A/N: Tissue alert! And please, before you call for my painful demise, remember I've always promised an HEA. Trust me.
MunkeeRajah and Evelyn-Shaye are still keeping me sane. I love them more than that Thor guy in his sleeveless, tight costume. (Wipes drool from mouth.)
Twilight is the brainchild and intellectual property of Stephenie Meyer. I just like to think about all the fun stuff she could be doing with the characters.
Chapter 40 – My Death
Leah POV
I careened through endless, narrow corridors of dark gray walls. Pounded around corner after turn after bend, hunting for a way out. But no doors broke the interminable expanse of walls.
How could there be no goddamn doors? Who builds a hallway without an exit?
Every hundred or so heartbeats, I stumbled past another fitfully sputtering candle mounted shoulder high in wall sconces. They were so far apart that their weak, pale circles of light never approached each other between prolonged stretches of darkness. The air in the hallway was damp, and the stone beneath my bare feet so cold it made my skin crack.
I wasn't just trying to escape the corridor. I was trying to get away from the damn screaming. It was deafening. Maddening. So shrill it was liquefying my brain.
Who the hell was screaming? What were they screaming?
After hours of running, I was exhausted. I slowed beneath a half-melted candle, bowed forward, hands propped on my knees, and gasped for air. Maybe if I could just make out what the psycho was screaming, I could figure out what to do. Where to go.
I forced myself to listen to the piercing, panicked screams. I'd thought they were meaningless noise, but as I listened, a single word resolved out of the dissonance.
"Seth!"
My stomach muscles spasmed, jerked my body upright and slammed me against a granite chest. Icy arms wrapped around me, stilling my involuntary thrashing. A putrid smell enfolded me along with those arms, but instead of feeling revulsion, I found the stench oddly reassuring.
"Leah, you're alright."
The voice was gentle, soothing, familiar. As warm and comforting as the arms were hard and cold.
"You're safe. The baby is fine."
Relief pulsed through my veins. I trusted that voice, and the knowledge that my baby was alright gave me the strength to force my eyes open.
Carlisle's golden eyes were full of concern, but his handsome face was calmly composed. I nodded gratefully against his chest and clutched his shoulders, digging my nails into his unyielding muscles.
I was on a bed in a dimly lit, unfamiliar room that was sparsely yet tastefully decorated. My mind whirled in a hundred directions.
Were we back in whatever was left of the Denali house? Was my baby really alright? Where was Nahuel? Why hadn't he been the one to hold me when I woke from my nightmare?
Where was my brother? What had happened to him?
"Seth," I gasped. "Where is he?"
The doc studied me passively for a moment, before gently easing me backward and out of his arms. I gripped his sleeves, refusing to let go.
"Seth is resting," Carlisle said, simply, and it all came crashing down on me.
Killing Joham. Remy's destruction. Felix's news that someone had died. Making contact with Jake and the pack. Drowning in Seth's desolation. In his desire to die.
Only one thing could throw my happy-go-lucky brother into such deep despair.
"Anjali," I whimpered.
Carlisle stiffened and turned his face from me slightly.
No. Not from me. Toward someone else. Someone who was sitting in the corner of the room. Whose luscious scent had been masked by my proximity to Carlisle's pungent vampire aroma.
"Dead."
Nahuel's voice was as flat and lifeless as the word itself.
Carlisle stood and stepped away from the bed, and now I could see that my imprint sat motionless in an old wooden rocking chair in the corner of the room furthest from the bed. He'd dressed in faded jeans and a plaid flannel shirt—not Cullen hand-me-downs, that was for sure. He looked like the world's hottest lumberjack, and my heart soared to see that he was safe and whole. When I met his teak eyes, the bleak emptiness I saw there sent me crashing back to earth.
"What happened?" I choked out, my hand involuntarily stretching toward him over the sheet that covered my legs.
"She put herself between Seth and an attacker," Nahuel replied in that same hollow tone. "It was unnecessary. Seth is more than capable of protecting himself. But she did not see that. Or perhaps she thought she had something to prove, and so she sacrificed herself."
Maybe I should have felt guilty that I'd judged Anjali so harshly for the lies she'd told, since I'd shoveled enough of my own. Maybe I should have felt remorseful that my obvious condemnation had possibly contributed to her recklessness. I probably should have felt all that—maybe on some level I even did— but the dominant emotion scorching through my brain was anger.
As if she hadn't fucked up Seth's life enough, Anjali had done the one thing that was guaranteed to destroy him completely—get herself killed.
I knew there was a lot more to whatever happened than the little Nahuel had just said. But the details didn't really matter. My brother's imprint was dead, and it would take a miracle—and every ounce of combined willpower my pack mates and I had—to ensure that Seth didn't follow her.
