TWELVE | TWO STEPS BACK

The more I think about my conversation with Ms. Jin, the more my head hurts. It started up the second I left the school and keeps burning the inside of my skull. I feel like she just dropped a nuclear bomb in my lap and said 'don't worry, it's not active'. As I park in my driveway I take a second to breathe and massage my temples.

Bright side: it's now the official weekend. No Azures for two whole days. I still don't know if I feel happy about that or not. I glance at the darkening sky and estimate about an hour till Mom calls. I sigh and collect my stuff from the passenger's seat. I'll have to talk to her about the whole Zane thing now. She may freak - but after the conversation we had last night, I wonder if my assessment over my mom's thought process is accurate. I need to talk to someone about all this madness.

If I don't, I think I'm going to implode.

I hum to myself as I get out of the car and head inside, enjoying the brief coolness of the evening air. Maybe I'll clean up the greenhouse a bit after dinner and get started on replanting. Gardening has always been a little therapeutic for me. The smell of the fresh earth, the thought that I'm helping something live, and all the while being productive for a change. Not to mention how much attention it requires. Just the thought of the whole experience takes the edge off the anxiety I was feeling.

I push the key into the lock and walk into the lit hallway. *Wait. Lit hall?* I shut the door behind me and freeze. I don't remember leaving the light on this morning. It's a waste of money. Ice trickles down my spine and my inner wolf goes on full alert.

Then I catch the scent of Wolven, pine, and parchment. Immediately, my wolf calms. I close my eyes, grimacing when I hear familiar footsteps shuffling around the kitchen. Firm and sure-footed, the steps set my fears to rest, then spikes wariness in it's place. *Here we go*.

"What're you doing in my house?" I call, hefting my back pack over one shoulder and make my way into the kitchen. My home-invader is wearing an apron. I have no idea where he got it, simple off-white and tied off at his waist over his usual t-shirt and jeans. My stomach flutters at the domestic sight of him. Zane is pulling an assortment of vegetables and meats from brown paper bags that are littering the counter tops. *He brought me food*.

"Took you long enough." Zane shoots back over his shoulder, setting a few items in a bowl I don't remember owning in the sink. "You really shouldn't leave your spare key laying around, by the way." He nods towards the back window where the door to the greenhouse is slightly ajar. I hid the key there only yesterday. After the hunt...*has he been watching me? Or did he just sniff it out?*

"So this isn't breaking-and-entering? And I shouldn't call the cops?" It's a bluff, and judging by the smile he tosses me, he knows it. I couldn't call the authorities even if I wanted to. *Underaged girl living alone? No emancipation record on file? Yeah, that's just asking for trouble*.

"You could, but I don't think my presence here would raise as much concern as you hope." He shrugs. "Besides, you wouldn't do that. You'd bring CPS into the equation, and I'm sure you don't want them nosing around here." He adds, starting to wash the various vegetables in the bowl. *This is beyond the usual weird I'm starting to expect from him*.

I ignore his comments, passing him to get to my room, and toss my stuff onto the floor by my bed. I hear him shuffling around the kitchen for a while. Long enough for me to straighten up my room though there's only those bloody clothes from the fall that are balled up in the corner. The box with my clothes is open, the few things I have in disarray inside, but at least it's contained.

I duck into my bathroom with a change of clothes and find myself priming in the mirror. *Geez, I look paler than usual today*. The circles under my eyes have only gotten darker, and there's a slight hollowing of my cheeks. *Hence the food*. It makes a little more sense to me now. *Am I burning through more calories now*? I don't see why, but it would explain the crazy appetite I've had lately. Once I've changes into more comfortable, and more baggy clothing, yes, baggier than the stuff I wear to school. I go back into the kitchen to confront Zane.

"I guess this is long overdue." I settle against the other side of the room, leaning on the wall that shares the hall between the whole house. Riddled with escape routes. Still, my heart's hammering in my chest and I'm chewing the inside of my cheek. *Why am I so nervous? It's not like we've never been in a room alone before*.

"You could say that again." Zane agrees, setting the knife he's holding down and moving over to the stove. By now there's a large frying pan on the stove that's sizzling with meat and onions.

"You cook?" I decide to change the subject without meaning to.

"Mhm." He murmurs, using a spoon to stir the stuff he's got cooking. I sniff the air, my stomach growling softly as the simple, yet heady aroma fills my nostrils. My mouth waters, feet slowly gravitating closer as my curiosity spikes. I don't just smell the meat and onions, but spices. I don't own much in terms of spices besides salt and pepper. And hot sauce - but I don't really think that counts.

