Birthright: Book 1: Know Thyself Page 5

  “Well, at the risk of being deprived of air again, her scent is…different. I don't believe she’s a full-blooded werewolf. When she wakes up, I would like to ask her if I can take a blood sample for genetic testing.” He explains.

  “If that’s okay with you, of course?” He adds quickly, the fear still evident in his eyes.

  “We will see.” Is all that I can manage to say as I turn my back on him and enter my bedroom, quietly closing the door behind me.

  Immediately I can tell she’s no longer sleeping by the change in her breathing. It’s shallow now. She's scared of me; her increased heart rate gives her away. Slowly, I shuffle my feet to the bedside chair and sit down, making enough noise, so she knows where I am in the room.

  “Amara?” I try to speak soft and calm, so I don’t startle her.

  “Amara, I know that you're awake. Everything is okay, you’re safe here. No one will hurt you ever again.” I give her my vow.

  As I await a response, I notice that her heartbeat has calmed to a reasonable rate now, her breathing is also slowing down, and I wonder why.

  Chapter 11: Amara

  I'm startled awake when something hits the wall, followed by loud growling. Vigorously rubbing my eyes, I will them to adjust faster so I can look around. It’s dark in this room, almost pitch-black. Despite having excellent night vision, I can’t make out anything that’s more than an inch in front of my face. I'm in a super comfortable bed, the likes of which I've never felt before. I try to push off the weight that I feel on my chest, and I’m relieved when I realize that it's only a very thick down comforter.

  ‘Where in the hell am I?’ I wonder.

  The last thing I remember is Derek standing over me. Ugh, this is just my freaking luck....out of the frying pan and into the fire. I can hear muffled voices coming from outside the room for a few minutes before the doorknob suddenly turns. On instinct, I lay still pretending to be asleep. I'm having a hard time controlling my breathing and my heart rate to no avail. I’m freaking out in a dark room, and God only knows where I am and who I am with. Well, it appears that I’m with someone who likes to pamper their victims first. This bed is crazy comfortable. Maybe they will do me a favor and end it quickly. The door opens. I hear someone walk in and sit down in a chair a few feet from the bed.

  To say I’m shocked when he softly says my name is an understatement. Oddly his voice is like a calming balm to my nerves and conveys a relaxing feeling all over my body. I’m not sure if I should respond, so I wait. Inescapably, he calls me out and tells me that he knows I am awake and tries to reassure me that I am safe. I open my eyes, even though I can’t see anything, and I sit up. He must be able to see because as soon as I’m upright, I can hear him shifting in his chair, leaning closer towards me.

  “Whoa, don't come near me!" I order trembling.

  I am trying to put on a brave face, but I know I'm incapable of pulling it off.

  "Who are you? Why am I here? What do you want with me?” I ask in one breath as I slowly inch myself back until I feel a wall pressing against my back.

  “Breathe Amara. I swear you’re safe and I will answer all your questions.” He says and waits.

  “Um...okay,” I say, nodding my head.

  “Wait. Do you have a light in here? I can’t see anything, including you.” I interrupt him as he clears his throat before beginning to speak.

  “Of course. I’m sorry. I’m just used to seeing in the dark.” He explains as he gets up and flips a switch and the light illuminates the room.

  I close my eyes for a minute to allow them to adjust to the sudden bright light. As they regain focus, I immediately recognize the man who is now sitting back in a chair.

  “I saw you at the school’s office this morning!” I say as my voice gets increasingly higher with every word, in harmony with my fear.

  What the hell is going on? Was I abducted by some psycho-stalker-killer?

  “Amara. Calm down. It was three days ago when I ran into you in the office, or more accurately you ran into me. You have been sleeping ever since that male hurt you!” He explains, with a disgusted look on his face.

  “Huh? I don’t remember being hurt.” I respond, stunned.

  “Look, I know it's a lot to digest, especially after you've just been attacked. I need you to know that I’m being honest with you and that you are safe here and with me.” He pleads, not taking his eyes away from mine.

  I don’t know why, but I believe him, so I nod my head in understanding. It seems hard for me to make coherent sentences around this stunning guy. It occurs to me that I don’t even know his name.

  “Okay. So, three days ago I ran into you in the school office. How in the hell did I get here? And what's your name?” I ask a little more confident than before.

  “My name is Declan O’Connell,” he states with a cocky grin.

  The grin looks natural on his face like it's been there a million times before. He pauses slightly, then he continues.

  “To answer your questions, I was visiting a friend who happens to be your neighbor when I heard yelling from inside your apartment. So, I broke the door down, and this guy was standing over you while you were laying on the ground bleeding. I detained him and brought you here to my home so you could be taken care of.”

  He explains it so calmly, I muse. Like these are everyday events for him.

  “I’m not your responsibility. Why would you help me when you don’t even know me? Why not just dump me off at a hospital? Also, what do you mean you detained him?” I ask, trying to understand why this sexy man is even talking to me.