"Where is he? I want to see him."
"He is unconscious." Nahuel elaborated on Carlisle's explanation. "Doctor Cullen administered a sedative. Edward and Jacob are watching over him."
His barren eyes never left mine, and that damned invisible cable twitched like a snake that had been run over by an eighteen-wheeler. The trickle of agony that had been slowly leaking from its anchor point in my chest swelled to a rivulet.
My lips moved without my conscious direction.
"I'm so sorry, baby," I whispered.
Fury erupted across his hollowed face, filling the echoing emptiness of his eyes.
"For what?" He growled through tightly clenched teeth. "For my sister's death? For lying to me? For killing me slowly by degrees as I watch you die?"
The ornate arms of the chair creaked beneath the crushing grip of his long fingers, and he rocked forward, then back, as if he were struggling to keep himself in his seat. There was probably no right thing for me to say that would head off the explosion building inside him, but at least I could tell him what was in my heart.
"For everything," I said, striving to keep the quiver out of my voice. "I'm sorry for everything. Especially for lying to you. But I'm not going to die."
The muscles in his strong jaw flexed, and he swallowed convulsively.
"No, you are not," he agreed, his voice hard and cold. His eyes shot to Carlisle, who'd been quietly observing our exchange.
"Remove it from her."
Carlisle's perfect lips dropped open, and his eyes widened.
"I beg your pardon?" Even through his shock, his politeness never failed.
"Remove it," Nahuel repeated. "The …" His mouth worked as if he were trying to chew something tough and foul-tasting until he practically spat the word out. "… fetus. Remove it from her body before it kills her."
Carlisle's eyes widened even further, and remorse poured over his ivory features. He looked at me apologetically. "We haven't discussed that option, but of course, if that's what Leah wants—"
I gaped at him, trying to figure out why he looked guilty. Was it because he hadn't offered me termination of my pregnancy before Nahuel demanded it? He was right: we hadn't discussed it. He hadn't even brought it up, and I'd thought that was because he understood my feelings. After that incredible moment we'd shared the first time we heard the baby's heartbeat, how could Carlisle think I'd ever consider it?
"I won't do that," I said firmly, my eyes flitting between my imprint and my doctor. "I don't want to discuss it."
Carlisle's smile was … relieved? And he turned back to Nahuel.
"As long as Leah is comfortable with it, perhaps I can answer any questions you might have about her pregnancy."
Nahuel's rocker tipped forward again, and the already-strained arms splintered beneath his fingers. His bent legs trembled with his effort to stay in the chair.
"Questions?" he snarled. "What is there to question? She is not in her right mind, and I will not allow her to sacrifice her life for this monster. Get it out of her. Now!"
Carlisle put himself between my imprint and me with a single step. He folded his arms across his chest, and though I couldn't see his face, the taught line of his shoulders said everything. I'd never even seen the doc annoyed before; now we were being treated to his version of outraged.
"I believe Leah has made her choice clear," he said, his voice sharp, precise and incensed. "I understand this has been a shock for you, but this decision is Leah's and no one else's."
Nahuel leapt from his chair. "She will die!" he roared, lunging forward until he was nose to nose with Carlisle. "Do you wish that? Better, then, that I drain her myself! At least her death will be quick and painless."
I gasped, appalled that he could even make the suggestion, even though I was sure he didn't really mean it. And I was astounded that Carlisle would dignify it with a response, but he looked as if he intended to.
Like a long-distance trucker with a kick-ass GPS, I could see where this out-of-control mess was heading, but I felt powerless to divert it. Grief and guilt paralyzed me. Where was that sweet liberating warmth when I needed it? The ball of ice in my stomach held me pinned in the bed.
"The pack would kill you in retaliation," Carlisle growled.
"Good! I do not wish to walk this world without her. They will be doing me a kindness."
The bedroom door crashed open.
Bella was the last person I'd have expected to see enter the room, with Jacob on her heels. She was practically a foot shorter than her father-in-law, but Bella stepped fearlessly in front of him at the same moment Jacob's big hand descended on Nahuel's trembling shoulder. My imprint's furious eyes snapped away from Carlisle to land on Jake's worried face. He struggled visibly to control himself.
"Carlisle, this is not helping." Bella's calm voice chimed quietly. "Leah and Nahuel need to talk. If they have any questions, they'll come to you."
She laid her hand on Carlisle's shoulder. "Come on. Let them talk."
Carlisle continued to glare at my imprint over Bella's head. "Perhaps Nahuel should take a few minutes to calm himself before he engages in this discussion with Leah."
A low growl rumbled from Nahuel's chest. Jake shook his shoulder gently.
"You need to calm down, man," my Alpha said quietly. "Can you do that? Otherwise, I can't leave you here alone with her."
