~Chapter Thirty: Forced Together~
Apparently, no such reason exists.
I regret to admit that Cameron was right about more than one thing yesterday. I cannot keep ignoring the issue, because I am stuck in the cab of a truck with said issue on a three hour drive to the city of Cheyenne in Wyoming. The first hour, I pretended to be asleep, though I doubt Ryland believed my acting, since I would grimace every time we went over a bump in the road or slowed down suddenly because of traffic.
Halfway through the second hour, I gave up and turned my attention to the rapidly-changing scenery on the other side of the window. The tension in the cab is steadily growing, which is something I have been ignoring. Or, rather, trying to ignore.
As the tension continues to build, I find myself becoming more fidgety and irritable, though the latter is directed more at myself for being affected by the silence. I glance at the GPS navigation system on his dashboard, and grimace when I realize that we still have a long way to go before we reach the city. Or any city. Everywhere I look, there are just trees and mountains and a hell of a lot of grass. And with the sun on the verge of setting, it will soon only be a bunch of dark smudges.
"Fine, I get it. You're angry," I growl, breaking the silence for the first time since I got into the truck. Ryland takes his eyes off the road for a moment to meet my gaze, but I refuse to look him in the eye, keeping my gaze firmly fixed on the world outside my window, and he returns his attention to highway. "Go ahead and rant, or whatever it is you do."
"There's nothing I can say that would express how I am feeling right now," Ryland says, with a touch of ice in his accented voice. I glance over at him, suddenly a little nervous. It is completely understandable that he would be angry, but I was expecting him to shout, not address me with cold fury.
I slide down in my seat, feeling conflicted. What I did was necessary to keep myself from control of the situation, but I feel bad for making him suffer because of my problems. It might be his fault for choosing me as his mate, but he is a good person and deserves someone who would be good to him, someone better than me.
That thought sends a tendril of jealousy into my heart, as well as a ping of sadness that resonates through my entire body. It is stupid, and I know it is only the frenzy that is making me feel these emotions, but that does not change the fact that I am feeling them. And that it hurts.
When Ryland does not add anything onto his statement, I shift uneasily in my seat. What am I supposed to say to that? 'Oh, that's good?'
"So, in other words, you're angry?" I offer up, trying to fill the silence and hopefully lead him to start a conversation. Or a rant.
Since he is clearly clenching his teeth, I would have to say that I am getting pretty close. "For lack of a better word, yes," he forces out, turning his head to look at me. Caught unaware, I accidentally meet his gaze and see a number of raw emotions in his eyes. But the one that catches my attention the most is the hurt reflecting there.
Shit...
"Look, I'm sorry, okay?" I try, though I know it does very little in ways of repairing our previous relationship. Not that I should want to repair it. If I let him remain angry, maybe he will give up and leave me be during the our last weekend. "I just needed some time to think."
Ryland turns his attention back to the road, but something about his expression looks softer than a moment ago. Maybe it is because he stopped grinding his teeth. "If you needed space, amore mio, you could have said so over the phone, not left me to figure it out on my own," he says, his voice still gruff.
Yeah, but then I would have wanted to see you, and if I saw you, then it would be harder to walk away again.
"We will talk more about this at the hotel, when I am not at risk of running over a moose," Ryland decides, thankfully shutting me down before I can accidentally admit my thoughts out loud. "Tell me more about your 'crazy' sister, Heather."
- - - - - - -
The hotel that was rented out for this gathering is not very large, but the dark brown, five-story building is definitely a good place for all the cats to gather. While everyone paid for their own room, it was all booked by the host of this year's meeting to allow us a discount, as well as make sure we all end up in the same hotel to make it easier to reach the conference room in time.
I lead the way inside while Ryland carries our two duffel bags, one in each hand. As I approach the desk, I take note of the other cats lingering in the lobby. Both of them have taken interesting in us, but neither make any move to approach. Whether it is common courtesy, or because Ryland looks intimidating when he is in a bad mood, we might never know.