  “Amara there are things I need to explain to you, but not right now. You have been asleep for three days; I swear that you can leave here anytime you want! Just please give me the chance to talk to you before you make that choice." He pleads.

  He kind of looks sick, his face looking paler.

  "Look. You have to be hungry; let me take you out to eat.” He states quickly, avoiding answering my questions.

  As if on cue, my traitorous stomach makes a loud complaint. Feeling the heat of the blush rising in my cheeks, I now realize how exposed I am without my hood up. When I look down, all I can see is a vast dark red, almost black, smear soaked into my red sweater. This must be my blood. Ugh, I have been laying in this for three days!

  Forlorn, I grab my sweater and pull it off over my head and hug it to my chest.

  “Yea, I could definitely eat,” I respond dejectedly.

  "Are you sure? You look like your favorite cat just died. The cat is your sweater." He jokes as he stands up.

  He doesn't know that the sweater provides an escape for me. I am bummed that I won't be able to wear it wherever we are going.

  "I'm fine. Can I use the restroom before we go?" I say, feeling a bit sensitive, as he walks to the door and opens it.

  I follow him out of the room with my sweater still clutched in my hands. As soon as I get into the hallway, I focus on the ground. After walking a few steps down the hall, he stops.

  “Here you go. This door on the left is the bathroom and to the right is the towel closet. The room we just left is my bedroom.” He explains.

  As I enter the bathroom, the light automatically turns on. I quickly use the facilities. Setting my sweater on the edge of the counter, I stand in front of the mirror and gaze at my reflection. I’m shocked at how bad I look. I have three-day-old dried blood all over my face. It seems to have originated from a wound on the bridge of my nose, which is almost entirely healed. I look in the cabinet above the toilet and am ecstatic when I find a clean rag. I soak it in warm running water before I start scrubbing my face. I try to keep the cloth wet to help soften the dried blood. After about ten minutes, I’m finally happy with my sponge bath. I can’t see any more injuries except for some light bruising under both eyes and a gash above my nose that has scabbed over. I throw my used rag in the empty hamper. Before I open the door, I snatch my sweater off the counter and take a deep breath. When I emerge,
I see that Declan is leaning casually with one shoulder against the wall, while he waits for me. He looks like a model just waiting for somebody to snap his photo.

  “All good?” He asks casually.

  He pushes off the wall and continues a few more steps before descending the stairs without my response. I choose not to answer, not knowing what to say. I avert my gaze and follow him to the stairs. I’m almost to the bottom when I hear strange noises coming from the room immediately to the right of the stairs, making me stop in my tracks. Declan turns around to face me.

  “If you get too uncomfortable, let me know. There isn’t a lot of us that live here, but we always have guests over. We're just going to pop in quickly and say hi and bye and be on our way.” He says, smiling at me.

  The smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He seems nervous. I silently send a prayer that no one will pay me any attention. He takes one of my hands nervously clutching my sweater and places it into his as he starts pulling me into the loud room. Again, there is a shock when we make contact. It’s almost imperceptible this time except for the sensation that my entire body is humming. I feel a growing neediness, down South, that confuses me.

  Chapter 12: Amara

  I am pulled behind Declan into the kitchen from where our hands are joined. There are at least a half of a dozen people talking and eating in an open dining room. As soon as we make it through the entryway, everyone stops speaking as all eyes turn to us. I shift uncomfortably from foot to foot, keeping my attention aimed at the attractive mosaic tile floor. The mosaic is made up of several dark-gray three-dimensional boxes.

  “Everyone this is Amara. Amara this is..well everyone. We just came in to say hi before we leave.” Declan says to the surrounding body of people.

  “Why leave, we have plenty of food here!” Says a woman who looks to be the oldest in the room.

  My hopes deflate. Anxiety quickly erases any relief I was previously feeling, as my muscles and gut start cramping.

  “It’s okay mom; I want to take Amara out to eat so we can talk one-on-one. You know?” He says, gaping at his mom.

  “Oh, of course, sweetheart. What was I thinking?” She replies with a big smile.

  She looks a little embarrassed to have suggested that we stay as he navigates me towards the door.

  “Are you okay?” He whispers in my ear, causing me to shiver from the near contact.

  The increasing heat from our intertwined hands matches the spreading warmth between my legs. It’s confusing and frustrating at the same time.

  “Yea, I just get anxious around big crowds,” I answer quietly, avoiding eye contact as we walk out his front door.

  I follow him to a three-car garage with all three of the bay doors open. I can see at least ten cars parked inside. There are even more vacant spots in the carport and off to the side of the garage. Still being led by the hand, we stop at a black Dodge Charger. It’s parked so close to the yellow car in front of it that the bumpers are kissing.

  “This is yours?” I say louder than I mean to, the excitement showing in my voice.

