This isn’t about marking, or obeying the alpha and respecting the laws, this is about his mom and intervening in something bigger than the rules of the packs. This is about betrayal, and what his father has done, and I literally have no idea about how I’m going to tell him. Once he knows, it’ll hurt him the way it hurt me, irreversibly, and I have no idea how he’s going to react. It’s not the kind of thing you can just rock up in his head and say, hey… I have your mom here, and your dad killed everyone I love, do you want to hang out.
How do I tell him about the bigger picture, about my family, the prophecy, the way Sierra was kept and has nothing mentally wrong with her? How do I fit all that in without having some sort of mental freak out, while in a head link with a guy you have been so afraid of linking because of the unbearable pain he can inflict on you? I didn’t only blank him out because I left, and we were done. I closed the door because I couldn’t handle ever being able to link him again and hearing that familiar voice inside of me. That soothing, husky, melody, that can find its way deep down into the most intimate parts of me and warms me from within in the most basic ways. No one will ever be able to make me feel things the way he does, and he has so much power over me, even with his words, at any distance.
Stop Alora. This is bigger than a broken heart. Colton will help, and you’re just stalling.
I catch the doc looking at me, eyes glancing from dark rough road to me, bouncing along this track, and back again, but he says nothing. I think he’s checking on my mental and emotional state and I need to get this over and done with. Stop wussing out, getting over dramatic with my female tear fest, and man up.
I inhale, sit up as though that makes any difference and push my forehead against the glass of my side window. Fixing my eyes on nothing at all and drumming up the courage I so badly need. My insides immediately start tying themselves in knots, my stomach cramping with the tension, and I swallow the apprehensive nausea as best I can. I let my breath out slowly, misting the window with the heat and condensation of the cold dark glass, and draw a heart absentmindedly in the steamy patch before rubbing it out and frowning at my own stupid reflection. Now or never! Rip it off, bite the bullet. Be strong.
I know if I stall, I might lose my nerve completely. I screw my eyes tight shut, conjure up a darkness to clear my brain and mentally slide open that heavy locked door I put between us so many weeks ago. Afraid of the sudden precipice I need to step off and I throw it out there in the hopes he’s listening.
Colton? Are you there? I need your help.
Please be there. God, I sound so pathetic and weak. I don’t get time to regret the break of silence, or to feel any kind of anything about doing it. A paused breath and then….
Lorey? Is that really you? Baby… oh shit, baby, god. I can’t believe it’s you. It’s really you… you’re really, ughhh shit.
There’s a second of pause and before I butt in with a response, he’s off again, quietening me with his torrent of verbal diarrhea
Where are you? You have no idea how hard I’ve been trying to link you for weeks and couldn’t get through… not that I blame you, and I know I hurt you, and you’re mad. I’m mad too… at me, not you. I’m not in any way mad at you for leaving, so don’t think I am okay, because I’m not… Please, tell me where you are… I’m an asshole, I know this… Are you okay? Are you hurt? Are you coming back?? Please say that’s a yes, and that I didn’t completely screw all this up. And, umm yes, I’m here, obviously… almost crashing my truck, but here. I was always here, waiting, hoping, and you know I’ll always help you, that shouldn’t even be a request when it’s a given. God, I miss you, tell me what you need. Tell me what to do. Say something.
The whoosh of babbling completely catches me off guard, and the tone, changing from relief, to disbelief, to again relief, and sheer emotion, almost cripples me. He can’t hide any of it from his voice and the surge of intense felling that comes with it tells me our link still exists, and I pick up on his even through this form of communication. It chokes me up, the sheer obviousness that he’s really missed me, and is as broken about my contact as I am. There’s no anger, complete overwhelm that he can finally hear me in his head.
My initial response is to tear up, my throat closes tightly as if it’s going to choke me, and butterflies escape within my stomach and go bashing around my insides, hitting every orifice and organ they can fly at. Feeling the same as him, aching with the sudden waterfall of feelings I’ve been trying to fight for weeks.
Colton…. listen, I don’t want to do this over the link, but there’s a lot and …. for right now, we need somewhere to go, and you need to be there too. Somewhere safe, because we’re going to have a pack on our ass soon and I can’t fight them. There’s too many. For right now, I need you to tell me where to go that we can meet, and for you to show up too, with enough of you to hold off some crazy mad wolves.
My hands are shaking with the ferocity of overwhelming pain I’m experiencing at being in his head and having him in mine. The intimacy of it. It’s like the weeks apart drop away and it reminds me of everything I miss the most about him. His voice, his overprotective need to take care of me, the way his presence, even in my head alone, makes me feel suddenly safer, cherished, and he’s only making it worse by saying everything I’ve wanted to hear. Why did he have to go be stupid and mark that bitch?
We? As in, you’re with someone else.
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