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  “Twenty-six,” Rick corrected him.

  “Maybe you could write up in that report of yours that we could use a couple of ATVs in the reservation,” Emmett told me.

  “Perhaps I'll do that.” I flashed him a tired smile.

  “You know why they don't want us to have ATVs, don't you?” Rick addressed Emmett, pointing at him with his fork, a piece of corn clinging to one of the tines.

  “Hm?” Emmett grunted, but I could tell by his lack of interest that they had had this conversation before.

  “It's because they're worried we'll crash them into the fences and try to escape. I bet that's why they won't let us have them.”

  “Makes sense,” Chris muttered under his breath.

  “Do you think they wouldn't catch us if we got out?” Rick turned his fork to Chris in warning. “Do you know what they do to werewolves that try to escape the reservation? They put them in solitary confinement for a week.”

  “You keep calling it a reservation, but I think we all know it's more like a prison,” Chris spoke up, taking us all by surprise.

  “Hey!” Rick looked behind himself to make sure that no one had heard Chris's outburst. “You watch your mouth. We're lucky to get what's been given to us. They could just put us all in cages, you know.”

  Chris's jaw tensed and then twitched as he was about to say something else, but then he went silent, sulking down into his seat for a second before he finally decided to excuse himself from the table. I sighed, debating for a moment on whether or not to follow him, but I had barely gotten into eating my plate of barbequed brisket, and I was still starving from missing lunch. Besides, he probably needed some time to cool off anyway, and me following him might look a bit suspicious. It was definitely smarter to stay put for now.

  “I'm sorry.” Rick turned his attention to me. “But he's going to have to learn not to talk like that. This place is a gift, to protect the outside world while also providing a way of life for us. I don't think we could ask for better, given the circumstances. He'll just have to get used to it, the same as we all had to.”

  “He'll be broken in soon enough,” Emmett added without the least bit of concern in his voice.

  “I imagine it must be hard . . . must have been hard for all of you,” I said, returning to my food.

  “It was, but you get over it eventually. He will too,” Rick responded.

  Thankfully, the rest of the meal wasn't plagued with awkward silence. Margaret, the female beta, and Terry, the female alpha, began chattering away about the celebration. It was reminiscent of any normal gossip. They talked about who all attended, who hadn't attended, couples in the reservation whose relationships seemed to be blossoming and those that seemed to be in turmoil. They even commented on how Sasha had looked at Chris.

  “He'll feel a lot better when he takes a mate,” Terry insisted.

  “And I bet Sasha will have her claws in him as soon as she sees where he places in the hierarchy trials, especially if he places high. She's got a ferocious taste for good strong men,” Margaret added.

  Inside my body, the green imp of jealousy tugged at my heart-strings. I could clearly remember the fire in Sasha's eyes when she introduced herself to us. Apparently, it hadn't been something I had imagined. If her reputation was this well known, then it was only a matter of time before she approached Chris. The thought made me furrow my brow in disapproval.

  After dinner, I decided to go check on him. From the bottom of the stairs, I could see that there weren't any lights on in Chris's room. He must have either been taking a nap or just didn't want to be bothered.

  With a sigh, I walked down the complex towards my suite. To my surprise, Chris was sitting on the stairs. I tried to hide the surge of happiness threatening to curl my lips, considering that his were set into the typical scowl I had grown used to seeing.

  “Hey,” he said to me as he stood.

  “Hey you.” I jogged up the first few steps to meet him.

  “Sorry about my outburst during dinner.”

  “Don't worry about it. You were just speaking your mind. Come on in.” I swept past Chris to open the door.

  “I was actually wondering if you wanted to go play ping pong or something?”

  “Oh.” I turned to face him. “You want to join the tournament?”

  “Not particularly.”

  “Well, I think it starts in a couple of hours. I imagine that the recreation room will be full with people practicing.”

  “Oh.” Chris rubbed the back of his neck. “I had completely forgotten about that.”

