eyes narrowing again.
"I know you're angry," Mary said, desperately trying to get him back.
Where were the tender eyes and reluctant smile that she had gotten to know? She hardly recognized the angry Bear standing before her. How could he change so drastically? Just a few hours ago they were happily looking forward to starting their life together, and now he wouldn't even let her touch him.
She took a deep breath. "If my father did this—"
"He did."
Mary nodded slowly. Who else would it be, besides somebody in the community? Her brother, who had come here the day before, demanding that she return to the community? Peter wouldn't have done this. But he could have easily told their father where to find Andre.
"Yes. Yes, he must have. Then he must have been trying to… to rescue me or something. He… this is horrible, and there is no justification for it, no matter what he was trying to do. But we can still leave. We can run away, go east, build a new life for ourselves. You and me—"
"You and me," Andre muttered. He ran a hand over his tanned face, black eyes softening.
He reached for her face and she leaned into his touch. Both of her hands pressed over his and she closed her eyes, breathing in his woodsy scent.
"You and me, Andre. I love you."
***
It was so tempting. His heart ached to take her into his arms, take her to his truck and just run away with her. But what if it was a trap? What if she was lying? She's not. But she had to be. All Wolves were liars, murderers. He should never have let himself think otherwise.
"I love you," she repeated.
I love you, too . He closed his eyes. When Paul Locke killed his wife and daughter, he never thought he could love again. And yet, he did. Mary. He loved her and wanted to be with her for the rest of his life. But did she really love him?
It was a trap. It was always a trap. How could a woman like her love him ?
He opened his eyes again and his gaze fell on the slaughtered sheep. Instantly their faces appeared in his mind. Isadore's dark eyes. Eve's tiny nose. The night Eve was born. And their bodies lying on the mountain, cut open the same way these sheep were.
Mary moved closer. Paul Locke's daughter.
Andre jumped away from her. Her eyes opened, looking startled and confused. The Bear glared at her. She had tricked him, trapped him. This was all her fault.
"Andre?" Her voice broke.
"Your father did this. You knew he was going to do this."
She shook her head, but he wouldn't believe her. Couldn't.
"Now know this, Werewolf. I am going to kill your father."
Chapter Two
He heard her shouting after him as he embraced his Bear. His heart begged him to turn around. A pang of regret hit his stomach. He knew she wasn't a part of this and the accusations he had made tasted bitter on his tongue. But the larger part of him held onto his anger and pushed away love.
Love would stop him again. Love would close his eyes. He needed anger, hate. It was necessary for his revenge. And without revenge, what was he? She was Paul Locke's daughter. He might as well have spat on Isadore's grave every time he kissed Mary.
Mary's voice cut out shortly after he entered the forest. His clothing shredded from embracing his Bear, fell off him as it caught on branches. The world seemed too silent without her.
The trees closed in around him, the last bits of snow absorbing the sound of his paws on the ground. Even the crashing of branches breaking against his bulk seemed muffled against the roaring in his ears. He would finish this, once and for all. It would finally end.
I either avenge my wife and child or join them.
Eve had only been six years old. She was afraid of monsters hiding in the darkness. Andre remembered making a big show of checking under her trundle bed when she went to sleep. He remembered sitting in the main room of the cabin, gluing hats and faces onto clothespins for her birthday party while Isadore sang her to sleep. He remembered the look of despair in his
"I know you're angry," Mary said, desperately trying to get him back.
Where were the tender eyes and reluctant smile that she had gotten to know? She hardly recognized the angry Bear standing before her. How could he change so drastically? Just a few hours ago they were happily looking forward to starting their life together, and now he wouldn't even let her touch him.
She took a deep breath. "If my father did this—"
"He did."
Mary nodded slowly. Who else would it be, besides somebody in the community? Her brother, who had come here the day before, demanding that she return to the community? Peter wouldn't have done this. But he could have easily told their father where to find Andre.
"Yes. Yes, he must have. Then he must have been trying to… to rescue me or something. He… this is horrible, and there is no justification for it, no matter what he was trying to do. But we can still leave. We can run away, go east, build a new life for ourselves. You and me—"
"You and me," Andre muttered. He ran a hand over his tanned face, black eyes softening.
He reached for her face and she leaned into his touch. Both of her hands pressed over his and she closed her eyes, breathing in his woodsy scent.
"You and me, Andre. I love you."
***
It was so tempting. His heart ached to take her into his arms, take her to his truck and just run away with her. But what if it was a trap? What if she was lying? She's not. But she had to be. All Wolves were liars, murderers. He should never have let himself think otherwise.
"I love you," she repeated.
I love you, too . He closed his eyes. When Paul Locke killed his wife and daughter, he never thought he could love again. And yet, he did. Mary. He loved her and wanted to be with her for the rest of his life. But did she really love him?
It was a trap. It was always a trap. How could a woman like her love him ?
He opened his eyes again and his gaze fell on the slaughtered sheep. Instantly their faces appeared in his mind. Isadore's dark eyes. Eve's tiny nose. The night Eve was born. And their bodies lying on the mountain, cut open the same way these sheep were.
Mary moved closer. Paul Locke's daughter.
Andre jumped away from her. Her eyes opened, looking startled and confused. The Bear glared at her. She had tricked him, trapped him. This was all her fault.
"Andre?" Her voice broke.
"Your father did this. You knew he was going to do this."
She shook her head, but he wouldn't believe her. Couldn't.
"Now know this, Werewolf. I am going to kill your father."
Chapter Two
He heard her shouting after him as he embraced his Bear. His heart begged him to turn around. A pang of regret hit his stomach. He knew she wasn't a part of this and the accusations he had made tasted bitter on his tongue. But the larger part of him held onto his anger and pushed away love.
Love would stop him again. Love would close his eyes. He needed anger, hate. It was necessary for his revenge. And without revenge, what was he? She was Paul Locke's daughter. He might as well have spat on Isadore's grave every time he kissed Mary.
Mary's voice cut out shortly after he entered the forest. His clothing shredded from embracing his Bear, fell off him as it caught on branches. The world seemed too silent without her.
The trees closed in around him, the last bits of snow absorbing the sound of his paws on the ground. Even the crashing of branches breaking against his bulk seemed muffled against the roaring in his ears. He would finish this, once and for all. It would finally end.
I either avenge my wife and child or join them.
Eve had only been six years old. She was afraid of monsters hiding in the darkness. Andre remembered making a big show of checking under her trundle bed when she went to sleep. He remembered sitting in the main room of the cabin, gluing hats and faces onto clothespins for her birthday party while Isadore sang her to sleep. He remembered the look of despair in his
Similar Books
