Fade (25 page)

“Such a damned tragedy.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Does Dace have any plans for dealing with it?” he asked, the question halting.

“I’m not sure.” That was half true. I didn’t know Dace’s exact plans; I had only educated guesses. Besides, after everything Dad said, I didn’t want to give him another reason to worry about me.

I didn’t know if Dad believed me or not, but he shrugged. “You might want to tell him to hurry if he doesn’t want those wolves of his killed. People are getting antsy.”

I nodded, suddenly distracted as Dace burst to life in my head, more focused on my thoughts than he’d been at any point since I awoke. I couldn’t say for sure, but I think he was listening. And that irritated me. He could listen when he wanted, but I couldn’t.

Dad waved goodbye and closed the door behind him. I quickly made the bed then grabbed jeans and a sweater from the closet, heading to the bathroom to shower and change. I had no idea when I’d see Dace, but I wasn’t going to sit around and wait for him to show up.

I planned to do exactly what I’d told Dad: go see Chelle and Beth. I wouldn’t stay long if they didn’t want me there, but I had to at least stop in to let them know I was still here if they needed me.

Dace could just deal with it.

Halfway down the street, the heater on full blast, I realized I might have been a little hasty. I had no idea where the sisters lived. Their address hadn’t come up before. Cursing myself for a fool, I pulled over on the side of the road, putting the car in park.

I fished my cell phone out of my coat pocket, glanced at the screen, and then sat it on the seat next to me. I wanted to try something first. I closed my eyes, cleared my throat, and focused on Dace. I wasn’t sure how to go about getting in his mind, but if he could do it at will, why couldn’t I? He’d backed off after my conversation with Dad, but he was still in there somewhere, so it shouldn’t be too hard.

I felt stupid trying to envision a door. Our connection didn’t work like that. There wasn’t an actual door, no actual image anywhere. When he spoke to me, and when I felt him or the wolf, a corner of my mind expanded, and a ball of thought and sensation that didn’t belong to me burst to life in that space. Like a conscience, only more frustrating and powerful.

Dace?

No answer.

Wolf-Dace?

My cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and I opened my eyes to make sure I was still alone on the street. No one around.

I shut my eyes and tried to reach out one more time. And again, no response.

I had another thought and decided to give it a shot.

I lay my head back against the headrest, getting comfortable. I let my mind rove over the first time Dace kissed me. I imagined myself backed against the tree, his thigh wedged between my legs, holding me up. I dwelled on the feel of his soft lips against mine, his body pushing me back into the wood. The memory was vivid, and my response immediate. My pulse quickened, and I felt breathless. I didn’t feel Dace, though.

I replayed our last encounter. How he’d leaned me against the picnic table so quickly I hadn’t known I’d moved. I focused on the feel of his warm hands holding me in place and the guttural groans he breathed against my lips. Of the way it felt when his thigh pressed so intimately between my legs.

I’d never had a desire to be rid of my virginity, but thinking back over our encounter, the way Dace gently held me prisoner and the way feeling my pleasure and his combined … well, had the wolf not been so eager, I wasn’t sure I’d still be a virgin. I didn’t want him to stop. Knowing what he felt because of me had been beyond arousing, and so had his dominance.

He wouldn’t be shy or timid or uncertain if he made love to me, I knew that beyond a shadow of a doubt. He would be unashamed, demanding, and gentle at once. And all the questions I had about why people were so eager to hop into bed together, without a doubt, would be answered. He gave off a vibe that he knew what he was doing and would be very, very good at it.

Arionna.

I jumped as his voice sounded clear as bells in my head.

What are you doing?
His mental voice was too calm. He’d heard my thoughts.

My face burned.
I was trying to talk to you. I don’t exactly know how to do it
, I answered, defensive and mortified. I didn’t mean to share those last thoughts with him, and like so much else, he received them anyway.

Again, it just wasn’t fair.

I guess it worked.
He sounded amused, though his tone seemed darker than usual, like when he kissed me. I stored that knowledge away for future use.

I don’t know where Chelle lives.

You could have called
.

Why?
You never call me.

Would you like me to call you?

No
. I had his attention now. Why bother with the phone? It didn’t make sense. Still, would it kill him to pick up the phone once in a while, like normal people did, instead of always leaving me to do the calling?

I’m not normal people, Arionna
.

How could one boy be so clueless?

Oh, forget it. Where does Chelle live?

Dace sighed then gave me her address.

I sat up straighter in the seat and put the car in drive, not even thanking him. Sue me, I felt petulant. Talking to him aggravated me. Things that should have been obvious were beyond him. He had no clue what a girl wanted. Ironic as hell since he got to know my every thought whenever the desire struck. Meanwhile, I muddled along, trying to sort out this person who made no sense half the time.

He didn’t even tell me no, he wouldn’t teach me how to figure out what he was thinking. He ignored the situation and acted like I didn’t say anything the four thousand times I demanded to know how. And even worse than all of that? I still felt him in there, nestled into his little corner of my mind. I growled aloud.

Do you honestly think I’d take your virginity on a picnic table?
His tone was clearly curious and a little hurt.

