Running with the Alpha's Son, page 16
“Oh yeah,” he says, grinning smugly.
“Holy moly.”
I can’t believe my eyes. After walking for another few hours, until my feet feel about ready to fall off, my shoulders are aching from carrying my pack, and all the moisture in my body has evacuated through my pores, we’ve arrived at the most stunning lake.
“How is this even possible? I didn’t think there were lakes in the desert.”
Jasper simply shrugs, then smiles like he’s pleased with himself. “Pretty special isn’t it.”
“Uh, yah-huh.”
The trail winds down a hill toward the body of glistening water. Boulders rise like mountains on the far side and dot the water like lily pads. On the shore, green vegetation sprouts in bursts of emerald. The whole place is alive and magical and so freaking serene.
“Is this where we’re camping?”
Jasper doesn’t answer right away. He takes in the scenery with a wistful expression, then finally turns to me. “This is the spot.”
We make our way down to the water, dropping our packs by some rocks and heading straight for the edge. Immediately I drop to my knees and splash the cooling liquid on my face and my neck.
“We should set up camp, then we can explore,” Jasper says a few steps behind me.
After investigating the shore we find a spot to pitch our tent at the base of a boulder, near a patch of trees. We set up the tent and unload our sleeping gear and some of our supplies. I’m halfway through rolling out a sleeping bag when I notice Jasper pulling off his tank top.
His body glistens like the water in the sunlight, his muscles seeming even more defined than normal. He kicks off his shoes and pulls off his socks, draping them over a low-hanging branch of a nearby yucca tree, and catches me looking. He grins mischievously.
“Fancy a swim?”
Before I know it he’s dropped his shorts and is running to the water, throwing up splashes as he enters, then diving under. He stays underwater long enough for the surface to return to its placid state, then emerging like a dolphin a moment later. Only it isn’t Jasper who’s emerged—well, it is, just not in his human form. His wolf dog-paddles its way back toward the shore until he’s standing ankle-deep, then shakes his fur, releasing a firework of water. With a yelp in my direction, Jasper takes off around the edge of the lake, and as swiftly as I can I leap up, undress, and shift.
I chase him around the edge of the lake, hopping from boulder to boulder, splashing in the shallows, until we begin to ascend one of the more mountainous rocks on the far side. Jasper wastes no time when he reaches the top, turning sharply, leaping into the air, and plunging toward the water below. His wolf body breaks the surface in a graceful, streamlined dive. I hesitate, pawing at the edge of the rock. It’s farther down than I thought. Jasper is already swimming in little circles, barking up at me.
I huff and growl—Come on, Max, you’ve faced worse than this—then propel myself from the ledge. Much less gracefully than Jasper, I flail about in the air as the water nears, and I do my absolute best to enter in a way that doesn’t shatter all my bones. Cool water envelops me as I break the surface.
For a moment I linger underwater, suspended somewhere between the bed of the lake and the air above. Jasper dives under to meet me and paddles until we’re face-to-face. Two wolves maybe shouldn’t be hanging out underwater like this, but there’s something so calm about the silence, the cool tones, the refracted light squiggling on the sand below. We hover like this for a moment, until my lungs start to burn.
Breaking the surface, I rise gulping for breath, kicking all four of my legs to stay afloat. Jasper pops up beside me and swims around me like he doesn’t have a care in the world. He nips at me and barks, then dives back under like a seal, and I follow. We spend the next half hour or so diving and seeing how far down we can go. The lake is surprisingly deep—I guess it’d want to be in this heat, otherwise it would evaporate away.
When my legs are tired I paddle myself back toward our campsite, wandering out onto the sand and shaking my fur. For a second my ears perk up at a distant sound…a coyote maybe. But it’s so faint it must be miles and miles away. It’s amazing what wolf ears are able to pick up. Jasper follows me out of the water, shaking out his fur and spraying me in the face. I growl playfully and tackle him back into the water.
Later that night, as the sun sets, we build a ring of stones and a fire inside it. It’s totally Survivor vibes as we sit and eat burgers with the firelight bouncing off the rocks and bathing our campsite in a warm glow.
“The stars are ridiculous,” I say, wiping ketchup from the corner of my mouth.
“They are,” Jasper says, turning his attention skyward. “You want to take a walk?”
“Uh, sure. You finished?”
Jasper still has a couple of decent bites left of his burger. He smiles and shoves the whole thing in his mouth. “Finished,” he says, although with his mouth full the sound is muffled.
“Classy.”
We head out from the campsite in a straight line away from the lake so that we can keep an eye on the fire. Wouldn’t want to be responsible for starting a wildfire. Jasper’s hands are shoved deep in his pockets, his head tilted back as he stargazes.
“This place means a lot to you,” I say.
“It does.”
“How come you haven’t been back in so long?”
Jasper stops walking but keeps his eyes on the heavens. “After my mother was killed things changed in my family. We used to come here every year. My father would always complain about coming—too hot and dry for him. But my mother loved it and even though I was so young, I could tell he didn’t mind coming, not actually, as long as she was happy. He was different around her. When she died it was like part of him died too. He shut off, focused all his energy on the pack and being the alpha. Nothing else seemed to matter, not even his kids. He stopped being the father we knew and became something else…an army general or the boss of some big corporation, and we were his interns. I remember the year after she left us I asked him if we could come here.”
