"What the Hell, I could use one too."
I got up and followed Keri out of her office.
"Beer okay?" She asked, her footsteps almost silent over the wooden floor as she made her way towards the kitchen.
I took a moment to go over my reply.
My first instinct had been to ask for something stronger, something that would chase away the almost constant chill I was subjected to, but then I thought that perhaps I was already pushing my luck by drinking with her in the afternoon, and that it was probably for the best not to test her by asking for a large whiskey.
"Sure," I said, just as Keri stopped and gracefully indicated with a wave of her arm that I should wait for her in the living room. I made myself comfortable on a sofa, briefly musing how much bigger this room felt when it wasn't full of Council members. It was a tidy and clean place, but not to the point of being sterile; just a cozy, well-organized home. And a home it definitely was, with pictures of family and friends in every room, with comfortable furniture, with pleasing remnants of the scent of something she'd prepared in her kitchen... Something with meat and... Rice?
Maybe.
Keri entered the room, carrying two opened beer bottles, the condensation sliding against the cool glass. She sat one in front of me, then claimed the other sofa.
"Cheers," I said lifting my bottle in the air and tilting it towards her. She was too far away for the bottles to clink, but she mimicked the gesture with a nod.
We both took a gulp and sighed simultaneously. The corners of my mouth twitched; so did hers... And then we fell into an awkward silence.
A minute or two later, she cleared her throat as if about to speak, but no words came out of her mouth so I gave it a try instead:
"Jasper giving you any more trouble after you put him in his place?"
Keri's eyebrows shot up in a surprise. I'd made it my business to stay out of pack business unless it concerned the murder case - something I didn't want to bring up right now.
"Not really," she replied after a few seconds had passed. She took a sip from her beverage and went on: "A few glares, but that's about it, and it's nothing new. He's even allowed his son Horace to celebrate his birthday at our pub."
"At the pub?" I repeated. "Why there? He's turning, what? Fifteen? Sixteen?"
"Sixteen." She nodded, cradling the beer in her lap. "That's a big deal for us."
I opened mouth to ask why, then I recalled a conversation I'd had with Kelly, one of the many times she'd tried to familiarize me with their culture.
"The Age of Recognition," I said aloud, once again taking my host by surprise.
"Exactly. Kelly?" She correctly guessed and I nodded.
"Kelly."
She took another sip. So did I. She did it again... Before things got awkward once more, I asked:
"So, that's why he's celebrating at the pub? Hoping to... What do you use? Recognize his mate?"
"Yeah." Keri looked away, necking about half of her beer at once.
It's a sensitive topic with my cousin, Kelly's voice filled my head. She's in her twenties, but she's still alone.
Alone.
I looked at Keri - her face turned to the window, her gaze distant as she stared outside - and wondered how this intelligent, strong and beautiful woman could still be on her own. Mid-twenties wasn't old to find someone by human standards, but by shifter's?
Apparently Keri was older than most singles. Whatever paired them and the process itself were a mystery to me and by Kelly's own admission to her, but the creature, force, whatever, did its work pretty fast, usually crossing the paths of the those destined to be together before they were out of their teen years.
So why hadn't it worked for Keri?
Why would it ignore the Silver Bullet's Alpha of all people?
Why such a good, dedicated, kind and compassionate person?
Did she not deserve a mate?
I found that hard to believe.
A person like Keri was entitled to all the happiness in the world and it was difficult to comprehend that someone - even if they were not her destined mate or not a shifter - wouldn't want to be by her side. Hell, if I was younger...
I stopped myself before I could finish the sentence in my head.
I was not younger; I was roughly two decades her senior.
And I was not her mate, the person she no doubt was still praying to find, and the one for whom she'd turned down the numerous suitors she'd no doubt had.
She was Keri - the kind and beautiful rightful leader of the Silver Bullets, and I was Callum - the guy who probably would've drunk and smoke himself in an early grave by now, if it hadn't been for a loving family to keep an eye on him and remind him how much they'd miss him if he was gone.
"Another one?" Keri's voice brought me out of my head and back to her living room.
"Hmm?" I muttered.
"Another one?" She questioned again, lifting her bottle and it was only then that I realized mine was just as empty as hers.
"Yes, thank you."
She left to get us our second rounds, my mind unwillingly taking me back to my previous thoughts in her absence.
If I was younger...
Where had that come from?
