Annalise

Epilogue

I stirred from my sleep as Cristian slept beside me with heavy snores. He was tired, but I found myself beside him, unable to rest. My lower eyelids burned and begged me to shut my eyes, but each time I tried, I saw them. Lorena, The Dires, and the Dead.

They'd buried ours and burned theirs, but each of their faces were a part of my dreams. A reminder of their deaths. Kael, the sentinels, and even the ones who declared themselves our enemy. They were a family lost, friends gone, and a little girl alone. And for what?

I rolled over, knowing that the change in my position would offer only a small pause to my thoughts. But a pause nonetheless.

I kicked the silk sheet from my legs and rolled to my back. The cool air from the opened window and early morning breeze felt good, but not enough to lull me to sleep. My thoughts were a never-ending monologue, and my dreams were a hellscape of lifeless eyes.

I sat up. It was clear I wouldn't sleep tonight. I thought about Ari, Christian, his father, and the others. How their past affected our lives. I exhaled. My mouth was dry, and my stomach was upset, so I stood and swallowed what little moisture I could.

I stepped out of the room and walked down the stairs. Four days had passed, and my mother and Charlotte remained here. The doctor had cleared them, and they were healing as expected, but Cristian wouldn't let them leave. He wouldn't admit it to the others, but he was scared. I could feel it sometimes when he was near. He says they're still under the doctors' care, but truthfully, I knew they were under his protection.

Mr. Gregory came every day but refused to stay on the grounds. Ari seemed to be a permanent resident residing in Amarog's room as they grew closer. Lorena, I would only see in passing as she made short visits to speak with Cristian privately. Eric was, unfortunately, still around. With his claim as a son to two alphas, one by blood and one by family, he made his presence known for as long as he sought to. As the sentinels remained closer to the house, often bedsharing, and the frequent visits from wolves from all around, the house wasn't exactly peaceful.

So without much privacy, I enjoyed the undisturbed early morning hours and found the time away from it all to be a comfort. When everyone was resting, hunting, or busy with business, only then was my day silent. It was during this time that I realized that I was finding it harder and harder to adjust to the lifestyle of the booming Pack house.

I walked slowly through the old mansion, careful to avoid the squeaks of the floor as I made my way to the kitchen. It was dimly lit with the slight glow of the stove light, and as my wolf vision adjusted to the darkness, I traversed the space easily. I opened the fridge door out of habit, wanting a cold glass of water, but there was none. There was pop, beer, wine, and meat, but never water. I missed our fridge, the jug of spring water my mother collected, and the leftovers of her home-cooked meals.

"Not one for deer, I see." The sound of his voice made me jump as I'd escaped into my thoughts again.

Eric, a few feet away from me, had invaded my time. I turned my back to the fridge silent and unsure of what to do. We hadn't been alone since Cristian was back, and that uneasy feeling had returned, twisting and knotting my stomach into something unrecognizable.

"What are you doing down here?" I watched his every move, the dilation of his eyes, the slight rise and fall of his chest, and the small flex of his arm muscles folded across his chest.

By the door, he stood in only a pair of black jeans. His chest was sweaty, and his feet were blackened from the soil. I stayed in the door of the fridge with the cool air at my back until I shuttered and threw my arms around myself. My nipples had hardened against my shirt, and a vulnerability had overcome me.

"You're not the only one with a dry throat," he answered.

He stepped towards the fridge, and I moved closer to the sink. He smirked at my awkward side steps and grabbed a beer. I settled for a glass from the cabinet and turned on the tap. I could feel him watching me, as the hiss of the bottle penetrated the silence. I felt like prey to a predator and strange in my own skin.

I sipped the water slowly as my stomach ache worsened. With his eyes staring into the back of my head, I stared at the wall and sipped. When I'd had enough, I turned, agitated, and snapped. "Stop staring at me."

"No." He took a sip of his beer and moved closer. "You're beautiful." He scratched his brow with the tip of his thumb. "Easy to admit that."

My heart quickened at his words, and I realized I needed to go. I set the glass on the counter and stepped forward, but he purposefully blocked my path. I stopped, realizing he wouldn't let me leave so easily.

"What are you doing?" I gave myself an extra foot between us, but he continued closer. In my space now, close enough to touch, and close enough to hear the thumping of my heart. I was trapped between him and the marble countertop. We'd been here before.

"I screwed up. I can admit that too," he said. I could feel his heat and smell his sweat and his scent. It was different this time, but familiar. Like something I wanted to hold on to but was too overpowering to grasp. I rubbed the scar on my neck as my skin there seemed to burn. "I never should have marked you." His eyes were getting darker now. It was him, the menace that I'd learned him to be. The side of him he couldn't control.

I turned my head away, wishing that I had the courage to move my feet.

"Get away from me," I warned, but I was weak, and he knew it.

"But, now, there's something inside of me that wants you." He grabbed my hand, forcing his fingers between mine as he placed my hand to his chest. "I can feel you feel, Annalise?" He always called me Annalise. Always Annalise. He pressed harder, flattening my fingers to his warm skin.

"Let go of me, Eric!"

"My claim on you. I know you can feel it, too." His grip tightened, and I felt the pressure against my bones. I tried to pull my hand away. "It's a part of both of us." He continued in a low guttural tone that sent chills through my body. "Say it, Annalise. Admit that it's me in your dreams instead of my brother."

He was crazy, and the only thing that would ever be between us was this retched scar of a mark that he forced onto me. And if not for his darkened eyes and short temper, I would've told him so. But his wolf was wild, and I knew him.

"You're hurting my hand."

The pressure of his grip caused an ache to run up my wrist and my fingers to turn white, but still, he held on. A low rumble began in his chest, and he shook his head, fighting whatever it was inside of him that was trying to escape.

Before I could register how, the glass was in my hand and across his head. It shattered into a thousand pieces hard against his skull. He stumbled back and released me. A shard of glass remained in my hand, and I could feel my entire body shaking, but I spoke braver than I had in so long.

"I will never be any thing to you, Eric Gadreal."