What was that? Damian thought. He was tired, but it was barely 8. Way too early to sleep. Yet, she said goodnight and disappeared, preoccupied. He wondered what she thought about. Was she worried about her parents? Raul?
His thoughts darkened suddenly.
What if she was thinking about Cody?
The thought of that blonde haired pretty boy, being in her mind, angered him. The guy was a coward, he had abandoned Kayla in her time of need, he left her to die! How could he hold her heart, still, after such a heinous crime against her and the pack?
He shook the thought out of his head. No. She may be stubborn, but she wasn't stupid, she wouldn't think of him the same.
His chest ached as he looked toward the loft. She was up there, in his old shirt, laying down in that bed, alone. She had looked so beautiful. Her amber eyes like two pairs of sunsets, staring back at him, drawing him.
When did this happen? When did she get so irresistible?
It took every ounce to hold back from kissing her while they stared at each other at the bottom of the stairs. He wanted to lean in, to have her soft hair in his hand while he touched her lips with his, and tasted a kiss. A great kiss.
And when she was only wearing the blanket. Oh, God.
His heart had raced, his hands sweat. Her legs were so long, strong, and perfect. He had pictured them wrapped around him, clinging to him, even pulling his waist further into hers. The way her hair fell over her shoulders, partially covering the black mark of her royalty, was a mess he wanted to look at forever. He knew she was gripping the blanket, clawing and tearing it even, for a moment he wanted it off. But the uncertainty in her gaze took his animalistic urges away. So he'd given her privacy as soon as he could, and when she emerged in those clothes he picked out, she looked even more radiant than before.
The point at which he protected her for the sake of his pack, and when he did it because he couldn't stand the thought of her being injured eluded him. The lines were blurred, he hated her, then he tolerated her... Then... Things changed. But when? How!?
Damian laid back, aching terribly. His chest felt tight. He closed his eyes, and willed it away. It didn't work. He needed something to focus on. Individual details of the cabin started to pop at him, forcing themselves into his conscience. The lonely, abandoned spirit, that echoed of the good times it once gave his family, now reduced to dust and grime and rodent feces. The cracked walls had been violated by the forest creatures, the furniture rotted, everything disintegrated, slowly and painfully, waiting, loyally, for the family that once stayed here every other weekend. If anything needed love, it was this cabin who needed it most.
He listened up to the loft, Kayla shifted in the sheets a bit, and then was still. The walls crawled with life. Through the torn drapes he could see the forest, dark and shadowed now. A place where scary tales were set, curses were carried, and murders were committed in the dark, according to movies and books. Damian was not afraid of the forest though, especially at night. He was creature straight out of those legends, so he felt more at home than ever.
The night owl hooted from the starry sky. Kayla hadn't moved for a couple hours now, he wondered if she was asleep, and he wished he could hold her. He grabbed a dusty pillow and dug his claws into the fabric. Fate could be so cruel. He had been engaged to Kayla at a terrible time when he was ignorant, and now that he knew he could live with her, love her even, their engagement could never be. As soon as they got home, the packs would separate, he would have to find Kevin, his brother, and kill him. Then watch over the pack while his father joins the other alphas to change Bermuda's entrance.
He wanted Kayla so terribly, and the thought of saying goodbye to her tomorrow hurt his heart deeply. He buried his face into the pillow, hoping to erase the reality of the situation, and to expel every tender moment they'd had on their journey. If only she'd been born of his pack, or he in her pack. Or better yet, if their stubborn ancestors had set aside their differences long ago, then it wouldn't have to end this way.
Instead, they would grow up together. She would have played with him on the playground, back when he had asked her to, when they were young pups. He, Raul, and maybe even Kevin would all be best friends, Kayla would stay with them all the time. They'd be friends for all of elementary school, and he'd be sure to teach her not to be so afraid. In middle school they'd change and maybe even grow apart trying to discover who they are, he'd feel jealousy over her first crush and wouldn't be able to understand why; she'd do the same for him.
In high school they'd find their way back to each other. He'd be of age to find a mate, but he wouldn't search, he'd wait for her to be ready, and when she was, he'd court her. He'd go after her passionately and he'd never stop, even after he had her he'd shower her with love and devotion. They'd go to college together to further their education, to be better leaders, and they'd return, ready for a wedding. Her father would approve of him, her mother would love him. His father would be proud, Kevin would support them, and his mother... she would still be alive. Because the packs would have been joined long ago, there would be peace. Therefore, they would have never been ambushed and his mother would have never been killed. His father wouldn't be broken, he'd be well rounded and happy with his mate forever at his side. Kevin and Damian would have the tenderness of a mother's love, and maybe that would keep Kevin from getting so lost.
