“Easy, sweet girl,” he whispered, giving her thigh a squeeze. “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not.” Why was it so hard to breathe? Should the world be spinning? Her stomach lurched, nausea building in her abdomen. “I’m going to be sick.”
To her credit, she managed to get out of the car when Declan pulled over. She bent down, staring at the concrete as she gagged. Her stomach was empty due to the fact she hadn’t eaten the day before. A good thing considering she’d have decorated the road with her waste. Each heave made her want to fold in on herself, mortification sweeping through her when Declan rushed to her side. She righted herself, swiping at her mouth. Thankfully she hadn’t really thrown up anything but her pride.
Amen for skipping dinner and breakfast.
“Let it out,” he said, a considerable amount of understanding in his voice. Touching her shoulder, he continued, “If you want to vomit, yell and scream then do it. I won’t let anything hurt you. Do what you need to do. I’m here. I’ll always be here.”
The world spun, everything becoming blurred.
A horrible sound ricocheted through her skull. It took a second for her to comprehend the scream was coming from her, loud and outraged. All her life she’d been given the short end of the stick, losing what she cared for most, tossed the scraps others didn’t want. She’d been fine with that because it was the only life she knew.
Familiar she could handle but not the unknown.
“I’m not changing!” she shouted, slapping at his hand. “I won’t let myself.”
“That’s right,” he repeated and closed the distance between them. “Let it out.”
This time she was prepared, accepting she’d lost it as she released another throaty cry. Strangely it did feel good, like she’d finally managed to come to terms on some basic level with her predicament. Before it had been easy to pretend it wasn’t real, a small sliver of her mind wanting to believe she’d been dreaming. Not so much now, with the cold autumn wind seeping into her clothing and whipping around her face.
She took in her surroundings, painfully aware of herself.
If there was one rule she lived by it was never to let anyone see how much they’d affected you. Emotions were weapons. In the wrong hands they could be deadly. They’d stopped on a public road—parked right next to businesses and bars—but no one ventured out to see what was going on. In Atrum Hill a scream could mean a lot of things and not all of them were bad. If they were closer to her home humans would have come running.
“Oh no,” she whispered, panting as she gazed up at Declan. “I am changing.”
She didn’t fight when he swept her into his embrace, a hand wrapped around her waist, another bringing her face to his chest. The tears that cascaded down her face were accompanied by silence, her habit of crying quietly coming in handy. As close as he was he could feel her trembling but there wasn’t much she could do about that. Deep down something else had stirred, rising in response to her despair. It replaced her fear with courage, setting fire to the rain.
Suddenly she became aware of Declan in another way. He was so warm, blocking out the bite of the air. Her nose attuned to his scent, the glorious fragrance washing over her. It didn’t amp her desire but somehow acted like a balm, soothing her nerves. He’d offered her his leather coat earlier but she’d not put it on. That left him in a plain black T-shirt and blue jeans, his arms bare. Her gaze darted over his inked skin and she noticed names worked into the design at his forearm.
“Who are they?” she whispered, hating how scratchy her voice sounded.
“Hmm?” He didn’t let go but angled his head to peer down.
Bringing her fingers to the tattooed skin, she touched his arm. “Ivy, Kellan and Gage.”
“My mother, father and sister.”
“You have a family?” The instant she blurted the question—as soon as she heard herself ask it—she wanted to take it back. Talk about the ultimate insult. He obviously wasn’t conceived by Immaculate Conception.
“Of course I have a family.” Instead of sounding angry, he seemed pleased. He stroked her hair, meeting her gaze. His eyes were dark, more brown than gold. “You’ll love them and they’ll love you.”
Love them? She hadn’t even considered there was a family to meet. What would they think about their son mating? Would they be happy or upset? A sharp stab speared through her chest. She wasn’t a werewolf—not yet. How would they feel about welcoming a bitten person into the family? Was such a thing taboo? In the human world prejudice existed. Did it in the werewolf one too? Would they even want her at all? What if they didn’t like her? She didn’t put herself in a position of being rejected for that very reason. It was easy to be dismissive and not give a shit when you didn’t take chances with people.
Since she wasn’t comfortable with talking about that aspect of things she redirected the conversation. “Gage is a boy name.”
“Do me a favor.” The smile he gave her made her knees weak. “Don’t tell Gage that.”
This she could do. This was familiar.
“Why not?” she asked, grateful for the way they eased into a playful banter. “Do you think she’ll hurt me? I thought you said you wouldn’t let that happen.”
“I’ll never let anyone hurt you,” he murmured, moving his arm from the back of her head. He swept the backs of his knuckles over her cheek. “Never, Rachel.”
“Never is a long time.” It was supposed to be a joke but it came out as a stark reality. Time wasn’t her enemy anymore. She didn’t have to worry about old age, arthritis or cancer. She wasn’t susceptible to those things anymore.
“You have questions.” It wasn’t an observation but a statement of fact. “Ask them.”
Her heart raced, the fear of what she didn’t understand suffocating her. Unable to look him in the eye, she lowered her gaze and asked, “Where does your family live?” It wasn’t even close to one of the questions she wanted to ask but it was a start.
“Not far, just a few hundred miles away in Northridge.” He turned his hand, palming her face. She didn’t want to meet his eyes but he forced her to, waiting until their eyes met to say, “Now ask me the questions you’re afraid to. You’ll stay terrified if you don’t. It’s understandable but avoidable at this point. There’s no reason for you to be scared. Not anymore.”
“Do werewolves eat children?” She winced at the accusation in her tone. Now she sounded like a terrified child recanting the horror stories of her youth. “I mean,” she tried to explain, “I’ve heard you do. I’m not saying you do.”
“Sunshine, no offense,” he sounded good-humored as always, curiosity shining in his eyes, “but that’s probably the stupidest question I’ve ever been asked.” She gritted her teeth, embarrassed yet again. He tempered her anger with another gentle touch. “No, we don’t eat children. What other nonsense have you heard?”
A better question would be what nonsense hadn’t she heard. When her mother was good and smashed she took joy in sharing horror stories. Once Rachel assumed it was to keep her informed so she’d stay safe. As she’d gotten older she’d questioned her mother’s motives. It didn’t make sense, really. Not when her mom didn’t seem to care about the dangers of bringing strange men to their home.
“It doesn’t matter,” she confessed, humiliated at her lack of true knowledge, “it’s probably all a lie anyway.”