(Sur)real
: Chapter 13

Everyone watched me as they waited for the decision of the Elders.

“Winifred just finished stitching Clay up. She thinks he will need at least two days to fully heal. She hasn’t yet checked on Isabelle,” I said.

“I think Isabelle is pretty badly bruised and will need a few days, too,” Michelle said. “I’ll use that time to see if I can figure out which desert I saw in those images.”

“That also gives Bethi time to keep dreaming of her answers. Let’s hope it’s enough,” Olivia said.

I glanced at Mom’s pale, worried face again. Dad still held her tight. Remembering the last time Michelle had touched her, I knew she probably wanted to rest. Michelle looked like she could use some time alone with Emmitt, too. At least, that’s what I told myself as I tried to ignore the burning need I had to touch Olivia. To spend time alone with her again.

“I’ll walk Olivia back to our room,” I said, holding out my hand.

Olivia glanced at it for a long moment before hesitantly reaching for it. Her cool fingers felt so fragile in mine. I carefully wrapped my hand around hers and gave a light reassuring squeeze. She’d just stood when Winifred walked into the room.

Winifred took one look at us and scowled.

“I don’t think that’s a wise idea.”

“Why not?” I asked. “I’m fine, now, aren’t I?”

Olivia made a small sound almost like a laugh, and I realized that I’d just asked why again. I almost grinned, but Winifred looked anything but amused as she continued to study me.

“At this moment, perhaps,” Winifred said, angering me. “But I’m worried you’ll make a mistake. We can’t afford to lose you to your stubbornness.”

Mom reached up to clasp Dad’s hand, and I wanted to growl in frustration at Winifred. I understood her concern; but I wasn’t Sam and Olivia wasn’t Winifred. We were different. Thrown together because of a different set of circumstances. Winifred knew that. But it didn’t change why she worried. She cared because she loved me. She loved all of us. How could I argue with that?

“Winifred, I saw them in the white room,” Michelle said, coming to my rescue. “He is going to spend time with her. They’ll even stay together in the same room overnight. Those images weren’t blurry.”

A surge of joy tried surfacing, and my chest cramped with pain. I quickly told myself my joy was because I’d have more time to learn about Olivia which would only help assure the safety of my people. That thought helped suppress the blossoming pain.

Olivia wasn’t as quick to stifle her reaction. Her fingers twitched in mine. I glanced at her, noting the flush rising to her cheeks.

“Excuse me,” she said softly. “I need to lay down for a bit.”

She pulled her hand from mine and started for the door. It opened before she reached it. Sam and Henry stood in the hall. Winifred went to Henry and took the pizza boxes he held.

“Thought we’d bring some of these here since this is where most of you are,” Sam said.

“Henry, can you walk Olivia to her room?” Winifred asked.

A growl almost rose at the idea of the pup around her. The pain in my chest hit me hard. Winifred noticed my wince because her gaze had never left me, not even when talking to Henry.

“Yes, Nana,” Henry said. Olivia moved toward him. He politely held out his arm and wrapped Olivia’s hand around it.

Everyone in the room watched me as they left.

“Are you hungry, Jim?” Winifred asked, holding out a box.

Hungry? Yes. But not for the pizza. Another pain hit me between the ribs.

“You’re not being smart about this,” Winifred said. “I don’t care what Michelle said. You shouldn’t spend any more time with Olivia than necessary.”

“I think we’ll just take that box and run,” Emmitt said, sliding out from behind Michelle. She stood, took the box from Winifred, and led the way out.

Just Winifred, Sam, Mom, Dad, and I remained in the room. They all watched me with varying degrees of concern.

I absently scratched my chest and sighed. At what point would they stop looking at me like a run-away pup? At what point would they trust that I truly did have the best interest of the pack and our people at heart?

“You told me to listen to my heart, and I am. With both ears. There’s a reason fate made her my Mate. We just don’t know why, yet. If I don’t spend time with her, how will we ever learn?”

“And, it has to be something important if Michelle saw him staying in the same room with her,” Mom added.

I winked at Mom. She might not be happy that I’d found Olivia after taking the oath, but she had wanted me to replace a Mate since the first time I stole Dad’s car to hang out in town with human girls.

Winifred sighed.

“Just be careful.” She stepped aside and waved me out of the room. I quickly left and caught up with Henry just as he left Olivia’s room.

He took one look at me and shook his head.

“You look like you want to cuff me when I didn’t even do anything. I thought ‘be nice, but don’t trust’ was meant for her, not me,” he said.

