103

“She’s sedated; the doc needs to wake her, but she doesn’t know what’s going on. Colton, you need to know…. there’s nothing wrong with her mind.” I point out, coming level with him, and resting my hand on his arm as he stares at her, eyes fixed on her face. His breathing is shallow, and the confusion and pain is evident under that furrowed brow, and glowing amber eyes. He can’t contain his emotion, so his wolf is showing. He swallows hard, reaches out lifting a strand of her hair and brushes it back gently, so carefully like she’s fine china, so fixated on her, like this is some kind of dream he doesn’t want to wake from.

“How…… where?” his voice breaks, a harsh croak, and the doc seems to keep his distance to let me be the one to explain. It’s not an easy thing to tell a guy that the father he loved all this time is the reason his mother was imprisoned and put to sleep. I don’t even know how or where to begin, and I hesitate, looking to the doc, mildly panic stricken for a moment when it comes to me. The doc shrugs and nods at him, as though encouraging me. I think he’s a little intimidated by Colton to be fair, I mean he did threaten to kill him three minutes ago.

I don’t need to tell him. I need to show him. It’s the only way I know how.

“It’s a long story, I think maybe it’s better to do it this way. So you can see for yourself.” I whisper, reaching up and laying my fingertips on his temple and wait for his permission. Tensing as my touch seems so light and hesitant on him, that familiarity dragging me to draw closer. Colton nods, oblivious to me really, while his attention is on her, knowing I mean projecting my memories. I can’t blame him; he’s searched for her for so long, so no wonder she’s all he sees.

I close my eyes and begin to push them his way, rifling through and trying to find a starting point as I drag them to the forefront. I decide on one, right from my decision to turn east and follow that path, to finding the facility, then being caught… Deacon, the doctor, the cell and finding Sierra, right until we got out and I linked Colton. I show him every second on that timeline, even how they kept her, and where, and hope it all filters in while he’s so distracted.

I need to give him all of it, even the parts I’m afraid of him knowing, because I don’t have the words to tell him about his father, and I don’t have the strength to tell him about my family. Or that we’re both hybrids.

Colton stands stock still, as it all plays in and he relives what I did in the past couple of days, seeing, hearing, learning everything I did. Feeling what I did and experiencing everything he must have felt from afar. In microseconds of time, the way transference works. Even the part I was most afraid of telling him…. that I’m a half breed vampire.

I feel him close me out as soon as the images of the last memory fade away. Like a shutter coming down as he disconnects from me, and that wall of emotion blanking, pushes me away. It’s not something most wolves can do, especially to an imprinted bond, but Colton does it right now and shields me from everything he’s feeling in the moment and numbs me out. It’s an alpha gift, to shield loved ones from the pain and horror.

It shocks me, hurts me a little too, but I don’t think he’s doing it to punish me. I think he’s doing it because he knows his own emotions are completely overwhelming and he doesn’t want to make me feel them too. He’s protecting me and pulling back so he doesn’t share what he’s experiencing. He stands, lets go of his mom’s hand and looks over my head at the doc, a glazed distant expression and not what I was expecting at all. A look of determination as that leader takes over and he stands that little bit taller, moving to take charge mode.

“How long do you need before you can wake her?” There’s a coldness to his tone, a lack of feeling and I wonder if he has recoiled even from his own feelings, because it was too much for him, or if he is just really, really pissed. I honestly cannot tell, but there is a brewing storm in the air around him, even if he is shielding me. I guess finding out everything in your life was a lie, and the villain in your story is your own father, has to hurt as much as what I learned about what he did to my family.

“A couple of days to bring her round fully, but she may take weeks to properly come to and recover enough to turn, there is no telling. She’s been asleep for a very long time, and I don’t know what kind of harm that has caused her.” The doctor looks helpless and I can tell he too doesn’t know how to react to Colton being so…. unemotional. It’s like he didn’t find his long-lost mother laid sedated in the back of a truck, and he’s absently directing some lost tourist on where to go next.

“I’ll drive. You stay back here with my mom. The manor is another thirty minutes, minimum, and we need to get going before that asshole Deacon and his failure sub pack show up. I don’t want to be spilling blood in human territory.” That growl, a hint of anger, and I guess I feel a little smug about that. Colton might actually rip that jerk a new one after all. I honestly hope Deacon does show up, because I know my Santo will kick that Santo’s ass into next week, and I actually don’t mind letting him have that one. Watching will be as much joy as doing it.

He doesn’t even look at me, just nods at the doctor to bolt the doors and then walks forward to the cab and climbs into the driver seat, smoothly, and fluidly, like he’s driven military medical trucks his whole life and doesn’t even blink an eye at it. Stopping and staring out the window at the assembled vehicles out there and I know he’s linking the pack to tell them to move. He’s issuing orders, and I follow and climb into the passenger seat, a little afloat with the sudden disconnect in him and unsure how to behave. This version is a Colton I don’t know, and even I feel like I should do what he says.

