Inhumane

014

PAIGE

The wolf's mother was beautiful. Her name was Rhia and she had a great smile and eyes that reminded me of my own mother's. When she opened the door, the scent of sandalwood was embedded in a wave of warm air washing over me. It reminded me of the essence of the wolf's smell. I swallowed as she put her cheek to mine, then clenched my jaw. It was a painful, sharp feeling to be embraced by a mother. I felt cold knowing I would never be able to embrace my own mother in this way again. 

Within the tiny expanses of blinks I could see my mother's light smile, strong hands, and wavy blonde hair. She was made up of the Sun; the sweetest person I had ever met. The kindest yet most fierce woman in the universe. 

I suddenly recalled a memory from a week before she died. In my mind's eye, she stood at the back sliding door to the house, looking out into the rain with a hard expression. It was pouring out, collecting on the glass, and blurring the trees that whipped in the wind. I realized then that she looked very tired... Tired and sad. It wasn't a typical expression for her, but at the time I paid no mind. One of her hands was braced on her hip, the other rested on her collarbone over the fabric of her wool sweater. I had called to her from the old dining table where I ate the oatmeal she made me-- brown sugar and cream on top, just the way I liked it. 

Her eyes turned to me and she smiled as if I was the greatest thing in the world. "Yes, my love?"

"Are you looking for dad?" I asked as she sat beside me and reached over to tuck my hair behind my ear. 

"No, honey. I'm thinking of a way for us to go on an adventure." Looking back on it, her smile had become watery. 

"An adventure?" I inquired, "When?"

"Soon--" she cut herself off as my father walked in the front door and her expression went hard. My mother pressed a kiss to my forehead, sent a look to my father, a colder one to the men behind him, and went upstairs. The slam of her bedroom door sent a shock through me.

Swallowing, I blinked and looked around the wolf's parent's house. The memories of her that I had were painful to think about. My heart had felt hollow ever since she left, there was no one who could fill the void that she left when her soul departed. 

The interior of their home was very warm and comfortable. It was made up of browns and deeper browns, maybe a little black. The fireplace was massive and stretched from floor to tall ceiling, its hearth made up of large river rock. The fire was alive and crackling within. The couch was leather, the coffee table similar to the wolf's. There was a full bookshelf that fit into the corner. I could see a loft above, but the house extended further to the right from the A-frame entryway. I did like the look of the floor to ceiling windows that framed the front door.

Turning my gaze back, I noted to her that I was hungry and she seemed pleased, poking fun at the wolf, which I liked. At the same time, I was in a daze. This was a home, a real home, not the man's den that I lived in with my father. It had changed a lot since my mother passed, less thoughtful decor, more liquor. A shiver ran over my spine. Suddenly my throat felt blocked, a sense of anxiety loomed at my back.

Following her into the kitchen, I was met with a bear of a man. A spitting image of the wolf: dark unruly waves of hair, deeply tanned skin, and large statures all matched. My mouth opened and closed with shock, he was a good looking man. Then the reality crept in and my jaw wired shut once again. He was also a wolf, and so was his mother, and I was the one who wanted to kill all of them.

A war waged in my head, fierce enough to make my skull pound.

"Paige, this is my mate Berenger," Rhia introduced. His name meant warrior, I remembered from a book I had read. That was a lifetime ago. One back when I holed up in my room when my father went on hunts and I was blissfully oblivious to the world outside my backyard. His name seemed to fit him pretty well.