Adrian leads the way towards the mansion as Luke, Sam and I follow. Derrick and the other two cronies had disappeared; I don't really hold much interest as to where. Once Adrian had exited the car, he kept with his inexplicable behavior and tried to carry my bag, which, of course, I downright refused to let happen. For some unfathomable reason, it's safe to say he isn't entirely happy with my decision. Luke had watched our little exchange trying desperately to hold in a laugh. Apparently, he found our interaction deeply amusing, though I've given up trying to figure out why. I have more important things to deal with at the moment.
The second we walk through the door of the pack house Luke goes off in search of some Sonya, offering a hurried promise to see us later. As Adrian continues to lead the way up a flight of stairs and down various hallways, I'm trying hard not to find this semi-normal setting exceptionally strange. I haven't really been inside a house since I was eight, and to my knowledge Sam has never been inside one; a fact I'm sure is going to become painfully obvious at some point in the evening.
Our party of three finally arrives in a large bedroom complete with an attached bathroom and walk in closet. The walls are a deep blue, and a queen sized bed with a black comforter is against the east side of the room, between the bathroom and closet. Taking a deep breath I realize that this room smells extremely like my new favorite scent.
This is Adrian's room.
"You can put your bag anywhere. There's plenty of room in the closet for you to unpack" eyeing Sam's slightly mud crusted and rumpled clothes, he adds with a gentle smirk, "The bathroom's right through that door. You can wash up a bit before dinner if you'd like. Don't be to long though" he tacks on, looking at me again, "You need to eat."
Deciding for once to be nice and take advantage of the situation, I mutter a thanks and lead Sam into the bathroom. I'll talk to Adrian about this being his bedroom later. Giving him the benefit of the doubt I entertain the idea that maybe he's just being nice...but his behavior still doesn't make any sense with that explanation. Any other alpha would have tried to kill me in the diner, or at least seen to it that Sam and I were off their territory and been done with it. They wouldn't' have wanted to "get to know me", they wouldn't have brought us to the pack house or let me (and definitely not wanted me to) ride on their lap, and they certainly wouldn't have brought me to their bedroom and acted like I'm going to be staying there! None of it makes any sense.
But, instead of giving Adrian a piece of my mind about him possibly believing we'd be staying in here, I decide to give Sam his first bubble bath and let him be like all other kids his age for at least once in his life.
****
"What are those?"
"They're bubbles."
"But, what are they?"
"They're made of soap." Noting the cautious look on his face, I add, "They won't hurt you. They're just fun to play with".
Sam's still looking unsure, but I can tell his curiosity is slowly getting the better of him.
"Come on, get in...you know you want to." Sending him a teasing smirk and wink, Sam finally starts climbing into the tub.
"It's warm!" he exclaims. I can hardly blame him for his surprise. Before this I doubt he knew warm water even existed.
"It is." I agree, watching the surprise being replaced by fascination on his little face.
"But...but it's warm! Like really warm! Mommy, you have to feel this! Feel it...this is so cool. Mommy, no, feel it!" His eyes are nearly bugging out of their sockets, urgency written across his face, as he grabs my hand and forces it into the water.
"I know" I say laughing, "It's super cool".
"How did you know it was warm?" Sam questions.
"I had a few baths like this myself when I was around your age."
I try not to let my thoughts drift to the fact that I've had very few pleasant bath experiences in my life due to my father's cruelty and my mother's submissiveness, but I don't succeed. Memories of how a bath full of boiling hot or ice cold water was a preferred weapon of choice for my father fill my head, as do memories of when my father grip me by the nape of my neck, shove my face under water and hold it there until black dots swarmed my vision. He seemed to always know the exact amount of time he could hold me under without killing me, but always insisted on coming extremely close.
Shaking away my morbid memories, I come back to the present just in time for Sam to question me about how the water could possibly be warm. I spend the next few minutes explaining everything I know about how faucets, pipes and water heaters work. Once I finish my probably hole-filled explanation, I scoop up a large handful of bubbles and bring them to Sam's chin, giving him a bubble beard.
