Page 23
Faith had learned a lot about the Wrasa today, and now she found out another piece of information about them: apparently, they snored.
At least Tala did.
That wasn’t what kept Faith up, though. The soft snoring, interspersed with the occasional snuffling sound, was more cute than annoying.
Her thoughts swirled through her mind like little tornados. All the impressions of the day were too much for her brain to process.
She felt as if she was getting emotional whiplash. All day, she had gone back and forth between believing the Wrasa were warm-hearted, loyal folks who valued family and community and fearing they were master manipulators who had tricked her into thinking that.
Was it possible they were both? Could they switch between those two personalities as easily as they shifted from human to animal form?
Slowly, careful not to jostle the bed and wake Tala, Faith rolled onto her side to watch her.
Tala was curled up on her side too, facing her. In the moonlight filtering in through the window and the glass door, her face appeared more relaxed than Faith had ever seen her, as if she was completely unguarded and able to unwind now that she was home and surrounded by her pack.
Faith couldn’t believe how much Tala had told her about her family—about her complicated relationship with her brother, the reason her grandmother hated humans, and the way Rey had lost his arm.
Tala had been only nine when that had happened—the same age Faith had been when she’d lost her mother.
The accident had clearly shaken the entire family in a similar way her mom’s death had changed hers.
Faith had seen the pain in Tala’s eyes and another familiar emotion too: guilt. A part of Tala probably thought that she was to blame for Rey’s accident since he had followed her up the tree. Plus she hadn’t been able to help him afterward, just as Faith had always felt guilty for not being able to save her mother.
Tala smacked her lips, apparently dreaming about tasting something yummy, then a soft, inquisitive sniffle followed. “Mmmh… Milk and honey,” she mumbled.
Faith couldn’t help smiling. How bad could the Wrasa be if their tough future natak was dreaming about sipping a mug of milk with honey?
A sudden pain ripped through Faith’s body. She clutched her belly. Ugh. Apparently, that root vegetable dish hadn’t agreed with her.
Nausea rose, and with it another, more concerning thought: What if the dish or something else she had eaten was toxic to humans? Tala’s family lived pretty secluded, so maybe they didn’t have a lot of interactions with humans and didn’t know what they could safely eat.
Or maybe someone had poisoned her food to stop their future alpha from marrying a human, a little voice in the back of her mind added.
Cold sweat broke out along her entire body, and she couldn’t tell if it was another symptom or merely panic.
Should she wake Tala? Get some help? Or was Tala in on it?
No. She didn’t want to believe that.
Another cramp tore through her. She pressed both hands onto her lower abdomen.
Then she froze. Oh for crying out loud! She took one hand off her belly and covered her mouth so she wouldn’t burst out laughing.
It wasn’t her stomach that was cramping. She hadn’t been poisoned or accidentally ingested something toxic. Her period had probably started; that was all. Normally, it arrived like clockwork, but now it was early, so she hadn’t expected it.
She slipped out from under the covers and tiptoed to her suitcase. As quietly as possible, she unzipped it, pulled out a clean pair of underwear, and then snuck to the bathroom. Once she had closed the door behind her, she flicked on the light.
The sudden brightness made her squint. Barefoot, she padded over to the toilet, lifted the lid, and pulled down her pajama pants and underwear.
The dull ache in her belly had spread to that familiar spot at her lower back, so she wasn’t surprised to confirm her period had started.
No one was trying to kill her. How embarrassing! Good thing she hadn’t woken Tala. Her father had really managed to make her paranoid. She had to stop always assuming the worst about the Wrasa for no reason at all.
She reached for her toiletry bag, unzipped it, and retrieved a pad. The wrapper rustled softly as she removed it. She stuck the pad onto the clean pair of panties and changed into them.
As she washed her hands at the sink, she glanced at the small clock on the shelf above.
It was nearly one a.m.
She dried off her hands and dug through her bag. Had she remembered to pack any painkillers?
Instead of Tylenol, her fingers encountered a tiny piece of technology—the bug her father had told her to hide in a central location of the Petersons’ home.
Faith had nearly forgotten about it…or had maybe tried to repress any thought of it.
She stared at the device. Should she put it back in the bag and tell her father there hadn’t been an opportunity to hide it?
Which would be a blatant lie. Now was the ideal opportunity. The entire house was quiet. After the huge meal she had eaten at dinner, Tala slept like a log, and her family was probably dead to the world too. This could be her chance.
