Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Callisto

The night was quiet and dark. There was virtually no moon, since the sky was clouded over, and a strong wind blew. It was the perfect kind of dark night for disguising her movements. She hadn't had a calculated plan when she'd slipped out of the house, but now that she knew the wind would chase away her scent and the lack of moon would protect her, she felt bold enough to go further into Pinefall than she ever had. She'd left early, just after midnight, so she could stay out longer. The summer days were annoyingly long and the nights short. It made it hard for her to pull herself away when she'd done all the work to get there.

She wanted to sit and watch her parents' cabin. Even if they were asleep and nothing stirred all night, she just wanted to be there. She wasn't sure why that was important to her. She'd gain nothing from staring at black windows and unmoving logs, but it just… was. It somehow filled a fraction of the nasty gaping hole that had been torn inside of her and grown with her since she was a small child and knew what it was to have been abandoned and unwanted.

She still wanted them to suffer the way she had, but being near the cabin was like slaking a thirst. It made it possible to wait because now she knew that it was real.

Callisto cut through the woods, her black clothing blending in with the shadows, but she stuck to the trees anyway, using them for shelter.

She was still in the woods of Greenacre with miles to go, when out of nowhere she was blindsided by a bear. The huge animal swept her up in a blur of motion and bristling fur. His head was so close to hers that she could smell the animal breath as it wafted out, hot against her face. He didn't roar or make a sound. The whole thing happened in under a few seconds. The bear was utterly silent, and he was shockingly gentle, even though his massive claws dug into the trunk of the huge pine at her back. She could smell the bitter, potent pitch when she turned her face to the side, trying to look the animal in the eye.

It was too gentle, the scent too familiar, the shape of the body even, though she'd never met his bear. She was a shifter and there was a sixth sense that stopped her from freaking out, trying to fight, or shifting immediately into her bear to protect herself.

The bear moved away just enough that she could free a hand. He dropped one massive paw and carefully brushed the back of it, claws sheathed safely away, across her mouth.

Quiet. Shh.

Right. Like she had the capability of making a sound, but it wasn't like the bear could tell her not to knee it in the balls, or go buck wild, shift, and start a massive fight.

He was trying to tell her that he didn't want anyone else to know they were out there.

R-O-R-Y.

She signed his name, spelling out the letters slowly and carefully in front of his face with the hand he'd allow her to free.

The bear inclined his head. He took a step away and looked back. Another step, another backwards glance. She wasn't sure how much he understood—while she kept her human mind when in bear form, she knew for other shifters it was only vague emotions and senses. But even using these animal senses he'd know that she recognized him in his other form.

Callisto had no other option. She had to follow. Rory had followed her. He'd been waiting for his opportunity and now he knew she was out for more than just a walk. Even so, she'd promised him that she'd take him with her if she went out again and she'd reneged on that. He didn't appear angry. More concerned, if she was reading his body language correctly. Even if he shifted back, he'd be totally naked, and she had no notebook with her. There was no way she could communicate with him.

She took one cautious step and then another, hiding her face by studying the ground like she was ashamed she'd been caught. In reality, there was nothing except the smashed promise of Pinefall, her sacred time ripped away from her. She bristled with rage, but it was tempered by the annoying prickles of desire that she felt digging into the pit of her stomach and burning between her legs when she thought about Rory standing there in the woods totally naked if he shifted back to his human form.

He'd be glorious. Full dark. Full light. Everything in between.

It hammered into her brain like a spike that his kindness and his mercy and care made him no less masculine, if anything it enhanced his quiet strength. Her brain sent that memo out in shivery, hot pulses that reached the core of her until she felt sick and empty.

Rory, as the bear, would have a keener sense of smell than he did as a human. She carefully cloaked her desire in annoyance, focusing instead on all that he'd taken away from her by following her. Everything. He'd taken away everything. He'd ruined all of it. She was equally to blame for not taking care to make sure he was truly asleep before she snuck out. He'd caught her once, so obviously he'd be waiting for her to give herself away. How stupid could she have been?

They kept to the shadows, stealing back to the main street. Rory waited, then ran out, crossing from the woods to shadowed yards, skirting the edges, crossing main street, and then finally plunging into his own yard. He pawed at the door. She knew what he wanted. He wanted her inside, in the shop where he did all that butchering, so they could talk without being overheard.

