Arch 1
Chapter 5
Eira had never been the center of attention in her entire life. It was an odd thing to her, but it wasn't so bad when she saw how Max looked at her in certain things. She didn't know why she cared, but she took note of when his did a certain thing which she took as his tell: he'd bite his bottom lip slightly and raise his eyebrows in approval, and maybe even in appreciation. His heart would also kick up a step. Hers would follow suit. She didn't know what that feeling was, but she decided she was just going to enjoy it, and not question it, because it felt so nice.
Her fashion sense definitely erred more on the darker side of things, with her staple being black, and she absolutely loved the Goth look. That being said, she still had plenty of color in there, so it wasn't just a completely one-color pallet, it was just those colors were the deeper ones. The bright colors really didn't do very much for her, but the deep greens, blues, and purples suited her the very best.
Max said he liked the blue on her best, because it brought out the blue in her hair. She made sure she kept the blue pieces.
It's not just your hair. Max thought. It's how it looks against your snowy skin, how it plays off your dark violet eyes. Why do you have to be so utterly beautiful?
Max would never, ever do anything that would make her uncomfortable, so, besides having carried her that one time when he got her out of that cage, he hadn't really touched her. I was abundantly clear she didn't exactly like being touched-again, who could blame her?; as she changed outfits, her got varying glimpses of those scars on her body-so he just didn't. But he couldn't help but daydream about being able to bunch his fingers in her hair, pulling her close to him, inhaling the scent of her as he drew closer to her lips, and finally caressing them with his own, eyes closing, sharing each other's breath…
But he couldn't do that. Not yet. When a pairing happened, that means it was divined that the object of the wolf's affections and the wolf itself were meant to be together. Normally, this progressed quicker than in human pairings, because they were not bound by human rules or senses of propriety. What was simply was, and there was no need for a long, drawn out song and dance, or the games that the humans liked to so often play.
But with her…
She needed to be handled delicately, and with great patience and understanding. Which is exactly what he would do.
"Is that your last one, Eira?" Max asked, smiling at her.
She frowned, her eyebrows creasing between them as she looked around at the clothes she'd already tried on.
"Yes, I do believe this is the last. What do…you think?"
It was beautiful dress. And, as far as Max was concerned, it was too utterly perfect for words. Barlowe snickered quietly as the air seemingly sucked out of Max's lungs, who then shot him an acidic look.
It was a very deep navy one, made of some kind of very soft cloth, that fitted her from the bust to the dropped hemline. It tied in the front, which was how you loosened it to slip it on and off, tying at the center of the deep "V" neckline. It had adjustable spaghetti straps, and the skirt flared out. The skirt picked up at intervals around it, a small black bow at each of the points, reveling the lacy black petticoats beneath. She wore black thigh highs beneath, kept up by a garter belt. It was a good thing Max didn't know about that, or he may have departed the land of the living when his heart stopped beating.
"Here, try it with these." Barlowe suggested. "Violet said they "went", specifically with that outfit. Oh, and this sweater, too. She was afraid you might be too cold."
He handed her these supple, flat, black leather ankle boots with delicate chains hung around them. The sweater was a dark gray, and ended just above the edge of the dress's skirts. It wasn't completely form fitting, but it wasn't completely baggy, either. "Relaxed fit", Max thought that may have been called. Not that he'd really know, because he put his clothes through so much wear and tare, his style was, "these were two bucks at the Salvation Army". It was of a cowl neck design, with two completely vertical pockets at the front, and it buttoned up, but not right up to her neck.
"I think," Max began, once her was again able to articulate sentences and stopped staring at her like he'd gone braindead (which he had, if only temporarily). "That it looks perfect." He still intoned it like he was on the verge of becoming breathless all over again.
Eira grinned so brightly…well, the normal analogy would be to the sun breaking through the clouds. Eira, though-besides her obscenely warm temperature, of course-was not like the sun. She was like the moon. Elegant and mysterious, quiet in its absolute dominion over the night and everything and everyone beneath it. So that smile was like the moon breaking free of the clouds from a dense, dark thunderstorm as lightning cracked triumphantly, forking and spreading every which way with reckless abandon.
