Chapter 19

Bruin waited a beat, waving at the two trucks behind him, telling them to go in front of him. He didn’t know where Helltopia was exactly, just that it was somewhere outside the west boundary of Serenity.

They’d dropped off Trent and Troy, met up with Cerise and Beckett, Crew and Dahlia, and Lillian, who were all taking a short break from baby watch. Heather had been in labor for days, Ella was expected to go at any moment, and even Shay, Ella’s comatose, non-angel sister was at three centimeters, but no contractions yet. Plus they were all super-curious about Willow. Rogue had said only, “She’s cool,” but that hadn’t appeased anyone’s curiosity. They wanted to meet her themselves, but they’d been warned not to spill who they thought she was until there was some sort of confirmation. Wade didn’t need any more Internet speculation about just how “wild” his police officers were.

Bruin snuck a peek at Willow, unable to help the smile that quirked his lips. She looked happy. Excited. Unbelievably sweet and fresh in a tan sundress, brown boho hat hiding her braids, and cowboy boots on her feet. Bruin was beginning to think of it as “Willow’s fashion,” and his heart beat faster every time her long skirt twirled when she moved. Weird thoughts crossed his brain: long, flowing white dresses. Cubs. Four girls, four boys with names like Nita and Swith. Comfortable chairs and back patios and mountain views. Beehives in the yard. Bruin swallowed thickly, his throat closing slightly.

Willow looked at him, cheeks rosy red. She took off her hat and laid it on the seat between them. “We’re really going to Helltopia?”

Bruin nodded. Whose crazy idea had that been, anyway? To go to a haunted place where only wolven teenagers dared to explore. Bearen teens never did. Or at least Bruin hadn’t. The view of it from the road was creepy enough, he’d never actually wanted to go there.

Oh that’s right, it had been Rogue’s idea.

Just imagine, she’d said, painting a broad picture with her hand in front of him. It’s as scary as everyone says it is, and Willow jumps in your arms every time we turn a corner. Maybe we actually see something that looks like a ghost and you could jump in front of her. Protect her from it. It’s perfect, Bru, it’s like three dates in one because she associates you with safety from tonight on.

She’d had a point. And Willow was very into it. As soon as her face lit up, Bruin knew he’d do anything for her. He’d take her to a hundred abandoned amusement parks if that’s what she wanted. This particular one had been abandoned in 1968, and no one remembered what the actual name of it had been. It was simply called Helltopia, and even the teenagers didn’t go there after dark. Stuff moved, they said.

The drive out took twenty minutes. Bruin was glad Wade had let him continue to use the police truck, not sure what Willow would think of his small sedan.

The ‘You Are Now Leaving Serenity’ sign came up on their left, and Bruin raised his hand to the stone bear that guarded it. Willow shifted in her seat and Bruin looked at her. She wiped a hand on her brow and bit her lip.

“You ok?” he asked.

She looked around and gave him a small smile. “Yeah, fine. I don’t get out of Serenity much.”

Bruin seized on the tidbit like bacon. “Do you want to travel?”

Willow nodded emphatically. “Yes. More than anything. I dream of seeing Chicago, New York, San Francisco, Paris, London. And landmarks! And parks! I want to hike the grand canyon and see the bears in Yellowstone and stand under Mount Rushmore, climb the Eiffel Tower, maybe tour the pyramids...” Her voice quieted. “Anything outside of Serenity.”

Bruin bobbed his head. He liked to travel. Sleep in a different bed every night. See new sights. But he wouldn’t be leaving Serenity anytime soon. He’d made a promise to himself to guard the One True Mates, and guard their young. He didn’t see an end to this fight coming any time soon.

The trees to their left parted and they spied a glimpse of Helltopia’s ramshackle coasters and falling down twelve foot fences.

“There it is!” Willow cried, pointing, making Bruin grin. He’d buy this place for her if that would keep her this happy. He turned on the dusty, pitted road leading to the park, following Crew and Mac’s trucks.