“He said no?” I ask, my voice catching.
“He threw a chair through a glass door.”
“For the longest time I thought, This is the real him. With Mom gone there’s no one to stop him from treating us this way, acting like this. I’m starting to realize that maybe wasn’t the case. His behavior didn’t change because she wasn’t there to hold him back. He changed because he was hurting, because despite their mating being arranged, he loved her.”
“I’m sorry,” I say because I don’t know what else to do.
He shrugs and faces me. “It’s okay. I just—being out here makes me wonder if there was more I could have done to help him. If I’d been more aware, maybe I could have stopped him from losing that part of himself.”
“Jasper, you were only a kid. You can’t blame yourself for his actions.” I step to him and take his hands. “You blame yourself for everything. But…” I trail off, not sure if I’m about to say the right thing or start a different kind of wildfire. “But you shouldn’t. Do you remember the vision I had, back in the mountains? Where I saw the crash that took your mother and how I knew you were there?”
His head quirks to one side. “Yes?”
“It wasn’t just like seeing a memory it was more like living it, like I was you, I could see what you saw and––feel what you felt.”
He takes a step back, letting my hand fall to my side. His narrow eyes are boring into mine and I can’t tell if he’s furious that I kept this from him, that I saw this in the first place, or if he’s just trying to understand what’s going on.
“You were just a kid, really, so young and you were terrified. But when you looked at your mother, and saw how much she wanted to protect you, how much she loved you, you felt it. You felt her protection and it calmed you. She did what she had to do, by swerving to protect you. And that doesn’t make what happened your fault. It makes her your parent, who loves you and wants to take care of you.”
Jasper’s expression softens. “It’s funny, I can’t actually remember much from the crash.”
“That makes sense, it must have been extremely traumatic. Maybe I was able to tap into your subconscious in a way you won’t let yourself,” I suggest. “Because, you know, blood wolf and all that.”
“Maybe.” He sits quietly for a moment. “Maybe part of me wanted you to see that.”
I shrug gently. “Yeah, maybe.”
“What did she…what did she look like, at the end?”
“She was beautiful and determined and fearless. And she loved you. She did what she needed to. I don’t think she would want you to blame yourself. She sacrificed herself so you could live. You should.”
Tentatively, I slip my index finger around his and thankfully he doesn’t pull away.
“And you shouldn’t blame yourself for your father’s actions either. He was the adult, the parent, he should have stepped up and taken care of you and Jodie, not shut himself off. I’m sorry that happened.”
He drops his head backward and exhales all the air in his chest.
“Are you okay?”
With one hand he touches my cheek, running a thumb over my skin. “I think perhaps I’ve acted too much like my father with you.”
“You Apollo men, you’re all kinds of messed up.”
“I’m serious, Max. I treated you poorly and for that I am responsible, there’s no way around it.”
I cup the hand that’s holding my face and kiss his palm. “You’re making it right. That’s all that matters.”
“Thank you for telling me about the vision. Maybe we can talk more about her. I would like to––I would like to remember more of her.”
“I’d love that. To be honest I was a little terrified just now.” We both laugh a little, then he pulls me closer and rests his forehead against mine.
“I never want you to be terrified of me.”
“But I’m terrified of everything.” I’m only half joking, but either way he makes a face like I’ve said something really dumb.
“No you’re not. You’re one of the bravest wolves I know.”
He kisses me under the stars. When we pull back he looks up at the blanket of twinkling lights once more. “It’s funny,” he says. “I can feel her. I feel more connected to her here than anywhere else. I wish I hadn’t stayed away so long.”
“We can come back,” I say. “Every year.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes, this place is freaking paradise. Of course we can come back.”
“I’d like that.”
I wrap my arms around his and hug him tightly, resting my head on his shoulder.
“Max, do you want to try the mind-link again?”
THE DISTANCE BTWEEN US
We sit by the fire facing each other. Jasper pulls his pack to him and rummages around in it before grabbing out the hessian bag full of whatever he bought at the crystal and incense shop in town. He tosses his pack aside and opens the bag.
“Whatcha got there?” I ask, rubbing my knees a little nervously.
“Just some things that are supposed to help with the mind-link.”
Almost ceremoniously he pulls items from the bag, one by one, and starts placing them around us. The first is a large crystal, the pastel-pink color of Turkish delight, which he sits between us.
“This is rose quartz,” he says. “It’s good for removing emotional blockages and balancing chakras.”
“Blockages and what? You think we’re blocked?”
He smiles at me, the fire dancing in his eyes. “No. It’s just an aid, to help open the channels of emotional connection.”
I quirk an eyebrow at him and he tilts his head, his expression softening.
“Don’t read too much into it.”
“Okay, what else you got in there Mary Poppins?”
He pulls out another crystal, this one a little smaller and a deep, stunning purple. In the darkness of the night the surface reflects the fire and the stars like oil.