"Hey!" he exclaims, giggling. Scooping up as many bubbles as he can in two hands, he proceeds to bring the lot up to my face in his own attempt to give me a soap beard. It ends up less of a beard and more of a face full of dripping bubbles, but makes me laugh regardless.
"Come on, before this gets really ugly. We need to get you clean."
Grabbing the shampoo and soap, I proceed to wash Sam's hair and body, making him laugh when I tickle him under his arms. He throws handfuls of soapy water at me in retribution. By the end of the bath, my shirt is soaked and slopped with slowly popping bubbles, and Sam and I are both laughing harder than we have in a long time. I turn around in search of a towel, only to find Adrian standing at the door watching us with an amused expression-and, adoration in his eyes?
"Here," he says, handing me two towels, "I had a feeling you would both need one".
"Thanks" I chuckle, turning and wrapping Sam in the large towel, I help him out of the bath. Once he's dry, I grab a set of clean clothes out of our backpack and help him get dressed.
After Sam is ready I start trying to wring as much water out of my shirt and hair as possible. Sam, however, has other plans as he grabs our backpack and runs out of the bathroom giggling like crazy and calling behind him, "You have to try and find me!"
Laughing as I watch his antics, I'm not concerned. I know he'll hide somewhere in Adrian's room. "I'll give you a head start then" I call after him.
With Sam out of the room Adrian and I are alone for the first time. It's safe to say it's beyond awkward. Not because I feel uncomfortable around him, just the opposite actually. I feel so absolutely comfortable around him that it's freaking me out. I've never felt this way around someone before in my life. It's dangerous to let myself feel comfortable around people, then I won't be ready if they attack. The more relaxed I am, the more dangerous it is.
And the way I feel in Adrian's presence is unbelievably dangerous.
Trying my best at the impossible task of ignoring him, I continue to wring out my shirt.
"Why don't you just change?" he asks after watching me for a few minutes, "You're never going to get that one dry enough."
"Yeah, I know." I nod, still not looking at him. "Ya know, except for the fact that I have nothing to change into." Chancing a glance at him in the mirror, I see that he's giving me an exasperated expression, but it's mixed with so much adoration it can't possibly be offensive.
Not bothering to answer, he leaves and comes back holding a black long sleeve and hands it to me. This one is in good shape, meaning it isn't covered in tiny random holes along the seams like mine. It's slightly thicker, warmer than mine, and is much softer (probably meaning it's actually been washed before). Bringing it closer to me I realize it smells amazing, like a mixture of fresh air, sunshine, impossibly, and something distinctly masculine. It smells like Adrian.
"This is your shirt" I accuse, looking up to glare slightly at him.
"Of course." He sounds surprised by my mild hostility. "So?"
"Are you crazy? I'm not wearing your shirt!" Great, I think. Now he looks offended. Well, more than offended actually. Wait...is that pain in his eyes?
"Why not?" he growls out, the pain slowly morphing into irritation.
"Because it's yours! I'm not going to go around a pack house I shouldn't even be in wearing their Alpha's shirt! Can't you see how crazy that is? I may not have much experience in pack life, but even I know that's like pinning a whore sign on my back."
He looks like I slapped him. Immediately, I'm nearly overcome with the unwelcome urge to comfort him, willing to do almost anything to get that haunted look out of his eyes. Before I do something incredibly stupid, I try to hand him back his shirt. My tone softens without giving it permission to do so.
"I can't wear this."
"You can" he insists, a calculating look entering his eyes as he studies me.
"I won't." Unfortunately, my tone is still softer than I want it to be.
He breaths out a sigh and closes his eyes, probably trying to control his wolf. "Stop being so stubborn. You either wear my shirt or go to dinner in your drenched one, and I don't want you to get cold. Just put on the shirt. Please." His eyes stare into mine, pleading.
