Chapter 5

Family Again

“Would you mind starting to cut up the chicken, Sam,” Mrs. Everdeen asked politely and I nodded, walking over to the sink to wash my hands. I reached for the handle to turn the water on, but my hand reached empty air as I realized there were none. Wide eyed I looked at the contraption of a faucet, and Mrs. Everdeen without even turning around to look commented, “Just tap the spout with you wrist, dear,”

Cautiously I pressed my wrist against the top of the faucet, and the water turned on, with a grin I continued to wash my hands, “You have quite a beautiful and very up-to date kitchen, Mrs. Everdeen,”

“Why thank you…I’ve been begging for years to get the old kitchen remolded and the boys finally got around to it this year for a birthday present,” she started pouring the chopped up green peppers into a bowl. I moved over to the counter space—which was bountiful, and grabbed a stray cutting board. The chicken was already set out on the counter, defrosting.

“Um…where are the cutting knives?” I asked, giving the open space a once over, I felt out of place in the new surroundings, I would have been better off to feel around blindly.

“Bottom drawer to your right,” she replied automatically, taking out a cooking dish. I did as instructed and revealed a drawer filled with neatly pressed dish towels. “I think I’ll have a hard time cutting with towels,” I said with a chuckle.

“Oh, sorry, I’m not even used to this updated kitchen yet, lets see…I do believe it’s the drawer next to the dishwasher,”

Now finding the dishwasher was the hard part, it blended in as a drawer; the only thing that gave it away was that it was bigger than the rest. “Thank you,” I said as I took out a large cutting knife so I could start cubing the chicken.

“What exactly are we making again?” I asked, not remembering if she answered me or not the first time. But my voice was drowned out by the blender as it was turned on high, meshing the jar of eggs, cheese and some little red vegetable that I couldn’t place the name on. Shrugging my shoulders, I finished cutting the first chicken ******. Glancing over at the other ingredients, I glimpsed biscuits, more cheese and milk. My eyebrows scrunched together as I didn’t recognize any direction this was heading.

The blender stopped, leaving a creamy yellow liquid left in the container, and I was just about to speak up again when another voice cut through the kitchen. “I’m going to be taking the human home…” Tristan started to say walking into the kitchen, his hand was on his neck and his eyes closed as he stepped through the threshold. “So I’ll be back in time for dinner,”

Both of our attentions snapped up towards Tristan as he realized his mother didn’t respond right away, his eyes opened. I smirked at the slight shock I saw in his eyes at me being inside, if I weren’t bristled at the fact that he hadn’t called me by my name. His mother picked up on it also, “Samantha,” she enunciated carefully so he fully got it, “will be staying here for dinner with us,”

The tensed at the sentence, “Now, I’m sure she would rather be at home…” he started sternly, giving me a cold steel look that I couldn’t stand to meet. Instead I looked back down at the knife in my hands that was still slowly cubing the chicken.

“I already asked her, she would love to,” Mrs. Everdeen replied curtly, a could sense the slight disappointment in her voice. “So make yourself useful and start helping us with dinner, since you have already cleared your plans through dinner,”

He glanced between the two of us, his face falling flat and indifferent to the problem after taking a good look at his mother. With a grunt he walked over to the sink, to wash his hands. I stayed silent; the tension in the room was close enough to suffocating. Mrs. Everdeen didn’t seem to notice, taking her son’s compliance as acceptance and continued cheerfully, “We are making a new dish the new family in the pack brought with them,” she finally answered my question, “I’m not sure of the actual name, the family had made it so long that they just knew the recipe by heart—not needing a real name,” she shrugged.

I finished the chicken and walked over to the pan that was setting a top of the stove, waiting to be filled with the liquid mixture and the chicken strips. My shoulder grazed against Tristan’s, the warmth an electric shock down my arm, that caused me to falter, almost dropping the tray. He seemed not to feel a thing, just walked past as a low hiss escaped my lips.

My cheeks burned a dull red; just his presence in the room with us had turned the atmosphere into a claustrophobic area. My senses were filled with the strong woody scent that radiated off his skin, and my eyes didn’t leave his back until Mrs. Everdeen interrupted my corrupted thoughts, “Samantha, dear, just pour the chicken evenly in the pan,” she commented carrying the empty mixer bowl to the sink. I noticed that she had poured the liquid in the pan, making it look like a cake of soup. Carefully I scraped the chicken over the pan, watching the morsels sink into the surface.

Over my head, Tristan placed a plate full of biscuits into the microwave, and I sucked in a breath, moving swiftly away from him. Slowly I backed away from the kitchen, glad it wasn’t closed off and stepped onto the other side of the counters, next to the bar stools once more. I took a deep breath, as his mom placed the pan into the oven, the biscuits resting atop of the mixture of it all, ready to be browned.