He opened his eyes, taking in a shaky breath. His body had fallen asleep, but his mind had been awake with alternate realities. He felt as if he'd just lived an entirely new life, before being thrown back into his current state.
He routinely opened his ears, to listen to Kayla's breathing, but there was no sound in the loft, only a faint rustling down the hall. He stood and silently made his way through the end of it. The door to the room where he and his cousins had spent hours hanging out, was open just an inch, he could see a dim flashlight shining. He pushed it wider, it whined more than he liked, but his heart thumped when he saw her.
She curled up on the corner of the couch, the old flashlight illuminating the pages of Romeo and Juliet, she stared back at him through the darkness. He moved forward, and sat next to her before saying anything.
"Do you have sleeping problems or something?" He asked.
She shrugged her gentle shoulders. She had no idea how badly he wanted to caress and kiss them.
"I just can't sleep very well in unfamiliar places." She admitted softly.
He frowned. "You'll be home tomorrow."
There was a moment of silence, he stared at the black floor in front of him. "What are you reading?" He asked to fill the quiet.
"Romeo and Juliet." She replied. She shook her head and slammed the book shut suddenly. "I've never liked the ending, the way they die over a stupid misunderstanding." She thought a moment. "Come to think of it, I don't like any of it. They know each other for like, a day, and suddenly they can't get over each other, when Romeo spent the beginning crying over Juliet's cousin."
"He was passionate, and she was young. It seems fitting to me that it'd only take the course of one party for them to be into each other."
She gave him a look. "You read it?"
He smirked. "My English classes studied Shakespeare, too."
"No, I mean, you actually paid attention to the story. You know the characters, and you... you didn't just skim through it like most others would."
"What can I say? I've always kind of enjoyed school. Even the history and math lessons everyone complains about."
She smiled at him, and he felt like he'd done something right. "Then, tell me how you feel about this play?" She passed the book into his hands.
Now it was his turn to smile, as the moon through the window spotlighted on him. Tomorrow would be a full moon, he could feel it coursing through his veins. "I've heard stuff about Shakespeare writing this to make fun of teenagers and the way they love. I've heard other things about Shakespeare not even being real, but this particular play, still, has always stayed with me. More than his other, probably better, stuff, like Hamlet, and as I've grown it's stuck to me even more."
"Why's that?"
He paused a moment. Would he dare to say it? "It... reminds me of us. Except, in our case, we were pushed together, only to be pulled apart."
When we had just gotten used to being together.
She couldn't speak. For a moment, she gazed at the moon. "Do you think we'll die?"
"Depends. If Kevin and I end up killing each other, you better not go off stabbing yourself with a sword."
She laughed. "And if I do?"
"Then I'd meet you on the other side and tell you: 'Way to go, repeating that ending you hated so much'."
They laughed together, briefly, the morbid undertone beneath their laughter couldn't be forgotten.
"That won't be necessary." Said Kayla with defensive confidence. "No one has to die, so that ending won't be repeated. We can make our own ending."
"And how does this version end?" He dared, boldly leaning towards her, both ears open.
She stuttered, searching the darkness, then studying his face with her bright sunlit eyes. "I don't know, we're not there yet."
He chuckled.
"But it will be a good ending, I remember Silvia saying to me that it would be told for generations."
"Silvia?" Damian asked.
"Raul's wife." Her eyes glistened and fell below him into darkness.
Feeling inappropriate, Damian backed away to give her space again. He longed for comforting words to say, but could think of none. So they dwelled in respectful silence for some time. The night sky slowly rotated above them, a spinning carousel that never stopped. It's haunting music playing over and over, dragging them along for the ride.
"Kayla", Damian finally said. "We should sleep, we have a long day ahead."
She didn't answer for a long time, and he almost checked to see if she had already fallen asleep. "You say my name a lot now."
The corners of his mouth curled up, making it look like the letter u. His breath rushed out of his nose. "It's a very nice name."
"Say it again." There was no condescension, or overpowering authority in her calm voice. Only a gentle curiosity, with a hint of desire.
He looked to her and jumped within himself to see her amber eyes already matching his green gaze. Waiting. He said her name again, feeling each syllable rise and roll on his tongue and glide to her ears. She blinked when it passed through her, holding him with her eyes. She reached for his hand resting on the cushion directly in front of her. The light brush of her fingers over his bruised knuckles surged powerful blue lightning all the way down to his toes, it nearly stopped his heart.
She'll surely kill me, Damian thought.
"I don't want to see the end of this." She said quietly. "I'm afraid it'll be as bad as Shakespeare's."
She spoke from her instincts, he felt the same distant thunder under his brain, too. With a sigh, he lifted his hand and tangled her fingers in his. "I'll see it with you." He assured.
And yet, I'd be glad to die by her hand.