  “I'm sure we can find something else to do, if you don't still want to go.”

  “Like what, watch television?” he huffed. “By the time I die, I'll be a pop-culture junkie.”

  My face sulked at his sarcasm. It wasn't my fault there wasn't much to do around the reservation.

  Sensing he had upset me, Chris's expression softened. “I'm sorry, Taya. I'm just . . . still not used to this. I don't think I'll ever get used to this.”

  “It's alright,” I murmured back.

  As I set my notebook down on the coffee table, Chris reached to pick it up. My entire body tensed with thoughts that he was going to read it, and I instantly lurched forward to snatch it from his hands. Just as quickly, Chris pulled it out of reach, giving a look of offense that made me hold my breath in fear of what he'd say next . . . or even worse, what he'd think.

  “What? You don't want me to read it?” Chris asked.

  “I don't want anyone to read it until it's published,” I told him, holding my hand out to indicate that he should give it back.

  “You wrote something bad about me in here, didn't you—about us, the werewolves?” Chris furrowed his eyebrows, flipping open to a random page to begin reading.

  “Christopher Abbot, you give that notebook back right now,” I demanded.

  “Christopher Abbot?” He smirked at me. “You know, that only works when my mother does it.”

  Like a child desperately wanting a toy, I pounced on him, grabbing the notebook with both hands and tugging on it with all of my might to get it away from him. Obviously, Chris thought it was a big game. He leaned away from me, giving as much resistance as he could with a devilish grin spread across his oh-so-kissable lips as our bodies were pressed together in a . . . Oh my God, I was blushing. As if all of my ladylike senses suddenly came to me, I pushed myself away from him and fell into my chair, trying to cover the pink of my cheeks with an angry glare.

  “So there is a side of you that isn't so serious?” Chris joked, straightening himself up and flipping to a blank page. “Don't get your panties in a knot, Taters, I just thought we could play a game of hangman.”

  “Taters?” I cocked an eyebrow at him.

  “Yeah, that's what I'm going to call you from now on. Taters.”

  “Ugh. Please don't.”

  “Taters. Taters. Taters,” Chris teased, and despite myself, I smiled at him. This was a side of him that I hadn't seen before, the playful side, the happy side, the side that he probably thought had been lost when they threw him into the reservation.

  “Fine!” I exclaimed in mock defeat. “But only when we're alone together. Lord knows what people would think if you called me that in public.”

  “And you have such a reputation to uphold,” Chris said sarcastically.

  “Hangman. Get to writing, brat.” I tossed the pen at him.

  The first word he came up with was six letters. It didn't take me long to figure out that it was 'prison'. In fact, all the words Chris chose seemed related to his thoughts about the reservation. His list included: compound, reservation, unhappy, captured, detained, werewolf. I tried for words that I didn't think Chris would ever be able to guess, like innocuous, heredity, chromosome, soliloquy, euphemism, plagiarize, and vernacular.

  “You so don't play fair,” he muttered after I had to hang him for the fourth time in a row. “Who uses words like that to play hangman?”

  I wanted
to say that smart people did, but I decided not to sound arrogant and take it a bit easier on him. “Next time, I'll use an easy word.”

  “Thank you.” Chris gave me an exaggerated nod, and I couldn't help but laugh.

  “Let's go one more round each. I'm getting a bit tired. Who'd have ever thought that riding on an ATV all day could wear a person out?”

  “Maybe you should work out more.” He shrugged. I glared at him for his snarky comment, but Chris didn't look back up while he was jotting down the spaces for his final word.

  Six letters. Another one that was fairly easy to guess. The word he had chosen was 'escape'.

  Chris's eyes met mine, and his expression was all seriousness. “Would you help me?”

  It was as if he had snatched the notebook from me all over again. My entire body stiffened with the tension of the moment. Desperately, I searched for something to say to Chris. In truth, I would love nothing more than to help him. But the reality of the situation was that guards were everywhere, not to mention cameras, and it wasn't like I could just walk out the gate with him at my back.

