The Last of White Dawn

Chapter 11: Welcome to Blackwing

"Time flies when you're having fun," he smiles as he grabs our bags and slings mine over my shoulders securing it with a pat before tossing his own on. "Are you ready?"

"I don't think I ever will be."

"Deep breath, shoulders high, show them why they need us princess," he whispered encouragingly as he held my hips from behind, still propelling me toward the door.

I force in a deep breath of fresh, pine-scented air as the door in front of me opens and Seb pats my hip to coax me out of the train car. I step down onto a grey slab platform. There are no benches at Peachtree's station; in fact, it's hardly a train station at all. The area around the platform seems almost contradictory. On one side there is a lush green forest, outlined with old and strong pine trees and dainty wildflowers. And immediately on the other, there is an expansive parking lot for such a small stop on the rail line. I count only two dozen cars at first glance. Just beside that there is tiny building, probably only big enough to hold a handful of people, made of the same slab concrete under my feet. Inside, I can see a woman in the same sharp blue uniform as the woman in the last station. She seems to be daydreaming as she looks out the window toward us. Our eyes meet and I see the fog of the dream dissipate from her eyes and a small smile of pearly white teeth cross her face as she stands to her full height. I afford her back a half-smile, sensing the genuine softness of her spirit, even from here.

Sebastien takes no notice of the woman day dreaming in the window, nor our little interaction. Instead, he is lifting his nose and turning around in slow circles.

"You're going to make yourself dizzy," I mutter.

"I'm just trying to get my bearings," he mutters back and continues his foolish spinning. He seems to catch a whiff of whatever he was trying to find because Sorin's eyes come forward and he inhales deeply with a low growl.

"Find the way?" I almost tease.

Seb shakes his head in an attempt to get his wolf back under control. "You smell so good," Sorin's voice comes from Seb's body in a deep and husky growl.

"I'm not scented yet." The words seem to slip off my tongue before I can think to stop them. It's the truth. When I fully mature, my scent will be released to those around me. Most white wolves don't have a scent until they are fully grown into their skin.

"I can smell you." With Sorin still in control, he reaches out and gently grabs my arm, pulling me closer. Although I can feel my heartbeat quicken, I allow him to do it because I'm not afraid of him; and, admittedly because I'm curious of Sorin. He lowers his head, gently brushes the hair away from my shoulder and inhales from the crook of my neck. "I can smell you," he mutters against my skin again, leaving goosebumps in the wake of his warm breath on my chilled skin.

"What do I smell like?" I can feel something welling up in the back of my throat; my voice comes out strangled as I try to control my own wolf.

"You'll know soon enough," he chuckles into my neck. Suddenly Seb snaps back to his standing position; his hand finds its way to the back of his neck, a nervous tic I have noticed.

"Sorry," he mutters without looking at me. I manage to catch my breath and calm my heartbeat but before I can respond Seb nods toward the line of pine trees across the tracks. "We have to go that way."

"You're sure?"

"As sure as I can be," he still isn't looking at me.

"Seb?"

"Yes," he turns but his eyes are turned down to his feet.

"Seb," I try again.

"Yes?" His head lifts a little but his eyes remain downcast.