Chapter 6: The Forest Meeting

I know I'm getting to see him, finally, but everything about that interaction breaks me open, and I roll over into my cushions to sob it all out. I'm crying in pain that's not too dissimilar to mourning my entire family ten years ago. I feel worse now that I've spoken to him briefly; this feels as much of a loss as it did back then, even if it seems crazy and isn't even a fair comparison. It's like something awful is coming, and that when I see him, it will only serve to cause me more devastation.

A nagging voice of logic and haste in the back of my head pulls me out of my dark, depressive state and reminds me that if I want to get to the forest within the hour, I need to get up and motivate myself. In human form, it's a trek and a half, and I need time to get ready. I've been living in my nightwear for days.

In wolf form, I'd get there in minutes, but I'd be completely naked, and I haven't yet tried to turn of my own accord. I've been too preoccupied to even attempt it, and I wouldn't know how to start without a little practice. I need to shower, change, make myself look half-human at least, and hide the dark circles and shadows from pining my days away. I don't want him to see me at my worst.

My body is weighed down with lethargy when I drag myself up, and it takes all my willpower to haul ass to the bathroom moments later. I'm desperate to find some relief in the meeting, even if the outcome won't be what my heart hopes. I'm torn in two, though, with a little shining light of delusional hope telling me that maybe what he needs and wants to do face-to-face is mark me as his mate. That maybe we can do this in secret and find a way to be together. Or maybe not.

I still cannot seem to get to grips with how this can be. How imprinting on a relative stranger can completely derail everything you knew before and make you so insanely in need of them that you would tie your life up in theirs just to be able to breathe. It pushes that person into the center of everything, and you crave them with the intensity of a severe addiction.

I know more about him than anyone else in my life, and I have barely spoken to him. My mind is a chaotic mess of his life and mine, which once ran separate, yet now coincide as memories blur into one another. I have mental images of him at every age and random knowledge about things most people never know of their mate. I know everything he does, about himself, his life, and his family, and I'm guessing the same goes for him, too. You truly merge when imprinting, and now I see why it's so rare and so potent when it happens. You lose control of everything, and the only thing that matters from there on in is your mate.

We are one. In every way possible.

I wash quickly, dress, and dry my hair at speed, attempting to fix my face to hide the blotchiness of my tears. Makeup was never my thing, but this sudden obsessive adoration for Colton makes me want to look my best for him, even if our meeting has a tone that doesn't spell "happily ever after" for me. I need to have hope.

I clock-watch as I apply the bare minimum of enhancements and tousle my hair out with my fingers, letting it form light, natural waves. For a moment, my reflection reminds me of my mother, and I swallow a lump in my throat as the shooting pain of remembered heartbreak hits me like a sucker punch and almost buckles my knees under the weight. It bruises my heart in that unique way that only the loss of them can.

"I miss you, Mom. I miss all of you."

I stare at the resemblance, biting back tears, and then shake her out of my head like I have become accustomed to doing over the years to bear the ache. I turn to ready myself for getting out of here unseen. The only way I dealt with their loss was to never dwell too long on it; I never really learned any other way.

I turn my attention back to what I need to do. I've never snuck out of the orphanage before, nor have I ever needed to, but I have a route planned and I think I know how to get by unseen where no one will miss me for an hour or two. It's not like this place was ever set up as a prison, and we don't have any guards watching us.

I scribble a hurried note for Vanka, should she care—which is doubtful—telling her I'm taking a book to a secluded part of the garden to hide and read. I know she won't bother checking. She doesn't care if I live or die most days, so she sure as hell won't care if I'm not in my room now that I no longer have classes to attend.

School ended for me on the day of my turning, as coincidence has it, and I should have been on my merry way to a new life, much like Vanka is planning to do before the month is out. She's been making arrangements to head off, and soon this room will be mine alone. That will be the only upside to being stuck here for an eternity.

It's not like any new orphans are heading in here, nor have they for a decade. Newborns have families, and unless another war wipes out a lot more of us, I doubt the orphanage will have any new rejects any time soon.