But her muscles refused to move. Placing a listening device in Jemma’s kitchen—the heart of the home—felt like a betrayal. Tala had trusted her by taking her home and opening up about some very painful memories. Most of the family had welcomed Faith warmly. Tala’s father had even stood up and defended her against his own mother and brother.
Should she really repay their kindness by sneaking downstairs and planting a spy device?
Even if she did, it was highly unlikely she would find out anything about her mother’s death. Twenty-two years had passed. Why would Tala’s family talk about a stranger’s demise from two decades ago the weekend of their son’s engagement party?
But what would happen if she didn’t plant the bug? What if she returned empty-handed, with none of the information her father was desperately looking for?
He wouldn’t give up; she knew that. If he couldn’t find any evidence that the Wrasa had killed her mother, he would at least try to discover proof of their evilness. He would urge her to continue spying on Tala until he found something…or until she proved to him that there was nothing to find.
Maybe she needed to do what her father had told her—not for the reason he insisted she do it but for the exact opposite. What if she used the bug to show him how much he had misjudged the Wrasa?
Sure, there were a few shape-shifters who hated humans, like Arnold or Tala’s grandmother. Some might have a good reason for their dislike, while others were just assholes who enjoyed stirring up trouble, but that wasn’t so different from some humans.
For most of the night, Faith had marveled at the warmth and closeness she had sensed between the Wrasa. Maybe her father needed to witness their interactions for himself, as she had, so he could finally believe they weren’t killers, let go of his obsession, and move on with his life instead of wasting it on hate.
Then maybe she, herself, could put it behind her once and for all too and stop being influenced by his paranoia.
That was what her mother would have wanted for both of them.
Sudden certainty gripped her.
Clutching the bug in the palm of her hand, she put on the robe that hung on the bathroom door, applied an extra spray of the mate scent perfume just in case, turned off the light, and snuck back into the bedroom.
Tala was still asleep.
Faith tiptoed to the door and opened it inch by inch, hoping it wouldn’t creak.
Thankfully, it didn’t.
Moonlight filtered through the windows, casting eerie shadows through the hallway. No sounds came from behind the other doors as Faith snuck past them.
Her heart raced, and she paused at the top of the staircase to draw breath and listen again.
When everything remained quiet, she tiptoed downstairs. The wood was cool under her bare feet, and she shifted her weight carefully. If one of the steps creaked, half a dozen Wrasa might burst through the doors.
By the time she made it to the first floor, she was drenched in sweat.
Finally, she reached the kitchen. She didn’t turn on the light as she crossed toward the cabinet to the left of the oven. Somewhere high up was the best place to hide the bug, her father had said, because no one ever looked there.
Faith didn’t want to know why he was suddenly such an expert on the placement of bugs. She curled her clammy fingers around the device and pulled one of the chairs from the kitchen island over to the cabinet. But instead of climbing up, she hesitated. Should she really do this?
She had demanded that the Wrasa keep her daughter out of this. If she now recorded Tala’s family—including the pups—without their knowledge, dragging them into this mess, she would be a hypocrite. It would be a betrayal that Tala might never forgive.
Faith knew what her father would say: So what?
But she couldn’t shrug it off so easily. The thought of forever shattering the fragile trust she and Tala had built was surprisingly unbearable.
A scraping sound came from the hallway.
Faith’s heart slammed against her ribs. She spun around.
The light in the kitchen flared on.
Tala’s mother stood in the doorway, with Mirella hovering behind her. Both stared at her.
Faith stuffed the bug into the pocket of her robe. Oh God! Had they seen what she might have been about to do?
“Faith?” Jemma asked. “What are you doing up?” Curiosity and bafflement mingled in her tone, but Faith thought she could also hear a hint of suspicion. But maybe that was only her guilty conscience.
“Uh, I was just…” Her mind scrambled for a plausible-sounding explanation. “Looking for a heating pad.”
“Heating pad?” they echoed as if they had never heard of that invention.
Faith ducked her head and pretended it was embarrassment and not shame at having been caught spying. “Um, this is a bit embarrassing, but my period started, and I forgot to bring painkillers for the cramps. I didn’t want to wake Tala, so I thought I would see if I could find a heating pad or a hot water bottle.”
“Oh.” Jemma’s expression changed to one of concern, while Mirella continued to study her intently for a few more seconds.
“Sorry,” Jemma said. “We don’t have one. We Wrasa are our own heating pad.”