Nahuel's storm-filled eyes held Jacob's calm, reassuring gaze as if he could siphon some of Jake's composure for himself. After several deep breaths, he nodded. He took a step backward toward his broken chair, tilted his head to one side and regarded Carlisle from the corner of his eye.
"My apologies, Doctor Cullen," he murmured in a voice that clearly said he was striving for calm but hadn't quite made it there. "I respect your concern for Leah. You have my word that I would never intentionally harm her."
Carlisle was no dope, and I'm sure he caught the subtext of Nahuel's promise—that my imprint thought he had unintentionally hurt me already by knocking me up. But whatever he saw in my vamp-boy's eyes seemed to satisfy him.
"I'm sure you'll have questions for me," he said quietly. "I'll be close by if you need me."
He preceded Bella and Jake out the door without a backward glance. Jacob gave me an encouraging smile, stepped from the room, and gently closed the door behind him.
Nahuel vibrated in place for a moment, as if he couldn't decide where he wanted most to be—with me on the bed or on the other side of the room. Maybe on the other side of the planet. Finally, he took two more backward steps, sank gracefully into the rocking chair and glared at me.
The rotation of the earth ground to a slow, groaning halt. The temperature in the room rose in direct correlation to the angry heat in Nahuel's beautiful eyes. My breath clotted in my throat.
Should I say something? Remain silent until he spoke? Look away? Continue to meet his furious stare? What would piss him off the least? Indecision froze me in place.
Nahuel found his voice first, and there was nothing surprising about his words or the venom laced through them.
"You lied to me."
No point at all in arguing with that, because I'd already admitted to it. But maybe I could explain the reasons behind my lies. Hell, I had to at least try.
Unwelcome memories welled up of Nahuel's words to me in that tent in the forest, right after Anjali's deceptions had been exposed. He'd said that Seth had no choice but to find a way to forgive his imprint and rebuild his trust in her, and he'd been right. While that point was now moot for my brother—I fought down a wave of anguish at the thought—it definitely applied to where I stood at this moment.
I drew a deep breath and held it a heartbeat before expelling it forcefully.
"Yes," I said cautiously. "But I had good reasons—"
"Is that what Sue taught you? That there is ever a good reason to lie to one who loves you?" He shook his head, his lips twisted in a derisive sneer. "I know she did not." Then, as if it had just occurred to him: "She does not know, either, does she?"
"No. I didn't tell anyone because I was protecting you," I tried again. "You were already dealing with so much between your father and your sister that I didn't want to—"
"When?" He interrupted me ruthlessly again.
I shook my head, confused. "What do you mean?"
He clenched his jaw, and I could hear the grinding of his sharp, white teeth from across the room.
"When did the lies begin?" he clarified, his voice trembling with barely leashed fury. "Did you lie to me from the start? The very first time in your room, when we nearly made love and you told me you could not conceive … were you lying then?"
"No!" I protested, horrified that he would think I'd misled him all along.
Idiot, the wolf-bitch whispered. Of course he thinks that. Why WOULDN'T he think that?
"Were you so desperate for physical affection that you willingly took this risk?" His voice dropped to an agonized whisper. "Had you only been honest with me, I would have done anything to protect you from this. Anything! I would have found a way to love you without risking this."
I took another deep breath and steadied myself. I needed to be closer to him. He was angry at me—I got that—but I didn't see why that meant he had to withhold the physical proximity that would give us both some comfort. I peeped beneath the sheet that covered me and felt relieved that I was wearing pajamas. They were fugly flannel numbers, but at least I was clothed and didn't have to contend with the distraction my nudity would have been for both of us.
I threw off the sheet and stood cautiously. You'd think after all I'd been through in the past few hours—just how long had I been unconscious?—that I'd feel weak and shaky. Instead, I felt physically strong. My heart was tripping at break-neck speed, and my stomach was tumbling along after it, but all things considered, my condition seemed pretty damn good. I could believe Carlisle's reassurance that my baby was fine, and that thought made me feel braver.
I managed to take all of two steps before Nahuel bared his teeth and snarled at me.
"Do not come near me," he growled. "Do not think to distract me with your touch."
I flinched and my stomach caved backward toward my spine as if he'd just kicked me in the gut.
"Baby, I'm not trying to distract you—"
"Do not call me that!" he thundered so loudly that I took a startled step back toward the bed. "Tell me! Tell me when the lies began!"
The school-girl was cowering in her dark corner, head buried in her arms, wetting her panties. For one moment—probably the weakest of my life—I considered joining her. In the next instant, I remembered who I was.
I was a Clearwater. I was a strong and powerful defender of my tribe, my pack and my family. I was the only female of my kind. I was the mate of the world's only male vampire-human hybrid. I was about to be a mother.
