Eternally Hers

Part Twenty Seven

Arabelle Warren

The warmth of the coffee in the mug clasped tightly in my palms did little to warm the rest of me, but I found I did not mind much. With the bottom of the mug resting on the top of my knees, I stifled a sigh, watching as the sun rose along the treeline. It was a beautiful sight; the knowledge that the sun was now replacing the dark was a soothing one.

​I had woken up in the early hours of the morning to another nightmare. Macy's body lying on my front lawn, blood everywhere; on her clothes, dried to her neck, the grass, my hands. Paul staring at his fiancée's mangled body and back at me. The look of pure and undeniable disgust in his eyes. Those same eyes I had seen five days ago, when they were wide and full of hope and relief.
​
​I thought seeing Paul would eliminate the grief and the guilt that had built up in my chest. I had been wrong. If anything, the dreams had gotten worse. So bad, in fact, that I barely slept anymore. I didn't want to worry Saoirse so I would slip out onto the back porch and watch the sunrise. In the five days it had been since visiting Paul, I had slept maybe six hours in total.

​Macy's death didn't seem to impact anyone but me. Saoirse had barely blinked over it. She was hundreds of years old; I knew that death did not impact her as strongly anymore, but I thought finding a body on our front lawn would have done something. Anything.

​I was wrong.

​Dot hadn't been affected, either. Nor had Jamie. Out of all of them, I had least expected Tessa to feel anything at all. She was a Hunter; she saw death constantly. And yet, she seemed to be the most humane about it. The most hurt by Macy's death. But she'd been in her room for days now, locking herself inside. If she came out, it wasn't without her phone or computer or some sort of book in hand.

​I had no one to share my grief with, my guilt with.

​I felt weak. I was a Werewolf; I should have been able to handle things such as death. I had not even known Macy, and yet she haunted my every dream, my every waking breath. Her mangled body was on the insides of my eyelids, flashing in my mind with every blink.

​The sound of the back door sliding open pulled me out of my thoughts. Expecting it to be Saoirse, I wiped my eyes with the back of my left hand, glancing over my shoulder. It was not my mate, however.

​Tess smiled at me gently, her eyes softer than I'd seen them in quite some time. I tore my own eyes from her and turned back to the rising sun. I heard the door shut, and to my surprise, she took the seat next to me.

​It was quiet for a moment, only the faint chirping of birds between us, and then she spoke. "Are you okay, Arabelle?"

It was the first thing she'd said to me in days.

​"Would you believe me if I said yes?" I replied softly. I did not look at her as I asked, keeping my eyes set firmly on the orange and pink of the sky. I didn't think I could look at the soft expression on her face, and I certainly did not want her to see the way my eyes watered, making the sky a fuzzy, unfocused blur of colour.

​"No, I wouldn't." Her response was quiet, almost a murmur.

​"That obvious, huh?"

​"Just a tad."

​"I'm meeting with Paul this afternoon," I breathed, "he wants me to come while he picks a headstone for her."

​ "Are you ready for that?" She asked, just as softly as she'd replied to me before. Her voice was velvet. I pondered if she was doing it purposefully because she didn't want to upset me, or if that was how she was when not surrounded by Dot, Jamie, and Saoirse.