Chapter Eight
Journeying to the graves of Andre's wife and daughter was a silent affair. They were buried high on a nearby mountain. While Andre easily climbed up the path on two legs, Mary had had to embrace her Wolf in order to get up the steep, slippery slope. She padded alongside Andre while he carried her dress, always close enough that her shoulder brushed his thigh.
It was a nice location. They could see the spread of land below, the blanket of snow smooth and glistening in the sunlight, broken down in the valley by the pine trees that grew along the twisting road. Mary could picture the waving grasses of summer would look just as striking, and when she closed her eyes and rose her face to the sun, she could imagine what fun a child would have here, playing with her mother, knocking rocks down the mountainside.
Her eyes were red and itchy with tears when Andre quietly told her they had to leave. He hadn't touched her the whole time they were there. He just stared at the headstones laid into the ground.
Returning to the truck was even quieter than their way up. She desperately wished she knew what to say, but what words could possibly ease his pain?
"It'll be dark before we get to the city," Mary murmured. "Perhaps it would be best if I stayed one more night."
His shoulders were low, hunched forward, and Andre hardly seemed to be looking at the road as he drove. He nodded once and was silent.
When they got back to the cabin, they sat in the truck, just being with each other. Mary didn't want to leave alone. She wanted to let him know she was there for him. She wanted to tell him that she loved him, but after all this, he'd think she was trying to replace his wife and daughter. How could they ever be replaced? So she just sat holding his hand.
"I need to feed the animals." Andre straightened himself.
"I'll come with you," Mary said.
"You don't have to."
"I want to."
She twined her hand in his as they headed for the barn, noting with alarm how cold he was to the touch. His skin was usually so warm, hot even, that this drop in temperature alarmed her greatly. She rubbed his fingers between her hands and brought them to her mouth to blow on them.
A voice suddenly ran out, harsh and cutting in the silence. "Let her go!"
"Peter!" Mary's head whipped up, her breath catching in her throat.
Her brother stood in the door to the barn, a heavy hunting rifle aimed at Andre's heart. Mary stared, eyes wide. Peter's green eyes were locked on Andre, ignoring Mary entirely. His black hair was singed short, a sign of mourning, and the gun in his hands did not waver.
"Peter," Mary started again.
"Get away from him, Mary, now! Run!"
Andre growled low in his throat, eyes darkening. Every inch of his body was rigid. He was going to transform, and Mary knew she was going to watch the brother she loved most kill her soulmate. Even a Bear wouldn't stand a chance against a bullet! Another growl, and Mary jumped in front of Andre.
"No!"
Peter's eyes widened, and Andre stiffened. Mary turned her back to her brother and put her hands on her lover's chest, staring at him in the eye.
"Andre, no. Please, we can talk about this." She turned to her brother, who still had the gun aimed. His expression was uncertain and alarmed. "Peter, put the gun down."
"Mary, what are you doing?"
"I lost control of the car, and Andre found me," she said in a rush. "He brought me back here and took care of me."
Peter's grip on the gun tightened. "Kidnapped you, you mean!"
Mary shook her head. Her mouth was dry, and she didn't know how she was going to admit this to her brother. But if she didn't, then he would kill Andre for sure, and she could never let that happen. She took a step towards him, her hands outstretched in a placating gesture.
"He didn't kidnap me. I was running away, Peter. I was leaving the community."
"What?" Shock crossed Peter's face, and he slowly lowered the gun. His gaze flickered from Mary to Andre. "What are you saying?"
"I couldn't stand it anymore! Always working, always taking care of everything. And nobody cared." Mary felt her throat closing. "It had been three weeks since anybody said thank you to me. Three weeks! I ran that house, but everybody acted as though I was a servant!
"And then to listen to Mother's constant criticisms about how I looked, my weight, and the way I dressed?" Mary couldn't stop now that she had started. "And Father, keeping the money so tightly clenched in his fist that I couldn't even buy clothes that looked halfway decent on me, and not being able to finish school because I was so busy taking care of children, wiping their noses, making sure they were fed!"
