Chapter 21: The Dilemma

“Okay, maybe. I mean we always knew he would try and maneuver some sort of union around the mountain; I just didn't think he would physically expect them to move here. The device—we don't know enough to be able to second-guess what it would do to us all in the valley. The range was limited in what we brought back.”

Colton is stiff, uneasy, and I can tell he doesn't like his pack questioning orders from above. He truly is hooked by the nose when it comes to his father, and I need to figure out how to get in there and remove the darn thing. Maybe I wasn't paired with Colton so he could save me from my life... maybe I'm meant to save him from his. The Fates work in mysterious ways, and things aren't always obvious.

“You can't keep tabs and instill fear into people if they're not close enough to feel your wrath,” Radar butts in again, and it's not hard to see that when it comes to Juan Santo, Radar isn't completely loyal to his Alpha. There's a hint of malice in that tone, definite sarcasm in what he said, and I glance at Colton to see if he reacts in any kind of way.

In fact, this whole conversation isn't all that friendly where Juan is concerned, and Colton isn't biting back in the way I expect. Outside, if anyone dared to offend his father, he would rip them a new one and leave their remains smeared across the mountain, so I'm a little surprised to find he lets them speak freely. I guess he respects them enough to let them be honest with their opinions, and nothing said is repeated outside of their circle of trust.

I'm envious for a moment—a longing of belonging I used to know well eating at me—and it pushes me to go sit in the corner on a stool by the bar. I am listening, but not part of this, as it's not my place, and they are not my pack. My opinions on this mean nothing.

“Whatever the reason... he wants us out tomorrow afternoon, driving to the other villages and changing minds.”

Colton gazes at the floor this time, that same twinge of jaw muscle appearing, and the color of his eyes glows a little amber for a second. A hint that he isn't happy, his emotions in turmoil. I feel them ebbing this way strongly and suddenly, and it only takes a second to find out why.

“Is he really suggesting we apply force to families and children if they refuse to be rehomed?”

It's Cesar who bursts out with it, outrage in his tone. He almost accidentally evicts Meadow from his lap with his aggressive thrust, and she looks equally startled, adjusting her position with a frown at him. Colton remains silent, and the room falls into a matched hush as they take it in. I can feel and taste the confusion and disgust, but no one wants to be the first to say it. I gawp at him, not sure I heard that right, but looking from ashen face to ashen face—a group of people who all know what he means—it dawns on me that's exactly what Juan wants.

He expects his sub-packs to go and forcefully move people from their homes and onto the valley floor on the south side. In the name of protecting them from attacks, but the motive is bringing them in and taking control. Refusal will not be tolerated, and I wonder what kind of punishment he plans to exact. Juan is a cold bastard of a man, and this isn't even as low as I expect he'll go. Juan always intended to push his agenda and now he’s using the attack as his excuse. He hungers for power and reign across the packs and has been biding his time for so long.

They won't be any safer camping in the valley than they will be in their own villages under the guard of patrols and watchers. Setting up alarm systems and training all who can fight how to do so is a better use of their time. They can all work together to safeguard and improve security from their own homes. How are they going to care for and cater for the hundreds who live around the mountain skirt if they dump them all in the center of the valley on this side?

There are enough Santos to successfully spread out and patrol the mountain every night after dark, the only time vampires can come out. They can rest in the day. Raising an alarm is enough to get them there fast... the orphanage is proof that they can span miles in half the time of a human in a car, and if they had warning, they would move to get there in time. With patrols already out there, the people would have way more expectation of getting through it. It makes no sense to bring them here. Matteo is right; this is about control.

“What good is gathering us all in one place? Like Matteo said, they set off that machine and every one of us, corralled in the valley, will be rendered useless. No one will be able to turn or fight back. It's easier to massacre a race when we're all laid like fish in a bowl, and no one will be free of its effects if the only area we patrol is the valley. I'm sure they can make bigger ones, or use multiple, to hit us all at once.”

Jesus is now on his feet pacing, agitated, and getting worked up by the second. I'm starting to feel the restless unease spreading through them all like a virus as they mumble their agreement, and I keep looking to Colton to say something.

“This is pointless... you think I don't think the same and that I didn't try and reason with him? Nothing I said made a difference. It never does.”

Colton stands up, losing his temper, agitated too, and utterly drained. I can feel it coming off him intensely, and his eyes lock on mine again as he catches me across the room, ignoring Carmen throwing her own gaze his way.

“Come on, Lorey. I need to show you to your new room. I'm too tired for this, and we all need to meet down at the mess hall for dawn. Go to bed, you reprobates. Stop arguing with me because it's futile, and it's not my place to make you obey him. We need sleep.”

