What We Left Unsaid

They had been getting along. Well, maybe not getting along, but they had definitely been tolerating each other much more than was normal. Hell, he’d actually apologized to her the night before, when he had accidentally dealt a rough blow to her cheek when he had been trying to reposition himself before they actually fell asleep. He’d fucking apologized to her. Of course, the apology was more of a sleep-induced muttering and a proactive attempt to avoid her getting pissed and refusing to stay the night than an actual, sincere apology, but it still counted, and it still was a damn big deal.

Of course, the reason they’d been getting along, as far as he was concerned, had been because she had actually been willing to drop her usual selfish bitchiness and do one thing to help him out. No-- two things; she’d offered to... help him if he chose to bring someone home from a bar... not that she’d actually had to follow through with that offer yet, of course, but she still had offered. And, granted, she’d needed to be backed right into a corner and practically begged before she’d finally given in -- both times -- but she had given in. And for just a moment, he had dared to let himself think that maybe being mated to her wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

For just a moment, he had let himself think that maybe -- just maybe -- there was a chance that they could actually put aside their mountains of issues just long enough to deal with all of the things that apparently went along with being mates, that just maybe they could find a way to make things work enough that it actually wasn’t a huge burden to be mated to each other. It wouldn’t have ever been an ideal situation, of course, but he had begun to think that it could work.

He’d warned her about the silver in her drink, and she’d actually thanked him; he could remember the sincerity in her eyes as she’d said the words to him. He could also remember the sincerity in her eyes and in her words as she’d spoken plenty of flat-out lies to him, though, so he had easily brushed off her little display of gratitude. Had she actually been thankful? The thought had crossed his mind over the past few days, when he had considered the possibility of their... ‘relationship’ working, and he had come to the conclusion that perhaps she had been, and that had been part of the reason she had been willing to give in for once. Had she felt that she owed him?

He could think of plenty of better ways to repay that debt than by grudgingly giving in and accepting bribes of speaking to the alpha or a ridiculously expensive (not that it really mattered on his budget, of course) bottle of whiskey. As far as he was concerned, if she had felt she owed him, she could have given him the damn recipe for the tea that she was still holding over his head. She could have easily obliged and let him stay the night without making him beg and bribe. She could have dropped the fucking bullshit for once, because it could have worked.

They couldn’t have ever been more than just simple on-the-surface mates, of course. He had no delusions -- and no desires -- about making their little mating anything more than the partnership-of-convenience that it was. He didn’t want anything more than that, and especially not from her. And more importantly, anything more never could have worked in the first place. After everything that had happened... no, there was never going to be a chance for them to even be simple friendly acquaintances.

But there had been a chance they wouldn’t have needed to have everything be so difficult. And he’d been a fool for thinking that chance had existed.

Of course, she hadn’t been willing to drop her selfishness and do one thing to help him out; she’d been willing to help herself out, and somehow convince him she was doing him a favor in the process. She hadn’t been doing him any favors by allowing him to stay the night with her ‘just the one time’, and then eventually the next night, and the next, until it simply felt normal and he no longer needed to come up with an excuse or another little bribe in order to convince her to go along with it. She hadn’t given a damn about his needs; she’d only cared about her own.

She needed to be around him. He’d have to thank Matt later for clueing him in on that little detail, because the one positive that came out of that whole big mess was that now he knew something she obviously hadn’t wanted him to know, something he could most certainly use to his advantage -- or at the very least use to even up the scales a bit. He didn’t owe her a thing, and she knew it... she just didn’t know that he knew it, and he couldn’t decide exactly how he wanted to handle that little detail.

He probably would have had a plan sorted out already had he spent more time strategizing and less time sitting there on the window seat brooding and thinking. But a bottle of Jack would do that to him, and for the last hour or so, he’d just been sitting there and letting his mind wander pointlessly, scolding himself for thinking things could have been remotely different. They never could be, not after... No, he’d told himself years ago to stop going there. He wasn’t about to dig up that grave, no matter how drunk and bitter he was feeling.