He didn’t look at me like I was insane for randomly walking away from him; neither did he even look at me at all. My mind was begging to be cleared of the clouded feeling that had seeped through my senses since the moment he had breathed the air in the room. Excusing myself quietly, after asking politely to where the bathroom was located, I rushed down the hall, while trying to be inconspicuous about it.

I almost passed the bathroom without noticing, and hurriedly closed the door behind me, locking the bolt. The dim lighting in there took hold of my nerves and attempted to calm them, the sweet smell of warm vanilla sugar lightly filled the small room, the candle that was flickering on the sink counter providing the aroma. With a deep exhale of breath that I hadn’t realized I had been holding, I leaned with both of my hands on the counter. Giving a look in the mirror, my hair was damp, curling into even tighter curls than when I had been in school. There were drip streaks down my navy sweater, that were drying slowly, but still very visible, my pants felt even tighter, more skin tight at the addition to the water they had soaked up, but drying also. My arms were shaking as I tried desperately to release the tension in my body, wanting so badly just to go home and forget this little scatter of homes in the woods---and whatever was withheld in them.

“How?” my voice echoed quietly in the small room, as a whisper left my lips. How had my life totally shifted; my own self having none to do with it, it was all because I finally knew something that I shouldn’t.

I jumped as a light knock sounded on the door, “Dear, you alright in there?” Mrs. Everdeen asked quietly and I shook my head as I replied, “Yes, I’m fine,”

I opened the door, trying to look back to normal as I gave her a small smile. The lights had dimmed in the hallways, making the transition between the dim bathroom and them easier. She stood there, a small pile of clothing folded neatly in her arms. She held them out to me, “You must be absolutely freezing in those clothes…here, change into these, you’ll be much more comfortable.

“I don’t think I…” I started, almost stepping away so she couldn’t hand me the clothing, “Nonsense, dear, take them…the boy’s have tons of shirts, and I can spare one out of my hundreds of pairs of pants,” she smiled and handed over the clothes, “Hurry and get changed, dinner should be done soon,”

I nodded slowly, before shutting the door again. Shuffling the pants and shirt in my hands, I started to peel away the jeans that were caked to my skin. The pants she had were the sweatpants, with a string to tighten around my waist, but much more comfortable than the soaked jeans. The shirt was plain, but huge, and when I pulled it over my tank top that I wore underneath my sweater, it was baggy around me. Looking in the mirror once more, I shook my head. At least I was dry.

Using a random hair tie that I kept wrapped around my wrist, I tied the back of shirt so it became more fitting and tucked the shirt into the waist band of the sweats. Deciding I looked the best possible in the state I was in I padded out of the bathroom, and over to the kitchen. Mrs. Everdeen was just removing the dish from the oven, the smell making my mouth water over the way the cheese and chicken mixed.

“See isn’t that much better,” she said with a smile, and I gave out a small nod, “I’ll have the dish on the table in a moment, why don’t you go and join the boys,”

Hesitantly I walked towards the direction she had indicated, the warm glow coming from the dining room. A quiet conversation was taking place between Tristan and a blonde man that I didn’t recognize at first. The moment I stepped into the room, the conversation cut off, and both guy’s attention snapped in my direction. The moment I met his eyes, I noticed the blonde man was the Alpha Rayne that I had met yesterday. Nodding mutely, I kept my eyes downcast as I walked towards the empty seat, which was coincidently between the two men.

I could feel the heat of their glares, and I wanted to shrink down in the seat, but instead stayed firm quietly waiting, patiently. Agonizing moments passed slowly, and I could hear the beat of my heart, as silent as it was, uncomfortable I shifted nervously.

“What?” I finally snapped, daring to meet Rayne’s eyes, and he looked shocked for a second, clearly not expecting me to speak.

He cleared his throat, and Tristan scoffed quietly, looking out the window towards the outside and falling sun. “There hasn’t been a human—ever, that has known our secret, Samantha,” Rayne said, probably more sharply than meant to. “There have been guesses, fairytales, and myths about us, but no human has actually known. This is uneasy ground we are stepping on, by letting you live,” I flinched at the words, in normal life, why would there be question about letting me live? “So we aren’t totally sure you can be trusted, perhaps we will never be totally on safe ground,”

“I won’t tell anyone, I swear to it,” I said evenly, meeting him eye to eye. Even though I wasn’t one of them, I could feel the power—the superiority he had, the power of being the Alpha, behind his words. His eyes were cold as steel, as he analyzed my face, scrutinizing for the hint of a lie in my words.

“That’s all we ask for…but you still have to be watched,” he said softly, suddenly seeming a tad more relaxed, a small smile splayed on his face with my statement.

Tristan was the opposite, tensing up even more, and I could barely hear the growl that escaped his lips. Rayne’s gaze looked over at him, but he didn’t say a word, only leaving his eyes locked on him.