I don't need to be asked twice. I jump up, suddenly a little too excited at being alone with him again, and know it's because I've mentally taken another path and have a plan in place. One that hopefully involves those beefy arms around me and that sexy mouth on mine once again. I go to follow him as soon as he makes a move towards the door and almost gloat at the way Carmen's face crumbles.

“One of us could show her,” she snaps bitterly. He spins his head back, stares down at her with a blank expression, and doesn't move a step further.

“Yeah, you could... but that isn't what's happening. I want to do it.” He shrugs with one shoulder, his tone icy cold, and it seems to shut her up. She recoils back as though she’s been burned, and I can tell he’s in no mood for more defiance or squabbling. Her eyes mist over with what I expect are fake tears—maybe not this time—and I really try hard to figure out what it is he ever saw in her. Carmen's a horrible person with a selfish, spoiled attitude, and I really don't like her.

At least I now know why he's this way with her—the indifferent behavior and biting tone. Colton’s ego is wounded, his pride dented, and as much as I don't want to believe he had any feelings for her after we imprinted, I can feel the hurt in him radiating outwards. He maybe doesn't love her anymore in the way he used to, but he cared enough that he thought he could salvage their pairing until she hurt him. Her betrayal cut him deep, and he’s lost all respect and trust for her, which doesn’t bode well in a sub-pack.

Colton walks past me on the way to the door, catching my hand in his as he does so—making me jump as I was too busy looking at her—and leads me out amid the happy, joyous coo of Meadow: “Don't stay up too late... go to bed. Hers or yours, either is optional and fine by me,

chicas

.”

She laughs in that raunchy, cheeky way she has when she's being brazenly sexual, echoing behind us as we leave the room, and I blush crazily, trying not to look his way as I catch his eyes flick to me. Nervousness envelopes me once again, and instantly I'm back to being awkward and shy.

As soon as we hit the corridor, he shuts the door and gives me a proper smile, swinging my hand in his like we're children, and tugs me closer so we rub arms as we walk. We work our way out before hitting the main passage. The closer I am to him, the more aware I am of how truly drained he is. It's seeping from every pore, and despite the smile and the playful behavior, I can feel his stress levels are elevated crazily, and his body is emitting a low, depressive mood.

“You look really good.”

He says it with a half-smile, one dimple on show, and I shrug childishly, still not “owning it” as Meadow would say.

“I'm not sure about the look; it feels kind of weird to be wearing such tight clothes.”

I squirm as I try to unwedge the jeans from my butt gracefully, and he throws me a cheeky look as he watches me attempt it.

“Want some help?”

It's a grin, a "smooth move" kind of flippant comment made by the males who walk around like cockerels in a henhouse, and not an actual serious question. It's obvious he expects my usual rebuff, but instead, I throw a smile back his way, swallow down the utter nerves and butterflies he's hitting me with, and nod in the way Meadow showed me. She gave me a crash course in simple flirting while doing my hair earlier, and I throw on the sexy smile and flutter my lashes, bumping in against him coyly.

“If you like.”

I bite on my lower lip, not sure if I'm doing it right, but his reaction, I guess, says I am. Colton trips over an imaginary piece of carpet and coughs to cover his clumsy response—immediately less confident, perplexed, and failing at being "Mr. Smooth," all in one fell swoop. Cocky but not actually willing to follow through.

“Not the response I was expecting.” He frowns, swallows a little obviously, and fixes his eyes ahead of us while he regains his previous composure.

It's not like I couldn't tell, and I throw a one-shouldered, coquettish shrug, absolutely dying inside with how weird and fake this feels. I've never flirted or played games with boys. I never had any interest in doing it before Colton. Colton turns away, seemingly putting a little distance between us—the opposite of what I was going for—as he points us up a flight of stairs.

“This way. You should memorize the route so you can find it again.” His tone is distant, his mood not exactly what I expected, and I sigh at the deflated mood that hits me heavily.

We're away from the main hall and the grand sweeping staircase, and in some back corridor with narrow steps to the next floor. Every wall is painted beige, with dark wood floors and potted plants dotted around prettily. They have even started replacing windows up here, and one newly glazed one is letting light shine through. Colton begins leading the way, his hand no longer in mine as he slides in front of me to climb the stairs, and I suddenly feel awkward and shy that my attempt at flirting backfired badly.

I don't get it. He's meant to be completely hot for me and yet acts like a coy virgin who doesn't do well with girls at my first attempt of encouragement. I know for a fact he's not a virgin and not inexperienced with girls—I have all his memories. He seems all too hyper-focused on where we're going and no longer on my presence. His mood is still weird and now he’s making me feel the same way: sort of sad, depressed, and a bit tetchy and unsociable.