"I will have to make sure I get more things like this." she said, twirling around.
"We're going to need to get clothes for ourselves, you know." Barlowe pointed out. "At least enough until we can get home. Has the pack contacted you, Max?"
"You know I haven't checked my phone in…" he trailed off.
Since she started trying on those clothes. She was so happy.
In all honesty, he'd forgotten about everything else. All his focus had been on her, and her smile. He got the feeling she hadn't done it much before.
Max went into his and Eira's room and checked his phone, his eyes going wide with horror. He bounded back into Barlowe's room.
"Barlowe, they lost him!"
"They what him?!"
But Max was already on the phone, calling his mom.
"Mom, what's going on?!"
"We tried to find him, Max. We spread out and searched the whole town! He's nowhere, it's like he just vanished into thin air! I don't understand how he got past us. I think you need to come home, Max. You'll all be safer with the pack to protect you."
"Yeah, I think you're-"
But he was cut off by an ear-piercing scream. It was Eira. She had fallen to her knees, her hands clenched in her hair and pressed against her temples, like she thought her head was going to rupture and she was desperately trying to keep it from doing so.
It was when she looked up at him, though, and blood was streaming from the corners of her eyes and from her nose that he lost his senses.
"EIRA!" he roared, dropping the phone and bolting to her. "It's ok, it's ok, it's ok! I'll make you better, I swear I will! Barlowe!" he shouted in a panic.
"Max? MAX! What's going on?! Max, answer me!" came Mrs. Yearwood's frantic voice from the other end of the phone.
Before Barlowe could even make a move, the door got kicked open, and there stood Claron and Gretchen.
"Good job, Gretchen."
She grinned happily like the psychotic little lap dog that she was.
Barlowe growled, his eyes glowing yellow as he stalked towards Claron.
"Uh, uh, uh." Claron tutted like he was addressing a child. "Take another step and the girl dies." he said, holding up the little silver device with the red button.
"Bull!" Barlowe barked. "She's far too valuable for you to destroy."
Claron sighed, a rueful grin on his face.
"Alas, you've called my bluff. While that may be true," he waggled the device between his fingers. "I can still make her go more insane than when we even first found her. Did you think I wouldn't have had a contingency plan or two? You, however, have no value in my plans. I can have her kill you easily." he looked at Max. "You, though, I've agreed to let Gretchen keep, so I'll have to let you live."
"JUST STOP! STOP! PLEASE STOP HURTING HER!" Max howled with rage. Eira was convulsing in his arms at this point, her eyes rolling back. It was like he hadn't even heard what Claron had said in his all-consuming panic.
"Gretchen, go ahead and put him to sleep, if you would, dear. Actually, put them both to sleep. Killing the old wolf would be too easy. I'd like time to think of something much more creative and fitting for his end." he furrowed his brows and frowned thoughtfully. "Ah, I'll have to ponder it later. Remember not to wake the rest up until we're out the door with all of them, Gretchen."
"Right." she said as she raised her hands towards Max and Barlowe. Their eyes immediately rolled to the back of their skulls, and they dropped.
"What about her?" she asked, looking down her nose at Eira.
"She'll be out of it long enough to get where we're going. She can't heal as fast as a regular vampire, remember. I'm so glad I was genius enough to install that little Doomsday Device in her brain. That was dicey. We pumped her so full of verbena when we first took her, and we still didn't know if it would have been enough for me to install it." he noticed that there was still a voice coming from Max's phone, which he picked up. "Ah, yes, Mrs. Yearwood, terribly sorry I've kept you waiting, madame."
"Claron, I am your ALPHESS!" she growled. "You will release my son and his mate and Barlowe at once!"
"'Fraid not. You and Mr. Yearwood are still young enough. You can make another heir. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've business to attend to."
"CLAR-"
He crushed the phone before she could finish.
"Time to go, Gretchen. It's only a matter of time before the pack fan out this way. Take the girl, I'll take Max and come back for Barlowe."
"Yes, sir." she said, bending down to scoop Eira up.
"And do take care. As much as you may want to smash her head into large, stationary things, I don't want any more wear on her than is absolutely necessary, understand?"
"I understand." Gretchen grumbled, agreeing begrudgingly.