"What is it?" I ask, sniffing again and peeking over his shoulder. My chest presses against his back and I find I'm leaning on him, my hands on his shoulders to gain a little more height. He stops moving entirely, going stiff beneath my touch. My breath catches in my throat and I freeze. *What the hell am I doing?* I back off immediately, and move to stand beside him, trying to ignore the blush stinging my skin. Getting that close to a Wolven of the opposite sex is akin to the way dogs sniff at each other's butts. *Way* too intimate.

"It is," Zane clears his throat, shifting from foot to foot as he goes back to stirring. "Beef, onion, garlic, and spices." He goes back to the cutting boards by the sink where he's diced up a crown of broccoli, green beans, cabbage, and a few other things I don't know the names of. My stomach lets out another grumble of impatience.

"Spices like..." I make a motion for him to continue but he just smirks at me and makes a zipping motion over his lips.

"Secret recipe." Zane tosses the green stuff into the pan - along with the pale, red, and stripped stuff. I should really try to pay more attention when I'm at the grocery store. "If I told you, I'd have to kill you." He jokes, giving the mix a good stir and little flip. My mood sobers a bit at the word *kill*.

"Get in line." I mutter, watching the way he expertly flips the contents of the pan without spilling. He stops, growls, then sets the pan aside, turning to face me. I take step back, my eyes widening when I see that murderous look darkening his silvery-grey eyes.

"And *that*, that's something else we need to talk about." He doesn't try to close the distance between us, but gestures to foot of empty air now separating us. I bristle at his tone.

"Sorry, we've known each other all of *two* days, excuse me for getting a little freaked at *this*." I hiss back, narrowing my eyes at him. *Good. Stay on the defense, Scarlett*. I tell myself, letting the slight anger fill me so I can get through this conversation.

"Three." He shakes his head, frowning. I don't like that look. My anger at him wavers.

"What?" I blink at his word. *Three?*

"It's been *three* days, Red." He repeats, the addition of my nickname softening his tone. And I like the way he says it way too much. *There goes that plan. I feel like I'm on a rollercoaster*.

"Today doesn't count. It's not over yet." I wrinkle my nose, relaxing at the more gentle tone and warmth in his eyes.

"But we met at school and the school day is over." He points out, turning back to the pan and putting the metal back on the glowing burner. He's smiling again, relaxed, calm. I can't help but mirror his stance, scooting back over towards him to watch in fascination as he continues to cook. He's got a better technique than Mom.

"Touché." I murmur, feeling the corners of my lips turn up just a little. "I don't cook much. Some but just simple stuff. Or recipes Mom gave me." The stuff continues to sizzle and he pulls a few bottles of brown liquid from yet another bag. More scents fill the air as he adds different doses of the stuff into the pot. It smells amazing. Spicy and sweet and sharp. I bounce on the balls of my feet in anticipation, my stomach growling it's chant of hunger.

"You live alone?" He asks, but I know it's not really a question. Even I can't smell another Wolven in the house - not a long-term scent at least. He recaps the bottles and turns the stove off.

"She's...away on business." Not a lie. Zane nods slowly, not pushing the issue, and goes back over to the bags he brought. He lifts a set of shiny black plates, some sort of polished stone, and sets the off to the side. He pulls two from the stack and passes me one before going over to the pot and spooning half the stuff onto his plate. He empties the rest of the bag onto the counter, utensils hitting the surface. At least four of each, simple silvery material, not silver - though since he plucks up a fork without a word or cry of pain.

Yes, silver hurts Wolven. It feels like a sunburn when you touch it, burns through our skin if you don't immediately drop it. Learned that the hard way when I was little. Silver and a flower called monks' hood...also known very aptly as wolves bane. That stuff is worse than itching powder. Hunters use both. Not fun.

Zane settles on the counter, holding his plate up with one hand and eating with the other. I follow his example, choosing to sit on the opposite counter. There's a few moments silence while we eat. Aside from my noisy groans of approval. Rich sauce coats the meat and vegetables, sweet and spicy and just a little tangy. I'm practically crying.

"So, visions, get them often?" Zane asks suddenly. I pause mid-chew and stare at my food.

"No. You?" I speak even with food in my mouth. He grimaces at my mouth and passes me a napkin from a stack on the counter beside him I hadn't noticed.

"Not until I met you." He says, studying me as I take the napkin and wipe my mouth. I finish chewing and sit back against the counter, setting my plate aside. He does the same. We look at each other for a long minute.

"If you have something to say just say it." I finally tell him.

