32. Claim

** Past**

Kane Wilder was acting strange.
The alpha's son was normally an aloof person, curt and brief- even while surrounded by his usual crowd of friends. His eyes never seemed to linger on things or people for too long, and if they did, a pot of trouble was usually about to be stirred.
It appeared I was deep in that pot.
I've been on the receiving end of his attention lately- long piercing looks that weren't exactly glares but definitely weren't warm either. Almost everywhere I went, at school, in the street, at the Wilder's place. Nowhere was safe.
So I stayed clear of the cafeteria, keeping my eyes down more than usual and giving him and his friends a wide berth whenever I happened to pass them in the hallway. Anything to avoid him. But it wasn't him or the stares that scared me, it was the reason behind the staring. If he was noticing me for the reason I suspected- the very reason why I couldn't seem to drag my eyes away from his whenever I caught him looking- then I had plenty to worry about.
Some werewolves knew who their mates were because of a sixth sense, the same natural instinct that helped them hunt, survive, and told them who was a greater threat, more dominant than them. I don't know much about how werewolf mating worked but there was one thing I was certain of: when werewolves choose a partner, they stayed with them for life.
So what if all this staring was Kane deciding whether or not I was a good match for him? Studying the way I walked, talked, reacted to the people around me? If that was the case then I was doomed. My usual awkwardness quadrupled as soon as I felt his eyes on me. I was the complete opposite of the cool, regal girls he was used to dating.
On the other hand I could be wrong and this whole thing could be a misunderstanding. I guess I could confront him about it. Settle it maturely.
I munched on my food, playing the idea out in my head for a minute.
Nope, I'll be hiding out in the library during lunch for the rest of my high school life.
I sighed, glancing out the window of the McDonald's I was currently at. The sun shone brightly over the busy sidewalk and the trees rustled peacefully, their leaves glittering under the golden rays like emeralds. A nice reminder. School was going to let out soon which not only meant summer jobs and extra cash for me, but also less sightings of Kane Wilder. What was that saying again? Leave tomorrow’s problems to tomorrow's me.
I smiled, crumpled my sandwich wrapper, reaching for my drink- and he was slipping into the empty seat across from me.
Kane grabbed both my hands, pinning them together by the wrists, legs trapping mine under the table.
I froze.
He studied me with the calm of someone doing something entirely natural, not uttering a word, his hold steady. His jeans were warm against my leggings.
I opened my mouth, closed it, wet my lips. "What are you doing?"
"Doing what I should've done a long time ago- I'm here to stake my claim."
"Claim over what?"
"You."
I blinked at him with disbelief, but there was no humor in those candid orbs- irritation, yes, and small flecks of amber- but no humor. I realized I had an angry werewolf on my hands- or more like I was in the hands one. Volatile werewolves were nothing to scoff at, the last time I'd seen Kane angry the other werewolf had nearly lost half of his face. Not pretty. But he wasn't the only annoyed werewolf here.
I raised my chin. "Claim? Why are you doing that now, was it the prospect of my fries as an added bonus?"
"Maybe I would've came to you sooner, if you weren't constantly running from me," he snarled, hands tightening around my wrists.
"Considering how you've been watching me as keenly as a vulture, it's no surprise I've been avoiding you," I shot back, pulling at my hands.
He released my hands, leaned over the table. "Did you just compare me to a vulture?"
I leaned away cautiously.
He laughed. "I'm a vulture?"
The sound, light and amused, brought out a reluctant smile from me. "If you'd been flat-out glaring I might've literally ran the other way."
"I scared you," he stated, not laughing anymore. His eyes were observant.
"Sort of," I shrugged, feeling stupid but relieved now that the truth was out in the open.
He didn't seem relieved, there was a crease on his brow as he studied my face. Then his hands were covering mine, completely engulfing them in his. His cool orbs were suddenly churning. "I believe words aren't nearly as strong as actions, but I'll tell you this anyway. I will never do anything to intentionally hurt or insult you, Ember Yale. And if anyone tries to hurt you, I'll break them. That's a promise."
It was the first time someone besides my alpha had made such a vow, and in a McDonald's for that matter. But it made it even more realistic, in this room filled with chatter and the scent of fried food, he was making a promise to protect me. In public- even if there were no other werewolves around- which meant he intended to keep it.
I watched him for a long time, fighting my tear ducts which threatened to let loose a stream. I blinked them away, nodding. "If you mean it, then the same thing works both ways," I said, voice hoarse.
"I'll take good care you," he assured, giving my hands a squeeze, a sneaky smile tugging at his lips. "Now let's go to my place."
My mouth popped open.
He raised a brow. "A joke."
"Don't do that again," I glared.
"I'm doing it again," he replied.
And he did do it again, quite often during the rest of the week. I still wasn't comfortable with the whole dating thing so we kept it to ourselves and when we did meet up- after school every day- it was in quiet secluded places like the woods or the stream. The first time I was too wary to talk, I just sat stiffly in the grass, staring at the glistening stream in front of me. I could see him from the corner of my eye, arms on his knees, head facing ahead.
"Draw me."
The low rumble of his voice was startling, I nearly jumped right out of my skin. I turned and he was facing me.