Mrs. Everdeen chose that moment to walk into the room with the food in her hands, a smile beaming on her face, oblivious of the atmosphere once again, “Food’s ready boys…and girl,”

I smiled back, glad I at least had Rayne’s small ease towards me, it made me feel a bit better being in this household. She set the pan in the middle of the table, and began to dole out servings between all of us.

I glanced over at Tristan, who was blushing faintly, “Mother, you don’t need to give us our servings, me and Rayne are grown up to be able to do that,” he said with a roll of his eyes.

“Be quiet, let me do something motherly, you two all are all grown up and I fell like I’m becoming unused. Also you two will probably eat the whole pan before me or Samantha gets any,” she said with a smirk.

“Thank you,” I said quietly when I was handed a heaping plate of the steaming dinner.

Dinner was, I guess you could say normal. Both Tristan and Rayne had relaxed enough around their mother, and it sounded like a normal family discussion, friendly and at some times humorous. Finding out that the two men were brother’s had been the shock for me, they looked nothing alike, but I kept quiet, huddled in my chair, and forcing myself not to scarf down the delicious supper like candy.

Once the meal was over, I found myself laughing and smiling along with them. So was Tristan, and it was surreal to see him so relaxed and happy all of a sudden, his smiles and laughs like jolts of electricity coiling through me, but in a good way, if possible. It was contagious.

We were collecting the dirty dishes, and I carried them to the sink, setting them down gently on the metal surface. Mechanically I started searching for the soap, but Mrs. Everdeen’s startled cry made me halt, “Oh, dear, no. You are a guest, let me clean my own dishes, you should be getting home to your family anyway,” she said, hurrying over to take the duty away from me.

My smile faded off my face, at the thought of the dark home again, “Yeah…I guess so,” I replied hollowly, with an internal sigh. “Thank you for dinner, Mrs. Everdeen,”

To my surprise she enveloped me in her arms, pulling me down for a hug. My eyes were wide with shock, but I relaxed into her hold, hugging her back, willing for a moment that she was my mother and I had her back. “Your more than welcome dear, come over anytime, it would be nice to have another girl around the house,” she said pulling away, too soon for me. I smiled, “I might just take you up on that offer,” I joked, but inside I found myself wanting to come back, and soon.

I walked myself to the door, and started slipping on my shoes, my drying clothes folded in my arms. The jingle of keys stopped me in my tracks, and I glanced up from tying up my laces to see silver eyes boring down at me.

“You might need these,” Tristan said, giving the keys another shake. He was standing close, and the same kind of heat that I had felt rolling off him all dinner, started warming me up head to toe again. Straightening I reached for the keys, “Thanks,” I mumbled.

But he pulled them away, “I can’t let you drive home alone in the dark—my mother will have my head,” he said, and opened the door, waving me through.

Giving a small smile of thanks I stepped through outside. It had stopped raining and the moon hung over us, its white surface inching closer to its full surface each night passing, illuminating the darkness that had such mystery in the nights where it chose to wear its veil. I got in the car, and buckled, sensing Tristan doing the same.

The car started and we started driving back, away from the small confinement of the pack village. “Your mother is a very nice woman,” I tried making small talk, nervousness itching at me once again.

“Yeah, sometimes she trusts people too much,” he said with a sigh. The words panged at me, as I understood the underlying meaning. He didn’t trust me, at all, and I grew quite, the cut of that silencing my intentions of talking.

The night roads passed us through the windows, a black canvas ready for painting in the daytime. A single tear slipped down my cheek, and I found myself disgusted at myself once again. Why in the world did I let myself get worked up over a stranger’s trust towards me? I had only known him for a matter of days; we were just people who had been both placed in a situation. But somehow every time I had seen him so far, I found myself intoxicated by the warmth he cast off, the jolt I got when our skin brushed on accident and a source of emptiness when he was away. My emotions were taking the reigns of me, and I couldn’t allow that.

“You’re home,” he murmured, and I realized that we were sitting idle in my driveway. Wiping my cheek quickly, hoping he didn’t see the glimmer of wetness across my face in the darkness I turned quickly to him. “How are you going to get home? You aren’t taking my car,” I asked, and in response he tossed me the keys.

“I’m running,” he sighed, and we both got out. The night air bit at me through the shirt I was wearing. He was already walking towards the edge of the woods, and I found myself uttering one final question, “If you hate me so much, why let me live, why not just kill me and get this problem over with?” I asked.

Slowly he turned back towards me, his silver eyes reflecting the moonlight that was cast down onto us. The illumination outlined his every feature, his face flat and emotionless, his midnight black hair curled on his head, lightly draping almost over his eyes.

“I don’t know,”

Then he was gone, and I was left standing there in the dark of the night, the keys hanging limply from my hand.

I went into the house, which was dark and cold like I expected. My chest felt hallow as I made my way upstairs, as if a piece had been taken from me, his words an echo in my head.

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