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The next things I’d start throwing were weapons, and the broadsword mounted on my wall was looking mighty inviting right then. I was sick and tired of Lucas behaving like my naïveté about werewolf culture and ritual gave him the right to act on my behalf. I wasn’t a child, and I wasn’t his pawn.
“Start talking.”
He sighed. “The soul-bond is one part in a more complicated process. Werewolves use it to find their mates.” The glare I fixed on him must have told him what I was holding back from saying out loud, that I already knew this part. “But true mating is a different thing altogether.”
I grabbed another pillow and hugged it to my chest. Taking a weapon off the wall would be too obvious, but if there was a way to beat him to death with fabric and feathers, I would find it. And if he danced around the point of this conversation with a long, drawn-out explanation, I would find a way to make it really painful.
“Long story short,” I warned him.
Lucas shot me a look, one that might have made lesser wolves cower. I simply returned it in kind. “I sealed our mate bond when I bit you. I took in part of your essence and fed you part of mine. We are one now.”
“If we’re so bonded, why can’t I taste you anymore?”
“Because the side effects of the bond are no longer necessary. Now that we are truly mated we don’t need the soul-bond. It has done its job.”
“And the mark?” I prodded the bruise on my neck.
“It will heal. It’s a sign of the completed mating. Once it’s gone, people will recognize my power in you. The other wolves in our pack and in others will finally see you as their queen.”
I got to my feet and put the pillow down, then tracked across the room. Lucas seemed to think I was coming towards him, because he opened his arms as if to embrace me. I pushed his arm aside and brushed past him, then stood by the door.
“If we are one, can you tell what I’m feeling?”
“When the emotions are strong, yes.”
I jerked the door open. “Then you know why I’m telling you to get the fuck out.”
“Secret—”
“No, don’t Secret me. Don’t condescend. Don’t stand here like you care that I’m mad. You did this without asking me, because you knew it would benefit you, and now you’re going to pretend to be apologetic?”
He said nothing.
“Answer me one thing,” I said.
“Anything.”
“Would you do it again, knowing how mad I am now?”
Lucas opened his mouth, then shut it and looked down at the floor. I had my answer. “I did what I had to do. We need to be a united front or it all falls—”
“Get out.”
“But—”
“No, Lucas. This time I have the last word, and you don’t get to do anything about it.” I shoved him out the door and locked it behind him.
When I woke the next night, Desmond still wasn’t home, but it was obvious he’d been in the apartment. Several of his shirts were missing, and his toothbrush was gone from the bathroom. Each space that had once held something of his felt like a hole punctured in my heart. I’d called him a dozen times, but he never answered, and I couldn’t figure out how to tell him what I needed to on a thirty-second voicemail message. I’d asked him to call me back, but he hadn’t.
Dressing quickly, I pulled on a cowl-neck angora sweater in a purple-gray—the color of Desmond’s eyes—and a pair of jeans. I wasn’t expecting to get bloody tonight, and I wanted to look like a typical coed.
As I reached for a pair of earrings on the nightstand, I noticed the sheets on the opposite side of the bed were
indented, like he’d stopped to lie down beside me when he’d come to gather his things. I sniffed the sheets, and the smell of Desmond was like a fingerprint, unique and obvious. I smoothed the cotton under my hand and sat on the impression of his body.
I wanted him to come home.
My cell phone rang and I lunged for it, not bothering with the caller ID screen. “Desmond?”
