It was no surprise that my car still sat in the gravel driveway in front of the Obsidian House with pieces of debris around it. After all, the fire happed at about seven and it was just before midnight now. When Cassandra pulled up to the historic house, I had immediately rushed out of the car to get an unblocked view of the wooden building.
Nothing had changed aside from the caution tape drapery. In fact, it looked more put together somehow. There were darker marks with thicker wood. There was the scent of smoke beneath the fragrance of saw dust. There was strength after its last night weakness.
Maybe it had to do with the lasting legacy of this house, maybe it had to do with the person I was sensing inside.
"Do you want to follow me back to town or...?" Cassandra asked me.
"I'm fine," I told her. She gulped and gave me a worrisome look. "If anything happens, I'll call Ryder."
Even though he's already inside, I thought to myself as Cassandra accepted the bargain and drove off. I jogged up the stairs to enter the Everton house and Ryder was sitting on the base of the grand stair case. He stood at my entrance just in time to brace himself for me to run and wrap my body around him. I clung to him, breathing in not only his scent, but also ash and Preston and something else.
He kissed my head before pulling away from me. "Are you okay?" he muttered.
"I'm fine," I whispered and still felt the tenderness in my throat become hoarse.
"No. I mean are you okay?" he repeated with more of an emphasis. I didn't know what he meant though.
"Are you okay?" I asked, even though I could see all the anger and pain in his eyes. I grabbed his arm while scanning over any visible part of his skin before he answered. But seconds later, I took it that he wasn't going to answer. I noted it with the narrowing of my eyes and he dropped his hold on me. "Ryder, I saw you in that fire. I asked if you were okay—"
By now, he pulled away from me entirely and turned his back to walk around the immediate area, taking steps slow enough for us to hear the creaking of the wooden boards beneath our feet.
"Wanna know how this house survived?" he asked with a lighthearted tone—as if we weren't even in a previous conversation. It was scary because he said it just how Preston began preaching to me last night.
"No," I answered in a sigh and crossed my arms. "I want to know what's the matter with you."
He nodded his head over the couch, allowing me to take the moment to sit with him. I faced him and noticed that not only did my knee rest on his thigh, but he added his hand on top to begin making tiny circles. He stared at the floor though.
"This house has been enchanted to withstand and protect its inhabitants since it was built by the Lycan Elites themselves. It's almost a magical mile marker for one of the oldest pure-bred families in the Order," Ryder began with a trance-like sooth to his voice. All I could do was listen. "Evertons were known for their long line of alphas and fate put them with lycanthropic mates to breed more strong wolves and alphas..." This much I knew. "But when this house was burned twenty years ago, it wiped out almost an entire lineage aside from your dad and aunt. Generations of unfiltered werewolves couldn't tear this place apart, but one deserving fire did."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"But since it was enchanted...after all the firefighters and coroner's reports and separation of assets, the house built itself back up," Ryder continued. I didn't know if that answered my question or not, but he finally looked over at me. "That fire was the best thing that could've happened to this house."
I looked between each beautifully chocolate eye of Ryder's to try and understand what he was saying. While I was intrigued to know more about my family and this house, I had no clue as to why this was relevant to Ryder.
"Why are you telling me this?" I asked him once more, causing him to sigh. He reached a hand up to cup my face and move my dirty hair out of my face.
"When you experience the roughest catastrophe, it can't get worse," he answered. As much as I wanted to believe this was just about easing my mind about not losing my family's house, I knew better. He was trying to relate this to us. However, I didn't quite follow because our entire relationship had been "rough" from the deaths to the betrayals to all the minor afflictions that have amounted to where we currently were.
