The car came to a stop at the cemetery gates, “I’d like to go alone.” Cory tempted his luck.
“No,” Grayson said, getting out.
Cory proceeded to get out of the car as well. Immediately his head snapped away from the cemetery, readying to run away. In a frustrating flash Grayson was next to Cory and grabbed his wrist, “You’re making this harder than it has to be.” He growled in annoyance.
As Grayson dragged Cory through the cemetery Cory realised something. Lucian must not have woken up yet. So Grayson must not know what Cory can do.
I just need to wait for an opportunity… Cory whispered in his mind.
The pair came to a stop in a far deserted corner of the cemetery. A fresh grave with a beautiful, elaborate angelic tombstone greeted them. Grayson slowly let go of Cory’s wrist, he pulled down his hood, finally revealing his flaming hair and shoved his hands into his pockets. Cory read the engraving:
“HERE LIES JOYCE PEARTON
Unwelcomed by many
Tolerated by few
She departed gracefully
Knowing a love that was true”
“Who paid for the tombstone?” Cory whispered, not mentioning the engraving.
“I did,” Grayson answered; expecting Cory to meet his gaze.
The shorter man didn’t, he stared at the tombstone clearly contemplating something; as if he was calculating or preparing something.
The thought and Cory’s movement happened at the same time. Grayson received the frantic thought from a barely conscious Lucian just as Cory pulled his hands out of his hoodie’s pockets.
In a quick, fluid movement Grayson captured Cory’s hands – forcing the small man’s fingers to interlock and held Cory’s hands together in that position. Grayson knew very little about magic, but this way Cory couldn’t click his fingers. The scarlet-haired man flinched slightly but kept his pain hidden in stubborn resistance.
“What does he mean ‘purple eye’?” Grayson commanded in his Alpha tone, expecting submission. Cory looked Grayson in the eyes for the first time from behind his spectacles. The once curious brown eyes he remembered from years ago were now cold and calculating.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Cory answered in a dead tone.
Grayson’s blue eyes searched Cory’s face. It hadn’t changed much from four years ago. He was still slightly pale. His hair was longer, gathered into a loose ponytail with a few scarlet strands framing Cory’s face. Behind thick lenses of glass Grayson could tell, Cory’s eyes – were very different. They were colder, unflinching and wiser; absent in some way.
Grayson adjusted his grip so that he held both of Cory’s hands in one hand; he lifted his free hand to remove Cory’s glasses. The taller male expected some sort of futile struggle. Again, Cory didn’t react how he had anticipated. The half-wolf remained still.
Cory kept eye contact as the taller male removed his spectacles. Grayson stared hard at Cory’s left eye, which was a cold, matte purple.
“Why can’t I smell your scent?” Grayson commanded.
“Why do you want to smell my scent?” Cory countered.
“Answer me,” Grayson growled in the Alpha tone, deep and guttural.
“No.” He said simply.
Grayson had to physically control his facial expression, he had to restrain the splash of shock. Being the Alpha for a few years had made him completely forget that people could say ‘no’ to him. Like humans and non-pack members.
Like Cory was.
Grayson’s eyes bounced from Cory, to the woods near the cemetery to the distant car. He was clearly calculating something.
Cory cocked an amused eyebrow, “If I didn’t know better, I’d say Grayson Lightpaw doesn’t know what to do now.”
Grayson narrowed his eyes with a slight scowl but he kept trying to figure out how he was going to stop Cory from using his magic and get him back to the pack lands.
Cory’s eyes froze over as he whispered, “No one has to know about this…”
Blue eyes shot to look at him, they bore deep into the mismatched purple eye.
“If you let me go-” Cory tried to reason.
But Grayson immediately interrupted him, he bent down and easily scooped Cory up like one would a child. Holding him up with one arm while using his opposite hand to keep Cory’s hands locked together.
“What are you doing?!” Cory hissed.
“Carrying you to the car,” Grayson answered matter-of-factly.
“Put me down.” Cory demanded coldly.
“No,” Grayson countered – imitating Cory from earlier.
Cory sighed and looked forward in silence. Grayson’s eyes periodically flicked to the flaming red of Cory’s hair.
“Aren’t you going to fight back?” Grayson asked, carefully keeping a neutral tone.
“I wasn’t allowed to train with the pack, the outcome of resistance is obvious so there’s no point.”
Grayson clenched his jaw at the harsh truth of how the pack had treated Cory. For the most part, Grayson himself hadn’t been involved. But, then again, it was his words that sent Cory running four years ago. Words he would eventually have to explain.
They approached the car, “So what’s the plan? Are you going to tie me up?” Cory asked casually, his eyes still surveying his surroundings as they looked for a desperate escape route.
“I didn’t bring any type of rope, I didn’t predict this… You’re going to have to sit on my lap.” Grayson explained, still keeping his tone neutral. But he dragged his eyes away from the pale, red head so Cory wouldn’t look into them. So Cory wouldn’t see them.
“Absolutely n-” Cory began to protest.
“I’m really not giving you an option here, Cory.” Grayson sighed and opened the door, placing Cory on his lap and keeping his hands in a lock hold.
It greatly bothered the Alpha that he couldn’t smell Cory’s scent. It was still imprinted in his mind, the soft scent of Wisteria – like that in his mother’s garden, but more meaningful. Now, all he could smell was the half-wolf’s shampoo. And, even though he liked the smell, he still craved Cory’s scent.
Not that he would ever admit it.
“Put my glasses back on,” Cory demanded, sounding cold but Grayson thought he could hear just a tinge of panic in the icy voice. It was that panic, the slight wavering of Cory’s voice that made Grayson look out of the window in slight shame.
“Please…” Cory whispered so softly Grayson thought he hadn’t heard it. His face still seemed neutral, although Grayson couldn’t really tell from his angle. He finally recognised what Cory was requesting. He carefully slid the spectacles back onto Cory’s face.
Cory groaned softly in pain, fighting the grip on his hands.
“Stop fighting,” The Alpha spoke in frustration.
“You’re hurting my hands,” Cory responded angrily, “Your touch is like arctic seawater.”
“What do you mean?”
“When you rejected me, it felt like your hand was made of ice. It really hurt”, Cory provided clinically, noting that they had almost reached the outskirts of the pack lands.
Grayson wanted to question Cory further about this icy phenomenon but the red head was slightly shivering.
“Put the heat on,” Grayson told the driver, not noticing any temperature fluctuation.
Cory didn’t exactly recognise when they had crossed into pack territory, but his body clearly did. His entire being went numb and his eyes closed, he knew he had simply fainted – but he wished he had died instead.
Anywhere but here…
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