It is a grand room with high ceilings and has an air of fanciness, while still looking like a giant lodge. There is a lit stone fireplace on the right side of the room, surrounding by plush chairs and couches, with a couple of low tables scattered about. The floor is made of a dark, multi-colored stone and there are a few large rugs around the sitting area and doors, most likely to ensure that no one slips in puddles during the snow season. The front desk is to the left side of the room, facing the fire. There are three elevators at the back of the room, as well as many corridors leading into different parts of the hotel. It appears they even have an indoor pool.
The woman at the front desk smiles when I stop in front of her work station, with Ryland only a few inches behind me. "How can I help you?" She asks politely, her hands resting on the computer keyboard in front of her. When she glances behind me and her eyes catch on Ryland, I not-too-subtly stomp on his foot, causing his scowl to melt away into surprise.
I pull the registration papers out of my back pocket as well as my ID and credit card, "I'm here for the C.A.T. conference and need to check in."
When she holds out her hand for the papers, I hand them over with my credit card and put my ID on the counter in front of me. She starts clicking away on her computer. While she does that, I turn my head to look at Ryland over my shoulder and he stares back. I roll my eyes at him and he growls at me, though it is too soft for the woman behind the desk to hear.
"All right, you have our king suite on the top floor. Here are your keys," she says, passing over my papers and credit card first. I slip everything into my back pocket before accepting the pair of card keys she is holding out. "Take the elevator up to the fifth floor, turn left once you exit the elevator, and your room is the last door on the right, straight ahead. Room five-hundred and twenty-one."
I spend another couple of minutes asking her about parking and food, since Ryland was waiting for me when I returned home so we could leave immediately and I am feeling rather hungry, but we are soon walking towards the elevator. It is only when we are inside and the doors are closing behind us that I realize a very important fact. "Didn't you book your own room?" I ask, reaching out to take my bag from him.
While I am taking my bag, Ryland snatches one of the card keys with a smile. "No," is all he says. I might have been okay with this, if it were not for the fact that the room I had booked for me was only a single king bed with no pull-out. There is a couch, from what I remember, but it is not something anyone would be comfortable sleeping on.
Even though it sounds tempting, I decide against starting an argument about something that cannot be helped, and step out of the elevator the second it dings to let us know we have arrived. The walls are a light brown, with white doorframes and dark brown doors. The floors are covered in the same stone as the lobby. The hallway is well-lit by tan wall cone lights.
I walk towards the end of the hall with haste, but Ryland keeps up easily, making me just look foolish. In fact, he beats me to the door by the smallest of seconds and already is unlocking it before I can pull my card out of its paper sleeve. I grumble softly when it beeps, the light turning green to inform us that the lock is no longer engaged.
The fresh smell that all good hotel rooms have is the first thing to greet us as we enter the room, and I find myself unable to stay tense. There is something about stepping into a clean hotel room after a long drive that does the mind good. It helps that the white and tan bed looks inviting and there is a view of the city and mountains just beyond it.
The empty carpeted area around the doorway leads to both the bathroom and the kitchen. Like normal hotel rooms, there are cabinets and counters lining the left side of the room, decorated with kitchen appliances. The bathroom is on the right and has a fancy shower with dark green tiles and a sink that looks deceptively like wood, but is actually marble.
I slip off my shoes and drop my bag by the door, hissing in pleasure at the feeling of the brown carpet beneath my feet. Neither of us have a carpet at our residences, so it is a nice change to have something soft under my feet that is not cold or hard. I glance at the desk pushed against the left wall, opposite of the bed, but when I find nothing but the typical hotel book, I try to figure out whether I want to drop onto the orange-tan lounge couch-chair-thing or the large bed that takes up half of the main part of the room. There is a TV above the desk, but I doubt I will have much time to use it while on this trip.
Deciding on the bed, I fall onto it, burying my face in the sheets. I scoot up until I am hugging one of the pillows and roll over onto my back, staring up at the tan ceiling. The sound of another duffel bag hitting the floor is muffled by the carpet and the bed makes a small sound of protest as Ryland jumps over me to land on the other side of the comforter.
