Inhumane

023

My answer was fast, a lie, "Yes."

"I don't think we do," he was equally as quick in his response, but he always told the truth.

"Maybe I am not comfortable enough to communicate like that with you," I tried.

"That's not it. You were comfortable enough to let me into your bed," his eyes were intent on the side of my face. I had been comfortable enough to let many men into my bed. The thought made my stomach roll in unease. "You were comfortable enough to let me in on your past, on multiple occasions."

Folding my arms over my chest, I waited.

"I don't ask for much, Paige. But how are we supposed to move forward if we can't take these steps? Baby steps."

"What if I don't want to move forward?" I cried out, turning to face him. I was unnerved that he was on to me, my plan, something.

The wolf held his hands up in a gesture of surrender, "Okay, that's okay! Just tell me that, tell me that you want to go slower. Tell me that you don't want to move forward. Just let me know. That is all I ask. I don't want anymore than you are willing to give, Paige." His voice softened, "You are my mate, you know that I will walk to the ends of the Earth for you. I will give you a million miles, or I will give you one. But... Let me know. Don't leave me in the dark."

I stared into his eyes. In that moment, I couldn't see a wolf or monster or man. I could just see him. A beautiful person, inside and out.

The Wolf stared back at me, dark brows furrowed, jaw clenched. He wasn't waiting for anything, only looking. I wanted to hate him for it, but it was hard to hate someone so good and kind and pure.

Looking back to the fire, I couldn't stand to see a face that for most of my life I had placed a target upon. What would my mother think of me?

"I won't," I finally spoke up. "I can try."

"Thank you," he responded gently.

A few hours carried on, listening to the music as the sun set and the world outside went dark and the snow piled high and my thoughts took me in circles. The Wolf dosed off on the couch beside me, the exhaustion that was showing increasingly on his face finally caught up to him. I watched him while he slept. His mouth was cracked open ever so slightly, dark stubble framing his lips and sweeping across his jaw. His face looked softer in sleep, more childlike. It was oddly endearing. I had never watched a man sleep.

When I decided it was time to pretend to go to bed, I got up. The motion woke him up with a start. Looking down at him, I said softly "It's okay. I'm going to bed."

The Wolf made the move to get up but I stopped him.

"I want to sleep alone tonight."

There was no anger or hurt on his face, only understanding. It struck me so hard I had to work to keep the pain inside of me. "Okay," he responded easily, settling back into the couch. For a vague, almost nonexistent moment, I wanted him to take my hand and convince me to let him come. But then it faded and I felt a little colder. 

I don't know what came over me. Maybe the anxiety or the unbearable loneliness or the impending doom of what was to follow. Without thinking, I leant down and kissed his lips ever so softly. His taste was addictive, but I didn't let it linger. The shiver raked down my spine at his touch, his smell, the way his yellow eyes were half lidded in simple pleasure.

I moved to leave when he took my hand gently, my heart seized, "Goodnight, Paige." And then he released me, closing his eyes and slumping deeper into the couch.