Page 78 of Dominion
It was stupid to try to trick him—he had shifter instincts she couldn’t understand. His hearing and eyesight were ten times better than hers.
His expression showed nothing, but any doubt she had of whether he saw something faded when he said in a deadly voice, “What’s that, Ash?”
Tears of shame immediately spilled from her eyes as she reluctantly brought her hand forth to show him. “I’m sorry,” she said, spreading her fingers to show him the pills.
He stared, a look of disbelief clouding his face. “What is that?” he repeated.
He was going to make her say it. She couldn’t meet his eyes. Staring at the pills, she repeated, “I’m sorry, Ben.” Her voice cracked on the words. “I’ve been lying to you. I—I just didn’t know if I was ready to have children.”
Ben hadn’t moved. He stood deathly still. “Why lie?”
More tears spilled down her cheeks. “I just—” Her shoulders sagged. “The first time you brought it up, I wasn’t really thinking straight and after that… I don’t know. I was a coward, I guess. I was afraid.”
He took a step—not toward her, but backwards. “You were afraid of me?” His voice was so quiet, so devoid of emotion, like the blankness on his face, that it frightened her.
“Ben—” She stopped. What else was there to say? She had no excuse, no explanation for a deceit she’d allowed to go on for far too long for him to forgive. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
He turned away, peeling off his shirt as he walked away. Which meant he was going to shift. She stood in the bathroom door, watching as he shed his pants in the hallway and transformed with liquid grace into an enormous black wolf.
“Ben,” she called out, inanely.
He didn’t turn to look back before he nosed out the dog door, disappearing.
The house had never felt so hollow.
2
Ben couldn’t believe it. He loped off, up into the foothills, his mind and body numb. They had purposely rented a house near the wilderness so he could roam at will in wolf form, and he ran up the steep side of a mountain face now, wanting to run forever.
Ashley had lied to him. She’d betrayed his trust. But even worse, it had been because she was afraid to tell him the truth. That fact had hit him like a fist in the gut. What kind of mate was he if his female couldn’t even talk to him about the things that were important to her?
Because he’d never witnessed an ounce of cowardice in Ashley. Even as a human, she had alpha female written all over her—confident, whip-smart, and a social genius. She could wrap anyone around her finger. She’d dared joke with him on her interview, even though she’d been nervous. And she’d kept opening her heart to him, when he’d repeatedly shut her down.
So to hear she feared him meant she hadn’t forgiven him or forgotten the way he’d marked her. It meant they didn’t have any level of trust between them.
Images of his mother, cowering from his father’s wrath, flashed before his eyes. He ran faster, over the rocky terrain, the cold February wind blowing through his fur. He’d always feared he’d become his father. It was why he hadn’t wanted to lead his brother’s pack, and hadn’t looked for a mate. But you can’t escape your parentage, it seemed.
The loving, trusting relationship his brother so easily modeled with his wife and he’d foolishly thought he might find with Ashley was not for wolves like him. The gray day turned colder, the higher he climbed. Time and distance fell away and he reached the tree line, where snow still covered the ground. Fresh snow began to fall.
He stopped, turning in a circle to scent the air. He smelled elk, but was in no mood to hunt. Sitting, he lifted his nose to the sky and howled, a long, mournful howl.
Only a toothbrush would getout the dirt between the grout lines of the shower. Ashley pushed her sleeves up and returned to her position on her hands and knees in the empty bathtub, scrubbing at the tiles. She’d attacked the house, cleaning it from top to bottom, as if that somehow might make things right with Ben. It was now pushing six o’clock and he hadn’t returned. Her stomach had clenched like a fist.
When she finished cleaning, she grilled three steaks and made a Greek salad and herbed quinoa.
Still he didn’t come home. The clock read half past eight. Night had come and snowflakes had begun to fall. Surely the cold didn’t bother him. But even so, was it a sign of how upset he was that he didn’t return, despite the dark and cold?
Unable to eat, she dished the food onto plates, covered them with plastic wrap and put them in the refrigerator. The house didn’t feel like hers anymore. She tiptoed around it, like she didn’t belong, every creak of the wood floors making her jump. Wrapping a blanket around her shoulders, she sat down and turned on the television, flipping through the channels. She found an old Clint Eastwood movie and watched it until her eyelids began to droop.
Maybe she should just go to bed. But would he return soon? Or had he gone elsewhere for the night? Was this the end for them? Tears pricked her eyes, but she blinked them back, heading to their bedroom to try to sleep.
She woke at two a.m. to find the space beside her in the bed still empty. A sense of dread filled her chest as she climbed out of bed to check the house. She stopped in the living room, finding Ben’s sleeping form sprawled on the couch. He was naked, as if he’d just shifted back. The chiseled muscles of his powerful chest and arms were exposed, with a light blanket tossed over his waist.
They weren’t sleeping together?
She willed herself to exhale, but couldn’t seem to catch her breath. Did this mean things were over between them? Her nose burned as tears crowded up into her throat. She crept to the side of the couch and knelt down beside Ben’s face, tears spilling down her cheeks.
His eyes blinked open and he sat up. “Ashley,” he said in a hoarse voice. “Go to sleep.”