"What time are we supposed to be at the meeting?" He asks, rolling onto his side to face me. I, however, remain on my back, not sure I want to be face-to-face with him right now.
I do turn away from him to glance at the clock, though. Six-forty-three. "From what the email said, everyone should be here by seven-thirty, but the meeting doesn't start until eight, which gives us time to either take a long nap or find some place to eat dinner. Your choice."
Ryland pauses to consider the options for a moment, which is why it is very inconvenient that my stomach chooses to growl at the exact moment the room is perfectly silent. The lion smiles, finally losing the furrow in his brow, "Your stomach has spoken."
"Shut up," I grumble, thoroughly embarrassed, which only makes his smile grow into a grin. He leans over to kiss me, but I roll out of bed and stumble a few steps as I try to regain my balance. "I, uh, need to use the bathroom before we go."
My feet carry me towards the bathroom, despite my head telling me to go back and kiss him. However, Ryland asks me something that makes me stop in the bathroom doorway, "Cade...did you reach a conclusion?"
"No," I answer, before closing the door to end the conversation. While we could easily converse through the door, anyone with even an ounce of manners would not listen to someone in the bathroom. Maybe if they were human and there was shouting involved to make up for the lack of hearing, but for someone with incredible hearing, it would be disrespectful.
In all honesty, I was so caught up in avoiding Ryland that I never did come to a decision. If I had, it would be ten times easier to ignore the call of the mating frenzy. I do know what I want, and that is to not lose this bet and end up living in Italy with Ryland, to not have to go through a life-changing alteration. However, the part of me that does not care about all that and just wants Ryland is still messing with my decisions, making it hard to officially choose. Even though I know what the outcome will be – Ryland returning to Italy without me – making the official decision is kind of hard. Especially when I just want to let him kiss me.
This is so confusing.
Right now, I have both feet on the tell-Ryland-'no' side, and one arm on the choose-Ryland side. My left arm, to be exact. The one closest to my stupid, traitorous heart that is causing me copious amounts of stress and indecision. The thought of love used to send me running, so why the hell am I still here?
Because I want to be...stupid, traitorous heart.
Even when I am done in the bathroom, I linger in front of the sink, staring at my face. My skin is a little paler than before due to the time I have been stuck indoors for school and for the sake of avoiding Ryland on my four-legged runs. Thankfully, it is not a sickly pale that I usually get around finals, whether it is college or high school. It does make me look stressed, though.
"I made reservations down at the hotel's restaurant on the first floor. They are expecting us in ten minutes," Ryland says, sounding as if he is on the other side of the door. When I unlock the door, it is no surprise he opens it a second later.
While I run my hands through my hair to make it look more presentable after messing it up on the bed, he leans against the doorframe, simply watching me. All signs of anger are gone from his face and body language, and while there is still some tension in his shoulders and jaw, Ryland looks calmer now. Maybe it was my answer to his question or the thought of food, but either way, I am relieved that I will not have to deal with a pissed off cat yet. That will come later this weekend.
It is hard to believe that it will have been a full thirty days of our deal this Sunday. Everything will return to normal by Monday, so long as I can hold out a couple more days.
I slip past Ryland and he takes my place in the bathroom, shutting the door as I walk over to the front door. Once my shoes are back on, I sit on the counter and lean my head against the cabinet door to wait. My stomach continues to make soft grumbles and I growl back at it when it makes a particularly loud sound.
When Ryland exits the bathroom a couple of minutes later, fiddling with the front of his jeans, I am on the verge of having a conversation with my annoying organ. I catch the smirk on his face, showing that he was indeed listening to me growl at myself. Great...
"Shut up," I growl, annoyed at being caught. Since I am used to living alone, it is normal for me to talk to myself, even if just to fill the silence. And since the only alternative was to listen to Ryland using the toilet, talking to myself was the more desirable choice.