He needed to be done with the thinking and the drinking, at least for the night; it was getting him nowhere, and even he could see that. So, swinging his legs over the side of the seat and finally hopping -- only slightly unsteadily -- to his feet, Zacky discarded the bottle on one of his dressers and tossed his shirt and shorts just as carelessly aside. Clad in only a pair of boxers and entirely too unmotivated to even think about showering or any of the likes, he just made his way over to his bed and pretty much dropped himself onto it, forcing himself to shimmy around a bit in order to pull the duvet down and then up over him.

His timing was impeccable.

A brief knock -- which he was inclined to believe shouldn’t even be considered a knock, but more a tap -- followed by an immediate opening of his door signified the entrance of the woman who happened to be both the first and last person he wanted to see.

He didn’t even glance in her direction as he heard her close the door behind her and make her way over towards the bed. Instead, he just continued to lie there on his back, eyes comfortably closed. “Oh, right! I meant to tell you earlier,” he said rather pleasantly, “I’m actually good today. You can go back to your room.”

He could hear the pause in her step, and he knew without even looking at her that she was undoubtedly looking at him in a mixture of masked confusion and surprise, but that didn’t stop him from wanting to see the look on her face. So, rolling his head to the side and blinking open his eyes, he sent a carefully neutral glance in her direction. It was very hard for him to keep a straight face and not burst into laughter when he saw her hovering there, right next to the bed, looking almost torn.

Her nostrils flared briefly, her expression morphing into one of contemplation as she tilted her head curiously to the side. “You’re drunk.”

“Somewhat,” he confirmed without hesitation, rolling a shoulder to indicate his indifference, “but that’s kind of irrelevant. Really, I’m good, so by all means...”

Her expression was clearly skeptical as she allowed her gaze to trail over him for a moment. She knew something was up, and he knew that she knew it. He just didn’t particularly care. “And you’re not going to just sneak into my room later tonight when you change your mind?”

He snorted in response, green eyes rolling. “I think I can manage one night without having to be fucking next to you, Rinaldi.” His words came off harsher than he had originally intended, but it wasn’t out of line at all, and didn’t appear to add to her suspicion. But she still didn’t immediately leave, and he had to fight the little smirk that wanted to break through as he glanced over at her once more. “...Unless you want to stay for some reason?”

Her laughter was immediate, appearing every bit the amused woman who had no idea what he was getting at. “Oh, you really are drunk, aren’t you?” was all she said, her head shaking as she gave a small snort. “I’m perfectly happy to spend as little time with you as possible, Baker. Now, you have a nice night, because I sure as hell am going to enjoy a peaceful night of your absence.”

He wasn’t sure what the hell he was thinking. He had been expecting exactly that response of hers, and he had planned to let her make her own bed and run off to lay in it... quite literally, as it turned out. And he’d been expecting to punish himself just as much as her by letting her walk out, too. But what he hadn’t been expecting was a sudden, drunken stroke of inspiration, that he -- of course -- acted on without thinking. Because he wasn’t thinking; he’d done enough of that earlier.

And so, when she turned to take her exit, he flew into action, tossing up the comforter and rolling his way quite ridiculously over to the other side of the bed. He was on his feet and behind her in seconds, one hand flying out to catch her by the shoulder and stop her where she was.

“That’s not exactly true, now, is it?” he asked somewhat tauntingly, the grip on her shoulder holding strong as he moved even closer to her, stepping just close enough so that his body was only barely behind her, less than a centimeter away but carefully not making any real contact. He let his neck crane a bit so that he could whisper in her ear. “You like sleeping with me, don’t you, Rinaldi?”

Ava stiffened instantly. “Did you drink a whole bottle on your own, then, Baker? You’re out of your fucking mind right now.”

