The Reluctant Mate

32 Porter

It was progress.

Probably.

It was impossible to be completely sure when it came to Amanda, although I was learning.

Like tonight, she was more open with what she was thinking and feeling—both good and bad—when she was drinking than she had ever had been sober. She was unrestrained and reckless. On our other dates, when she completely stayed away from alcohol, she was more reserved and defensive and she resisted the bond between us, keeping herself at a distance.

This had been the first time she had drank around me since the disastrous FJ incident, if at all. So maybe she had done it intentionally, but that wasn't how I was going to handle things. Like I told her, I wasn't always going to always give in to whatever she ordered. I enjoyed seeing her try though, because she was sexy when she got all stubborn and bossy.

And my patience was paying off in slow degrees, although some times it was a bit like watching a terrified animal thrash around in a trap. At least this time had ended with her in my arms rather than screaming or running.

Sitting together on the couch, she'd fallen asleep leaning up against me, which was about as vulnerable as she'd ever let herself be with me since that first reckless night before she had known how serious I was about her.

The episode we were watching finished, and I picked her up and carried her to my bedroom. I didn't know how she'd feel about that, but she probably wouldn't freak out if I slept beside her innocently—at least in action, my imagination was harder to control, especially when I was touching her and she smelled so good, still detectable under the harsh scent of what she had drank.

Her clothing, while sexy, didn't look very comfortable for sleeping in, but I wasn't going to try to help her with that under the circumstances. Better to let her be uncomfortable than get in trouble in the morning. I rummaged around in my drawers and found a pair of shorts and a t-shirt to wear. I usually didn't bother with anything at night, but I figured it was better to be safe than sorry.

I wasn't looking forward to her reaction to everything she had said tonight when she woke up in the morning, but even that couldn't help me keep my eyes open with the comfort of her on the other side of the bed. The two foot gulf between us felt insurmountable, but the sound of her breathing and her scent bridged the gap, and I firmly kept my mind and hands away from anything I would like to be doing to her.

I slipped off to sleep hoping I wouldn't wake to another one eighty degree shift from my mate.

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Eventually I emerged from the black into a place I recognized. It was indistinct, but the occasional details were recognizable, the school I had gone to growing up, my childhood home, a building I had worked on as an apprentice...a nightmare amalgamation of the lost two decades of my life in my original pack, flavoured by the overwhelming feeling of dread.

I was helpless and too late as foreign wolves stalked out of the darkness, and slaughtered my pack mates one by one. Ruthless and senseless.

Each snap of our connections ran through me like fire along my nerves, burning and building my growing fury. My wolf tore out of my skin, and I went for the first unfamiliar wolf with teeth bared and muscles ready. I tore through his throat like it was tissue paper, and then I whirled on another, and another, and another, until the bodies piled up in a grisly mass. Alone with the dead, I began to search for anyone who was still alive. I could feel the connection although I couldn't hear any of them, they had to be somewhere, and I had to find them.

Only eerie silence reached my ears, only the metallic tang of blood hit my nose, and my eyes could find no one. Even the bodies had disappeared, although that detail was irrelevant. I knew exactly where I needed to go with irrational certainty, and I sprinted forward. If only I could find it—them—something—her in time, then...

I didn't know, but I reached an unfamiliar place just in time to see the blank face of my alpha as he fell into a pool of his own blood. His eyes met mine, staring in unspoken judgement that I had failed to do my part to protect the pack, and then the bond snapped. My wolf spiralled into a feral rage. My heart pounded as I ripped through the enemy wolves, but then I was overwhelmed and slammed to the ground and held prone by the enemies, forced to watch as the lead intruder strolled by as if he had some right to invade our pack lands.

With a ferocious growl, I knocked off my captors and rushed the alpha, teeth bared, mind blank of anything but violent purpose. My powerful jaws wrapped around his neck, and I wrenched, half ripping his head from his body. My wolf loved the sound of his distress, and even more the sound of silence that followed after we tore and severed, feasting on our kill, revelling in our revenge.

But I wasn't done. There might be more intruders, and I stalked through the forest, my senses on alert, but the enemy pack were like ghosts I could not detect, creatures of shadows, flitting out of existence whenever I turned to look at them.

And then from the darkness, cruel blue eyes sprung, his jaws ripping into my throat.

I gasped as my eyes flew open. My heart was pounding so hard that I was surprised it didn't wake the human beside me with the frantic beat.

I ran my hand through my hair and tried to will myself to calm down. It was just a nightmare. I didn't get many, but when I did, I woke with my heart racing with remembered desperation.

It wasn't even a memory, because it bore little resemblance to what had really happened, nothing more than a Frankenstein creation, brought to life from pieces of memories and regrets.

Killing so many of the invaders and their alpha in my dream was pure wish fulfillment, and he definitely didn't come back like some sort of shadowy spectre. It didn't take a psychologist to explain that the experience of helplessly watching so many people be slaughtered had had a lasting impact on my mind. I'd fought, and I'd maybe got one or two before the sheer numbers had overwhelmed any struggle.

The worst part was the lingering feeling of helplessness that clung after these occasional dreams. I looked to my mate, trying to shake off the remnants.

Amanda was still lying there, peacefully oblivious to my presence, although she had moved slightly closer. Her hair was spread out on the pillow and I wanted to touch it, touch her, for the comfort of knowing she was there, but I had no right, not really. It would be so easy to lose the ground I'd painstakingly gained with her and I didn't dare risk it now.

I rolled back onto my back and stared up at the ceiling. I had survived far worse than Amanda's reluctance.

I was making progress.

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Author's Note:

Surprise, it's a double update! I gave into temptation, because I'm not sure I like this chapter or its placement. But that seems a problem for later me to deal with.

I've been neck deep in real life and editing in my spare time so sorry that I've been slower with responding to comments lately (although I still read and appreciate them). Thanks for reading/commenting/liking! (We're getting close to 1000 likes so there'll be a bonus chapter when we get there.