And I refused to allow any of that to be taken from me, especially not by Nahuel's rage and fear.
I squared my shoulders and leveled my gaze on him.
"I found out five days ago that I'm pregnant. A few years back, I asked Carlisle to run some tests," I said. "When I began phasing, my menstrual cycle stopped. I wanted to know why, and what it meant for my chances of ever becoming a mother."
I paused, waiting for the familiar spike of painful regret that had always accompanied thoughts of my infertility. When it didn't show, I plunged forward.
"Carlisle couldn't explain the reasons for the changes in my body, but because I had no cycle, we thought I'd never be able to get pregnant. I was alone, expected to always be alone, so I just accepted my infertility."
I crossed my palms low over my abdomen and dropped my gaze to my spread fingers.
"Then you came along, and maybe … because you're my imprint … maybe my body was waiting for you, and everything started working again." I hesitated, fighting the silly grin that was threatening to dawn on my face because I knew it would infuriate him. I couldn't help it and the smile won.
"Until it happened, I had no idea I could conceive. I spent six years believing it was impossible … hopeless."
Nahuel made a gagging sound that drew my eyes back to him.
"You hoped for this?" He was appalled, as if what I'd said was beyond any sane explanation. His voice rose with each word until it broke on the ending breath of his shout. "Are you mad? Do you want to die a bloody, horrible death?"
"I'm not going to die, Nahuel!" I barked, exasperated that we kept coming back to this. "I'm not like your mother. I'm a werewolf, not a fragile, ordinary human woman, and this baby is only one-quarter vampire. It's three-quarters human. It's not going to kill me. I'm going to be just fine."
He'd begun shaking his head frantically with my first word, rejecting my defense without really listening. He buried his face in his hands and began rocking rapidly in the chair.
"No, no, no, no!" he wailed. "You will die. You cannot want this. You will die! How am I to endure it?"
He'd told me to stay away from him, but fuck that. I raced across the room, dropped to my knees in front of him and grabbed his wrists, dragging his hands away from his face. His pupils were dilated, his mouth hung open, and he breathed in labored, shallow pants. He was riding a greased rail straight into a full-scale meltdown.
My heart cracked at the agony burning in his eyes.
"Please, ñi piuque," he begged raggedly. "Please let Carlisle save you. I do not want this thing. I only want you. Without you, there is nothing. Please—" His voice broke, and the inadequate sliver of composure he'd been holding onto shattered before my eyes.
He bowed his head and sobbed wretchedly.
I let go of his wrists, seized his shoulders and shook as hard as I could.
"Look at me, Nahuel!" He slowly, reluctantly lifted his head, and his wet eyes were barren and hopeless.
"I am six weeks pregnant," I said, enunciating clearly.
He heaved a great gasp and froze. Confusion clouded his pain-brightened eyes. My hands slid up the column of his neck until I cradled his beautiful, terrified face.
"My pregnancy has already lasted as long as Bella's," I said, driving home the point he just had to understand. "Longer than your mother's. Carlisle thinks it will be another six months before the baby is full term."
Wonder and fear fought for dominance in his lush voice. "How can this be?" I could see it in his eyes: he wanted desperately to believe me.
"I'm healthy. Our baby is healthy. We are going to be fine," I said firmly. "Even if the worst happens, and our baby comes into the world the way you did, I'll be able to survive. I'll be able to heal."
He was breathing like a steam engine that was low on coal. He stared at me for long, torturously silent moments. Slowly, he covered my hands with his and removed them from his face. Pushing them away, he slid backward in the chair. His gaze dropped from mine, and he turned his face away from me.
"How am I to believe you?"
There was no accusation in his voice, but I would have preferred it to the despondency I heard. "You want this so badly, you are willing to lie for it."
His fingers rested on top of his knees now, flexing and releasing repeatedly. As I watched, one leg began to bounce rapidly, as if he had to move something or he'd explode.
"I have never lied to you." His golden eyes flashed to mine, and now I saw the reproach I'd been expecting. "Yet you lie to me so easily. How am I ever to trust you again?"
I shook my head with a sad smile. "You have to," I said quietly. "You said it yourself. As imprints, we have to find a way to trust each other or we'll be miserable for eternity."
He laughed, a short, harsh bark of contempt. "I am fucked either way, am I not?"
I flinched at the uncharacteristic obscenity and the cynicism it conveyed.
"You are either lying to me again and will die horribly when it is time for that … thing … to be born, and I will be alone, or …" His eyes grew damp again before dropping away from mine. "… if through some miracle you survive—"
His voice fell to a mournful whisper. "You already love it more than me. Already you see my love is not enough … I am not enough."
He'd bewildered me again. "What are you talking about?" I demanded. "What do you mean you're not enough?"
