23. Confessions

Laura - Bellu Cemetery
On my way to the cemetery, I stop to purchase a flower pot and a hat. I bring a flower pot and pay the caretaker to assist with maintaining the flowers every time I visit my parents' grave. What will I do with this flower pot? Every spot is already taken; there is no place for new ones. That's what happens when you come every month for more than two decades.
I can conceal my identity quite well with this hat. Those attending the resting place of their loved ones often gaze at each other, and a few even recognize one another. It would be a mistake on my side to seem permanently youthful.
I tuck my hair beneath the hat and pull its bill down to obscure my face even more. Angel statues watch over the tombs as I stroll to the location where most of my family is buried. Outside of a book, only this spot offers me comfort. Stillness and freedom to express oneself freely create tranquility that is difficult to find anywhere else.
A thorough examination of the surroundings provides one last location for the flower pot. Even though a wooden bench is close by, I sit on the ground. I can now gaze at my mother's picture on the gravestone and see her face.
Looking her in the eyes, I smile with sadness. “So much has happened since I’ve last seen you. Though I wouldn’t like to worry you, I know you prefer to tell you everything. Long story short, I think I messed things up. I’ve met a guy.” I chuckle. “Isn’t that how all stories start?”
I envision her beaming at me as if her prayers have been answered. "No, not like that."
My mind trails off, picturing Paul in my head. "Ok, maybe it’s exactly like that. But that’s the problem. He’s meant to kill me, I know it. He doesn’t want to do it. Mama, I’m scared. And I don’t even know if it’s because he doesn’t want to give me what I seek or because, slowly, I don’t think about death when he’s near me."
Before I know it, my face is full of tears. Fortunately, no one’s around, and I break apart without anyone seeing it. I cry my guts out and let myself be free of all the burdens that hurt on the inside. When I look again at the headstone, my mama’s picture is blurry from the tears still gathering inside my eyes.
"I used to have a sense of purpose, giving me strength. My willpower wanes when I lose sight of my objective, and I feel weak and frightened. Mama, I just want to die as you did. What's wrong with wanting this? Perhaps I'll see you again."
Another flood of tears sweeps down my face, and I can't see or hear anything except my muffled sobbing. "No one would miss me," I mutter between shudders.
“I would.”
Upon hearing Paul's voice behind me, my eyes widen with shock. Even my fake beating heart stops. Why does he have to come when I’m at my lowest?
When a hand brushes across my shoulder, I spring to my feet and pull back. Even though he can't see my face, I pull the hat lower and shout, "Keep your distance! I don't need you. You have no business being here."
WIthout adding anything else, he yanks the cap from my head and my hair falls down. I cover my face with my hands as he turns and pulls me into his arms. Can’t say why I want to sob even harder. “You don’t understand! I feel incomplete, hollow on the inside. I’m a hoax, claiming to be alive when I shouldn’t be. Only glamouring myself keeps me going forward. I’m broken. Let me go.”
“I won’t.” His hand brushes over my hair. “You’ve just said you don’t think about death when I’m near. So I’ll stay as close as possible.”
I gasp as I realize he heard everything I said to my mother. The comforting warmth and tenderness return as he wraps me in his embrace. I don’t want to succumb to this ardor. Pressing both my palms onto his chest, I push him back. No effect. He simply kisses the top of my head.
“Why are you always around when I need you? I don’t deserve it.” When did that note of vulnerability creep into my voice? I’m always exposing my weaknesses in front of him.
“Because that’s my duty, to be here for you and protect you. And…” His voice trails off. His muscles coil under my hand as he struggles to continue. In the end, he mutters under his breath, “I’m sorry.”
I finally find the strength to look up at him. Those beautiful gray eyes are filled with a swirling blend of curiosity and need, reflecting my own feelings.
Gulping, I say, “You shouldn’t be. You’re right. I’m selfish. But you must know I’ve never lied. From the moment we’ve met, I told you what I want from you. If you can’t give me true death, I understand. I’ll find other ways. There has to be something left for me to try. Let me run. The Council won’t find me.”
“No. You’ll play by my rules. I’m a man of my word, and I claimed you as mine. So shall be.” His grip tightened even more, leaving me breathless. “If you don’t want to obey Paul Mateescu, or your boss, or the Alpha of the Muntenia pack, you shall obey the Dragon. And the Dragon wants to get to know his mate better.”
Smothering the urge to retort and deny his right to call me his mate, I let myself be swept away by his magnificent gaze. My skin creases when he looks at me like that. I stop trying to push him away.
“Okay, Paul, then let me show you something.”
He relaxes his grip, and I step back. Why Paul finds me intriguing, I do not know, but for whatever reason, I want his company. My fingers reach for his, and I take his hand. “Follow me.”