Ryland's eyebrows shoot up, amusement clear on his face, "I didn't say anything."
"You were thinking something," I reply, jumping off the counter to approach the door.
"I am pretty sure everyone is thinking something right now," Ryland points out, following me out the door and into the hallway. He closes the door behind us and ensures that it locks before walking with me to the elevator.
While I am not sure how many cats are on our floor, the elevator smells strongly of feline, even though it is muffled by the scent of someone's strong perfume. The lift takes us down to the lobby with no interruptions. Though, when we arrive, I find myself distracted by a scent I know well.
Ryland turns to go down one of the corridors – the one with the sign above it that says 'restaurant' – while I make a beeline for the front desk. The lion notices immediately that I am not following him and easily catches up to me with his long stride. He looks confused, but refrains from asking, even when I snake my arms around the person who is at the front desk, waiting for the woman to type up the data. Her blond husband turns to snap something at me for touching his wife, but when he sees my face, his expression softens with a smile, brown eyes brightening with warmth.
"It's not nice to surprise a pregnant woman, Cade," my oldest sister scolds, but her tone is light and far too teasing for her to actually be serious.
I snort, "You knew the second I was in the room. I'm not sure how, but you always did."
"Good to see you again, Cade," her husband, Eric, says, holding out his hand. I release my sister in favor of shaking his hand and being nice to my brother-in-law. It is not that he is a bad guy – actually, quite the contrary; he's a really great person – but I was incredibly sour about them getting married when I was younger. I knew it meant my sister would be moving away from us and I did not like the thought of being left alone with Heather until one of us moved out.
Victoria turns around to hug me properly, only to hesitate when she sees Ryland. She does not hide the fact that she is scrutinizing him, and when she smiles a moment later, it seems that she approves of what she sees. "Hello, I am Victoria Carson, Cade's sister," she greets, one hand on her belly while the other stretches out for him to take.
Instead of shaking her hand, captures it and brings it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the back of it. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Victoria. I am Ryland Voclain," he starts, then glances my way when he pauses, as if asking permission for something. I cock an eyebrow, unsure of what he wants, but find out soon after when he adds, "I am a close friend of Cade's."
His eyes are dancing with mischief when he looks back at me, releasing my sister's hand. She looks happy, but also far more curious than she should be from the short conversation we have had. While my oldest sister does not often come to crazy – but accurate – conclusions like Heather does, she is not oblivious and Ryland certainly slipped a few hints into his greeting and body language.
Her human husband, though, does not see what she does and takes a step closer to her, practically radiating challenge and male dominance. Unbeknownst to him, my sister rolls her eyes, knowing exactly what we are seeing without having to look back. "Eric Carson, Victoria's husband," he says, adding a little emphasis to his marital status.
Ryland smiles at Eric's obvious challenge, though it looks more like he is showing his teeth. "Honey," my sister breaks in, defusing the tension on both sides almost immediately with just one word, "Mr. Voclain isn't flirting. He's dating Cade."
I try to say something to counter her observation, but my mouth refuses to work, simply hanging open. "Very perceptive," my 'boyfriend' praises, snaking his arm around my hip. I should push him away, but I am still trying to figure out how she did it. He gave hints, but they were not that big. Sensing my confusion, Ryland asks, "What gave it away?"
"Cade doesn't have many friends, and he certainly wouldn't befriend a...someone such as yourself," she says, avoiding the use of Werecat terminology in front of the woman behind the desk. The woman finished typing a minute ago and has everything ready, but she seems content to just listen instead of interrupting, probably interested in some hotel gossip. "He feels threatened easily."
"So I have noticed," Ryland says, at the exact moment I exclaim, "I do not!"
Eric seems to realize that the woman behind the desk is done and turns his attention to her, still trying to process that Ryland and I are dating...sort of. "Wait, does everyone think I feel threatened easily?" I ask, my mind going back to a conversation I had recently with a certain family member. "Even Mom?"
[AN: I broke this chapter up into two parts because of the length.]