Peter ran a hand over his singed hair. "Why didn't you tell anybody how you felt?"
"I did! Nobody believed me because they think I am an overly emotional woman with my mood swings and because I didn't embrace my Wolf. When did I have time?" Tears were beginning to flow down her cheeks. "Being with Andre has been the happiest time of my life. I've been able to read, to play in the snow, to go running with my Wolf. I don't have to cook and clean all day long, I can do it because I want to, not because Father will belt me if I don't have supper on the table for him!"
Andre put a hand on her shoulder. "You should leave, Peter Locke."
Peter didn't look at him. He picked up his rifle again and took the bullets out, tucking them into his pocket. "I would like to thank you for taking good care of my sister. And now I would appreciate it if we could speak alone."
"What makes you think I want to?" Mary asked, but Andre had already squeezed her shoulder and headed back to the cabin.
"Mary?" Peter looked uncertain. "Can we sit, and… and talk?"
"Yes." Mary dragged her feet as she went to Peter, and led him into the barn. They sat on hay bales in front of the sheep pen. "I'm not going back."
Peter cautiously put a hand over hers. "Not to Father's house, no. I won't let him treat you this way. By why didn't you tell me how badly you were feeling? I could have done something to help."
"You know exactly what that house is like," Mary said roughly, looking at the ground. "You know what Father and Mother are like, you know how hard I worked all the time. You know how miserable I was. I shouldn't have had to tell you."
"You can come to my house. You can live with Amy and me. And if Father won't arrange a courtship for you, I will."
She knew she couldn't tell him that she had already found her soulmate, and he was a Bear. Mary pushed the loose hay near her feet into a pile. "No."
"No?"
Mary looked up, setting her jaw. "No. I am not going back there, Peter. I am going to find my own mate. I am going to forge my own life. I am a Wolf, not a den mother or a pup."
Peter's face flushed. "Mary, you're not seeing this for what it is—"
"I am not going back." She stood. "Goodbye, Peter."
***
Would she go back with him? Andre sat at his table, staring into the cup of coffee he had made himself. Visiting Isadore and Eve's graves had only strengthened his resolve. Mary had to leave so he could be strong enough to avenge them. But what if she went back to the Wolf community? Could he attack her family, knowing she might be hurt when he did? And even if she wasn't, they would blame her, and she would pay the price!
His hands trembled. Please stay with me.
He looked up sharply when the door opened. But Mary was in and out in a second, grabbing the keys to her car and disappearing again. His heart plummeted. No.
Everything seemed foggy and distant as he listened to the car engine start. His hands tightened around the mug until it cracked. Hot coffee spilled over his hands, but he hardly noticed. She was gone. Just like that, she was gone, back to her father.
How could he have been so stupid? He should have chased off Peter Locke the moment he showed his face! He should never have let Mary stay and ease her way into his heart. He should—
The door opened again. Mary stepped in, tears streaming down her face, but her eyes resolute. She met his gaze and for a long time neither spoke. Andre thought his heart might burst with joy, seeing her there, seeing her standing before him, still here with him.
"I am never going back," she said. Her voice broke, and suddenly she was crying.
Andre found his feet and went to her. He meant for a simple, comforting embrace, but then her arms were around him, her lips pressed to his, her body swelling to meet his.
No. He couldn't. He had to break it off now before he hurt her more.
But when she took his hand and led him to the bedroom he followed, aching for her touch, her comfort, just as much as she ached for him. Limbs and tongue tangled, clothing was shed. Her moans urged him on as his lips moved from her mouth to her neck to lower.
I have to stop this before it's too late, he told himself firmly.
She laid down on the bed, her beautiful raven hair fanning about her. "Come to me."
He could not disobey her, not when she looked so beautiful, so vulnerable. Andre smiled as he gazed at her, his hand running up her thigh, reveling in the softness and fullness of her body. Her lips parted, and he obeyed the unspoken command, bending towards her. Passions surged, and their touch became more frantic. Souls merged as their bodies became one.