Why not?
I stopped at a red light.
It’s better than the back of a car.
I couldn’t hold back the snippy reply.

Dace sighed.
When we do that, Arionna, it won’t be on a picnic table in the middle of winter, or in the back of a car. And you won’t regret it, not for a minute.

I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I didn’t try.

By the way, you’re going the wrong way. Chelle lives on the other side of town, behind the grocery store.

“Ugh!” I yelled.

He vanished from my head as quietly as he’d appeared.

Infuriating. Completely and utterly infuriating.

Chapter Seventeen

I
parked on the curb outside the newer, two-story, red brick tract house Dace directed me to, then sat there for several minutes before I finally worked up the nerve to get out of the car and approach the door. I felt like an intruder for showing up at their house while they were grieving.

That’s what people did; they’d done it to me. But I hadn’t exactly appreciated it either. For me, their presence had simply been something to focus on to make it through the day. I hadn’t wanted to make small talk with the neighbors, or Mom’s boss, or the mailman. I’d wanted to cry alone, not with virtual strangers.

I almost convinced myself to turn around three different times as I approached the house, but I never followed through. I kept walking toward the front door. And then I knocked lightly, still unsure if I should or not.

I recognized Chelle instantly. Her face was pale, her eyes wide and sorrowful with deep bruises beneath. In all the ways that mattered, her face was the same one that had stared back at me in the bathroom mirror a month ago. Something inside me, some of the grief I’d fought to control since Dani died, broke loose.

Another little sliver of my heart broke, and I couldn’t say if it broke for her and her loss, or for me and mine. Probably a little of both.

“I shouldn’t have come,” I said, more for my benefit than for hers. Did she even recognize me? She seemed to stare through me. I turned to go, flustered and aching.

“Arionna, wait.” Her hand on my arm stopped me. Her voice was rough. The tears that hadn’t come for her on Sunday had appeared sometime in the previous days. That realization gave me the strength to turn back around instead of dashing down the steps and to my car.

“How are you?” I asked quietly as she led me into the house. I hated when anyone asked me that, but I couldn’t help but ask.

“I’m not sure,” she said, leading the way through a far too cheerful living room and flower bedecked kitchen. The dining room was different, more restive. Floor to ceiling windows lined the octagonal room, allowing sunlight to filter into the room in soft prisms. A small table and matching chairs sat beneath two of the massive windows. She’d been sitting there for a while. Discarded tissues littered the table.

She nodded toward one of the chairs before seating herself in front of the largest pile of tissues. “How are you?” she asked as I sat.

“I’m not sure either,” I confessed, looking down at my hands as I folded them on the table. With Chelle, I didn’t feel like I had to pretend everything was okay. I didn’t feel like she’d judge me or treat me like glass if I admitted I still hurt. That, every day, I still hurt.

She seemed to know what I meant. “It doesn’t get easier, does it?” The grief in her voice made me want to burst into tears.

“I don’t know,” I said instead. “Everyone keeps saying it does, but it hasn’t for me. Not yet.” Those words weren’t strictly true. My pain had subsided in some ways. Losing Mom still hurt more than I thought possible, but I could now breathe through the grief most days. “Maybe it does,” I murmured, my mind immediately hitting upon the thing making life a little easier for me: Dace. Always Dace.

“Maybe,” Chelle said, not sounding like she believed me.

“How’s Beth?”

She shook her head, her sorrowful expression crumbling further. Tears pooled in her dark eyes. “My parents sedated her last night. She’s still sleeping.”

”I’m sorry,” I mumbled, unable to come up with an adequate response. How did you respond to something that sad?

“How’s Dace?”

“Angry.” I glanced at her and found her staring down at her hands, just as I had been. “Really angry.”

She nodded as if she expected that response, but didn’t look up. After her warning to me, I guess she did expect his anger. “You’ll look after him, right?”

“I will,” I promised her, though I still had no clue how I was going to manage looking after him. He certainly didn’t make keeping that promise easy, especially since he’d avoided me for the last three days.

“Don’t let him bully you into backing down. He will if you let him.” She glanced up at me. Her eyes met mine briefly. “He doesn’t like to let people in.”

Ha! Talk about preaching to the choir.

“He’s always had to be in constant control to keep the wolf contained. He worries that if he gets close to someone, he’ll lose that control, and lose himself. I think he worries about it more with you.”

“He’s talked to you about it?” I asked, a little irritated he’d talked to her, but adamantly refused to discuss the situation with me. I didn’t begrudge him Chelle’s friendship, but he had to stop leaving me in the dark about the things going on in his head. I needed more than that.

“He hasn’t,” she said, holding up her hands. “But I know him. Gage says I’m empathic.” A ghost of a smile danced at her lips. She dropped her hands to the tabletop, causing pieces of tissue to scatter. “I think I’m more observant than others.”

She was definitely observant.

“Where is Gage?” I asked, cringing inwardly at how obvious my attempt to steer the subject away from Dace sounded even to my own ears.

“With Dace.” That same ghost of a smile played about her lips. It didn’t reach her eyes this time either.

“Oh,” I said, wondering what they were up to. I doubted Dace would willingly tell me. As usual. “I guess I should go,” I mumbled after a minute, rising.