He began digging viciously at his cuticle—his tell for when he was ashamed and didn't want to admit to it, or confess why he felt shame.
"What kind of father could I be?" He shook his head, distracted from my question by his own rapid descent into total self-loathing. "There is nothing in me that could benefit a child."
I ground my teeth together. I'd dragged him out of this trough more than once in the past few months, and I'd do it again if he needed it, but honestly, I was getting tired of covering this same terrain.
Suddenly, his eyes flashed with anger and accusation, and he glared at me again.
"What is wrong with you that you would wish to bear my offspring knowing what my own father was? What I am?"
No one in my life had ever been able to whip my emotions in circles like Nahuel, and in the past few minutes, he'd hauled me through fear and guilt to remorse and resolve. Now, he'd tripped me straight into pissed off. I rose up higher on my knees, seized him by his ears and yanked his mouth down to mine.
He stiffened in surprise and clamped his fingers around my wrists, but he didn't pull my hands away. He trembled as if he were struggling with himself, instead of with me. When I gently but insistently worked my tongue against the tight line of lips, he groaned and shivered … and his resistance evaporated.
My kiss was as rough and demanding as he had been all those months ago on the beach at La Push. His was as desperate and greedy as I'd felt when he'd left me alone for three days after Esme's barbecue. I was a tongue-thrust away from dragging him down on the floor and reminding him that no matter how angry he was with me, he'd never be able to stay away for long.
But there were a few things I needed to say to him first. I unsealed our mouths and gasped against his lips.
"I'll tell you what I know, Nahuel," I rasped, gulping his sweet breath into my tight chest. "I know you're mine and I'm yours. I know your fucking father is dead, and the only thing that can hurt us now is us. The only thing standing in the way of our happily ever after is you holding on to this stupid idea that you're worthless and unlovable and anything less than totally perfect for me."
Leaving his lips, I kissed each one of the tears that poured down his handsome face, and the salty-sweetness tasted like forgiveness. Or apology. Maybe both.
"I'm sorry I hurt you," I whispered, stroking my fingers through his short hair. His hands settled on my waist. "I'm sorry I frightened you, and I'm sorry I lied to you."
I gripped his hair and pulled, until his eyes leveled with mine.
"I am not sorry about this baby, and I'm not afraid of the future. I'm happy. More than I ever imagined I could be. You make me happy."
I drew a shuddering breath and held his liquid eyes.
"Can you be happy with me?"
His lids fluttered closed, and he bowed his head.
Time held its breath.
When his eyes opened again, piercing pain bloomed in my chest, dragging against the latch point of that invisible cable. His gaze was guarded and wary. I hadn't really expected to see joy on his face, but I'd at least hoped for a hint of acceptance.
"I do not know," he said, his voice more controlled than it had been throughout the whole drama. "I know that I love you, but I do not know what to do. I do not think I can live with this fear. It is worse than anything else I have experienced."
I swallowed hard.
Idiot! The wolf-bitch sneered. Did you really think you could solve everything with some spit-swapping and sweet words? It's going to take more than that to fix what you've fucked up.
At least he was talking to me in a normal tone. He wasn't falling apart anymore. Surely that was progress. I allowed myself to feel a feather-touch of hope, but his next words splintered my aching heart.
"Would you at least consider aborting the pregnancy? Could we discuss it?"
I tried to keep my pain and disappointment out of my voice.
"No, I could never do that," I said, watching his eyes dim further at the steel in my voice. "Will you at least talk to Carlisle? Maybe you'll feel better about everything if he explains how great I'm doing."
I saw the last brick of that damned wall go up before he dropped his eyes and rocked backward in the chair. He nodded reluctantly.
"I will speak with Carlisle because you ask it," he said quietly. "I can promise nothing more."
I blinked away the burning behind my eyes and nodded my agreement.
"I would like some time alone to think," he said distantly. "And you should go to your brother now. He is strong, but he needs you."
I'd felt physically perfect when I first woke in this room—and I still didn't know where the hell I was—but now as I rose from the floor in front of Nahuel, my bones ached and my muscles were stiff. I felt old.
I had no clothes to put on, but the flannel PJs were modest enough, so I moved toward the door. When I reached it, I hesitated with my hand on the knob. I couldn't help myself; I turned to look at him.
"I love you."
He probably didn't want to hear that right now, but I couldn't resist the intense need to say it out loud. He regarded me without expression.
"I know," he replied flatly.
When it was clear he wouldn't say anything more, I opened the door, stepped through it and closed it quietly behind me. The door was at one end of a short hallway. Clearly, this was not the Denali mansion because nothing in that monstrosity would be on such a small scale. At the other end of the hallway, a staircase led down. Jacob waited for me there, leaning against the wall, arms folded over his massive chest. He uncrossed his arms and straightened as I approached.