"You know I draw?" I asked warily.
"Vultures see everything," he said, lips tilting upwards a bit. "So? Will you draw me?"
I pursed my lips, wondering how I was going to tell him I've drawn him about a dozen times already. I could just lie, tell him I'd do it tonight and show it to him tomorrow, but I also don't like lying. I've read enough romance books to know relationships with too many lies don't last long. I reached into my backpack and pulled out my current sketchbook. I handed it to him.
He opened it, eyebrows arching higher and higher as he turned page after page- each one of him, walking in the hall, sitting in class, staring out a window, staring at me. Most were done in pencil but there were a few watercolor ones I did more recently.
After looking through each and every one, he lifted his gaze and I almost got up right then and jumped into the stream, I was that embarrassed.
"Looks like I'm not the only vulture," he grinned.
I laughed, reaching for the sketchbook.
He held it out of reach, expression suddenly contemplative. "Can I keep it?"
"Why?" I asked.
"So I'll know I'm not the only one," he replied simply.
I smiled at that, watching him slide the sketchbook into his gray knapsack.
"What's your favorite color?" I asked suddenly, afraid of going back to that uncomfortable quiet.
He shook his head. "I don't want to share likes and dislikes, that's not how you really get to know someone."
I pulled my knees to my chest, wrapped my arms around them. "How do you get to know someone?"
"Their secrets," he replied, tilting his head. "Tell me one of yours, Ember."
I wet my lips. "Just one?"
"For now."
"And you'll tell me one of yours?"
"Yes."
"Okay..." I shifted my attention to the stream, this time to think. "I read horror books sometimes so I can be thankful for the fact that my life isn't entirely bad as it seems."
I peaked a look at him. He didn't appear disturbed by this admission. He did move closer though, taking my hand and entwining it in his as he spoke. "I used to hate my dad."
My eyes widened. "I thought you were a happy family."
"We are, and I said used to. When I was a kid at least. My dad had to fight to marry my mom, her brother was an alpha and a tyrant. He whipped her enough to leave scars before finally letting her leave with my dad- so she'd never forget him I suppose. She told me she'd told my dad to leave it alone and didn't want any more rifts in the family. I hated him for letting my uncle get away with hurting her."
I squeezed his hand. "You used to. What changed your mind?"
"I met my uncle. If Dad had tried to get revenge he would've died- might've taken my uncle down with him, but he wouldn't have come out alive. It would've broken my mom. Pride isn't worth anything when you love someone."
"Thank you for telling me," I smiled. "It's the longest I've listened to you talk."
"Tell me your favorite color," he replied.
After that it was easier to talk to him, and even though he didn't say much about himself, he was a great listener.
Although he did have a fault: he wouldn't join Team Boogara. How a werewolf could deny the existence of ghosts is insanely ironic. But he made up for that sin in other ways, he enjoyed watching me draw and did strangely thoughtful things, texting me to ask if I ate before we met up and bringing food along when I said I hadn't, and never asking me about my mom with that familiar but maddening sympathetic look.
Yet he was also arrogant, made biting (albeit truthful) comments he didn't apologize for after even when I sulked, and then there was how he didn't talk about things that worried him.
One Saturday afternoon was one of those days. He'd been distracted the whole time and did something he'd never done before- placed his head on my lap and closed his eyes. His eyelashes were dark and thick, I noticed.
I poked his cheek. "You dying?"
"For your sake I hope not."
I frowned, the hairs on my back standing. There was something wrong. This whole dating thing felt too good to be true. For a long time I've been waiting for that invisible curtain hanging over us to fall and put an end to our play. Because I knew it couldn't last and I thought I'd be ready for it when it did end- but now I was just terrified. I've grown to love his company, grown to love talking and laughing with him. Even getting angry at him wasn't something I really minded. I'd grown dependent on him.
My voice felt like gravel as it came out of my dry throat. "What do you mean?"
He peaked an eye open. "I haven't kissed you yet."
I wanted to throttle him and hug him at the same time, but did none. Because it was still there, that feeling of impending doom.
It made me do something I've never done before, I started tracing Kane's face with my finger tip. Both his eyes opened, two orbs of molten amber. My finger faltered, continued.
"Remember the promise I made to you?" He asked quietly.
The curtains began to inch downwards. No, I don't remember.
"Yes," I replied, finger shaking slightly.
He grasped my hand, eyes locking with mine. Strands of his black hair fell on his forehead, his face gravely set.
The curtains picked up speed.
I waited for the words to come, for him to present whatever excuse for not being able to continue this when he reached out (my eye caught the dark glint on his finger) and pulled my head down over his. His lips weren't soft, but they moved gently against mine. After a moment they grew more urgent, more demanding. They nudged mine open, sighing (the cool touch of the ring on my neck) and then my mind began to slip away. Memories of him began to become muddled, folding up like paper planes and flying off to places I couldn't see. I made a sound of protest, pushed, but he held on tighter. There was the warm feel of his mouth against mine, the ring on my skin cold, and I continued to forget things that were right in my head moments ago.
Then it happened all at once- my body began slumping forward. The lingering feel of Kane's lips were the last thing I felt before the curtain fell completely.