But they stopped in the middle of the road. Bruin stuck his head out to see around them. Blast it all, someone had installed a brand new gate with a shiny silver lock on it in the middle of the road. Would they walk… or give up altogether? Willow was so excited, he didn’t want to give up.

Mac and Rogue were in the middle truck, and Rogue’s door opened. She got out, shot Bruin and Willow hand horns, and walked up to the lock, hiding what she was doing with her body.

Crew spoke in ruhi. Where’d we get a key for this place?

Mac spoke back, haltingly, faint, but there. Key? Who said anything about a key?

But Rogue had the lock off and the gate open already. She slid inside the truck and off they went.

Bruin drove slowly as the road opened up into the parking lot, so that Willow could look around all she wanted. They drove over ruts in the parking lot, with waist-high weeds and cracks with dirt showing underneath. In some spaces the parking lot seemed to be more dirt and dust than concrete anymore. To their right, the abandoned ticket booths dotted the landscape, backed up by the high fence and crumbling roller coaster.

“Wow,” Willow breathed. “It's even spookier in person. I've seen pictures but this looks like something out of an Ansel Adams photograph. Almost too creepy to be real.”

Mac and Crew had already parked and Mac, Rogue, Cerise, Dahlia, Crew, Beckett, and Lillian were spilling into the park area, Mac making ghost noises and Lillian pretending to shriek and run from him.

Bruin smiled. He loved the wolves, all of them. He thought of their mates as wolves, too. That was a group of headstrong, powerful, survivor women if he’d ever met one. Wolves, every last one of them. Still, he was glad it was only six in the evening. He’d make sure he and Willow were out of here before dark, no matter who they were with.

Bruin parked a little ways away from them, wanting some time with Willow. He and Willow got out, but Willow wasn’t looking at the crumbling wooden roller coaster, but rather at the group of wolves and half-angels as they joked and laughed and made their way toward what used to be ticket booths.

She spoke, almost wistfully. “All the women are Rogue’s sisters?”

“Half-sisters,” Bruin said. “Except Lillian, the young one. She’s… a friend.” He let the word hang in the air, knowing it was lame. But how else could he explain Lillian? Friend it was, until they were certain Willow was a One True Mate. He smiled down at her and she smiled up at him, and they turned in unison and headed toward the rest of the crowd, their hands meeting between them and linking, fingers entwining.

Sweet joy filled Bruin. He was holding hands with her- but then the line of bearen, hundreds strong, marched across his line of sight. He faltered. Fought it. Stumbled. Gritted his teeth. Tripped and pulled Willow a little.

She gasped and pulled her hand out of his. “I’m sorry, Bruin, I forgot.”

His vision cleared immediately and he was able to walk steadily again. “Not your fault. I wanted to hold your hand, too.” He frowned and stopped to look her square in the face. “I wish I could touch you, Willow. I burn to.”

Willow flushed and nibbled on her lip. “What if we… practice?” She backed up next to a crumbling concrete wall and leaned against it, turning her face away from him. “What if I look away from you? Does that help?”

Slowly, Bruin lifted his hand and grazed her shoulder, down her bare arm with his index finger. The image came, but not so strong. He could still see her through it.

“Keep trying,” she said. “Maybe you can learn to control it.”

He did as she asked, placing two fingers on her, running them from shoulder to elbow. Was it getting better? He didn’t know.

“What if I gave you some incentive to try?” she said, and her voice was different, tighter somehow.

He moved in closer, not quite daring to but wanting to press her body against the wall with his own. It was instinctual, that desire, the kind of thing that should be surrendered to, lest it tear him in half.

He stilled himself. “What kind of incentive?”

She looked him square in the face in that way she had when she was assessing someone and said, “What if I said I would let you kiss me if you could get it to stop?”

She dropped her eyes so she didn't see when he licked his lips, and the pure, shining excitement on his face.

