Rejecting Him

I don't know what I was thinking, rushing into the kitchen where my mom and aunts were busy preparing dinner. I guess that, after spending so much time in a state of fear, all I wanted was to fling myself into mom's arms like I did when I was a child. Her embrace had always been a safe place for me; none of the evils of the world could touch me there.

I knew it wasn't an option, though. I was twenty-one, a "grown-ass adult" as Aunt Tamara would have told me if she'd known why I threw myself into the task of peeling potatoes. But I, and my cousins, were too underfoot. She handed me a stack of plates and silverware, then sent me into the dining room to set the table.

"Too many cooks spoil the brew!" Aunt Tamara called after me. I just grumbled under my breath. At any other time I would have been mildly entertained by Tamara and her mental collection of idioms, but not tonight. Not when that wolf was here, lurking in what should have been my sanctuary.

As I went about setting the table, I tried to talk myself down from a potential freak-out. I knew what I needed to do--I needed to find Dad and talk to him. No exceptions. No more distractions. But it wasn't like I could just say, "Do you know who I am?" Charles and Brandon knew very well and it wouldn't mean a thing to them. Dad had specifically said he didn't want to be disturbed, and since he was Alpha, people tended to listen to those kinds of orders.

The now familiar cinnamon-musk burned my nostrils. I froze for a fraction of a second and forced myself to take a couple deep breaths. It was all I could do not to bend the fork I held in my white-knuckled grasp. The wolf was tearing to get free and rip out the intruder's throat. I sucked in a final shaky breath and turned slowly on my heel to face him.

He stood at about six-two, by my estimate, to my five-four. His face was well-defined with high cheekbones, full lips that on any other man would have seemed perfectly kissable, and quick, calculating eyes. Black waves framed his face, and upon further inspection I could see that his eyes were hazel, only appearing gold against his olive-toned skin. The rogue flashed me a smile; I wasn't surprised to see his teeth were straight and white.

Despite the summer heat, he was dressed in a long-sleeved black turtleneck, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. A pair of black jeans hugged his hips, and he wore black boots as well. The rogue reminded me of one of those Calvin Klein underwear models, or that guy from one of those vampire shows my younger cousins swooned over all the time.

"Hi..." I said, my voice edged with caution.

"Hey." He swaggered forward. Were it not for his behavior, and the report I filed with Charles, I'd have pegged this wolf as Alpha material. He practically oozed Alpha Male, in the human sense as well as the wolf sense.

"What are you doing here?" I knew I would've been admonished by my parents for that, but they weren't here, nor were they the ones being followed.

I took a step back from him. My fingers traced the edge of a pretty white plate edged with a blue pattern. It was just like the ones they used to sell at a restaurant in Centralia, Washington. Too bad I'd have to break it over his head if worse came to worse.

"I came to introduce myself." The rogue held out a hand that I eyed in distaste. His fingers were long, graceful, like a piano player. On his pinky he wore a thick, silver band etched with Celtic knot-work. The ring was set with a small, dark green emerald.

"You had countless opportunities to do just that, and yet you didn't." I fought to keep my voice level, but I was sure I heard a tremble of fear in it somewhere. If I believed in such a thing as female intuition, I was sure it would be screaming at me to get out right now.

"That's why I'm doing so now. So let's start over."

I returned to my task, taking care to not turn my back on him. "No."

"I'm Warren. Warren Hagen."

"Get out."

"Let me help," he offered. Warren reached for the bundle of forks I held, but I jerked away. The silverware clattered to the floor and I swore loudly. "Wow, that coming from the Alpha's daughter? Nice."

Several different thoughts ran through my mind, chief among them--How the hell do you know who my Dad is? and, Where do you get off judging me when you don't even know me? But then, I couldn't say he didn't know me when he'd spent so much time following me. I finally decided to say nothing.

Warren and I grabbed for the same fork. I reached for the fork first, and Warren's hand clasped mine. I gasped. A shock ran through my arm, and I could tell he'd felt the shock as well. In my mind, I felt something unfolding, something I vaguely registered as a rope--a red rope--trying to form. Before the rope could reach its full potential, I snatched my hand away, but it was too late. There was a dazed yet hungry look in Warren's eyes. He had pinned me with his gaze.

I wasn't stupid. I knew what it was, since I'd seen it happen before. A couple years ago, an emissary from the Redwood pack of Northern California had visited, and I saw that exact same look glowing in his eyes as he danced with a friend of mine, and recent transplant from Idaho, named Louise. She didn't take long to develop that exact same look; in fact, she spent the entire time with him, clearly on cloud nine. Her belongings were all packed up by the end of the week. One more week after that, she had settled comfortably in her new home.

"No...No! Oh god no!" I cried, scrambling to my feet. Warren stood with all the gentle, deadly grace of a cat. "This-us-No!"

I shoved past him and fled the room. I would never have Louise's happiness with Warren.