"In my opinion, the fire shouldn't have caught in the first place if the house was really enchanted to protect the pack," I passively replied hoping he'd get the hint that I also didn't believe we should be as far off track as we were. But all he did was force a breathy laugh and his hand fell to his lap as if I missed the punch-line. At that, I rolled my eyes and stood up from the couch. "What—"
"The house burned to protect your family. If they weren't in trouble, it wouldn't have happened. They knew what they were doing. That's the only reason why it stayed lit and—"
"Aside from you justifying the death of my grandparents and whatever extended family I had, mind telling me what the hell that has to do with anything?" I finally raised my voice despite doctor's orders. Ryder stood up and took a step near me. Now his eyes quivered back and forth to read mine. "If you're trying to validate that we're going through something too drastic in order to recover, then I'm sticking with what I told you last. Love me. Go away."
"You don't mean that," he whispered. I wanted to nod and affirm what I said, but I could only shift on my feet, cross my arms, and try not to cry.
"Yeah. I do," I lied.
"You don't," he was sure as he finally grabbed either side of my waist and I kept my arms folded over my chest. "Wanna know how I know?" he asked even though I tried looking everywhere but at his face. "Because I've been hoping we go through something so heartbreakingly disastrous so we could just build ourselves right back up to be numb to all the other petty bullshit and be stronger at the end...But that's not us."
I finally looked him in the eyes but still felt a warm wetness trail down my face.
"It's not us," he repeated in a cajoling whisper. "I don't want to go through something horrible. I don't want us to be numb to everything just because we've already seen the worst. I want to feel the love and the pain and the excitement and live. I want that with you. I get that now and—"
I laughed as I backed away from him. It caused him to pause and look at me in confusion.
"I can't go through life forgiving you again and again for you being absent or acting like a jerk or—I don't even know what's going on with us!"
"Nothing's going on with us," he denied.
"Fine. What's going on with you," I corrected. I took a step forward. "So what is it now? Because...Stella has laid everything out for you. Trevor has backed off. Andrew isn't a problem—as if he ever was. Yeah, Preston is gone again, but that's not deep enough. So what is it? Me or Zander? Because I know how bad it looked—"
"It's not because of Zander," he muttered.
"Then WHAT IS IT!?" I finally screamed. He sighed and I knew I wouldn't get an immediate answer from him, so he sat back down on the couch as the same time as me as we both recognized there was a tacit demeanor in the air.
"Somehow, I have this irrational idea that you're gonna hurt me."
"I'm not gonna sit here and let you turn this on me," I told him. "I haven't done anything to make you feel this hurt. It's you going off on these hiatuses without telling anyone and you keeping secrets and you exploding on people—"
"And I'm sorry!" he interjected in a persistent and meaningful tone. I remembered him telling me once before that he never apologized to anyone, so I took it to heart when he extended the condolences to me, but that didn't change the situation.
"How many times are you going to avoid me 'for my own good,' come back, apologize and then act like you're never going to do it again?" I asked him in a whisper.
"I don't know," he replied, honestly. "But it is for your own good."
"Just like my parents, right?"
"Nothing like your parents," he said seriously.
"Then what is it?" I asked. He shifted in his seat and faced me.
"Do you trust me?" Yes.
"Should I?" I replied despite my previous thought being so immediate I assumed he could've heard it.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because I trust you," he responded.
"That's different," I said.
"How so?"
"I'm honest with you about literally everything," I told him. "I don't have a reason nor need to avoid you unless you're genuinely being an asshole. I don't lie or keep secrets or—"
"What about Oliver?" he asked, making me pause.
"What about Oliver?" I couldn't even relish in the fact that Stella's predictions over Ryder's jealousy was actually funny. That's how serious this conversation was.
"He shows up—I don't know him. He drops you off at school. He's friends with your brother. And when I've been killing myself internally and finally get the nerve to approach you, he's at your house and leaving in your car that I bought you," he reminded. "I might be a werewolf, but I'm still a guy and we're still in this high school relationship bullshit—and this is part of it. Trevor hit on you and I wanted to kick his ass. Zander kissed you and I did kick his ass. And now this Oliver guy—what, do you really want me to kill someone?"