"If you run, I'll drag you back here myself." It sounds more like a promise than a warning. I roll my eyes and gesture for him to keep going. "It's obvious from the vision that someone's after you. An you don't talk about your Pack - but you smell like them - don't deny it." He warns as I open my mouth. I close it again, pursing my lips as he goes on. "Your Mom isn't around either, and you can't fight for shit." *Again, not a question*. I frown at him. I know it's apparent from the vision I can't fight, well, not other Wolven. It's not like Mom had time to train me properly.

"What's your point?" I ask dryly.

"You've obviously been away from any real information for years," Zane continues and tenses on the edge of the counter, like he's about to make good on that 'if you run, I'll drag you' promise from earlier. "Or you'd know what a shared vision between two Wolven, not related by blood, means."

"And pray tell, what *does* it mean?" I feign stupidity, crossing my arms over my chest. Trying to muffle the pounding thuds of my heart. He watches me for a long minute, face impassive, eyes cast in turmoil.

"It means that we're meant to be," He says slowly, never relaxing. I hear his breathing become a little shallower, a little faster. My own breathing is mirroring his without me trying. My wolf is about ready to take over, the excitement of the moment driving me crazy. "We're mates." There's a beat of silence where the truth hangs in the air.

"Um... No." I say back slowly, fighting the urge to just correct him and tell him it's so much more than that. True mates. *Soulmates*. I can't. *Deny it*. "You're mistaken." I force the words out, each one like a nail to the heart, trying to strangle me on their way off my tongue.

"No, I'm not." Zane's face is carefully guarded, but there's a new steel in his silvery-grey gaze.

"How can you be sure?" I roll my eyes, pretending I don't feel like I'm about to shatter into a million little pieces. *Shit-poker face*. I try and project a different emotion, anything but the pain I'm experiencing. The first one that comes out is defiance. The second is mistrust. "It's been tw-three days." I stick to the second emotion as best I can, feigning confidence.

"It's instantaneous, Red." He sighs, looking tired. "One second nothing, then," He snaps his fingers. "Boom, you know."

"Don't know what you're talking about." Really, it's not a lie. My reaction hadn't been like that. Not really. "I didn't feel an instant connection." It was more like a secondary thing. Only when I allowed myself to really look at him.

"I did." He admits quietly. But he's not looking at me know. He's staring at the stove. "You're not fully Wolven. Hybrid reactions aren't well studied so I can't say what the reaction would be for you exactly." *How did he know what I am? He doesn't even seem fazed by it*. "But for me," He studies the stove, face coloring slightly. "I felt like I'd gotten hit by a train."

"Thanks?" I frown , not really like the sound of that. My reaction was not that jarring. It was slower, more gradual. *Hell, I didn't even realize it until yesterday, really*.

"The point is, I just knew." He gives me a rueful smile. "I've been trying to give you some space," He explains, finally leaning back and watching me. "But after the vision... I really think we need to straighten everything out."

"Straighten everything out?" I echo and raise an eyebrow at him.

"Yeah. Like that guy from the vision. He's obviously not your biggest fan," His eyes get that darker look in them, the silvery flecks nearly disappearing. "It's apparent you need help." *Help? From him?*

"I've been keeping myself safe for years. I don't *want* your help." I growl, feeling the roller coaster anger resurface. *What makes him think he could help me?*

"You may not *want* my help, sweetheart, but you sure as hell *need* it." Zanes getting pissed too, I can see the swirling darkness in his eyes and the slight tick of muscle in his jaw. *Hm...maybe I can use this to my advantage?*

"Need it? It looked to me like your 'help' didn't help at all in the vision," *Low blow? A little*. It's not like he isn't chase Ry off, but the fact remains that I did get seriously banged up in the vision. Not because of him, but he doesn't seem to realize that.

His eyes flare bright, glowing silver, and terror streaks down my spine when he moves at the speed of light. One second he's sitting on the counter, the next he's right in front of me. I immediately cringe away from him. The only people who I've encountered that move that quickly have been the ones trying to kill me. He doesn't seem to get that it's just a reflex, not really fear of *him*.

He immediately takes a step back, the silver of his eyes dying out like a light flickering out.

"What do you suggest then?" He spits out, eyes still blazing bright, but at his usual silvery-grey.

"We should just," I shrug, avoiding his eyes. "Stay away from each other. Can't have a vision come true if you're not there, right?"

For a second, I don't think he buys it. But, again, it gives me time to digest everything. We just stare at each other, me trying not to think about the ache growing in my chest. Him just guarded again.

"*Fine*." He growls and storms out of the room. A second later I hear the front door slam, wincing as the jarring sound echoes through the now empty house.