Rejecting Him

The door to Dad's office gave way with little fanfare--only the silent revelation of a room I had never seen before. It was small, yet cozy instead of cramped, with rich brown carpet and forest green walls. Several potted palms, like the one outside the door, decorated the room. On his wooden brown desk, next to a stack of books, was a small clay pot of moonflowers.

One thing I had always wondered about Dad was why he still continued to use this room for his office, and if he was truly happy doing so. Had my brother made it to term, this would have been his bedroom. Of course, with the mission at hand, I had no time to think about that.

Dad was meticulous in how neat and orderly he kept his office. Everything that could be marked was, with nothing out of place. Dad was one hell of a record-keeper who kept a file of every out-of-state werewolf that joined our pack, or even visited our area with his knowledge. Because of this I decided to check his filing cabinet first. Warren had to have a file. And if he did, it would contain everything about him that I needed to know. Even some letters between Dad and the Seattle Alpha would suffice.

I dug through everything I could--cabinets, drawers, even Dad's rolodex--but I couldn't find a thing. No clue as to who Warren was, or why he was here. Just when I was about to give up, I saw it, crammed behind a paper shredder.

It was a letter from the Seattle Alpha. My hands trembled as I un-stuck the letter from its spot. I couldn't believe my luck, but as with any streak of luck, it was to come to an end.

A loud bang sounded from downstairs, sending my heart crashing into my chest. I lifted my nose to the air, listened to the light footfalls on the hardwoods.

Mom.

I froze. There was nowhere to hide, and with Dad's desk right under the window, I wasn't about to try crawling out.

I quickly stuffed the letter into my red faux-leather purse, securing it in a zip-up pocket. All I could do at that point was flee the room, hoping that maybe I could duck into my bedroom in time, but Mom's footsteps sounded on the stairs. In a panic, I cast a final glance around the room. My eyes landed on Dad's bookcase. While he would be innovative enough to have some kind of hidden room behind there, I knew better than to try it. That kind of thing only existed in movies, in comic books, on TV.

Oh my God, am I really gonna hide like a criminal? I thought frantically.

I didn't have time to choose. My heart stopped at the sound of my cell phone going off. So, too, did Mom.

I cringed, both inside and out. Deep down I swore to rip into whoever was calling. There was no time for me to check my caller ID. The door flew open, revealing my mother. On her face was a mix of terror and fury. I backed up slowly until I involuntarily plopped down into Dad's office chair.

"Callie," she began, voice soft and tight with anger. Though her face was now composed into a calm expression, her eyes blazed like hellfire. "What. In God's name. Do you think you're doing."

"I...I..." I was speechless. What was there to say? This was exactly what it looked like and she knew it. Several times I opened my mouth, only to shut it again. Mom had never taken the Lord's name in vain, ever, and hearing it now was like being slapped across the face. I almost recoiled in intimidation.

"Why are you even here?" Mom went on when she saw I wasn't going to talk. "Do you realize how much you scared me? The front door was unlocked!"

Mom held up her key ring--from which dangled a black plastic canister of pepper spray--to illustrate her point. The sight of the weapon clutched in her hand caused me to cringe.

"Mom, I--"

"I was about to spray you, do you know that? Callie, this is not a joke! Those Seattle wolves--"

"That's why I'm here!" I cried. Mom blinked, then frowned, crossing her arms. "It's about Warren!"

"Well whatever is going on with you and him does not justify you snooping around in other peoples' private business. Your father and I did not raise you to do that."

The disappointment in her eyes was like a stab in the gut, and that same disappointment in her voice was the twist of the knife. Mom raked her fingers through her hair and sighed.

"I-I think you need to leave." Her voice trembled. I felt another stab of guilt.

"Mom, let me explain--"

"Just go."

When I got home, I tucked the letter away in the safest spot I knew--under my mattress--then checked my phone. It said I had one missed call from Logan.

~

Entitled brat," I grumbled, picking up the clothes a customer had left behind on the fitting room floor. A few days had passed since the incident at Mom and Dad's, but that had only put me in a crappy mood. I couldn't shake the image of Mom with sorrow and shame glowing in her eyes. What was wrong with me? What kind of woman had I become?

I let out a sigh and gathered the hangers, on which now hung the dusted-off clothes. What I had done was a mistake, no doubt about it, but it wasn't a mistake that I could pretend had never happened. Not when my parents were involved.

Mom, I rehearsed inside my head as I made my way down the corridor, you deserve an explanation. You see, the thing is, this is about Warren. I think he--

I yelped and dropped the clothes. Warren leaned on the counter, this time empty-handed. He had no crooked grin or lazy smile waiting for me, only dark, cold fury smoldering in his eyes.

