The Wolf Pack

Chapter 51

Wolffe could do nothing but stare at the silent com device on the table. He sat there frozen, not knowing what to do, not knowing how to react, hell he couldn't even think straight. Kriari loved him. Kriari loved him and had told him so very clearly.

Shit.

He needed to talk to Art. Now.

But what would he say?

Hey vod, the commander told me she loved me and I sat there mute like an asshole.

Or maybe:

Hey vod, I'm in love with the Commander but I'm too much of a pussy to tell her. She told me she loved me by the way.

Art would beat his ass.

He needed to figure out what to do. She was gone now, but Kriari would be back eventually. How would he greet her? How should he behave? Should he kiss her? Maybe actually tell her how he felt?

Wolffe had been born and raised a soldier, he had been trained in the art of war and strategy his entire life, he had never expected to feel anything stronger than faith for their cause and purpose. Wolffe had never expected to feel any kind of love other than the love he had for his brothers.

Was he in love? He did feel extremely protective over Kriari, he also missed her whenever she was gone, and loved to be around her and talk and laugh and train with her. He didn't dare to even think of the things he would do if anyone ever hurt her. But were those reasons enough? Was that what love was?

It wasn't all he felt, no. Whenever she wasn't around he felt like a piece of him was missing. Whenever she was in danger he would be seconds away from leaving his post to go and search for them, duty be damned. He loved the way she could be strong and gentle and compassionate and dangerous at the same time. He hated when anyone underestimated her or looked down on her. And he hated it even more when someone admired her a little too much. He loved seeing the gray in her armor but the orange stripes made his eyes burn and his heart rage.

Did he love her?

Fuck.

Wolffe rested his elbows on top of his knees and grabbed at his short cropped hair.

Fuck.

He didn't have time for this. He didn't have time to be selfish, or self centered, he had a battalion to lead, a war to win. But then again those aims, those purposes were not his own, were they?

What did he want?

He wanted to protect the Republic, yes, but he wanted to protect his family more. His brothers, Master Plo and Kriari were his family. But there was an urge more powerful than that.

He wanted Kriari by his side.

He wanted to plan and fight next to her, eat next to her, laugh with her, console her in her sadness and be her anchor in her moments of weakness. He wanted her to be his anchor as well. He wanted her to listen to him and give him advice and ease his worries and sorrows and reassure him that he too was just a man and not only a clone. But he also wanted more. He wanted to be able to hug her, to kiss her, to take her hand in his and show the galaxy that she was his and that he was hers. He wanted to have her sleep by his side every night where he would know for sure she was safe.

And he wanted more.

Wolffe was not blind, he knew Kriari was very attractive, and that simple fact had never gone unnoticed.

But he was getting ahead of himself. He needed to figure out how the fuck to behave first.

This was his first time not knowing absolutely anything. He suddenly had forgotten who he was and what he did, and why Kriari loved him in the first place.

Fuck.

...

Shit.

Kriari yelled into her pillow and kicked at her mattress as if she were a five year old youngling having a tantrum.

Why in the name of the stars had she done that? She knew Wolffe didn't need the complication of her feelings for him, he had enough as it was!

But she had let her guard down when faced with the comfort, the safety that was him, and she was sleep deprived. Kriari wanted to look into the cylinder of her lightsaber and turn it on.

She needed to talk to Art. He would laugh at her, oh he would laugh, and say something like "You may act like a grown up but you still are just a teen".

Shit.

Kriari did not need this, she had been safe in her connection with Wolffe because even if she had admitted to herself she had feelings for him, she never named them. Now she had to deal not only with the fact that she was madly stupidly in love with a man she could not, should not have, but also with the fact that she had confessed it to him after months of no contact.

Smooth, Foreas, real smooth.

Was she in love?

When the question came to mind, her answer followed suit.

You nearly turned to the dark side because you thought he was dead. You accepted his gift of a blade knowing it was from him even when he denied it. You allowed him to kiss you twice and thought of kissing him yourself more times that you'll admit.

Shit.

She went through all of her thoughts while slowly suffocating against her pillow, and when she couldn't hold in her breath anymore, she sat up and hugged her knees to her chest.

Well it's not like you didn't know it was coming, right? You think of him every night and wonder what it would feel like to cuddle him to sleep.

Kriari tried to hide her face behind her knees in shame.

She was aware of how ridiculously pitiful the entire situation was. She was an experienced Padawan of TWO Jedi masters, a Commander of TWO battalions within the GAR. She had gone to battle more times than she could count and been wounded almost as many times. And now here she was: squealing and crying over her feelings for a man like she was any average 15 year old. Yet she could not stop herself.

She missed him more than she could put into words and craved his company almost every second of the day. And at night she wished she could sleep encased safely in his arms with her head on his strong chest, and maybe kiss him... a lot, and-

No, she was getting ahead of herself. She knew he had feelings for her but had no idea how deeply they ran. They both had jobs to do and the institutions they belonged in prohibited possessive relationships of any kind, even less so romantic ones.

Shit.

Next time she saw him, she was screwed.