"No, I don't think I'd enjoy knowing that you killed my cousin," I responded with intense passive aggression. But still, somehow my wolf was riled up and attracted to the fact that Ryder was the slightest bit jealous...or maybe appreciative that he was finally speaking to me about deeper topics that we both needed to hash out. It didn't matter how much I wanted to laugh at his dropped expression and make up with him, this conversation needed to happen. All parts of it.
"I'm—"
"You know what?" I now started. "Maybe I wish you'd kill him. Or anyone really."
"Ash."
"Because then, at least, you'd break your title and maybe not act so torn all the time," I finished.
"You don't mean that," he whispered and my bluff was called by even my own wolf.
"Fine," I sighed. "I don't exactly want you to kill anyone," I admitted. "But I'd get over it if it meant that you could get rid of your title that you don't even want."
Ryder sighed once more and then ran a thumb back and forth over the back of my hand. "I didn't want to be a True Alpha because I was afraid of it," he admitted before looking back up to me. "I'm not afraid of it anymore."
"So you're not afraid of your massive wolf powers. You're just afraid of a five foot, two girl who can't really do much."
"Hey," he said and slightly squeezed my hands. "You're the only person with the power to completely break my heart and destroy my life. If that's my only fear, I think that's acceptable."
I gazed at his handsome face and tried to figure out what I should even feel at this point. And no matter how impatient Ryder Ramon had been with literally everything, he was enduring the moment I took to collect my response. It was quite impressive after a few seconds when I had removed my hands from his.
"I think you're giving me too much credit," I whispered and saw him frown while his insides ticked with anxiety. "You have all the power a wolf can have—speed, strength, charm, healing, character, leadership—that you don't cower away from, which is crazy because that's what any normal person would fear due to inadequacy or failure or death—anything. But you fear the impossible," I told him.
"I don't fear the impossible," he denied in a scoff before his eyes shifted into a substantially more personal tone. "I don't believe in the impossible. Not after meeting you."
"You said you were scared of me," I recalled.
"Because I am," he forced a laugh in admission. "I only fear what you can do to me—what you've done to me."
"Like hurting you, breaking your heart, and destroying your life," I elaborated just as he announced his idea he had of me. His jaw was tensed. "I can't do any of that. You fear the impossible."
"It's irrational," he argued.
"It's impossible," I pressed, feeling more vexed.
"You're unbelievable," he rolled his eyes.
"I am? No you are," I said and stood up to scold him from above. "With everything we've been through, it's crazy that you think I would ever hurt you at this point. It's not irrational or unbelievable—it's impossible, Ryder. Impossible. Just as impossible as you believing mates didn't exist for that brief moment in your life when your parents weren't working out and your brother had no hope in imprinting or just as impossible as you thought anyone could be matched with you as well as I am. That's how impossible it is for me to hurt you or break your heart or destroy your life. Sure, maybe some days I want to smack the shit out of you for your nonsense, but that's as far as an injury I could actually make on you. But as far as breaking your heart, I can't even fathom it because even though you swear that you will always feel everything worse because you imprinted on me first, I still feel every little offset and pain you experience whether I know what it is or not. And I would never want to destroy your life because still after all this time and after all this bullshit and you being you, I want to be a part of your life and you said you wanted that too so why the hell would I want it all in pieces, Ryder?"
I was yelling at him in rage despite pouring out my emotions and I felt like crap when his eyes lowered from mine and fell into his lap. I felt like I had just chastised a four year old for not knowing how to do their income taxes—something way out of their control.
"You don't get it," he began in a whisper and my guilt still hadn't faded away—even if I wanted to believe he didn't hear what I said. I did get it. He looked up at me before he continued. "Just because you think it's impossible, doesn't mean I see it that way. Yes, I know that mates aren't meant to harm each other, but it still happens all the time. Impossible to you is irrational to me nonetheless no matter what you tell me, Ash...I'm an alpha werewolf. I was born to protect and defend and be aggressive and do as I please because it's my birthright, but that's not always the case anymore. I understand that you don't think you can hurt me because I'm supposed to be defensive and strong and abrasive, but you're wrong when it comes to you."
