Promise

That sure took a while, didn't it . . .


He has to shove open the door to the apartment as well. Liam finds she's much too tired to protest about all the noise he's making. Someone's going to come and see what's up . . . won't they? Well, that's his problem, not hers. She can always say he drugged her if things get really bad and she can't call up a favor from a few people.

She looks around the apartment with the careful eyes of one who's used to look past the obvious. It seems that the three people who had abandoned the apartment wouldn't be coming back any time soon. The place is empty of any kind of personal items, but sometimes that doesn't mean much. There's a thin layer of dust on the ground before her, which proves so much more than the absence of some things.

As she decides that she will probably be able to rest uninterrupted, she takes couple of tentative steps into the room. Alair pushes past her and surveys the room himself. "You don't mind the floor?" He asks quietly. Liam leans against the wall casually, and covers her mouth in an attempt to cover up a yawn.

"Nah. I just want to sleep." She nods towards the open door. "What are you going to do with that?" The lock seems to be broken, and she isn't sure it will even close correctly. Alair walks towards it, and pushes it shut. It bounces back from the frame. He frowns at it, and tries again to the same response. She rolls her eyes gently at him, and picks up a small stool in the corner. As she places it in front of the closed door, Alair looks at her with a gaping open mouth.

She steps back and admires her handiwork. Then she giggles. "All I did was place a stool in front of a door to impede it from opening!" She plops down, right where she stands, and giggles again. Then she lays herself down, ignoring the dust and grime that she knows will be in her pores by the time she awakens. But even as she closes her eyes, she knows she will not sleep.

So she lies there, listening. No noise comes from inside the apartment, but outside she hears yells and the irregular sound of wheels against the uneven streets. She remembers a time when the concrete had been smooth and car wheels had slid on them, one after the one in a never-ending cycle of wheel and stone.

And those memories lead to others. The feeling on sitting in the car, feeling yourself bounce, and the wind from the open window. She remembers sitting there, riding somewhere—anywhere, it doesn't matter—and having a family surround you. They ride in silence, the four of them, with music flowing easily from the speakers. At the time she had been annoyed for some reason or other, but now, she thinks, if she could only turn back time . . .

But life had never been perfect. Sure, maybe the concrete had been smooth, but the poor and hungry had crowded the streets, and those search for the easy way out prowled the avenues. She had wanted to come and study here in New York, she remembers wistfully, and become a movie director. She nearly giggles at the thought. Movie directors aren't exactly doing very well anymore. The only ones buying their videos—legally—are the very rich. No one's very rich anymore.

But that life is gone. It left her on that horrible day, where the world seemed to be coming to a close. If only that had been true. Then she wouldn't be here, living in hell.

She realizes groggily that Alair hasn't moved from his spot against the wall. Liam wriggles around so that she can look towards him, and then she opens her eyes. His eyes meet hers and she finds her heart quickening. What is she, thirteen? A guy looks at her and her pulse gets faster? Her words suddenly slur in her mouth? She's so past puberty.

She shoots him a quick smile and closes her eyes again. Now that she knows he's watching her, though, she can't find that calm that she'd been swimming in moments before. All she can think about are those brown eyes locked onto her. Damn, damn, damn. Sleep, Liam. Sleep is nice.

She wonders fleetingly how it would if he suddenly padded over and kissed her throat. Midget Liams immediately begin beating that thought to death, trying to dispel it immediately. Unfortunately, the thought must be a reincarnation of Superman—he did die, right? Liam wonders—and pushes the invading Liams away with an easy swipe.

She curses her own amazing imagination as she can practically feel the breath tickling her skin, soft and—she opens one eye to make sure he's still against the wall and not by her side. He is. Damn, it was her imagination.

Eventually, somehow, somewhere over the rainbow—she manages to fall asleep. Her breathing becomes deep and regular, and Alair feels himself approaching quietly towards her. He's about 99 percent sure that she's sleeping, but that one percent could easily come and bite him in the ass.

He's a wolf and he can sniff her scent even better. It's completely intoxicating, being so close to it. He closes his eyes and lies down on his stomach. His ears are still attentive to any sound, but his nose is on Liam-scent overload.

The noises outside are strange, crowded. Alair wants to open a window and tell them to lower their voices—there's a lady sleeping in here. Lady . . . is she even one? Is she even human, under this female-shaped cast? She acts human, that's for sure. But now that he's so close, he knows that Keane's scent is on her like a thick, heavy musk.

Has she been Keane's mate? He cannot see that proud, white wolf ever taking a human woman, but one never knows . . .there are always exceptions to rules, or else they wouldn't be rules, they would be facts.

And how did she go from being so untrusting, so hateful, to allowing herself to be guarded and protected by him? Had it been her time with him that had weakened her stubbornness? Had she realized he meant no harm since he had not hurt her the first time around?

What is that third unfamiliar smell? It's not human and it's not wolf. It's not Amaris's sweet flowery smell, either. He slides closer to her, and nuzzles her arm softly, to see if she'll awaken. He isn't sure why he's doing this . . . but . . .

She wraps one strong arm around him, nestling closer to his thick brown fur. She moans gently as she presses her face against him, and holds on to him like some sort of teddy bear. He usually doesn't like this sort of thing—it's more of Toboe's specialty, being cute and loving to humans. But he surprises himself by liking it, by snuggling closer to her himself.

Then they're both asleep, their dreams calm and pleasant as their physical bodies feel warm and treasured in each other's arms.


Calhoun sniffs the air once more, and pads ahead of the other two. "He's nearby," he tells Kean and Chal. The other two are in their human guises so as to not raise suspicions. Two brothers and their dog isn't a very unusual sight to see.

Calhoun leads them to a short building with a large sign on the front. GROCERY, it says, and the three aren't surprised that Alair has led them here. They're about to enter when Alair runs out of the shop, his arms nearly overflowing with meat. He sees them, and yells back at them, "Let's go!" The other three glance back momentarily at the grocery owner who is about to come out with a rather large shotgun, but soon set off after Alair.

They find an empty store every long blocks down, and enter it, Alair and Chal breathing hard. Alair quickly spreads his wears on the ground, looking them over graciously. "Not bad," he mutters to himself.

Calhoun isn't planning on letting him get off that easily. He quickly turns back into a human and cries, "Alair, you idiot!" Then, he hits him over the head with his hand, and waits for a response.

"What?" Alair yells back defensively. "I didn't do anything!"

"Where were you? You just run off, saying something idiotically cryptic about a woman! And then we're forced to look for you!"

"Calhoun," Chal begins waveringly. "It's not that big a deal—"

"It will be if he keeps doing this," Keane interrupts sharply. He leans against on of the nearby walls and stares at Alair. Alair looks up, and his eyes hint at guilt . . . just a bit. "We've got to keep looking for Amaris, or else we'll never find her again. The longer we spend in this city, the farther away she gets from us, and the farther away Paradise becomes."

"I know, but—"

"No!" Keane cries, leaning forward passionately. "You either want to get there, or you don't. There aren't any buts about it."

"Give me a day," Alair pleads. "One day, that's all I ask, then we'll leave, and I'll run my fucking ass off if that's what you want. If that's what's needed to find Amaris."

Keane looks at Calhoun, who glances away and shrugs. He then looks down at Chal, who smiles without mirth, and shrugs as well. Keane gives in.

"Fine. One day. If you're not with us by sundown tomorrow, we're leaving without you." Alair nods thankfully, and the discussion is dropped in exchange for food.

it's short, I know, I know . . .