I stopped in front of him. His arms twitched as if he wanted to hug me but knew better than to actually do it. Still, my Alpha had other ways of touching me.
He was doing that fucking Hostess cupcake thing with his eyes again—soft, warm, comforting and so sweet it would make my fillings ache if I'd had any. Normally, it would also make me want to punch his lights out, but since I was still wrestling with guilt over the last time I'd sucker-punched Jacob, I shoved both hands in the pockets of my pajama pants.
Besides, I actually felt like I needed his sympathy right now.
He nodded toward the room I'd just vacated. "He'll come around," he said softly. "He just needs some time."
"Hope you're right," I mumbled around the bowling ball that nestled at the base of my throat.
"I always am," he replied confidently. Then, because he seemed to know I needed to hear it: "And congratulations. I'm really happy for you. You're going to be an awesome mom."
Maybe I should rethink that hug.
SSW/SSW/SSW
For most of our lives, Seth had been my too-perfect, perfectly happy kid brother: the Clearwater child who never got into trouble, who never had a mean word to say about anyone, whom everyone loved, whose ups seemed so much higher than mine, and who let life's downs roll off his shoulders like raindrops off a duck's back.
Even when he drew the same weird-ass genetic card I'd been dealt and started phasing into a huge, hairy mutt, he took it in stride. Mother Nature seemed to reward his good humor by making him the second largest and strongest wolf in our pack, right behind Jacob.
I'd always thought the twerp lived a totally charmed life.
Now, I thought fate was taking payment out of his hide in spades.
At Jake's request, Carlisle had dosed Seth with enough tranqs to keep a herd of hippos sedated for a month. Then they'd put him in the bedroom of this guest house on the outskirts of the Denali compound and waited to see if he'd be more sane when he came to than he had been when he ran into the wreckage of the Denali main house looking for an active fire to jump into.
I'd phased out of his head just before his attempted suicide, and when my pack brothers had been holding him back from self-immolation, I was passed out naked in the snow. Nahuel had carried me back to the mansion and, after Carlisle checked me out, put me in another bedroom. I'd snored there for a couple of hours before waking up to the scene with my imprint.
The Clearwater kids had done a bang-up job of capping the night's epic adventure with even more drama.
Now I sat beside Seth's bed, held his huge hand in both of mine, and prayed that when he opened his eyes, brilliance would land on my shoulder and I'd think of something—any fucking thing—I could say that would make him want to stay alive.
His Sasquatch-sized feet hung off the end of the bed, and his broad shoulders covered the mattress from side to side. Seth was a foot taller than me and fifty pounds heavier, and had been for more than a year. Yet when I looked at him now, I only saw the heart-broken, sad little boy he'd been the night our father died.
Jacob sat on the other side of the bed with Edward behind him. My least-favorite Cullen was there to see if he could pick up anything helpful from the mess in Seth's subconscious. At least that was the official excuse. I knew it was really because Edward considered Seth to be his brother, too.
But then, who didn't feel that way about Seth?
As we kept vigil, we talked, with Jake and Edward filling in the parts of the night's dramatics that I didn't know.
Joham had attacked the house, using—of all things—rocket launchers to punch holes in the structure and take everyone by surprise. Seriously, what self-respecting vamp used pyrotechnics?
The Volturi arrived back at exactly the moment the first rockets hit the house. Alec got caught in one of the blasts and caught fire. Emmett and Jasper used fire extinguishers on the screaming pussy—"Why the hell did you do that?" I'd asked. "I wouldn't have pissed on him to put him out." —seconds before Joham's powers paralyzed everyone in the house.
A handful of Joham's lackeys rounded up everyone in the house and stood guard over them while Joham and Remy went after Nahuel and me. The fight broke out again when I attacked Joham and interrupted his control over everyone.
Finally, just when it seemed the fight was won, Anjali threw herself in front of a blood-crazed newborn that had set its sights on Seth. The newborn tore through her like a fist through wet toilet paper.
"I still don't understand how you got the drop on Joham," Jake said, keeping his voice low, as if Seth were a napping toddler he didn't want to wake.
"I don't either," I replied, shaking my head. "Something happened. I can't explain it, but it was like this wave of power … or something … from somewhere."
The whole time we'd been talking, Edward had been eyeing me like I was a two-headed toad he'd caught driving his Volvo.
"I may have a theory about that," he offered. "I'd need to ask you to meet with Eleazar to be sure, but I suspect your baby had something to do with breaking Joham's hold."
It would have been hard to guess which of us looked more stupidly shocked by Edward's statement—Jake or me. I opened my mouth to ask what the hell he meant, but my Alpha beat me to it.
"What are you talking about?"