“Here, this door on the right. This used to be Taryn's room, but she mated up and now lives with Franko, her mate on the third floor. Room's all yours.”

Colton steps in front of a large dark wood door, tucked into a tiny alcove in an airy part of the hall that widens out. He uses a keycard and motions for my hand when he slides it into the machine.

“Hand here, and it'll save your print for future use. No card or key necessary.”

He throws me a courteous, quick-lipped smile, takes my wrist, lifts my hand, and holds it on the smooth black panel, pressing in digits as he does so, and then yanks the card out before it flashes red and beeps. He lets my hand go quickly, as though he doesn't want to be here holding it anymore, and I can sense his urgency in wanting to leave. It brings me down with a thud and a seriously painful ache in the chest.

“Not hidden away in the west wing anymore?” I ask quietly, sounding as somber as his mood, looking for something to engage him in conversation because I literally feel his intentions of sneaking away and leaving me to my new room, and it sucks. He's disconnecting from me, shutting me out, and it's shredding my soul to pieces as it becomes clear that's what he’s doing.

“He wasn't happy that I decided you should be among the rest of us, and part of this pack, seeing as he’s trying to unite the mountain. I convinced him your showdown was under better control and wouldn't happen again.”

Colton avoids my eye, obviously not really telling me everything that was said.

“And he gave in, just like that?” I hate the fact that I can sense he's being evasive and keeping things from me.

“Not exactly. Sometimes I'm good at arguing my corner. Sometimes...”

Colton looks away, seemingly defeated as though tonight has taken a toll on him. Whatever was said to his father, I can sense his strained emotion and weary mood coming at me like a fog the longer we stand here.

“Just tell me... I'm a big girl, I can take it.” I sigh, desperate with a raw, pleading tone, letting my frustration out, and I catch the flicker of hesitation before he sighs.

“He doesn’t care that you have a special gift. He wouldn't entertain the topic. He shut me down and bombarded me with his disappointment in my lack of putting my pack and my responsibility first.”

His crestfallen face and the surge of pain that hits me in the chest tell me his father's words wounded him. It serves to remind me, though, that this is not all about him doing the right thing; it's also about pleasing someone he looks up to, loves, and has always obeyed. As he’s meant to.

He swings the door open and steps aside, making it clear he's depositing me like a gentleman and nothing else. He's done talking about this and he isn't going to argue about it either. No usual Colton "touchy-feely," no intimacy, or any kind of anything. He just steps back and holds it wide as the lights flicker on automatically. Putting space between us and fixing a look on me that screams more of "commander" than "boy that loves me." He's closing off, shutting me out, and my heart starts to bleed.

“If you need anything, then mind-link me. There's food in your room; I had it put here before I came to the communal. Enjoy your dinner and get some rest. I'll come for you at dawn.”

It's empty and devoid of emotion. He moves to leave as I step inside, but panic grips a sudden response out of me. That churning nausea that he's being like this is slicing at my guts and ripping my soul in two.

“Colton... what have I done?” I blurt it out like a needy, sad, Carmen-type, and he pauses, frowns, stops mid-step, and turns back at me with a very noticeable wince of pain flashing across his face. It kills some of the sterile stance, and he seems to sag a little.

“You haven't done anything. It's me. My father wants me to stand up and take my place. He wants me to mark Carmen at the next moon and resolve what he calls our little issue. Nothing I say makes a difference; he won't bend, so maybe it's better for us to keep our distance and hope that something changes, or that my marking her kills our bond.”

He's deflated, as broken as he’s making me, looking so much younger and vulnerable than his years in this moment, and giving up so easily. My instinct is to get mad and yell at him, like I've done so many times already in our short acquaintance, but my plan from earlier pushes through, reminding me that he’s lost and set afloat right now. He's in pain too, and struggling to navigate it as much as I am. So much is weighing on his shoulders that I don’t understand and can't see.

I need to bring him in and secure him to my harbor. Stop letting him pull all the ropes alone; stop expecting him to sail against the storm without direction, making all the moves. Don't push, even if my instinct is to feel disappointed in him and seethe with anger. I need to stop, breathe, and look at him another way—as someone who needs gentle coaxing and nurturing. He's stubborn, he’s bound by duty, but I have his heart—all of it—and I need to help that power grow from the inside out.

I lower my tone, gently whispering as I cross towards him, fighting my own nerves and inexperience, and putting faith in the fact I know he loves me. Taking my cue from Meadow, I step across the gap and raise myself on tiptoes to reach him, laying one hand flat on his muscular chest and lifting the other to his jaw gently. My eyes rest on his, locking onto him in the way that always does and makes me feel safe. My own heart is swelling, my body tingling with the nearness of him.

“Don't give up on us.”