I'd thought Keri was beautiful when I'd first seen her and even though it was my opinion she'd been - and still was - too young to lead over a hundred shapeshifters, I had to admit she was doing way better than I'd thought she would when her uncle died and she took over.
And, yes, I'd often quarreled with her during the investigation, but it wasn't because she'd been hindering it with silly or haughty suggestion; it had been because she was steadfast about getting involved while I was steadfast that just like I left pack work to her, she had to leave the murders to me. She was an Alpha, but that was my investigation, even if her kind was involved. But Keri didn't see it that way; she saw it as her world and something she'd demanded to be kept in the loop about.
Her world... I rubbed my hands against my legs to warm up.. It's my world as well, at least until we catch our perp...
"What got you into such a dark mood?" This time Keri sat on the couch, at the side closer to my sofa.
"I tried not to bring it up again, but no matter what I think about, I always return to the killer."
She sighed and handed me one of the bottles.
"I know that feeling..."
Her words were cut off, a spark of static electricity igniting as our fingers brushed when I reached out for my beer. We startled, the bottles slipping through or grasps and crashing to the floor. Glass flew around, the frothy beer wetting the couch, sofa and the lower ends of our pants.
"Shit!" She hissed just as 'Dammit!' left my mouth.
We both leaned down at the same time, reaching for the biggest shard. Our heads collided and we pulled back, rubbing the sore spots.
"I've got this," she said as she sprung up and ran to get a broom, or a mop, or whatever she planned to use to clean the mess up. I had no doubt she'd do a good job - she kept her home immaculate after all - but that didn't mean I'd stay put and let her do all the work.
I bent again, picking that big glass shard off the floor, realizing too late that I had nowhere to dispose of it. Feeling like a idiot, I let out another succinct, yet heartfelt cuss, releasing the shard, the little fucker managing to cut my palm in the process.
"Mother fu..."
"I told you I've got this," Keri raised her voice, her tone stern, but also concerned. She dropped the broom and shovel she was carrying and, avoiding the mess the best she could, claimed her previous spot on the couch, taking my hand and placing it to lay over the armrest with the wound up.
She closely examined the injured spot, her brown eyes narrowed. My unharmed hand itched to tuck behind her ears those rebellious strands of hair that were not in her bun, but I restrained myself.
"Doesn't look like there's any glass in it," she muttered, looking up at me. "I'll get some rubbing alcohol and bandages."
With that she hurried off once again, returning before I could find an explanation for my sudden urge to touch her hair.
We were silent as she worked on my wound - my pride prevented me from groaning when the alcohol made contact with the cut - and a few minutes later, I found myself thanking her for a job well done.
"You are welcome," she replied, putting the bandage we hadn't used back in the first aid kit. "Just don't try to help me again."
"I'm not usually this clumsy," I grunted, angry at myself for not being more careful.
"Well... Even so, don't." She closed the first aid kit and got up for what? The twelfth time today?
"How about I bring you some tea?"
"Tea?" I snorted. "What for?"
"You are cold."
"I'm always cold," I countered.
"Yes, you've said so, but..." She seemed uncomfortable, chewing on her bottom lip. "I still want to do something about it," she admitted.
"There's nothing to do," I commented, a part of me touched that she was worried, even though, as always, I did not enjoy people fussing about me.
"Have you been to a doctor?" She asked hesitantly, as if not sure she had the right to.
And she didn't.
My health was non of her business.
But damn, that small part of me was still happy. I chastised it for being selfish before I replied:
"To about a dozen. Non of them did me any good."
She nodded, a frown on her face, and headed for the door. She paused just under the frame, turned around and insisted "This time, don't help" before she disappeared into the hallway.
I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest. Perhaps I also pouted.
Why was I being treated like a child?
Because you were dumb enough to get yourself cut, you ass!
I flipped off my inner voice and leaned back into the sofa.
As much as I wanted to help clean up and prove to Keri and myself that I was not a useless clutz, I obeyed the Alpha's order and stayed put.
I know some of you wanted me to get them drunk, but that would've been out of character for both. I hope you still enjoyed the chapter enough to give it a VOTE; thanks a lot if you do!
If you'd also like to share what you think of this update, the comment section is all yours! ;)
What do you make of Callum's realization that, hey, what do you know: Keri's attractive?
What about him wanting to touch her hair?
And what about feeling happy that she's worried about him?
Have a great time wattpadding!
By the way, I nominated a story for The Fiction Awards; did you?
If so, which one?