friend’s funeral.  “Shouldn’t we all strive to make a difference?  To impact the lives around us in a positive way?  To make our experiences count?”

He watched me with a growing seriousness.  “That is a lot of responsibility for someone so young.”

“See.  That’s what I mean.  No, it’s not.  If we held each other to a higher level of accountability, if we raised our children with those expectations and guided them with our own examples of higher achievement, it wouldn’t be too much.  We would be a better people because of it.  Instead, we took a wrong turn somewhere and ended up on Excuses-Are-Like-Assholes Boulevard.”

He opened his mouth to comment, but I shifted my attention from him to the waitress carrying our plates.  He turned, saw her, and sighed.  I read the promise in his eyes to continue our conversation later; and inwardly, I cringed.  I went from trying to convince him I cared to stepping up on a soapbox I didn’t know I had.  And I still felt like I had more to vent.  I blamed it on sleep deprivation, bad dreams, and his completely gorgeous hazel eyes.

The waitress set our food on the table and left after our assurances we didn’t need anything else.  I kept busy with dousing my fries in ketchup, letting the silence build for a moment. “Can I ask why we can’t talk about
us
?”

He held out his hand for the ketchup.  “It makes me uncomfortable.”

I surrendered the bottle and watched him neatly add it to his burger.  “Not getting into details, but what part makes you uncomfortable?”

“All of it.”

That didn’t make any sense.  He took a huge bite of his burger while I struggled with my frustration.  Stubborn man.

He reached past me for the salt as I leaned forward for the pepper.  His hand brushed the curve of my breast, and he jerked back as if scorched.  His gaze locked on his hand, and he sat there frozen.

He hadn’t bumped into me hard.  No damage done.  It’d been an accident.  So what was his deal?  He continued to…just sit there.  I ducked my head trying to make eye contact, but he avoided it.

His reaction to the incident was starting to offend me.  “It’s a boob,” I bit out, annoyed.  “I have two of them.  They don’t do much.  They just sit there.  They definitely don’t bite, so stop acting like they’re going to come after you. Grow up.”

“Please stop talking about them,” he said in a stiff strangled voice.

I didn’t let up.  “You know, sometimes it helps to name the things you fear.  Let’s call the right one ‘Everest’ and the left one ‘Fuji’, two mountainous ranges waiting to be....”  I never finished.  He cleared the restaurant’s door in a few furious strides, leaving me sitting alone.

It felt good to get under his skin, to see him react in a way that wasn’t calm and confident.  It bothered me that it was at my expense.  What was so wrong with me that he freaked out at the slightest touch?  Other than the fact that some other werewolves wanted to kill me and I had dreams that made me scream loud enough to shake the nearest window...I mean really, who didn’t have some kind of baggage?

He didn’t go far.  My eyes tracked him as he paced back and forth before the restaurant’s front windows.  His scowl didn’t let up, and I didn’t feel so frustrated anymore.  Smirking, I shook my head and continued eating my fries.  He cast an occasional glance in my direction but didn’t appear to calm down.

When I finished my fries and burger, I waited until he glanced at me to take a fry from his plate.  His steps hesitated and his scowl changed to a frown as, with a challenging smirk, I ate the fry.  I reached for his second burger.  He stopped pacing and watched me through the window.  His focused stare and complete stillness seemed a little spooky.  The other patrons cast nervous glances at him.

Slowly, I lifted the burger to my mouth unable to stop my teasing grin.  His eyes narrowed, and he reached for the door.  I took a huge bite and hastily set the burger back on his plate.

In just a few steps, he stood by the table looking down at me, his expression carefully blank.

“Well?  Did you lose your appetite or not?”

He slid into the opposite seat and pulled his plate toward him, not saying a word.  His avoidance hurt a little.  He didn’t want to talk about us, he didn’t want to talk about the trouble that was out there waiting for us, and he didn’t want to talk about my boobs—which was pretty much the same as talking about us.  As I watched him eat, I had an idea.

“Tell you what.  I’ll let you have two closed subjects between us.  Two topics we’ll keep completely off limits.  Three is ridiculous.”  My tone carried a bit of hostility, but I didn’t really care.

He closed his eyes, finished swallowing, and sighed.

“So which one are we going to talk about...our plan to reach the compound, the reason you won’t let me Claim you, or my boobs?  You choose,” I dared him.

He set his burger on his plate and took a drink.  “They will be waiting for us on all three roads.  We could try to leave the bike and take to the woods, but I think they will have scouts ready for that as well.  And we’d be slower on foot.  Our best bet is to anticipate them and break through before they know when to expect us.”

“So the longer we take to get there...”

“The more likely they are to be ready for us,” he agreed.

After my stunt at the last hotel room, they’d probably caught onto the fact that we knew they were after us.

“Any word from that Elder?” I asked.

“He asked for an update, but I kept it vague.  He’s not pushing for anything more.  He offered his assistance if we needed anything further.”

That sounded non-threatening.  Perhaps we were wrong about him.  Still, I’d rather not take the chance.