  “Yeah, do you like it?” He says, flashing me a toothy smile.

  I get the feeling he’s not exactly asking me about the car, but I decided to let it go. I have zero experience with flirting or innuendos, and that’s not what should be on my mind right now.

  “Definitely! I don’t know crap about cars, but this one is just stunning!” I say smiling for the first time in so long that my cheeks are stiff from the unfamiliar facial expression.

  Chapter 13: Declan

  She's smiling at me. A genuine smile that lights up her whole face. I hit the unlock button on the key fob, and we both sink into our seats. I had no idea that my mate would be this attractive. I would do anything or be anybody for her, just to be able to see that smile daily. I smile back at her as we pull out of the garage and head down the driveway. I slow down to make a right turn onto the main Den road towards the gate that separates us from the outside world. The Den is comprised of pack homes that are spread out among the trees. There are stores, schools, and a park in the dead center.

  “Wow, do you guys really need all this security?” She asks while looking at the 20 ft’ reinforced steel gate.

  “We protect what's important to us,” I answer, looking straight at her until she drops her gaze.

  “Where are we going?” Amara asks after a few moments of silence.

  “There’s a small café just inside the neighboring town. They have the best breakfast and coffee, and I’d like to take you there.” I explain.

  “Okay.” She says while nodding.

  Her excessive use of head gesture makes me laugh out loud, causing her to give me a dirty look.

  “What exactly are you laughing at?” She asks.

  “Do you know how often you nod your head in response to a question? You do it even when you verbally answer.” I say, smiling.

  I realize I’m just happy to be here and learning everything about this woman fate has ordained for me. I feel like a giddy teenager right now. Entirely content to just be around her. Conversing with her is a gift. Watching her sleep silently for those three days almost drove Wolf and I mad. I can’t imagine not having her around us all the time. It’s only been a few days, and we’re attached, but she’s been unconscious that whole time.

  “Look I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.” I offer sincerely.

  I’m hoping she can tell that I mean it. She just nods in response and this time I don’t say anything else. The rest of the drive into town is silent. Unbelievably, it isn't awkward at all. Especially considering that I just insulted her somehow. All I feel is satisfaction as she sits quietly looking out the window. I’m assuming she’s still trying to process all that has happened in the last few days.

  I turn into the parking lot and pull into a space close to the diner’s entrance. A bright red sign highlighting Pooter’s Pie Café hangs above the door. It’s nothing fancy, just an old metal Airstream trailer turned into a diner. Exactly like the ones that were popular in the ’70s. Shoot looking at it, it may be a well maintained original. They honestly do have the best pie and breakfast in this county, and I want her to have the best.

  "Can I leave this in your car?" Amara asks quietly.

  At first, I have no idea what she is referring to. Until I look down and notice that her sweater is still clenched in between her hands. Obviously, it's vital to her.

  "Yeah, that's not a problem at all," I answer.

  We exit the car and make our way into the café, hearing a bell chime as I open the door for her to walk in. Once inside, we are seated quickly by a nice elderly hostess. Thankfully, she seats us in the back of the restaurant in a booth that’s secluded where we will have the most privacy. We sit down facing each other on opposite sides, the table between us reminding me that we need to talk. The server comes over and introduces herself as Tiffany. We give her our drink orders of a Coke and water, which she leaves to fill while we look at the menu.

  “I don’t have any money,” Amara says as soon as the waitress is out of earshot with a worried look on her face.

  “Don’t worry about it, I got you covered,” I say.

  ‘Soon in more ways than one!’ Wolf pants in my head.

  “I’ll find a way to pay you back, I promise.” She says.

  “No! You will not. You do not and will never owe me for this, or anything else I choose to do for you!” I say with such finality that she just looks back at me in disbelief.

  I’m about to argue with her more because of the look in her eyes, but the waitress appears with our drinks and asks if we are ready to order. Without looking at her or the menu, I order two house specials, one with the eggs over-medium and then look at Amara.

  “How do you like your eggs?” I ask.

  “Scrambled.” She answers before the waitress is off to take other orders.

  “I could have ordered for myself; you know!” She states, with her chin in the air, and her lowe
r lip pouted slightly.

  I like her this way; feisty and confident, not like how she was at the school and has been most of the time since. Every chance Wolf can, he's projecting dirty images of us with Amara. They all concentrate on her mouth since her face is really the only part of her body I have seen. I desperately want to kiss her and can feel myself growing painfully hard just thinking about how wet and soft her lips will be. I keep trying to imagine how she’s going to taste. Perhaps like her scent, maple syrup, pine trees, or a mix of both. This is ridiculous, it’s like I’m an untried teen, raging hard at the thought of making out!

  Interrupting my reverie, the waitress arrives with our food and places our trays in front of us. I am thankful for the interruption from my Wolf induced daydreams. Hopefully, the respite will give me a chance to get calm. If this keeps up, I’ll break through the zipper of my pants.