  “What would you expect me to do?” I asked cautiously.

  Chris shrugged. “I don't know. I guess, help me figure out some way to do it.”

  “I don't think there is a way,” I replied honestly.

  “Sure, there is. Didn't your parents ever tell you that nothing is impossible?” He gave me a weak smile.

  “They also taught me to be a realist.”

  “I know.” He sulked. “I don't think I really expected you to say yes, I was just curious if you would. I wouldn't want to put you in danger like that anyway.”

  Internally, I sighed in relief, happy that I had dodged a bullet. “If I really thought there was a way to do it, I'd help you. But, hopefully my report can help too.”

  Chris stared down at the notebook which had been etched on with both of our hands, scribbles and letters and emotions and so much more. I could tell that he doubted my words.

  “Do you really think this is going to change anything?” He held the notebook up, and there was the faintest hint of hope behind his blue eyes.

  “I'll make it change something,” I told him. For the first time since I had been at the reservation, I meant what I said. No matter what it took, I would bring more attention to the werewolves' plight, even if I had to become a lone spokesperson for them.

  “Thanks.” Chris set the notebook down and slid it in front of me. “I think that you mean it, so that makes me feel a little better.”

  “I do.” I took the notebook in hand, getting ready to close it.

  “You have one more word left,” he reminded me. “Even though you've already kicked my ass. Let's just play the last one for the hell of it. Make it a good word.”

  A good word, I thought to myself, and something that would be easy for him to guess. Four letters, half of them vowels. It probably wasn't the best choice for a word, but I was curious to see Chris's reaction.

  “Love,” he guessed after he had gotten the L, the O, and the E. As I filled in the V, Chris looked up at me. “Is there someone that you love . . . on the outside world, I mean?”

  “Nope.” I avoided his eyes.

  “Hm, surprising.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Well, if it doesn't offend you for me to say so, I think you're very pretty, and you're smart, and you're successful. I just kind of figured there was probably a boyfriend or fiancé waiting for you on the outside.”

  “To be honest, I don't have much luck with men. They usually either cheat on me or get bored with me and move on to someone else,” I admitted, trying not to get depressed over bad memories.

  “That's a shame,” he replied, and then a long silence followed before he spoke again. “Apparently, people get married inside of the reservation. Whoda thunk it?”

  “Yeah, there are a few married couples.”

  “I guess they can't deny us all of our rights in here.” Chris sighed.

  “If you think about it, they don't really deny you most of them,” I said cautiously, knowing that he wouldn't like it.

  “Don't pull a Rick on me,” he warned, though he didn't sound angry.

  “I won't. I'm just saying, it could be a lot worse.”

  “I know it could be.”

  Since things were already starting to get awkward, I decided to go for the gold. “So, when are you going to tell me what happened with your fiancé?”

  “I suppose you're not going to let it go until I tell you.” Chris looked up at me with offense in his eyes, making me instantly regret asking.

  “No,” I replied softly.

  “Well, the short version is that she killed herself.”

  Now I felt even worse for pressing the subject. No wonder she wasn't at the reservation with him.

  “If you don't want to talk about it anymore, I'll understand, but I would eventually like the longer version, if you don't mind,” I told him.

  “Will it go in your notebook? Of course, it will,” Chris answered himself. “That's the point of your notebook, isn't it? To collect our lives because no one else will ever know or care about them otherwise. I suppose now is as good a time as any. I'm sure you want to know how she got the lycanthropy disease, since we were engaged and all.”

  I nodded, leaving the notebook where it sat to avoid making him feel anymore uncomfortable while he told his story. After Chris left, I could always jot down what I remembered.

  “We got into a fight a couple of weeks before the first time that we shifted. We broke up, she went out and got drunk at a club, and some guy raped her,” he said very matter-of-factually. “It was pretty normal for stuff like that to happen. Not the raping, of course, but us breaking up for a few days here and there every couple of months. It was usually because of me saying or doing something stupid. I can be really immature and stubborn at times.