“Sorry, Henry. I’m trying.”

I put my hand on the door, impatient to join her.

“I know. Good luck. And don’t forget what you told me,” he said before he walked away.

Don’t trust. I didn’t. Not blindly anyway. But I was starting to believe that Olivia was telling the truth. If Blake saw her as a tool like the rest of the girls and there was no true caring between the pair of them, she would have every reason to keep her emotions buried. Other than hiding those, she didn’t seem to be hiding anything else.

I opened the door and stepped inside.

OLIVIA…

My heart still wanted to race when Jim walked with purpose into the room. That Michelle had seen the two of us spending time together shouldn’t have shocked me. That was the reason for my time here, after all. Yet, hearing we would spend the night together did worry me. Everything rode on how carefully I proceeded, now. I couldn’t fail. Not now. Not this close.

I continued looking through my bag, as if I didn’t notice him, and struggled to maintain my breathing and pulse. He was dangerous. So very dangerous.

As much as I wanted to push him away, to tell him to leave, I knew I couldn’t. I needed him. Only not as a Mate, no matter what he felt for me. No matter what I was starting to feel for him.

When I found a clean pair of leggings and a loose t-shirt, I turned toward the bathroom.

“You can change the bandages after I’m done,” I said in an even tone.

“Me?”

“Yes. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? To take care of me?” I held my breath, waiting for his answer.

“I don’t know. Is it?” he said softly.

His purpose was so much more, and the question made my heart thump harder for a beat. I was sure he heard it. Instead of cringing, I met his gaze, or what I thought might be his gaze given the shape of his head, with a steady stare.

“Only if you want to,” I said.

I stepped into the bathroom without waiting for his answer and closed the door. I watched him through the wall as he ran a hand over his chest then wandered around the room. His broad shoulders looked like they could easily take on any weight in the world. They would have to.

A stab of regret hit me before I could stop it. Blake’s impatience immediately followed. This time, I did cringe. I’d slipped too many times in just a few hours. I would need to call him before I went to bed, and I dreaded it.

Someone walking in the hall stopped to knock on our door, distracting me from my suppressed misery. Jim crossed the room to answer. The person’s shape looked familiar, but I hadn’t been with the group long enough to easily identify each of them yet.

I watched Jim accept something as I carefully removed my shirt. The open wounds twinged, but Winifred’s bandages held firm. Quickly changing with a back flayed by the Others proved impossible. Every move I executed, I did slowly and with purpose. It took a few tries to get the new shirt back on. By the time I finished, Jim had closed the door and resumed his wandering.

The bra, which had ridden high on my back prior to the Others taking their due, lay on the floor. My brow already glistened from the effort of putting a shirt on. The thought of the bra accidently rubbing the top of my wounds had me turning away. I wouldn’t be wearing it again for a long while.

Holding out my hand, I felt for the handle and opened the door. Jim turned from his position near the room’s work table and faced me.

My back ached with each step as I walked toward him. It needed to be checked to ensure I hadn’t made the wounds bleed again with all my moving around. I knew that. However, I honestly just wanted to lay on my stomach and sleep while the world worried about its own problems for a while. The thought made the deeply hidden part of me want to cry. As much as I wanted to hide from my fate, I couldn’t.

I was so wrapped up in my thoughts, I didn’t immediately recognize the silence or the tense way Jim held himself as he faced me. Stopping, I glanced around the room at the Others, trying to understand what might be wrong. They seemed to be swirling around normally.

Shifting my attention back to Jim, I suppressed my apprehension.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Your shirt.” His rough words didn’t help ease my nervousness.

I smoothed my hand over the front of it, feeling the soft material. The softest shirt I owned. I’d packed it knowing what would happen, knowing I’d need something comfortable. It was one of my favorite sleep shirts.

“Is it stained?” I asked. I always washed my own clothes, making it difficult to know if I’d ruined something until Blake commented on it, which he hadn’t.

“No.” That single word came out in a whoosh like I’d hit him.

“Is it an ugly color? Tell me.”

He reached out and trailed the knuckle of his first finger along my collar bone.

“I can see through it. Every beautiful detail. And I want—” He groaned, clutched at his chest, and collapsed to his knees.

I barely paid him attention as understanding, followed immediately by disgust, filled me. Jim could see through my shirt. He could see my breasts. I didn’t care about Jim seeing. I cared about how many times I’d worn this shirt before this moment. Blake had always complimented me on it when he’d come to lock me in my room for the night. I’d worn it often because he would be less cold.