He only gave a throaty chuckle, choosing to be amused rather than irritated by attempted evasion. Slowly, he released his grip on her shoulder, correctly assuming that she would remain stiffened in that same position until she could figure out what he was doing and how to best respond -- hell, he’d have done the same thing; it was instinct. And it was also instinct to take an escape route as soon as it became obvious it was one

He didn’t give her enough time to actually move, anyways, for only a second later, he had wrapped one of his arms tightly around her torso, just beneath her breasts, and moved the other one so that his hand glided up under her shirt just far enough for his palm to spread over her stomach.

“I know you feel that,” he added in a taunting whisper, closing his eyes and taking a moment to actually feel. He wasn’t even sure what he was feeling, because it sure as hell wasn’t something he could describe in words and it wasn’t anything he could even pinpoint himself, but he was completely sure that she could feel it, too.

“You have your fucking hand on my stomach,” she acknowledged simply, her tone bored and borderline irritated, “so of course I can feel it. Did you have a point?”

There was no real reason for why that statement actually bothered him, whereas her earlier dismissal hadn’t, but he still growled in response, his grip on her tightening for a second before he was suddenly and recklessly lifting her up, spinning them around, and tossing her onto the bed. He was on top of her in a second.

And she was growling right back and fighting him only another second later, one of her knees dealing a particularly painful blow to his thigh and drawing a a sharp grunt from him. But the beta male was far from unprepared for her attack, so he was quick to roll with the blow and work on blocking the majority of her next ones, trying to focus on at least pinning down her hands for a moment. But he was drunk and she was not, and apparently he was at the stage where he didn’t really realize exactly how drunk he was. It was only a very brief moment before she had managed to pin his arms down, their positions completely switched.

”Stop it, Baker!” she snapped, a loud growl echoing after her words as she glared down at him with heated, amber eyes. ”Jesus Christ!” There was a small pause as the amber drained from her gaze and she shook her head, before finally looking down at him with irritation clearer than ever. “Look, do you want me to stay, or do you want me to go? Because I really don’t fucking care! But I’m not interested in whatever drunken bullshit you’re trying to pull right now.”

“Stop acting like I’m the only one affected by us being mates, damn it!” he growled rather than actually answering her, his own gaze undoubtedly amber.

”Jesus, Baker!” she hissed. “Of course it fucking affects me! Of fucking course I can feel it! You’re my mate just as much as I’m yours, damn it! I feel the goddamn bond, okay? I feel more relaxed when I sleep near you. I feel like I want to strangle my brother with my bare hands for threatening you, and I don’t even fucking like you, Baker! You know what else I feel? Embarrassed as hell because my mate wants to fuck other women! I fucking feel, damn it! Is that what you wanted me to say?!”

“Av--”

”No!” she interrupted with a fierce growl, eyes flashing amber again as she looked down at him. “I’m fucking done with this! Damn it, Baker, we’re not ruled by what we feel! I can be embarrassed about that and still absolutely not want to fuck you. I can feel an urge to be protective and still not be even remotely concerned with your well-being. Just like I can sleep easier when I’m near you and still not even slightly like it. Don’t confuse the mating bond with my actual desires! And don’t confuse it with yours. Just turn it off, for fuck’s sake; acknowledge the fact that you have instincts, and then check them at the fucking door, because you sure as hell can’t seem to handle them, and it’s not my responsibility to deal with them for you.”

Huffing, she suddenly released her hold on his forearms and rolled off to the side, hopping up onto her feet immediately and not even sending a glance in his direction as she stepped toward the door. It wasn’t until she actually got to the door that she stopped, but even then she didn’t even spare a glance over her shoulder.

“You can sleep without me,” she told him, tone completely bored and emotionless, “and you’re going to have to learn how to do that some time or another -- might as well be now. Just turn it off, Baker, and get the fuck over yourself while you’re at it. You don’t hear me bitching and moaning about feelings.”

She was gone a second later, the door slammed shut behind her, and he could do nothing more than just stare at her. He didn’t know what had just happened, and he had no idea how that had all managed to backfire on him like that, but he did have an idea of just how much he was going to hate himself in the morning. If morning ever really came, because he honestly didn’t even know if it would be possible for him to fall asleep.