Staring at the ground, she said softly, “That is, if you would want that.”

He hooked a finger under her chin and tipped her face up to his, concentrating hard, willing his mind to cooperate. “I do want that,” he said as the line of bearen marched in front of him. “I want it more than anything.”

“Keep touching me,” she whispered.

He ran his hand along her jaw line, then traced the fragile shell of her ear, then down her neck, working internally to keep himself grounded. The line of bearen were still there but they weren't growing stronger. Weaker? Maybe. She smiled encouragingly at him. He ran his fingers all the way down her arm, circling her elbow, then down to her wrist and her hand, entwining their fingers. The vision flashed strong in his head and he beat it back.

“I've seen it,” he whispered to himself. “Let it go. When the time comes I'll be ready for it. It's not here. It's not in front of me. There is no reason for me to keep seeing it.”

His eyes had drifted closed and the vision had grown stronger, but it wavered with his words. He forced his eyes open and looked into Willow's gorgeous brown eyes.

“I think I'm doing it,” he said.

Her smile widened and she took his other hand, entwining their fingers, joining their bodies in a loop.

“Keep your eyes open,” she said. “Keep looking at me. I can tell. I can see… It's more transparent. It's fading. You are doing it.”

Bruin doubled his efforts. A kiss she'd said, a kiss. Was there anything he wanted more than that? No. His eyes fell closed again, and he pressed them together hard, trying to mentally force the vision out of his mind. She ran her thumb over the side of his hand.

“Don't force it, Bruin. Just let it go.”

He took her advice and changed his tactics. Instead of pushing, he opened a hole in his mind underneath the feet of the bearen. They didn't fall through but they went… hazy. They wavered.

“Look at me,” she said.

He opened his eyes and lost himself in hers, and then the bearen were gone.

“You did it,” she breathed, and she stood on tiptoe and tilted her face up to his, waiting for his kiss.

Bruin pulled his hands out of hers and grasped her around the waist, setting her up on the wall so that her face was right in line with his. He pushed in close to her, and that damn rumbling chose that moment to come out of his chest. He gritted his teeth against the purring but couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t hold it back. Her expression went wide open, then amused, then hot and he ceased trying to disrupt the purring. She liked it. Her every thought was laid out in her expression and she wanted him to kiss her, and she wanted him to purr while he was doing it.

Her eyes closed, but he kept his open. He wanted to see this, wanted to burn it into his memory forever. Their first kiss. If she were truly his (how could she possibly be?), then this would be the first of a million, each more delicious than the last.

Their lips met, hers warm and soft. She tasted like rich honey from fat, underworked bees and he groaned, never able to get enough of her sweet, Willow honey. She pulled him close, digging her little nails into the skin of his arms, trying to get him close enough to her that their bodies would seem as one. His purring accelerated, like he was no longer an overgrown, dangerous cat, but rather some speedster, a car with a heavy engine and the ability to go from zero to one hundred and twenty in two seconds flat.

He would never, ever have enough of this. Would never be able to pull himself away. He would kiss her, right here, until morning, stopping when she needed food or water or sleep, but not before.

A wolf whistle sounded, pulling her attention. She moved her head slightly, breaking the contact of their lips, so she could look to the right.

Bruin groaned like he was dying of thirst and someone had snatched the water out of his hands. His purring died down, but was still there, an engine on low idle, about to stall if it didn’t get some gas.

She pressed his chest and he looked up. The whole gang was there, forty feet away, standing between the falling-down gates, watching them. Rogue stood in front with her arms folded. Even from so far away, he could see the satisfaction on her face and in the set of her body. “Come on lovebirds,” she called. “We don’t want to leave you out here for the ghosts to snack on.”

Willow grabbed Bruin’s shoulders and looked around, her face delighted, her voice low and urgent. “Are there really ghosts?”

Bruin helped her down, then took her hand in his, testing. His mind stayed quiet.

He smiled at her. “Yeah, big ones.”