Luna
I hurry around the kitchen trying to get something together that looks like I was making dinner before Callan and Warrick got home. They tromp into the house in their heavy work boots and grab beers from the fridge. My spine is stiff as I throw some wild lettuce and meat in a frying pan. I don’t like keeping things from them, but I don’t want Ethan to get in trouble, and I definitely want more of whatever he gave me today in the tub.
Callan and Warrick plunk their beers down on the table, the legs of their chairs scraping the floor as they drag them back and drop into them. Ethan strolls in like there’s not a secret in the world, grabs a beer, and joins them at the table.
“Would you look at us,” he says, popping the tab on his beer so it lets out a hiss. “Taking a load off while a fine woman makes us dinner. Never thought I’d see the day.”
“I’ve made dinner before,” I say.
“I feel downright domesticated,” Warrick says. I catch him watching me funny, and I quickly turn my back.
“What’d you get up to today, Luna?” Callan asks. He sounds casual, not mad, so that’s good.
“Just learning some manners,” I say, then remember Ethan said not to tell them that. This whole lying business is going to take practice. A tendril of smoke curls up from the pan, and I cuss, realizing I forgot to put in oil before the other stuff. I scrape frantically to get the lettuce off the bottom of the pan and throw a scoop of bacon grease under it.
When I turn away from the stove, Ethan is laughing silently. I glare at him.
Callan has his head raised, sniffing the air. Maybe he doesn’t like the burning smell.
“What kind of manners?” he says at last, sharing a look with Warrick that makes my heart jump.
“You know… Stuff to make me act civilized in town.”
“That’s good,” he says. “Learning how to co-mingle in society can’t
hurt.”
“Uh-huh,” I say.
“You’re burning the meat,” Warrick says. I spin back around. “Shit!”
They’re all laughing now, and I’m fuming mad but also grateful that
things aren’t as tense as they were this morning. But by the time I’m done
cooking, the air over the table is silent and brittle as a sun-bleached bird’s nest, a delicate twig that will snap at any moment. Ethan keeps his head down and doesn’t talk or joke around like usual or bicker with Callan. Warrick is silent and frowning, but he doesn’t press us down with what Callan explained is his wolf’s dominance. He doesn’t have to dominate us tonight. We are all subdued already.
I don’t want to sit on the porch alone again tonight, hoping one of them will join me, so I go to the bedroom across from Warrick’s. I sit on the bed, all my good feelings from earlier gone. This isn’t my room. It’s Ethan and Callan’s room, and because of me, they’re both sleeping on the floor in the other room. Only Warrick and I have rooms. If I was gone, they could have their bed back, and they wouldn’t be mad at each other every day.
I’m the cause of this mess. I don’t know how they know, but I’m sure they do. They know what Ethan did to me, and they don’t like it. Maybe they don’t want me to feel good or have some fun, as Warrick said, after all. Just like Axel, they say this is my home and that they’ll protect me, but in the end, if I don’t do it the way they want, then they don’t want me around.
I turn off the light and try to sleep. The full moon is just rising, and my wolf is restless inside me, wanting to run and hunt. I toss and turn, sweating in the sultry night. Even when I strip off my clothes and throw off
the sheet, it’s too hot, and I can’t make my thoughts be quiet and go to sleep so that my body can follow. The moon rises up my window until I can barely see it, and I’m halfway asleep when the yelling starts.
“What the fuck, Ethan?” Callan roars, dragging me from my frustrating attempt at sleep.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ethan yells back. “Get off
me!”
I hold my breath, tensed and listening.
“You fucked her, didn’t you?” Callan yells. “You fucking asshole,
you can’t keep your dick in your pants for two fucking weeks?”
“I didn’t fuck her,” Ethan hollers back. “Want to check my dick?” There’s a thud, and I jump up and tiptoe to the door to listen.
“She came,” Callan growls. “I can smell it on her.”
Scuffling noises follow. “Maybe she pleasured herself,” Ethan says, sounding out of breath and strained. “Chicks do that, you know.”
Callan sounds more pissed. “We had a deal, brother, or does a pact between brothers mean nothing to you when there’s pussy involved?”
“You broke it first!” Ethan yells back.
I look down, sliding a hand between my legs to feel the smooth skin Ethan touched earlier. “This is your fault, then,” I whisper.
As I suspected, their fight is about me. Tears prick the corners of my eyes. I never wanted to make anyone angry or upset. I thought I could be one of them since they were so accepting of me. They never make me use silverware when my hands are better, never bind my soul to theirs and then rip it out with barely a warning. They’re good to me, and I want to be good to them. Bringing anger and fights to their house is not being good to them.
Warrick chimes in at last. “Cut this shit out,” he growls, and the other two fall silent. “This is just what I didn’t want to fucking happen, but you two dicks-for-brains swore there’d be no conflict. Now look at the pair of you, sneaking around trying to get it any way it comes. That little whisp of ass couldn’t withstand one good pounding from any of us.”
I can feel the shame all the way from here, the way Warrick’s wolf dominance makes me hang my head the same as his brothers.