The Deaths of Me (NEW ADULT REWORK)

6. Dane's Great Responsibility

Women speak two languages, one of which is verbal.

--Steve Rubenstein

Dane glowered at the closed door, jaw clenched, and eyes burning. Now that the phoenix was back at his pack's suburban community, he wanted to make sure he continued to play an active part in her safety. He hadn't figured it out yet, but there was something untouchable about her. There'd never been anything untouchable about any of the girls in his past. Just thinking about it made him even more aggravated. Did he want her? Or did he want to protect her? Was there even a choice to be made between the two?

He stood with his arms tightly crossed, not sparing a glance to any of his fellow pack members when they happened by. Stoic and annoyed was exactly how he intended to remain.

Four pack leaders, including his older brother, were just beyond that infuriatingly thick door, talking about his phoenix. Probably things like where she would stay, who would protect her, and so forth. Why he wasn't in there, lending his own, well-deserved two cents, Dane would never know. He had, after all, been the one to save her not the pack leaders. She was in his custody by grant of the Council. Hence the glowering he currently practiced.

"If you stare hard enough, might actually break down one day."

Dane raised his gray eyes to find Rory a few feet away from him. Just as quickly, he looked away.

"Or do the Grey Wolves have laser sight I've never read about?"

He didn't give her any attention. Usually, a pretty girl like her would have pulled him deep into conversation by now, but he was still pissed about the words exchanged at the Covenant meeting. The reckless volunteering of himself and his pack in front of the Council had all but permanently marked him as untrustworthy. Rory must have thought that he was a crazed Don Juan, panting after every girl he saw. Which, admittedly, wasn't far off from the truth, but he didn't need her knowing it.

"Well, I'm looking for a change of clothes. Maybe some shoes?"

Of course she was. He didn't know what to give her; he wasn't prepared. He took his time uncrossing his arms, stalling for time. Then he pointed to a bush behind her. "All of the bushes that look like this-" he gently thumbed a pointy, waxy, dark green leaf-"have suitcases of clothes under them. We'll get you something else that fits better later." Original purpose? In a neighborhood where nearly everyone was a lycanthrope, extra sets of clothes were a necessity. However, it helped him today, having an answer for Rory. Before he did something ridiculous like let a smile slip, he resumed his glaring at the foreboding door.

He still couldn't figure out why he'd been so determined to be involved her protection after only a few shared glances and even fewer shared words. It shook him to the core, and only fed his frustration.

Again, her voice penetrated the silence between them. "So, is your charming, compassionate persona saved exclusively for rescue missions?"

He didn't miss how hopeful she sounded. A pang of guilt for switching moods so fast on her hit him in the chest, but it wasn't enough to make him unfold his arms. The alphas would emerge soon with what he predicted would be an almost certainly unfair verdict.

The only comfort Dane currently had was that the alphas would never let Rory back into Ivy's care indefinitely. Or alone with a vampire at all, really. If nothing else, he'd at least get to be nearer to Rory for a while. The slow-fading feud between vamps and lycans would be good for buying him time to assess the feelings that this fiery girl instilled in him. And, he would take as much time as he could get.

It was silent where Rory stood. Dane sighed. Here he was, anxiously awaiting permission to watch over her personally and he was treating her like a pariah. Another sigh escaped his lips. This time, it was one of defeat before he awkwardly swung around to face her.