She opened the door, bile rising in her throat, but like the day she'd been there with Sophia, when she clicked on the light, she found the space empty and scrubbed perfectly clean.

She swallowed hard and walked stiffly into the middle of the room. The way she planted her feet made it obvious she would stay there.

The bear dipped its head and let the door shut. He'd had a paw between it to keep it open.

She turned her back when she heard it open again a few minutes later. It was Rory and he'd be without clothes, the way her mind was at this moment she didn't think she could deal with that sight. He slipped soundlessly up to the apartment above. He kept a duffel bag with his clothes in it stashed behind the couch, since they had the bedroom, and he couldn't go barging in there at any time to get clothes. He wouldn't wake anyone up there when he changed.

She was right. It was silent above them. The shop was quiet too, but it was alive in its own way. The big fridge and freezer built hummed creating a kind of white noise. A light buzzed in the ceiling. The air conditioner vibrated in the background.

Callisto's back was to the door and her heart jumped into her throat when she heard it open and Rory's boots scrape over the concrete floor.

She whirled and found him there in a clean flannel shirt. It was oversized to fit his height and hung loosely at the sides, but it couldn't disguise the power of his body beneath it. His jeans looked so soft since they were so worn and faded, and they hugged the muscles of his thighs and hung off his hips like they were designed to send sensual thoughts straight to her brain and other parts of her anatomy.

He set down her notebook and pen on the stainless-steel counter, crossed his arms, and waited.

So, this wasn't to be the inquisition after all. Endless, harsh questions, driving guilt, and burning disappointment weren't Rory's style. He looked at the notebook and then those soft brown eyes swept back up to her. The fluorescent light cast harsh shadows over the planes of his face, which didn't make him look older. Just more rugged with that hard jawline and dark stubble. He was serious now, grave and solemn, and so his dimples didn't stand out and make him look boyish or youthful. He was very raw and rugged, and that hit her hard, but not as hard as that terrible moment of silence when their gazes locked, and it was clear that he knew.

"If you want out that door to go kill two people you probably aren't even sure are guilty because you got that information secondhand, you have to go through me and my bear. I would never hurt you, but I will do everything in my power to stop you because you need stopping. In order to hurt or kill them, you'd have to hurt or kill me. Let me make that clear."

Sophia. The face of her best friend, her sister, the woman she'd trust with her life and death and all the moments in between, crashed through her skull. No. She would never- she just wouldn't- it wasn't possible.

But that was the only way Rory could know.

Sophia told him.

"Yes. She did." There was no point hiding what she was thinking now. He continued, "Sophia loves you beyond even your understanding. She knows that doing this will damn your soul in this life and anything that might come next. This isn't the way to get what you want."

For the first time since she'd met him, she watched Rory's hands curl into fists. He saw her eyes fly there and widen and he immediately relaxed them. He held his palms out to her, lifting them up. They were stained and calloused and not disgusting at all, as she'd once thought.

"Jesus, Callisto, I'm not going to hurt you."

You couldn't, she signed, even though he wouldn't understand. You can't hurt me anymore than I've already been hurt, physical pain is nothing compared to the mental pain I've suffered. You can't wipe out a soul that doesn't exist. You can't destroy what's already been broken.

He might not have been able to follow, but he clearly got the gist of it from her face. "If your parents have truly done these things—left you to die, or hurt you the way you think they have, then I'm right beside you. Maybe if we tell Sam he can get Clarence involved?"

Her eyes widened. She snatched up the notebook. She wasn't going to be kind, but he was here with her now, promising something beyond what he should be capable of providing. She burned with hurt and shame at having her secret betrayed to him and she wanted to hurt him the way she was hurting. Clawing back, fighting back, surviving—she knew how to do that. Bowing to that gripping feeling inside of her? She had no idea how to accept help or surrender.

THE MATING VOW WAS FAKE. YOU OWE ME NOTHING. I NEVER MEANT TO BETRAY YOU OR GET YOU INVOLVED IN THIS. I NEVER WANTED YOU TO KNOW. I DON'T NEED YOU OR YOUR CLAN'S HELP.

Rory dug in, his jaw setting hard. He could be as stubborn as she was. "Yes, you do. You need all of us to help you. Sophia doesn't want you to do this and she's right. You can't."

IF THEY DID THIS?? IF? She underlined the ‘if' so hard that the pen tore through the paper. She shook the notebook in Rory's face.