I yank on my sneakers and my blue hoodie over my tight T-shirt and jeans, and I slide out of my room into the deserted hall. It's during class time, so most of the kids are in the rooms of the left wing right now, learning all about our traditions and history with some academia thrown in. For the most part, we are raised to live among humans, to fit in and exist in their world, so we learn all the same crap they do, and how to conceal what we are.

I guess I was lucky in that the war confined us here in our own school, and I didn't have to interact with non-wolves since then. Those of us left with no family got pulled out of our human schools amid rumors of a deadly virus plaguing families on the mountain skirts, which meant no officials came knocking. Some of the Alphas, like the Santos, moved for their own protection and lineage, but the general population was allowed to retain their places in the real world as though nothing happened. I don't plan on going back there anytime soon, either, now that my change has drastically altered the course of my path.

I sprint to the end of the hall and down the servant stairs to the kitchen. We don't have any staff, but this house used to belong to the Alpha of the Romaine pack, none of whom returned from the great wars, and the house was repurposed for our use. Their wealth was committed to the cause of repairing our society, probably because they were the smallest of the packs, living on the edge of solitude and far from the rest of the villages, making it a prime location. The house and its lands are secluded enough to confine "unwanteds" in one corner, to forget us and leave us to our own devices. It's why Colton picked the west forest, I guess—it's easy to access from here and close enough for me to get to without effort.

It'll take him longer to get there from where he is, though, as his pack lives on the south side of the mountain, almost seven miles from here. If he can't be seen leaving, he will have to go on foot and not use his truck; the only option for him is to turn and "wolf it" this way. We can cover ground faster as our true selves, and I wonder if I should take him some sort of clothing. Not that seeing him naked is a bad thing, but it might take my focus away from what he wants to say.

I shake my head at my own stupidity and realize he probably thought of this and will be carrying some sort of bag and attire for changing back—that is, if he intends to. Maybe he will stay in form and talk to me that way.

No, stupid, he said face-to-face, as using our mind-link will make this worse!

I chastise myself, blaming the lack of sleep for my dumbing down lately as I slide through the kitchen unseen and get to the back-porch door in record time. Getting used to my new speed and zipping around when you don't want to be seen is the perfect practice. I've stopped bumping into things and tripping over my own feet in hyper-speed mode, but I haven't yet mastered how not to get breathless. It takes it out of me after a short sprint.

The garden is empty, but most of the classrooms look onto the courtyard, so I make sure I stay in the shadows against the wall and slide along to the concealed part of the garden behind the outhouses. Up and over the eight-foot brick wall with an easy leap, and I'm free to run for the woods with no one seeing me escape. It's easier than I thought. Then again, no one expects me to defy rules and go chasing after Colton Santo. I was never this girl before him, and yet now, he just has to say the word and I go... blindly following my Alpha. It's another annoying trait of being mated. He commands and I do; it's kind of pathetic.

I start running in the direction I need to go, stopping and dropping behind trees anytime I catch sight of movement or pick up a sound or scent. My senses are firing on all cylinders, and it's making me a paranoid wreck as I try to forge a path without a trace through the dense forest that leads to where I want to go. My heart is pounding so hard against my chest I'm sure anyone nearby will hear it. I try to calm down but to no avail. I've never been a risk-taker or had the bravery to do anything wild, like defy Juan Santo. I must be insane.

I know if I get caught, I'll be dragged in front of Juan for breaking the rules set for me. He might be worried about killing his son, but he isn't worried about putting him through a little pain, and I'm not one for a public flogging if I can help it. Colton is stronger than me, and even if he does feel my pain, Juan will use it to teach us both a lesson. I don't doubt that cold-hearted bastard would do it for that reason. I've never liked him.

I feel like I run at least five miles before I stop for a much-needed breath, gasping crazily with crushing agony, my limbs beginning to ache and burn from overuse and the unfamiliarity of speed-running like this. Much like unfit people, we have to build our stamina so the human side of us can catch up, and I have not been good at building up to this kind of sprint. My legs and muscles are throbbing, and it feels like my tendons are being torn apart. I collapse behind an overgrown ridge to try and regain some equilibrium so my lungs don't cave in, giving myself a few moments before dragging myself up and walking the rest of the way at human speed now that I've made up good time.