I breathe it out, almost against his lips, I get so close. My insides are somersaulting with the need to kiss him. I run my fingers up his cheek and cup his face, pulling him close, so softly. My mouth grazes his lips and I feel him physically sag into my touch, needily. Melting against my briefest connection, his pupils dilating as I bring his forehead to mine. No matter what he says or how he acts, his truth is always in our touch, and he cannot deny the effect it has on both of us. That need to fluidly pour into one another, and our inability to fight when we touch.

“I'm not worthy of you... Today showed me that.”

It's husky, strained, and low. It's self-pity and exhaustion. Defeat, because his father has knocked him down once more and left him reeling from cruel words. I refuse to accept what he's saying as truth to what he's feeling, and instead of anger, I lean up and press my lips gently to his, startling him with the sudden contact and refusing to back down.

It takes a second of pause, his body going rigid before he relaxes, pushes his face forward to fully kiss me, and his hand comes to slide around the back of my neck as he takes over. It doesn't take much to ignite fire in him, and I groan as he gives me what I'm yearning for.

Kissing him is so familiar, and as I open my mouth to let things progress quickly, all those feelings and crazy urges rush back like a massive tidal wave hitting the shore. It's so easy to become consumed and intoxicated with need when we're touching this way. My lips part wider to give him access as his tongue slides against mine, and he kisses me with passion and expertise that makes my toes curl and my stomach tingle.

Colton stirs against me, his body easing against mine, relaxing into the hold we have on one another, and meeting my groan with his own murmured growl of enjoyment. We're made to kiss one another, and I can’t imagine anyone ever tasting this good or making me feel this complete. Neither can deny our bond when we kiss; it's potent and all-consuming.

Just as his hands begin to slide down my back and over my ass, bringing my pelvis to his—hinting at his sexual excitement—he stops abruptly. Catching himself, he pulls away fast, so suddenly he literally rips us apart. I'm stunned with the sudden release, my eyes flickering open to find myself tottering on unsure legs. He steps back, fully releasing me—almost letting me topple with the sudden loss of support—but I catch myself on the nearby doorframe, breathless and panting with how hot that make-out session was, and glance up at his shell-shocked expression.

“We shouldn't... it's only going to make this harder.”

He closes right back down inside of his own head. That softness of his expression, the dilated pupils and stirring body... it all reels back at speed as he regains perfect control. I, however, am fired up and burning with crazy heat, which triggers severe frustration at the sudden halt.

“I disagree. I think we should take what time we have and no regrets with it. My body yearns for you, and I could feel it was mutual. We're doing nothing wrong in the eyes of the Fates. This is what they wanted for us. Stay with me tonight, share my bed, give us something more than this.”

It's brazen for me, and I swear I hear Meadow's voice in my head, egging me on as the words tumble out. A confidence is growing that I never knew I could possess, and a shameless need to see this through. I'm all in and willing to lose my virginity tonight. In fact, I want it badly. I don't care if I'm not marked; I'll let him in my bed and make him bond to me in other ways if it makes him start fighting for his right. Sex will bind us, and I'm willing to use any tool to get my mate’s head out of his ass.

“I can't. I'm sorry.”

Colton can't look me in the eye, and I can feel the agony waving his way from me. The turmoil, the regret, the confusion as he fights his own willpower. My boy is screwed up in the head and fighting with his own emotions and morals. I realize this is going to be tougher than I thought, and it's not just Juan's command. Colton is fighting with his own inner voice about what's right and what he should do. I can taste the indecision; it's thick enough around me to color the air.

He steps forward, eyes still downcast, and surprises me with a fast, fleeting, yet soft kiss on the forehead that renders me mute. A moment of his gentle, affectionate side to let me know he does care, even if his refusal makes it seem otherwise.

“It's not that I don’t want you... just please, don't hate me.”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, turns on his heel rapidly, and heads back the way we came at speed, not looking back, wounding me with how much he’s fighting this. My heart thuds through my chest, my stomach in knots as I watch him go, but I remind myself that I'm not a girl who falls at the first hurdle, and I won't give up.

If you change your mind, my door, for you, will always be open. I'm not giving up on us.

My mind-link follows him out of sight, my heart aching harder the further he gets away. I'm close to tears but bite them back, refusing to break down and be weak over this. Colton needs strength, and I’m going to prove I have a lot of it. I survived my family’s death and my makeshift pack's. I'm tougher than I ever gave myself credit for, and it's time I started to own that.

I wait for what seems like an eternity of agonizing silence in the air, until he's far out of reach emotionally and the sounds of his footsteps on wood have drifted hopelessly away. I almost break down and cry when no response comes at all—desolate and alone—until he delivers that one little ray of hope:

I love you, Lorey. I won't give up on us either.