I swallowed in the time it took him to stand up and truly address me. The lump in my throat felt even worse because of the smoke inhalation.
"I'm not trying to be some punk scared of his girlfriend or cower away from love," he said as if pinpointing the exact memory in my brain of my conversation with Oliver. Now, he was searching my eyes as fast as he read a book, line by line. "But the reality of it is, you have a power over me that is scary, Ash. It's not just my wolf being afraid that you can get your way with me even at the risk of my pack, but it's just me being in love with you. When you pull away from me or let go of my hand or say anything indicating that I won't get to spend the rest of my life with you—whether it's you not putting up with my shit or me doing something stupid enough to disappoint you. It's just as damaging as anyone would feel—and I know you feel it too. And yet even those hurt like hell in the moment and are regarded as minor fractures to normal people, it eats away at me all the time."
Hearing him say all of this was nothing short of what I ever wanted from him—pure communication about us as us not about werewolf bonds or outside noise. It was just us and I was falling in love with every word he was saying despite it cutting down to my core. I realized what power I had over him, but in retrospect, I had none because I felt like it was him who was holding me together most of the time. No matter the rollercoaster of events, I knew he was a rock in case anything substantial happened. He was never absent when I legitimately needed him.
"And you don't think you can hurt me?" I ended up inquiring despite appreciating his vulnerability. "You go off whenever you're in trouble because you think it's best for me to stay away from it all, but it makes me worry more than anything. You constantly switch between wanting me to be in your pack and not wanting me to—regardless of the arrangements made. And then this past full moon happened. You didn't talk to me. You didn't check on me. You tortured me every day walking past me not saying a word and staring directly at me—knowing exactly how to ruin me," I told him and that exact "fracture" he was talking about was seen on his face because I was calling him out for it. Any guilt I had was abdicated. And now was when I felt tears drip down my face. It was enough for him to reach out for my face and cause me to flinch away from him. He sighed and lowered his arms.
"That. Right there. That's what hurts me," he sighed at my recoil. But instead of letting that rejection stop him, he reached out again and claimed by face with both of his hands. "You have a right to flinch away from me or let go of me or say anything with or without the intentions of leaving me behind. Just like I have a right to embrace whatever pain and hurt comes with being in love. If I need to see you rejecting me over and over again in my mind then so be it. It needs to be a wakeup call for me to stop being a reason to make you cry—not some trigger to save myself from whatever heartbreak I don't want."
In that moment, I was feeling him embrace us and tackle whatever internal battle he was having over having a girlfriend and a mate and a heart. It was beautiful and was making my heart swell more and more despite my face getting hot before he had wiped away my tears and slowly kissed their origins.
"Don't ever let me suppress anything because of my absurdity, okay?" he said before flashing a brilliant smile at me while dropping his hands from any contact with me. But I had gulped in a slight annoyance despite his smile being contagious. "And I meant what I said this summer. Tell me when I am being an asshole. It might take you a couple times but I'll get the point."
"I think you're being an asshole," I suddenly told him. See somehow, instead of just accepting this tender moment for what it was, the fated interactions between our souls was telling me to lighten the mood before Ryder too conscious about all he had said.
"How's that?" Ryder frowned as if allowing to be intrigued because just as I knew he needed relief, he knew that I wasn't actually offended right now. But my wolf was. She felt the attractive gravity between me and her mate as if balancing precisely between two opposite magnets with the behavior of similar poles refusing to actually conjoin together.
"Because I hate when we're less than a footapart and not—" Together. Ryder hadinterrupted and obliged me without a word by sealing the distance between us bywrapping a strong arm around my waist and crashing his lips onto mine. Only, asI kissed back passionately and grabbed a hold of his shirt, our annoyance fordistance had turned into an annoyance of clothes being on us which wasuninterruptedly removed from the both of us.