Deep in the woods, following the worn animal path to the cavern that I know well, I feel a little lighter and less depressed. Every kid has been here at least once in their life, long before the vampire attacks. This used to be the go-to spot to hang out, play, and swim in the lake nearby, and the path made it impossible to get lost. Animals walk the path to their watering hole once you reach the shadowy depth of a forest so dense that it's permanently in shade, even on the brightest of days.

I know this is why he chose this place. In my memories, he would have seen that I frequented it a lot with my brother, Jasper, as a child. He knows I know it well. No one comes here now; they're too afraid, yet every kid knows the way and knows exactly how to get there. The fear of vampires still haunts us even now, with all the years of quiet living. They are still out there somewhere, and shaded, gloomy, secluded areas like this would be an ideal spot for them to hunt.

A twig snapping off to my left makes me jump a foot high, my head snapping to follow its source and my eyes burning to see what is coming. I dart inside a large hollow log to conceal myself and glance around, my heart elevated and my breath laboring quickly. My senses are kicking into red alert.

It's me.... don't be afraid.

The much-longed-for voice in my head smothers me with calm, like thick honey, and I exhale with both relief and something else: elation at being close to him again. I wonder why I haven't picked up on his scent or his proximity yet. We're supposed to feel our mates when they're close.

Where are you?

I mutter awkwardly as I crawl back out, peeking cautiously, picking the dried moss from my hair, and straightening up to scan the woods around me.

"Keeping my distance, downwind of you, over here."

He calls back verbally, drawing me to him by voice alone. That explains why I didn't feel or smell him approaching. He's close enough to make me jump, and I spin in the direction his voice came from. I catch sight of him jumping down from a rock overhanging the clearing to one lower, where I placed myself, as he pulls on a T-shirt over those sculpted, tanned abs and throws a backpack to the side of him. He must have carried clothes with him, and I have to admit, I'm a little disappointed, and I eye-rape him appreciatively. My body is heating up with the insane lust I feel for this man just because he got within fifty feet. My crazy hormones have had me dreaming of doing all kinds of naked things with him that a virgin shouldn't know how to do.

I make a move towards him, but he raises his palm and throws me a serious frown that halts me in my tracks. It's that dominant warning I have to heed.

"Stay there. Don't come closer; it's better for both of us if we keep our distance."

He seems extremely wary, his voice a little husky and unsure.

"Why? What do you think I'm going to do to you?"

I retort angrily, feeling stupidly hurt and reacting like he offended me on every level. It's an insane disappointment eating me up inside because all I really want to do is run into his arms and continue what was interrupted days ago. I need to feel his skin on mine, and I hate the fact he clearly doesn't.

"It's not you, it's me. I'm finding things hard, and after what happened at the pack house, it's safer to keep you at least thirty feet away from me at all times."

He shrugs, rounding those large shoulders and drawing my eye, making it obvious he doesn't trust himself.

I guess he means the kiss and the urge to mark me that followed seconds after. I guess I'm wrong, and he does have the same insane need I do. I have to agree; proximity does make me want to touch him all the more, but thirty feet is a little extreme.

"So why bring me here if you have no intention of coming anywhere near me?"

I spin on my heel and head to the log once more in a bid to stomp some of this sudden aggression out, only this time I climb on top of the rickety old wood and slump my butt down, dropping my legs over the side to sit comfortably. I sulk inwardly, like a chastised toddler, and focus my eyes on the snowdrops pushing through in the only crack of sunlight to hit the ground rather than look at him. My pride is wounded, and as stupid as it is, I'm mad at him for it. This hunger is only cured with contact.

"I owed you some sort of explanation for cutting off our link. For staying away after we........ I needed to do this properly."

Colton's voice makes me all kinds of crazy. It's that deep male sexiness laced with a raw, husky, and almost commanding edge. He has always had a nice voice, with that underlying hint of a Colombian accent in the depths, and now more than ever, it does insane things to my insides and dampens my irritability a little. Not quite all, though.