Part of the tension fled from Faith’s muscles. Apparently, they had bought her excuse. “That’s okay. I’m sure I’ll survive. I’m sorry for disturbing you—and I’m also sorry for spoiling part of your twere earlier, Mirella.”
“You’ve got nothing to apologize for,” Jemma said before Rey’s mate could reply. “My mother-in-law and Arnold chose to walk out. That was on them, not you.”
Finally, Mirella nodded. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Thank you.” They were both so kind and generous. A fresh wave of guilt swept over Faith. “I’d better go back to bed before Tala finds me missing.” She tried to squeeze past them, but Jemma gripped the sleeve of her robe and held on.
Faith froze. Her pulse spiked. Did Jemma suspect what she had nearly done after all?
But instead of gripping her roughly, Jemma stroked her fingers along Faith’s arm in a soothing gesture.
Faith ached at how much she had missed that kind of motherly comfort. How surreal to find it now—with a Wrasa she was trying to spy on.
“Let me make you something to eat,” Jemma said. “Maybe that’ll help with the cramps.”
“God, no!” Faith blurted. Apparently, the Wrasa thought serving up more food would cure anything, but her stomach didn’t agree. The mere thought of the dish that tasted like earth made her queasy. “Um, I mean, I don’t think I could eat anything.”
“Some tea, then.” Jemma’s tone allowed for only one response—a grateful “yes, please.” She glanced at Mirella. “Go on to bed, sweetie. It’s your yasi makamar tomorrow. You need to be well-rested.”
Mirella hesitated as if not sure she should leave her future mother-in-law alone with a human. Then she pressed a kiss onto Jemma’s cheek, nodded at Faith, and was gone. Her steps were inaudible as she climbed the stairs.
Jemma turned toward Faith. “Sit while I make the tea.”
Faith pushed the chair back toward the kitchen island and sank onto it.
“I grow some of the herbs myself and gathered the others,” Jemma said as she bustled around the kitchen, filling a stainless-steel kettle with water. “They should be safe for humans too. We can talk and get to know each other a bit better while we wait for it to steep.”
Crap. Jemma wanted to have a conversation with her daughter’s mate! “Uh, sure,” she said as calmly as possible, hoping her voice wasn’t squeaky. “What would you like to talk about?”
Jemma chuckled. “You, of course. Tell me more about yourself. Tala was as tight-lipped as usual and didn’t tell me a thing about her mate.”
“Um, what would you like to know?”
“What do you love most in this world?” Jemma asked.
She had immediately zeroed in on the one topic Faith didn’t want to talk about. Faith swiped a bread crumb, left over from dinner, off the kitchen island to win some time as she feverishly tried to think of something to say.
The soft hum of the kettle filled the kitchen, emphasizing Faith’s silence.
Jemma moved with practiced ease, retrieving two cups. When Faith didn’t answer right away, she turned toward her and studied her with a curious expression.
Under that watchful gaze, Faith found herself unable to lie. “Family,” she said quietly.
Jemma crossed toward the kitchen island and sank onto a chair across from her. “Great Hunter! You have a pup…a child! How wonderful!”
Faith lifted her head so abruptly that her teeth clacked together. “How did you know?”
“Please!” Jemma laughed, her hand still pressed to her chest in delight. “That look on your face is universal. I bet I had the same one since the day we adopted Tala.”
Adopted? A jolt of surprise rippled through Faith, but she squashed it and forced a calm expression back onto her face.
A deep line etched itself between Jemma’s eyebrows. “You didn’t know?”
“Oh, no, of course I knew,” Faith said quickly. After all, if she and Tala really were engaged, she should have known this information. “I just never got all the details.”
Jemma sighed. “I’m not surprised. Tala doesn’t like to talk about it. She prefers to pretend she was born into the pack. Not that it would have made a difference to her father and me.”
The kettle emitted a rumble that quickly grew louder.
Jemma stood and poured the boiling water into a teapot.
The scent of ginger, fennel, licorice, and other herbs Faith couldn’t identify filled the kitchen.
Jemma returned with the teapot and two mugs. She slid back onto her seat, and her gaze went out of focus, as if she was seeing a scene from her past. “It happened shortly after I had conceived Rey, our oldest son. Back then, I was an educational consultant. I frequently traveled to conduct workshops designed to help our teachers support Wrasa children struggling in the human school system while at the same time hiding the true reason for their struggles.”
Faith couldn’t even imagine the kind of pressure Wrasa school staff and parents had been under. “I don’t know how you managed to keep your existence hidden for so long. I couldn’t even keep my daughter from blurting out the surprise party I had planned for her grandfather.”
