My frustration spikes, but I bite my tongue, trying to think of something rational and comforting to say.
“I’m just trying to help the pack—to help both of us,” I say. Even though I mean it, the words sound hollow and overly persuasive.
She chuckles softly, which I take to be a very good sign, and I resolve to just keep my mouth shut for a while. Even though I made the statement with the best of intentions, I can’t deny my true feelings anymore.
I want her. Desperately. She is irresistible to me… and I don’t know how long I can fight this.
Chapter 12 - Trina
In the days that follow our incident in the woods, I manage to avoid Owen. Not completely, but enough that he doesn’t have time to bring up the subject of sex again. As I get ready for work, I listen carefully to him moving around in the house, wondering if I should make an effort to go to breakfast with him.
He’s been very good about everything so far… he hasn’t even brought up the night we—
I cut my thoughts off right there, focusing on getting dressed so I don’t have to think. The night I fell asleep in Owen’s arms was one of the best nights of my life, and that’s not something I’m ready to deal with yet.
For a brief time, I felt truly safe. I know it’s an illusion, though. It always is—and Owen kidnapped me, for fuck’s sake.
I can still hear him moving around in the kitchen, but I decide to face my fears and have breakfast with him. I’m so distracted by my own thoughts that I don’t hear him talking until I’m right in the doorway.
“Yes,” he says. “I understand. How many new cases? Five? And last night… how many died? Three. Too many.”
I stand in the kitchen doorway, my hands turning cold as my heart seems to stop in my chest. I haven’t been paying attention to what’s been happening with the pack, even though I know I really should.
It’s just too difficult for me. I feel for these people, I really do, but it’s my dignity on the line. My body and my soul. Do I owe them that? It’s all I have left, and I wouldn’t ask anyone else to sacrifice themselves for me.
Owen finishes the call, turns around, and sees me standing there. He reacts with surprise, but I can tell he’s too tired and defeated to really respond.
“Hi,” I say softly.
“Hi,” he replies, nodding.
We stand there in silence for a few seconds. I feel like if I move, the world around me will shatter into chaos. I don’t know the way forward from here—a path that could save his people without destroying me.
Owen sighs, and the spell is broken, at least for the moment. I come into the kitchen to get a cup of coffee, and it feels like an ordinary day again, just with stressful undertones.
I come back to the table and Owen is sitting down already, but he’s not eating or touching his coffee. He just sits slumped forward in his chair, his head in his hands. I look him over with concern, seeing his rumpled clothes and the shadows under his eyes.
He hasn’t slept properly for days.
My heart twists in my chest, and I realize I just can’t go on like this. I can’t stand knowing that his people are dying and he is slowly falling apart—especially when there is something I could do that might prevent it.
“Owen,” I say gently.
“Hmm?” he mumbles, not looking up.
“I’ve decided… well. I think we should try, um…”
Owen lifts his head, and his beautiful green eyes, usually so deep and vibrant, look pale and shallow, like the color has been drained out of them. He looks so exhausted, I want to just go to him and put my arms around him, to take that hurtaway, but I’m afraid to get close to him. I don’t want him to see my attempt to ease his pain as a sign that I’m happy in this partnership.
But do I want to simply comfort him, just like I would any person who is hurting, or am I making excuses to touch him?
I sigh deeply, feeling my breath reach the absolute bottom of my chest as I dredge up the words I don’t want to say.
“I think we should try sleeping together,” I say in a rush. “Sex,” I add the last word hastily, not wanting to create worse confusion.
Owen stares at me for a minute. At first, his expression doesn’t change, then he shakes his head.
“I don’t—I mean, are you sure?”