I screw my eyes up at the trucks, counting maybe five, and way too many for the sub pack, unless they’re spread thinly among them, but can’t make out who’s driving at all. The headlights are screwing with my night vision and I can’t see anything but light glare when I try and look past them. I wonder if Meadow can see me, and I long for nothing more right now than to go hug her. She would get a hug; Colton can go to hell, well maybe not right now as he seems like he could probably use one.

As soon as we hear the door lock get slid and clicked in place, he glances back to make sure the doc has pulled down one of the folding seats and strapped himself in before he moves us on. The fleet of vehicles roar into life and two stay back to let us pass and follow. So, we’re flanked, and Colton just focuses on driving. He positions us right in the middle of the other cars as though they’re escorting some sort of president. A precious cargo who needs their protection. I guess we are. The Luna is as important as the Alpha in a pack, she’s our Queen.

My need to have him say something overpowers my need to be mad at him, and I reach out placing my hand on his bicep gently.

“Are you okay?” I sound like that feeble girl from so long ago that imprinted on him, and not the person I’ve been growing into these past weeks. When faced with this guy, it seems I become a submissive, lovesick, fool, and I silently hate myself for it. Colton seems different too now though, as I sit and evaluate his profile in the light of the headlights shining back at us from the rear of the black four by four in front.

He looks like Colton, still cute boy with dimples that are prominent whenever he moves his face in any in kind of way which could melt any grown ass women’s panties. Still handsome, dreamy, pretty boy face, with that air of cheeky confidence, but yet he seems older. More mature, maybe a slight aging that has him seeming less carefree, and high school jock, and somehow more capable and serious in a way he wasn’t before. There’s a darkness around him that was never there and without tapping into his feelings, I don’t know what it is. It’s more than just learning about his mother; it was there when he walked into me outside the truck. Colton’s carrying a weight and I want to know what. There’s a shift and it’s like some of his youthful light has gone out.

“I don’t want to talk about this right now…I need to…. just let me be, Lorey. Just for a minute.” A petulant shrug of his arm so I stop touching him, and it’s like being scolded. An unexpected rebuff from the guy who just minutes ago hugged the life out of me with sheer need, and now I’m not allowed to touch him. I shouldn’t be upset. He’s hurt, he’s processing, and he’s in his own head, and it’s pretty hypocritical for me to be mad about that. I didn’t want him touching me, and that hasn’t changed.

I try to link him, thinking maybe talking that way will help soothe him, away from the doc’s ears and he might be more open to being less cagey with his feelings but he has the door closed and I can’t get through at all. He’s literally locked me out in every way, and I don’t even know if this is normal behavior for him when he’s nursing pain, or if this is because he remembers I’m not his mate and he should only be sharing that space with her.

Fuck you, Carmen. Fuck you, Colton.

I hate that he can make me feel this way, a new storm swishing around inside of me and I have to stop myself from glaring at him. A new surge of conflicting pain and I resist the urge to slap him. I sit back in my chair and pull my legs under me, hauling my body in tight to self soothe, calm the torrent of crazy, and try not to stare at him, or throw shade. It’s hard when he’s right there, yet feels a thousand miles away, and my own emotions are in uproar. I can’t even pick a side and stick to it.

I want to be mad at him and hate him, I have every right, but when he’s near I can’t stop this overwhelming pain and heartbreak he causes me, although right now, I’ve added compassion and empathy to that mix, and I’m dying inside for him. Even while cursing him. I want to ease his own pain and as stupid as it seems, I’m devastated he’s closing me out like it has nothing to do with me. I’m so confused at my idiot thoughts and responses.

“Where are we going?” I utter it his way, unable to not say something to him, even though he said he doesn’t want to talk. I can’t sit in painful silence feeling like this. Colton exhales with a sigh that signals he’s not really into answering but compelled to do so.

“To the manor I inherited from my mom. It’s someplace my father never had any control over. It’s where we’ve been staying these past weeks. Lorey, I told you, so much has changed.” Colton’s eyes flick my way, he frowns at me and sighs again, and then looks back at the road and doesn’t elaborate. I mean I get he’s currently working through some of his own shit in his mind, but an explanation would be nice. This minimal chat bull crap isn’t working for me.

“Such as?” I push, locking my eye on him with a flash of stubborn and I can’t miss the way his whole-body tenses up. The exhale, frustrated grip on the steering wheel, because it’s obvious I’m not going to shut up and leave him alone, and that has him rolling his shoulders to relieve tension while he decides answering is inevitable.