"I've noticed for several days now that your thoughts have been muffled," Edward said with a nod in my direction. "I found it curious, but really, I had other things on my mind, so I didn't give it that much thought."
I shifted uncomfortably in my chair, not thrilled with the idea of Edward attempting to listen in to what went on in my head. I mean, I knew he could do it, but I usually tried to not think about if he actually was doing it. Could he tell what I was thinking right now?
Edward, can you hear me? I want to lick your whole body from the tips of your sparkly toes to the top of your sex-hair-covered head.
"Your thoughts are completely silent now," he continued, raising an eyebrow at me. "From the expression on your face, I'd guess that you're thinking something outrageous just to test me, so I'm rather glad I can't hear you."
"So, what are you saying?" Jake demanded. "That Leah's baby is some kind of shield, like Bella?"
"I can't be sure," Edward replied, shaking his head. "That's why I think Leah should meet with Eleazar. He has a talent for reading and identifying the abilities of others."
Jake turned back to me. "How about it? Want to see if Eleazar can get a read on the baby?"
I shrugged. While it would be nice to know what had happened to me in that bombed-out bedroom, whether or not my baby was some kind of super fetus wouldn't make a difference in the scheme of things. I was having her—or him, although I was pretty sure it was "her"—and I would love her, talent or no talent.
"Sure," I said noncommittally. "After Seth wakes up and he's okay. Maybe then."
" 'Maybe then,' what?"
The question from the bed surprised us all. Some super-powered guardian trio we were. None of us had even noticed Seth waking up.
I'd never heard his voice so raw and ragged.
"Seth!"
I launched myself onto the bed, threw my arms around him and burst into tears. His huge meaty arms closed around me immediately.
"You stupid jerk!" I blubbered. "If you ever try to kill yourself again, I will kick your ass six ways from Sunday. I'll lock you out of the kitchen forever. I'll tell Mom!"
Seth was too weak and destroyed to laugh, but there was still a hint of humor in his voice.
"Jeez, Lee-lee," he muttered. "Are you being such an emotional bitch because you're knocked up?"
I levered out of his arms and gave him the stink eye.
"You caught that, huh?"
Beside the bed, Jake snorted like a flatulent rhino, and amazingly, Seth managed a smile.
"As soon as you came barreling back through the pack's mental door, everyone knew about your bun," Jake said, gesturing in the general direction of my stomach.
I cringed. "Really?" I squeaked. "Everyone? Even Paul?"
Seth and Jake nodded in tandem. I slugged my brother in the shoulder.
"You knew I was pregnant, and you still tried to off yourself?" I growled. "What the fuck, Seth? What were you thinking?"
Tears immediately filled Seth's huge dark eyes and spilled down his cheeks. I felt like I'd just been caught pulling the wings off a butterfly.
"Shit, Seth, I'm sorry. Please don't cry." I mopped at his wet face with a corner of the bed sheet. "We'll get you through this, baby boy. Everything's gonna be okay."
Seth sobbed messily, blowing a wad of snot and spit onto the front of my PJs. "I don't see how," he whispered brokenly. "It hurts so damned much."
Stricken, I turned to Jacob. He looked as much at a loss as I felt. What could either of us say? We both knew the power of the imprinting bond. Neither of us could imagine living through the loss of our imprints, but here we were, asking Seth to do exactly that.
I held Seth's hand in mine and used the other to gently stroke his arm repeatedly. After a few minutes of my half-assed soothing, his sobbing quieted. My brother scrubbed a shaking hand over his face and through his rumpled hair. He looked tired, suddenly, and a hundred years older than me.
"Don't worry, guys," he finally said, his voice full of resignation. "I lost it for a little while, there, but I promise I won't try anything like … that … again."
His dark eyes rolled from Jake to Edward to me. "Killing myself would be really selfish, I know that. I don't want to hurt you guys like that."
Edward suddenly found the foot of Seth's bed to be fascinating, and Jake coughed behind his hand. My Alpha's eyes were suspiciously moist. I didn't need Edward's talents to know they were both thinking the same thing I was: who else besides my baby brother could think about someone else's pain while going through the loss of his mate?
I squeezed his hand. "I love you, Seth," I said softly.
His eyes widened, and a corner of his mouth actually curled upward. It was probably as close to a smile as we'd get out of him for a good, long while, so I was thrilled to see it now.
"Love you, too, sis," he replied.
Jake leaned down over the bed and settled his big hand on Seth's shoulder. "Whatever you need us to do, we'll do it," he murmured. "I know it feels like it right now, but you are not alone. We'll never let you be alone."
Seth's lips quivered, and he nodded silently. He lowered his eyes to our joined hands and after a few moments, he seemed in control of himself well enough to speak again.
"Thanks. I think right now I'd just like to sit with Leah for a while." He looked up at me questioningly. "Would that be okay?"