Fucking if. There was no if about it. Just because she hadn't gotten a confession from their mouths didn't make it less true.

Rory put one huge hand on the notebook and pushed it down gently, away from his face. He wasn't angry. He was understanding. Something like pity shone in his eyes and it made Callisto sick to her stomach.

"Sam and even Nelson and everyone else here would be at your side, and on your side. I know you don't believe that, but trust me, it's the truth. But we'd have to hear it from them. If not your parents, then someone at Pinefall. Sam would go to Clarence, and he would have to be honest about their past. You cannot just mete out your own justice. I know it's hard, but no revenge is worth murder. You have a brother and sister here, and one in Pinefall. They need to know about this. There has to be a meeting or a series of meetings. Your whole life you've been alone except for Sophia, but not anymore. I see you. I can't even fathom your pain, but I see you here and now and I swear to you that I won't stop until you know the full truth of what happened to separate you from your clan, and that forgiveness or punishment is handed out accordingly, but I cannot let you through that door until you agree to my terms."

She rolled her eyes and went back to writing in huge, angry letters. Even a hand shaking with the unspent force of her anger was better than nothing at all.

OR WHAT? YOU'LL TIE ME UP AND LOCK ME IN YOUR FRIDGE DOWN HERE? SHOVE ME IN YOUR STORAGE CLOSET? TAKE ME TO SAM AND NELSON AND HAVE THEM KEEP ME PRISONER IN ONE OF THOSE CABINS AGAIN?

Rory raked a hand through his hair. It was messed up and disheveled from running through the night, from his agitation. She wanted to thrust her hand there with his, crank his face down, and work out her anger on him. With him. He'd be up to the challenge now that he knew who and what she was. Now that he was angry.

Except… he wasn't angry. He wasn't even hurt. Not the way a man who'd just had a knife slipped in between his ribs should be. He was frustrated, but not with her. With himself, it seemed.

"No. God. No one is locking you anywhere." He stormed across the few feet separating them and took her shoulders in his hands. His fingers bit through her thin black shirt and she relished the small bite of pain. She never broke eye contact. She wasn't afraid. "How can I make you understand that there are things in this life far greater than revenge? Forgiveness. Love. Those are worth far more than anger and justice. You think all this time you've been on a path to an ending, but what if you were walking towards a beginning?"

She grinned wickedly, meanly, right into his face to show him how stupid she thought that was.

"What?" he challenged her. "Do the girls not mean anything to you? Sireen and Bay? They're two years old. They don't understand things like vengeance, but they do know love and they're attached to you. What about Fraiser? He might not be innocent like a baby anymore, but he's a good kid, and you and Sophia are in his life now. You might think you can just walk out of it, but he'd be hurt."

"What about you?" she mouthed, even though there was no sound. She worked her lips like other people did, trying to make each word clear, but just in case it wasn't enough, she stabbed a finger between them, right into Rory's chest.

"Me? What about me?" he groaned. His hands remained solidly on her shoulders, but without force. She could easily twist away. It wasn't like he was grabbing her to drive her back or shake her. She wished that he would. Roughly. "You tell me. What about me? Do I mean anything at all? Or was I just a means to an end? I know you didn't set that up. You didn't choose me. But you took a vow and no matter how we took it, we still made that promise to each other. Whether you meant to keep it or whether you just wanted to get close to your family and I was an easy way to achieve that goal, we're still mated."

Callisto shook her head.

Rory's fingers gripped tighter, his eyes burning as he held her gaze, "I can help you if you'll let me. I'm standing here as the man offering to be that bridge from the hell you've been living in, into something better. I'll fight however hard I have to in order to keep that promise. I'm your mate, Callisto. I'm your mate and I'm going to do as Sophia asked and save you from yourself. I'm the man who wants to offer you a family here in Greenacre I believe you are so much stronger than even you know. You're worth far more than one fateful act that is never going to heal you, and will probably only destroy you. I could offer you so much more than you saw in me that first day. Maybe fate is real and maybe it put us in each other's paths for a reason. So. Callisto. What. About. Me?"

There was too much anger, too much adrenaline, too much feeling inside of her. It was either shift and tear the place apart, go to war with Rory in her current form or as bears, knee him in the balls, or tear him apart in that way her body yearned to do. She stood there for a moment, her breathing rapid and hard while Rory was so calm. He was the rock that the waves broke up on, the haven in the storm.