Argh. She had mentioned Chloe without even thinking about it. Why did that keep happening? But then again, Jemma trusted her with the details of a very personal story, so maybe opening up the tiniest bit was only natural.
A tired smile dashed across Jemma’s face. “It’s amazing what you can do if you have no other choice. Anyway, I was supposed to go to Boston to give a presentation, but the hormonal changes hit me harder than expected, so I couldn’t travel.”
Faith nodded. “It’s the same for pregnant humans. I had horrible morning sickness.”
Jemma reached across the kitchen island and patted her hand. “It’s a little different. For us, it’s not just pregnancy hormones flooding our bodies. Our entire hormone system changes drastically. It’s necessary to stop our bodies from shifting shape while pregnant.”
“Oh. Right.” Faith had never even thought about how that would work, but it made sense.
“My colleague and best friend, Caissie, offered to go instead. She said she could take her husband and their one-year-old and make it a fun family trip.” Jemma paused to pour them each a cup of tea. Her hand was shaking, and this time, it was Faith who reached out to cover her fingers with her own. “They never made it to Boston. They got into a bad car accident.”
Her voice became more husky with every word, and Faith tightened her grip until their fingers formed a tangle around the handle of the teapot.
“The baby—Tala—was the only survivor,” Jemma finally continued. “Not a single scratch on her. Wrasa don’t believe in miracles, but that…that was one.”
“Thank God,” Faith whispered, partly because she knew it was expected of her as Tala’s supposed mate…and partly because she really was glad Tala had survived.
She was also grateful she hadn’t planted the bug yet. Thankfully, this one was manually activated by pressing a tiny button, so it wasn’t transmitting sound yet. This conversation was much too personal to be recorded without Jemma’s knowledge.
But then again… Maybe it would have helped her father to hear the pain in Jemma’s voice when she’d talked about losing her best friend. It was as real as the pain he and Faith had gone through when her mom had died.
“Neither of Tala’s parents had siblings, and her only surviving grandparent was too old to raise her. Her mother was like a sister to me, so I instantly knew I wanted us to take her in.” Jemma finally poured them a cup of tea, and they both took a careful sip.
The sweet note of licorice blended with the fennel and a spicy ginger kick. She gave Jemma an appreciative nod and took a second sip. “I’m really glad you did.”
“Me too.” Jemma’s hazel eyes seemed to glow with pride. “She grew into an amazing woman.”
They sipped their tea in companionable silence for a minute.
Faith’s head spun as she tried to process everything she had found out. “Is that why some pack members don’t want Tala to take over as a natak? Because she’s adopted?”
“Some pack members,” Jemma repeated, sounding bitter. “You mean Rey. It’s a lot more complicated than that. Their relationship always has been. I think, deep down, he feels guilty.”
“Guilty?” Faith repeated. Nothing about Rey’s behavior toward Tala had seemed like guilt to her. “Why?”
“Because if I hadn’t been pregnant with him, her parents wouldn’t have been killed on their way to Boston.”
“But that’s not his fault!”
“Of course it’s not,” Jemma said firmly. “But from the moment he was old enough to understand what had happened, he was obsessed with trying to protect her—as if he had something to make up for.”
“Oh no!” Faith slapped her forehead with her free hand. “That’s what made their relationship go wrong! He was trying to protect her, and she resented it because she thought he wasn’t taking her seriously because she was adopted and smaller than everyone else!”
A soft smile grew on Jemma’s face until she was beaming. She set her teacup down to wrap both of her hands around Faith’s. “I can’t tell you how happy it makes me that she found someone who really understands her.”
Faith bit her lip hard. The Petersons seemed like good people. With every second she spent in their home, she felt shittier for deceiving them. She smiled awkwardly, not knowing what to say without adding to the lies.
“How are the cramps?” Jemma asked. “Any better?”
Faith nodded. “Yes, a little.” She hastily gulped down the remainder of her tea. “I think I’ll go back to bed now. Sorry for keeping you up.”
“I don’t mind at all. I’m glad we had a chance to talk.” Jemma squeezed Faith’s hand one last time, then let go and waved her away when Faith wanted to carry her mug to the sink. “Go back to bed before Tala comes looking for you.”
As Faith climbed the stairs, her belly ached, but she had a feeling it had nothing to do with her period and everything to do with the dilemma she found herself in.
~ ~ ~
When Faith snuck back into the bedroom they shared, Tala appeared to still be asleep.