"I'm not going anywhere," I answered firmly.
Jake and Edward filed out of the room quietly. When the door closed behind them, I nudged Seth in the side.
"Shove over," I ordered gently.
He shifted as far to the side of the narrow bed as he could manage, and I climbed in beside him. I pulled the covers up over our heads and wrapped my arms around Seth. When I spoke, I wasn't talking to the huge, powerful shape-shifting man, but to the wounded little boy hiding inside his body.
"Let it out," I encouraged as his big body began to shake again with wracking sobs. "I can take it. I'm not going anywhere."
SSW/SSW/SSW
I lost track of the hours I spent holding my brother while he cried and talked, raged and shouted, and then cried some more. When he fell asleep, I finally called Mom, and we wept together quietly for my brother. When I left Seth's room at twilight, Paul and Beau took over guard duties.
His broken heart hadn't been repaired. He still couldn't see past the pain of his loss to believing anything could ever be really right for him again. But I did accomplish one thing during those hours—I reminded Seth of his responsibilities to the pack, and to Anjali's still-missing daughter. Some might have said it was a cheap trick, using my brother's innate sense of duty to force him to stay alive.
I didn't care. I'd use whatever tactics I could. As long as he was alive, there was hope for Seth. I refused to believe a heart as loving and open as his could ever be condemned to misery for the rest of his existence. I had to believe that as long as he drew breath, my brother would find a way to live again—for himself or for someone else.
I slogged my exhausted ass back to the bedroom where I'd first woke up what felt like a million years ago. I hoped that Nahuel had talked to Carlisle and calmed down a bit. And that he'd been his usual considerate self and found something for me to eat. I was starved.
I smelled food as soon as I opened the door, and I made a bee-line across the empty room straight toward the covered tray that sat atop a low dresser beneath a broad, tall window. Under the silver dome, I found a bowl of now-cold vegetable soup, several finger sandwiches, a dish of fresh fruit and a glass of iced cranberry juice.
My heart trilled sweetly in my chest. My vamp-boy was mad at me—probably would be for the foreseeable future—but he was still trying to take care of me. That had to be a good sign, right?
I ate two of the sandwiches in rapid fire, taking the edge off my hunger. Feeling less like a ravenous wolf and more like an exhausted pregnant chick, I picked up the bowl of soup and turned toward the bed, planning to park there and down the soup.
After I'd eaten, I thought, I'd go looking for my imprint. I had no intention of allowing him to sleep anywhere else in the house but in the same bed with me, no matter how pissed off he was.
Halfway across the room, I stumbled to a halt. Soup sloshed out of the bowl and splatted on my feet, but I barely registered the chilled liquid as it seeped between my bare toes.
A single sheet of paper, meticulously folded in a perfect rectangle, rested at an angle on the middle pillow of the king-sized bed. The folded edge looked sharp enough to slice to the bone. My name was written on the outside panel in a flowing script I'd never seen before. I knew instantly who'd written that word.
No fucking way. He wouldn't. Would he?
A frightening numbness began to creep up my legs from my slimed toes, and it took all my willpower to convince the damn things to finish carrying me across the room. My hands shook as I set the soup bowl on the bedside stand with my left hand and picked up the folded paper in my right.
I lost count of my heartbeats as I stood holding the paper in one hand while the other curled low over my stomach.
Just read it, you fucking pussy, the wolf-bitch whispered resignedly.
Finally, I switched on the lamp on the bedside stand, sank onto the bed and slowly unfolded the page.
Leah …
My heart shriveled at the formality, and somewhere I dimly registered my disappointment that I still didn't know how to spell the Mapudungun phrase that I'd come to think of as my name more than the one my parents had given me. Probably now, I would never know.
I have broken my word and did not speak with Carlisle. I apologize for that, but in light of the other promise that I break now, it seems a small thing.
You were right about me all along. I am a coward. I am not brave enough nor strong enough to stay beside you as you die. I'm sorry.
The numbness that had been slowly spreading up my body finally reached my fingers, and they released the note. It drifted silently to the floor.
Could you feel your heart die? The pain was so piercing it doubled me over. I wrapped my arms around my now-vacant chest, and bent forward to rest my head on my knees. My icy tears quickly soaked the pajama pants.
He'd done it. Nahuel had left me. Yet again.
End note: And that, dear readers, is the last cliff-hanger you will see in "Season of the She Wolf." Cross my heart and hope to die.
So as we approach the end, and our 1,000th review, I'm offering a couple of give-aways. First, the talented MunkeeRajah is hand-making a special SSW keepsake to be awarded to the 1,000th reviewer. Second, the first person who can tell me the link between all the chapter titles in this story gets to choose the name for Leah's baby from a short list I'll provide.