“This is amethyst. It’s supposed to help us communicate on a spiritual level.”
He places the amethyst to his right and goes back to the bag. The next crystal is blue and semitransparent.
“Chrysocolla.”
“Gesundheit.”
He shakes his head gently. “This is supposed to amplify our ability to empathize, giving us a greater chance at hearing each other.” He pulls one last crystal from the sack. “And finally, citrine.”
“Let me guess, for citrusy freshness?”
“No,” he says, scolding playfully. “For positivity.”
“Oh, right. What’s left?”
The last few items he pulls out at once: a stick of incense, which he lights on the fire and places between two rocks so it stands upright, and a bouquet of dried herbs. “Calamus to amplify our voices, blue vervain to clear our minds, and thyme—”
“For the roast chicken?”
He rolls his eyes. “Thyme to attract loyalty, love, and to increase our psychic powers.”
With a gentle wave he wafts the herb bouquet in the air around us then places it next to the rose quartz.
“You really went to town,” I say.
“I wanted to give us the best shot at linking.”
My stupid cynical heart melts. He’s done all this so that we can get closer. I should be less teasing and more focused.
“I’m sorry, I’m just not used to all this sort of stuff.”
“I know it’s a little out there,” he replies. “But if it helps, there’s some science to it—especially for us. The energy of the moon interacts with the crystals, which interacts with our brain waves and our connection to other wolves through pheromones, bloodlines, and our senses. The herbs are medicinal, just like the ones Agatha made that tea from that helped soothe your headaches.”
“The incense?”
Jasper shrugs. “That’s mostly just for atmosphere.”
“Thank you,” I say. “For going to all this trouble.”
“Max.” Jasper takes both my hands. “I want to make this work.”
I chew the inside of my lip for a moment, feeling just a little overwhelmed. Under the blanket of stars I feel small, like a speck of dust in an eternal desert. The fire is hot and bright and I’m surrounded by crystals and herbs. But in front of me is the most stupidly handsome guy, asking me to try and connect with him, to shorten the distance between us, and after everything we’ve been through I owe it to us to try.
“Me too,” I say. “Shall we?”
“Close your eyes.”
I do as Jasper says.
“Breathe.”
I fill my lungs and exhale slowly.
“Focus.”
I let my consciousness expand into the inky blackness, darker than the night sky.
“Reach out.”
Like a homing pigeon I plunge through the darkness, traversing it at neckbreaking speed, looking for a connection, for those red veins that represent the wolves of the world. Jasper’s presence looms like a warm haze before me, but for whatever reason I can’t find him in the void. Maybe it’s because we’re farther away from our pack or from wolves in general, but the darkness of my mind, usually crowded with veins, branching and crossing like an overgrown tree, is especially empty. There are no signs of red, just darkness.
Why can’t I find him? He’s sitting right in front of me. Shouldn’t I be able to find the thread of his consciousness and latch on to it? Shouldn’t I simply be able to reach out and speak to him? Why can’t I seem to connect to the person who means the most to me?
I grit my teeth and squeeze my eyes together, concentrating harder, trying to push through the dense, dark fog. And I realize something isn’t right. How can there be no signs of wolf life at all? Yes we’re far away, but that shouldn’t matter. Back in New York I could sense wolves from across the country, even other countries—there was so much noise it was a constant battle to block it out—and now nothing, silence, not even the voice of my mate.
Something must be blocking me. I remember the positions of the crystals Jasper laid out and think about what he said, that they were channels through which we could access lunar energy. I focus on pulling that energy toward myself, let it flood into my body, and almost instantaneously, the fog begins to lift. My muscles are enlivened. My skin tingles. The veins of life fade in like lights on a dimmer switch slowly rising. The familiar fizzle and crack of energy arrives. And there before me is Jasper. He’s not just a warm blob, he’s a glowing light. At this close proximity his thread is no longer red, but a burning yellow, like the sun. I’m about to speak to him, to link our minds, when I feel a tug from behind me, and as I turn to see what it is, the familiar ear-piercing howl breaks through, and the feeling of something slamming into the side of my skull knocks me sideways.
I topple over, knocking the crystals out of formation as I sprawl on the desert floor clutching my head.
“Max!” Jasper is instantly next to me, his hands holding me, supporting my head so I don’t smash it against a nearby rock. “What happened?”
I glance up at him, grimacing through the pain. “It didn’t work.”
“You feeling all right?” Jasper asks, crouching in the entrance of the tent. I’m already wrapped in my sleeping bag, facing the fabric wall.
“Uh-huh,” I mumble.
Jasper crawls in, placing his toothbrush and toothpaste in a small wash bag by the entrance, then positioning himself behind me, draping his unzipped sleeping bag over himself.
“I’m sorry you got hurt,” he says, gingerly placing a hand on my shoulder.
“Not your fault.”
“I’m sure it’ll work, we just have to figure out what’s going on. Maybe the blood-wolf thing is messing up your thoughts.”
I grunt. “Maybe.”
Jasper lingers a moment longer, before lying his head on the pillow beside mine. He moves his hand from my shoulder to my waist, slipping it under my arm.