I don't know why, and if anyone asked me I could never explain it, but somehow that please convinces me. While I stare at him like he has two heads for not wanting me to be cold, the emotion he put into that one little word is nearly overwhelming. The sound of a plea leaving his lips causes my extremely long dormant wolf to stir ever so slightly, but it's enough for me to get the idea that she, for some unfathomable reason, wants me to wear his shirt. I get the vague impression that she would do anything he wanted, just so she'll never again be the reason that pained expression crosses his face. And while I absolutely don't want to wear his shirt, am convinced I'd rather walk on hot coals than wear his shirt, I haven't heard or felt anything from my wolf in ten years.
So, against my better judgment, and wearing what I'm sure is a shocked, happy and confused expression from my wolf's sudden appearance, I push Adrian out of the bathroom and change.
****
Holding Sam's hand, we make our way down to what I imagine is the dining hall. Though walking side by side, Adrian leads the way, and I can't ignore the tingles that shoot up my arm every time his arm brushes against mine. By the happy look on his face I have a feeling I'm not the only one affected.
The hall is full of families and friends talking and laughing with each other. There's probably close to a hundred circular tables set up, each seating about five people. All conversations stop and all eyes immediately go to Adrian as we enter the room before they land on me and Sam. The faces in the hall hold a range of emotions. Many are shocked and curious, others are simply confused. The tables closest to us can smell that Sam and I are rogues, and their faces hold more of a mixture of disgust, hostility and wariness, all of which is directed at me, thankfully. Those looking at Sam wear expressions closer to pity than anything, and, of course, undisguised shock. You could hear a pin drop.
"This is Daniel, and Sam. You will treat them with absolute respect, regardless of any previous prejudice you may have. If any one of you behaves otherwise, you will have to answer to me. Do I make myself clear?"
A synchronized chorus of "Yes, Alpha" follows Adrian's announcement.
"Good. You have been warned." A smile on his face now he adds, "You may return to your meals and previous conversations".
The noise starts up again like someone turning up the dial on a radio as the three of us make our way over to the food table. I can catch snippets of conversation here and there; it appears Sam and I are somewhat of a hot topic.
I keep in mind the decision I made in the bathroom when I changed shirts, the decision to just play along while we're here. I don't know if the alpha is crazy, or if there's just something in the air here, but I get the feeling things will go a lot smoother if I pretend to play along. So trying, and probably failing, to act as though being able to load up and entire plate of food for Sam and an entire plate of food for me of only foods we enjoy is a completely normal experience, Sam and I follow Adrian, once again, as he leads us to a table occupied by three other people. Luke is one of them, smiling as he watches us come closer. And, given the way his arm is around the girl next to him and the way she's lovingly leaning into him, I assume this is Sonya. She's indisputably beautiful, but doesn't strike me as the kind of girl that particularly notices. She has wavy black hair and caramel colored eyes; the smile on her face as she sees us mirrors Luke's.
My eyes finally come to rest on the third occupant. I can't see what he looks like very well since he's turned away, talking to another pack member. I can, however, tell that he's probably around middle age, and his hair was probably once the exact color of Adrian's, but now holds various gray streaks. There seems to be an old sense of power radiating from him; perhaps he's Adrian's father? Finishing his conversation, he turns to smile at us as we arrive at the table. As I can finally see his face, everything else in my world disappears. Every sound, every detail except his face vanishes as I look into his eyes. I can't hear Luke greeting us or see Adrian staring between me and this man with a slightly confused expression or feel Sam tugging on my shirt. I can no longer hear the constant babble from the pack dinner or even say for sure if I was in the pack hall. Because as I stare into the eyes of this stranger, I desperately want to convince myself that that's exactly what he is, that there has been some mistake. But deep down I'm forced to admit that isn't true. I would give everything I own to be able to truthfully say I have never seen this man before in my life, but that can never happen.
I know that face.
________________________________________
In my mind, these scenes are awesome. Kind of interested to know if I was able to do them justice. Let me know what you think. Thanks for reading!
~Bailey~