  “Anyway, Melissa wasn't stupid like a lot of girls are. She called the cops right away. They never found the guy, but she refused to be the victim.

  “We got back together almost immediately. I blamed myself for it. After all, if I hadn't of been a douche, then it wouldn't have happened, you know?”

  “She was a bit scared to have sex at first after that. I mean, the guy had held her down, choked her, hit her, all the things that would mentally scar you for a good long time. The night before our first shift, she finally let me . . . well, you know.” He avoided my eyes. “The next night, we weren't together when we shifted. I don't know where she was, but I was in my room. Man, I tore through that place like it was nobodies business . . . took out the window and part of the wall to get outside.

  “It didn't take long for my parents to figure it out, but they weren't about to turn me in. I woke up in the forest the next morning, butt naked. I think everyone wakes up that way after a shift. Must be awkward.” Chris paused to think for a minute. “Anyway, I went straight home and called Melissa, but she wasn't there. Before I left for her house, my parents helped me to devise a plan. They told me that we would start looking for a place for Melissa and I to go live out in the forest away from everyone. That way, if we had a big enough piece of land, maybe we could fence it in and no one would ever have to know about us. We'd be safe, you know.

  “I kept trying to get a hold of Melissa, but she never answered her phone, so I drove over there. When I got to her apartment, her door was unlocked. I walked in . . . and that's when I found her, hanging from the ceiling fan.” His eyes began to tear.“There was a suicide note taped to the front of her dress. She said that she was sorry that she had given the disease to me, and that she couldn't live with herself for it. She said a bunch of other stuff too, but I don't want to get into it, or I'll end up balling like a baby.”

  “Oh Chris, I'm so sorry.” I went to be by his side, wrapping my arms around him.

  Chris nuzzled his face against my shoulder and wept. For a while, his sobs were so loud that they shook both of us. Then, after a couple o
f minutes, Chris pulled away and wiped his bloodshot eyes with his arms.

  My heart broke for Chris. I couldn't even imagine how painful it must have been to go through so much emotional trauma in such a short time. But as bad as I knew it was for him, it must have been ten times worse for his fiancé. To go through a break up, get raped, then find out that you're a werewolf and gave the lycanthropy disease to the love of your life. That would be enough to make just about anyone suicidal.

  “It wasn't your fault,” I said finally, the only thing I knew to say.

  “I know it wasn't,” Chris paused, trying to recompose himself. “You know, the thing is that I'm not really mad at her for giving me the werewolf virus. I'm mad at her for leaving me alone. We could have coped with it together, but she just gave up.” Tears continued to streak down his face, though his sobs had softened into bouts where he lost his breath from an occasional heave.

  I slid my hand on top of Chris's to help comfort him, though I knew it wouldn't do much good. It would be a long time before he would heal from this.

  “I'm sorry that I broke down on you,” Chris said, drying his eyes a second time. “I had a bad feeling this would happen, which was why I wanted to wait to tell you. But, I'm glad I got it over with. Now I don't have to worry about talking about it again . . . At least, I hope you won't want to talk about it again.” He gave me a questioning look.

  “We don't have to talk about it again,” I reassured him.

  “Well, now that I've embarrassed myself, I suppose I'll leave so that you can get some sleep.” Chris stood, glancing at the notebook before turning toward the door.

  I was behind him in an instant, reaching forward to grab his hand. “Hey. You didn't embarrass yourself.”

  “Yes, I did,” Chris insisted.

  “These things are painful to talk about, especially when it hasn't been very long since they happened. If you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here . . . okay?” I gave him a hopeful look, trying to let him know that he could trust me.

  My heart ached for Chris as he walked away, and for the first time ever, I wondered whether or not I should write anything that he had told me into the notebook. The story seemed so personal, and the way he looked at the notebook made me feel like he truly didn't want me to write it down. The last thing I wanted to do was make him hurt anymore than he already did.