Chapter 75: Chapter 75

Lily

Winding her long, wavy hair into a braid, Lily could finally meet her eyes in the shadowed mirror. With every day that passed, she felt more herself – and more lost than ever. The grief was beginning to still, to quieten, but as it did she felt further from the life she had grasped, for so short a time.

Strands of her dark blonde hair stirred slightly in the cool autumn breeze, spilling in through the ever-open window. The curtains rustled, drawing her attention to the purpling twilight outside.

Soon, the shift would be upon her. Twisting the length of ribbon around the end of her braid – in the same citrine colour as the bunting she and Atticus had prepared for the festival of Mabben tomorrow – she hardened her resolve. She knew what would be waiting for her beyond the walls of this now-familiar bedroom. Lily had spent too many hours staring at it through the long nights spent in Atticus’s bed.

Biting back a sigh, she pulled on a cloak and shoved her feet into a pair of well-worn boots. Atticus would be waiting for her outside. She knew it. Ever since she had opened up to him, he had been by her side constantly. Not talking, not always; just… There. A companion to keep the shadows of her memories at bay.

Sometimes, Lily wanted the shadows to consume her. They were violent and heart-wrenching, but within them Elijah’s love was contained. Gentle as the waves lapping an island shore in the middle of a stormy sea. As she rallied herself, preparing to push past Atticus and sprint to the basement, she thought of steely grey eyes and a scar. Of the sensual curve to his upper lip. Of his broad shoulders. Of the slight point to his ears…

She felt for the barely-there echo of his heartbeat in her chest, and then Lily shoved open the door.

She froze.

She frowned.

Atticus was not there.

Lily pursed her lips. That was… Unexpected. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, however, she pulled her cloak tight across her chest and ran. She stared up at the stars in awe, revelling in the freedom of the open sky. As the moon rose, she pushed her weakened muscles to move faster, faster, faster –

It was achingly familiar, to stand on the stairs in her old home. She trotted down them, not letting the thoughts slow her down. She would have all night to think and feel.

Atticus was waiting for her in the basement.

“Hello.” He smiled at her, one corner of his mouth hooking up higher than the other. His green eyes flashed, bright even in the darkness, and then he held up her chains. “I thought you might come looking for these.”

Her heart twisted. “Atticus…” she breathed. “No. I need those.”

“No, you don’t. Run with me, Lily. That is all I have ever wanted.”

“No.” She lifted her chin, determined to evade his persuasion. What of what she desired? What of her wants? “Give them back, Atticus.”

He smirked. “No.” But as he held her stare, his hard façade started to fracture. “Please?”

Lily chewed the inside of her cheek. She had run with Elijah – she had felt free and loved, and he had soothed every once of her fears. She had not lost control. She had not become a vicious beast. But with Atticus… He might encourage that. He was different with her now, kinder, gentler, but Lily was not so trusting as to believe that every part of him had burned down to its embers. He was still the bully he had been, still the hard-edged Alpha with no time for weakness.

And, to him, this was it: her ultimate weakness, the thing he needed her to change.

She looked up at him with wide eyes. “If I had run with your pack,” she murmured, “if I had shifted with you…”

“Yes?”

Her throat worked on a swallow. “Would you not have rejected me?”

“Lily…”

She remained defiant. “Tell me.”

“I… I can’t say.” His voice was hoarse. “You know why I rejected you.”

“And yet you can see that I have not changed. Clearly, you have not either. So why do you want me now? What do you see in me that was not there before?”

Atticus dropped the chains and kicked them aside. They scraped harshly against the stone floor, sending a shudder flaying down Lily’s spine. “I want you,” he whispered brokenly. “It is not you that has changed, or even had to change. I realised, when you were gone, what I had lost. How much I had lost.”