"Warren! Um--is there anything I can help you with?" I asked. "Did you change your mind about the clothes? I think someone bought the shoes--"

"You know exactly why I'm here, Callie," Warren cut in. I picked up the clothes and hung them on their hangers, careful to keep my distance. My eyes never left his.

"Why's that?" I said, wrapping my arms around myself. I could just about see Warren's wolf flattening his ears against his head.

"That little stunt you pulled the other day. The entire pack is talking about it, you know."

I frowned. "What stunt?" Then it dawned on me. Sneaking into Dad's office. "Oh."

"Yes. 'Oh' is right."

Warren beckoned me closer. I refused to budge. His glare darkened, lips pulling back over his teeth in a snarl.

"Come here Callie."

"Why?" My voice trembled, yet the challenge was there. Mom had always told me to fake it till I make it, and now I could do nothing else.

"Because I am your Alpha and I told you to."

As a werewolf, there was no arguing with that logic. As a human whose job could suck it, I wanted to cut and run. Instead, I hesitantly edged closer.

Warren's smoldering eyes followed my every move. In a deliberate, fluid movement he leaned forward on the counter. His silver ring seemed to glow against his tan, the emerald burning like cold fire. I forced myself to meet his eyes, when all I wanted to do now was look away.

His lips edged upward in a smile, one that was almost dazzling in an otherworldly, supermodel sort of way. His eyes were just as bright, cold, humorless.

"Do I scare you?" Warren murmured. I shook my head. My voice had failed me. Warren inhaled slowly, breathing in my scent. "There's no reason to be afraid, Callie."

I just glared.

"Sneaking around...that doesn't reflect very well on you as my mate. In fact, it makes me wonder if perhaps you need some reigning in."

My eyes narrowed. Reigning in?

"Now, in the Emerald City Pack, sneaking around wasn't taken very lightly... It was always met with a swift punishment, actually..."

"Is that a threat?" I all but spat out. Warren just chuckled.

"As your Alpha and your mate, you should be coming to me if there are any questions that need answering. And if there is anything you want to know about me, then perhaps I could squeeze you in for Friday night."

I crossed my arms and shook my head. "Absolutely not."

"Are you really going to refuse me?" he said, laughing. The scent of poppies floated up to my nose. Over Warren's shoulder, I spotted one of the Seattle wolves. This time she looked much less rough around the edges in her pastel green blouse, dark green pleated skirt, and black flats. Her platinum blonde hair was woven into a braid.

The wolf glanced up at me, nodded once, and went back to inspecting our selection of hair styling products. I could tell by her sudden appearance that she wasn't actually browsing.

My gaze slid back to Warren. He arched an eyebrow. I hugged myself, shaking in a barely suppressed rage.

"I will be at Barron's, downtown, at seven. Do not stand me up; I have a reservation for us and I expect you to be there."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Don't tell me what to do, Warren."

"This is pack business, so I do hope you take it as seriously as I will."

Before I could respond, Warren turned on his heel and strode away, his laughter trailing behind him. The female wolf smiled wordlessly to herself. Suddenly the store seemed a whole lot smaller.

~

In the safety of my own home, I dug the letter out of its hiding place. My heart pounded heavily in my chest. I took a deep breath to settle my nerves, but to no avail.

Shaking, I lowered myself onto the living room couch. It was strange how something as mundane as a letter in a plain white envelope could bring out such a reaction in me. But if this could give me some kind of explanation as to who Warren was, what he was doing here, then it may be one of the most important things I would read in my life.

I took another breath, then closed my eyes and pulled out the letter.

Here goes...

Just like the tallies from the vote, the letter was written on yellow legal pad paper. Each line was written in small, cramped cursive, but if I held the paper close enough to my face, it wasn't too difficult to read. Perhaps that's what the Seattle Alpha had intended, just in case the letter, the precious information contained within, ended up in the wrong hands.

I scanned the page, chewing on my fingernails as I did so. There didn't seem to be a lot so far, mostly pleasantries, pack news I figured was mostly standard or unimportant.

All of a sudden, there it was.

...endangering the pack, which is why I have banished him. Unfortunately, I lost track of him soon after. He could be anywhere. According to Warren's mother, he most recently had plans to head south-possibly to California, or even to Mexico.

I paused. Mexico? What could possibly be there?

All I could think of was the reason human criminals fled to Mexico: it was out of US jurisdiction. But in the werewolf world, being out of one pack's territory didn't always guarantee safety. Sometimes, packs worked together to bring down a common threat. If the letter I held in my hand was any indicator, Warren would be better off far away from the Northwest.

I laughed darkly. Who was I kidding? Warren would never leave. Not as long as I, his so-called "mate", was here. Not as long as he had an entire pack under his control. I was convinced the only way Warren would leave was in a body bag.

That is, I thought with a snarl, if the coroner could find the pieces.