Phew. She tiptoed toward the bed.
Just as she reached it, Tala opened her eyes. They seemed to glow, reflecting back the moonlight.
Faith nearly let out a scream. She pressed a hand to her chest. Her heart hammered a rapid staccato beneath her palm.
“You okay?” Tala asked, sounding wide awake.
“Yes. Of course. I’m fine. I was…” She struggled for an explanation, then remembered the excuse she had used earlier. “I went downstairs to look for a heating pad.”
“Heating pad?” Tala repeated as if she had asked for her very own lava pit. “Are you cold? It’s really balmy in here.”
“No. I just started my period, and heat usually helps with the cramps.” Faith carefully slid off her robe and hung it on the bathroom door, very aware of the bug hidden in its pocket and the glowing eyes still watching her.
“Oh. I forgot that human women go through that every month. Human biology is weird.”
Faith slipped beneath the covers and lay on her back, careful to stay close to the edge so she wouldn’t encroach on Tala’s space. “Wrasa don’t get cramps?”
“We don’t get periods,” Tala replied.
“What? No periods?” Faith swiveled her head around and tried to make out Tala’s expression in the moonlight. “Are you serious?”
Tala nodded. “Which makes sense, because pain tends to make us shift.”
“No periods,” Faith mumbled again. She couldn’t get over it. “You don’t even know how lucky you are. You can’t, by any chance, bite me and turn me into one of you?”
Then she dug her fingers into the sheet and clutched two handfuls of it. Had she really just joked about a Wrasa biting her? Only a few weeks ago, that thought would have made her panic.
Tala chuckled. “Sorry. It doesn’t work like that. But there’s something else I can do. Turn around, facing away from me.”
Faith hesitated. “What—?”
“Trust me,” Tala said.
Faith inhaled, then rolled over to face the door.
The mattress dipped as Tala moved closer—so close that Faith could feel her body heat against her back, even through the layers of their pajamas.
The covers rustled. Tala reached across her body, slid up Faith’s pajama top a little, and then paused. “Is this okay?”
“Um, what are you doing?” Faith asked, sounding much too hoarse. She was very aware of Tala’s fingertips lingering only inches from her exposed skin.
“Just trying to help with your cramps. But I’ll have to touch you.”
Like a secret Wrasa pressure point or something? “Yeah, okay,” Faith whispered huskily.
Tala lowered her hand. The heat of her fingertips seared across Faith’s sensitized skin as she slid them down her belly.
Arousal flared through Faith’s body. Desperately, she grabbed Tala’s hand. For a second, she didn’t know whether she wanted to shove it away or guide it down. Jesus. This was definitely not a pressure point technique. “Um, what…?”
“Relax,” Tala whispered. Her breath brushed Faith’s ear and made her shiver. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m only trying to help; I promise.”
Hesitantly, Faith let go. But Tala’s fingers trailing lower and her warm breath against her skin weren’t conducive to relaxing.
Then Tala’s hand stilled against her lower abdomen. She flattened her palm against the achy spot, acting as Faith’s personal heating pad.
Faith let out a low moan of relief as the cramps eased. “Oh my God, marry me!”
The sound of Tala’s laughter vibrated through her. “Didn’t you say we won’t be getting married?”
“Right,” Faith said. “But I admit having a spouse with a built-in heating pad could come in handy once a month.”
Tala cuddled closer, curling herself around Faith. Her toned belly pressed against Faith’s lower back, acting like a second heating pad. “Is this okay?” she asked again.
It was much too intimate. What are you doing? Faith asked herself. Their relationship was as fake as the jewelry set she had given Chloe for Christmas, and her coming-out as bisexual would appear like a joyous occasion in comparison if she ever admitted even the most fleeting attraction toward a Wrasa to her father.
She should protest, tell her the cramps had stopped, and move away.
Instead, she put her hand on top of Tala’s, holding it in place. “Perfect. Thank you.”
“No need to thank me. After all, my status within the pack would take a hit if anyone found out I let my mate suffer.”
Faith chuckled. “Can’t have that.”
“No, we can’t. Do you think you can sleep like this?” Tala settled her arm more tightly around Faith to indicate what she meant.
Faith shook her head. Earlier, she hadn’t even been able to sleep with Tala in the same bed, much less plastered against her back. “I don’t think so.”
“Then tell me when you’ve had enough heat, and I’ll back off.”
“Just another minute,” Faith murmured and closed her eyes to soak up a few more seconds of the cramp-easing warmth.