Lily sighed. “I don’t know what game you’re playing with me–”

“No game,” he swore. “This is real to me. This is what I want.” And he looked so damned hopeful that a part of Lily believed him. Atticus was all rage and desire, and he had pinned all of that on her. She believed him, but not in the way that he wanted her to.

Fearing his answer, she had not yet asked Atticus if she could write to Elijah. Until she asked, she had hope. She had even started to draft one, but no words could encompass all that she wanted – all that she needed – to say. His absence was a hollow in her soul, icy and cavernous. How could one ever put that into ink and parchment?

But, more than that, a letter would let her know that he was okay. That he had escaped Red Ripper. There was fear there, too: fear that she might receive word back that Elijah had been hurt. She knew he was not dead, for she could feel the mate bond joining her to him still. But he could be broken, lost to her in all but body…

Atticus was still awaiting an answer.

And Lily needed him on her side if she wanted to find out what had become of Elijah. She wet her lips, her mouth suddenly bone dry, and twisted the empty space on her finger where her mother’s ring had once sat.

“I will shift with you tonight,” she said, arching an eyebrow at him, “if you send a letter to the Sea Pine pack for me.”

It had not gone unthought that she could have sent one herself. But Atticus had to approve all communication sent out from his pack and, as such, he kept the carrier birds locked away, to keep traitors and spies from sending information from within Blood Moon.

Silence swelled between them, so thick, so writhing with tension that it became a palpable thing seated in the basement. Everything slowed: the rise of the moon outside, the steady inhales and exhales of Atticus’s chest, the flow of blood through Lily’s veins. It calmed, until it was achingly slow, and her whole body was fixated on awaiting his answer. It would make or break her – and any relationship they might have.

If he would compromise, there was hope for him yet. If not…

Lily could not bear to think it. With or without fear, she needed to know what had become of Elijah. If he was okay.

“You love him,” he said flatly.

She nodded. “I do.”

“You loved me, once.”

“I… I never loved you, Att. I could have, though. You took that future from us without giving it a chance.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. “I know.” He paused, considering something. Lily ached to know what it was. And then, all of a sudden, he said, “Okay.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Okay?”

“Okay. Yes. Send him the letter.” He sighed. “Shift with me tonight, and I will grant you use of a carrier bird.”

She grinned, excitement and nerves eddying in her belly. “Thank you, Atticus,” she breathed, reaching for his hand. It was limp as their fingers met, but it warmed and tightened around hers as he accepted the simple touch. “Thank you.”

A smile pushed at his cheeks. “Yeah. You’re welcome.” He scratched at the back of his neck, and twisted to look out of the small window. “We need to get outside. Unless you want your father to return to a broken cabin.”

Her heart swelled at the thought of seeing her father again. Without a word, she kept hold of his hand and pulled him out into the moonlight.

* * *

Lily flung her head back and howled. Her white paws struck the ground, hard and fast, as she ran with her first, rejected mate beneath the light of the harvest moon. It was a time of new beginnings, a time of evaluating what had come to pass and changing the direction of one’s future. Lily felt those crossroads fade away as she gave in to her wolf-side, letting instinct guide her as she ran across the Blood Moon pack’s territory.

Beside her, Atticus howled back. It was an ancient, primal sort of communication; it was heady, all-encompassing, and it made Lily feel at peace. The problems of the present remained; they were simply put aside, replaced by the burning desire to run free beneath the stars.

The swathe of the night sky was lost as they sprinted into the forest. Leaves blocked out the moon, though its orange glow highlighted the distant edges of each gnarled bough. The wolves slowed as one, Lily’s white body sleek and elegant beside Atticus’s huge black form.

In that moment, as they circled one another, she understood. She saw what they could have been: light and dark, night and day, shadow and sun. Their opposite natures could have complemented one another, if Atticus had acted differently. Perhaps if she had acted differently, too.

Their sides brushed against one another. Atticus nudged her playfully with his wet nose. Above, the wind parted the trees, and glowing orange moonlight shone down upon them both.