Bile rose in my throat, and I staggered a step to sit on the bed. He would touch my cheek gently and kiss me good night. I’d never felt lust. But, deep down, I knew it had been there.

Jim’s choking noise drew my attention. The Others swirled around him in excitement. I moved quickly, hurting my back, and knelt beside him.

“Jim.” I reached out and placed my hand against his cheek. Sweat wet my palm. “This was my favorite shirt to wear to bed.”

“Not helping,” he panted between pained grunts.

“Blake saw me in it every time he locked me in my room for the night. He never said anything when he looked at me. But I would always feel…something from him. I ignored it. Pretended it wasn’t there. You need to do the same. Ignore what you feel for me. You can’t die now, Jim. I can’t do this alone.”

His hand gripped mine, pressing my fingers more firmly into his cheek. Gradually, his breathing slowed, and he turned his face, brushing his lips against the palm of my hand. My heart thumped heavily in my chest at the sensation. Dangerous. I swallowed hard and pushed what I wanted to feel aside.

The tickling warmth of his breath against the skin of my hand made my insides go hot and cold.

I tried to stand, but he didn’t release my hand.

“Go lay on the bed,” he said. “On your stomach.”

That just made my insides act crazier. He inhaled deeply and gave another choked groan.

“You smell so good.”

“Not helping,” I said nervously, repeating his words. “My insides are going crazy, and I don’t know how well I’m holding it all back from Blake. If he suspects I’m with an interested male—”

“He’ll send everyone he has at us,” Jim said. He released me, his reluctance shown in the drag of his fingers against the back of my hand.

“Lay down,” he said again. “I’ll look at your back.”

I stood with care and went to the bed. Getting onto my stomach hurt, but once I was there, I could relax. Until I felt his fingers on my shirt. I struggled not to go all hot and cold again. The material slowly inched its way up under his gentle touch. When he had the bottom above the top of the cuts, he stopped. Then he started peeling off the taped gauze.

“How does it look?” I asked when he did nothing for a moment.

“Not good.”

“It started bleeding again?”

“No. It’s oozing clear, but not bleeding.”

“Oh. That’s good then.”

He didn’t comment as he spread some ointment on and covered the area with clean gauze again.

“I’ll be right back,” he said after gently tugging my shirt back into place.

The door softly opened and closed. I didn’t bother to track his progress. Instead, I reached for the cell phone that rested on the nightstand between the beds and dialed Blake’s number. He picked up on the first ring.

“They tried using the Provider to see if she could get a premonition of what we need to do,” I said without preamble. “It didn’t work. They seem to have no set plan regarding what they will do with or without the answer.”

“Stop telling me useless information,” Blake said into the phone. “What is happening? I’m feeling things from you.”

“I didn’t want to worry you, but the bruises on my face aren’t my worst injuries. I have three gashes on my back. They hurt. And I’ve also been trying to encourage interest in the males here, thinking it would put me in a favorable position of influence.”

The soft brush of something on my back told me I wasn’t alone anymore.

“I don’t like it.”

“I don’t either, but you told me to use their kindness to gain answers. That’s what I’m trying to do.”

“I don’t like your tone,” he said softly. I shivered despite trying not to.

“I’m sorry, Father,” I said as contritely as I could manage.

“I’ll see you soon, Olivia. When we’re together again, I’ll keep you safe. Perhaps we’ll finally finish what you started.”

I let my mind go blank at his words. Don’t think about it. Don’t feel. Don’t react.

“Yes, Father,” I said.

“Goodnight, Olivia.”

The line went dead, and I lifted the phone for whoever was there to take it. Tears leaked from my eyes. The only physical sign that I really did feel something after that phone call.

“There’s no happy ending for me,” I said, mostly to myself. “If we don’t make the Judgement or if we Judge in favor of the humans, the Others will come. If we make the Judgement…”

I swallowed hard and refused to think about what would happen then as well.

Large, warm fingers gently brushed away the tears.

“If you make the Judgement, there will always be a place for you with us. With me,” Jim said.

I swallowed hard. His words painted a picture I would hold onto when the time for Judgement came.

“I have some ice for your back,” he said.

A moment later, a slight weight settled over my wounds. The cool felt so good.

“You can only keep it on for a short time. Slowing blood flow slows the healing, but I thought it might feel good after changing.”

“Why are you doing this?” I asked. He’d heard the call with Blake. He knew I hadn’t lied about any of it, even the part about encouraging his interest. His continued kindness confused me.

His fingers brushed the hair away from my face.

“Because I believe you,” he said simply.