Always, she'd gravitated to men who meant nothing. Never had she sought out kindness. Maybe she was afraid of what she'd find if she ever allowed herself to look for that haven, to sit down and have a few minutes of rest. She was afraid that if someone offered her kindness and ever took it away, it would be the one thing out of a lifetime of things, that could finally break her.

Rory wasn't offering only to rip it away.

He wasn't that kind of man.

He was the kind of man who raised a son of his own, a son as gentle and kind and good as he was. He was a man who had dimples and smiled and laughed easily and often. He was the kind of man who adopted two little girls and loved them like they were his own flesh and blood, loved them more than he loved himself. He was the kind of man who proudly contributed to something bigger than himself, who loved his clan and alpha and the land he'd been born to.

He was the kind of man who could find out that he'd been played and been used but could turn those lies and that betrayal into an offer of forgiveness and an outstretched hand.

Truly, this man's heart and soul were too big to be contained in something as simple as a cage of flesh and bone.

She wanted to feel it, that heart. That miracle of kindness, that wonder of forgiveness, that thing that felt unconditionally good.

Her hand reached out before she could stop it. She flattened her palm on Rory's chest, above soft flannel. He was warm and his heart beat so strongly that she could feel it right there beneath her fingers. She'd stunned him. Other people didn't touch one another this way. No one did something like that. His breath punched out of his lungs.

"Callisto?" It was the way he said her name, the syllables rolling off nice and slow from his tongue like a gentle caress, that did her in. It snapped the last binding holding her back.

The darkness inside of her splintered, detonating like a bomb. She felt the crushing weight of all those burdens she'd carried for so long loosening up, flowing like a river towards some other distant shore. Towards Rory. He was going to take it from her, even if he couldn't feel it right now. Even if he remained unbowed physically, her hand on his chest. A different pressure built inside of her. She released it by gripping Rory's face in both hands, not gently. Roughly. With nails in the short growth of stubble. She tried to drag him to her with fierceness, but he came gently.

He wasn't the sea crashing over her, closing in on her, the black dark depth waiting to claim her, the water filling her lungs. He was a gentle tide, lapping around her, the current tickling her limbs. He was cold water on a scorching day, floating on a transparent blue green surface, the sun hot from above, entirely weightless.

He kissed the top of her head, his lips running over her hair as his hands smoothed the strands. He worked his way to her forehead, placing gentle kisses there and then he tilted her chin up. Her eyes were dry, but his were not. They were misted over, crystallized, lovely beyond measure.

For her.

He kissed her nose and her cheeks and when he finally tasted her lips, she knew that he was wrong. She'd be a prisoner after all. His prisoner. He was binding her with gentleness and hope and the one thing she'd craved all her life. A family and the love that came with it.

She could feel the gentle plea as his lips brushed against hers, so warm and just slightly chapped from the wind, but delicious all the same. He kissed the side of her mouth before he focused on her bottom lip. He made the softest, lowest noise. It was like a plea.

Stop fighting. Let me in. Let me help you. Let me show you goodness. Let me…

Right. And what purpose would that serve? Mating and marriage in either shifter or human world, was a pointless concept. The only person you could ever trust was yourself. Maybe a best friend or two, the real kind of soulmate, like Sophia.

Why was her heart slamming so hard she could barely hear anything past the hard beats in her ears? It felt like more than discovery. She was beyond the point of that. Far, far beyond that minute in the woods when she knew that Rory knew.

Callisto could shove Rory away and continue down the brutal warpath that she'd put herself on, or she could melt against him and let him carry some of that weight. She didn't need a champion, but that wasn't really what he was offering. Rory didn't deserve extra burdens, but he was offering to help all the same. He was offering to understand. She'd hurt him, but he'd already forgiven her. How could she ever have judged this man harshly? He was a wonder. Someone like him shouldn't even exist. It was against the laws of nature and the brutality that humanity was capable of.

Her hands fell away from his face and flexed against his chest. They were ready. Ready to shove hard, to free herself, to take a step back.

Instead, her fingers curled into the soft flannel shirt, and she clung to him. She pulled him into her and opened her mouth, kissing him hard even as her body relaxed and the violent pain that had been screaming inside of her ever since birth, ever since she'd had to learn how to be a survivor, was finally as silent as her voice.