Chapter 212: Lowered Pride
"No," Damon said bluntly, causing all my hopes to plummet to the ground in an instant. To his credit, he didn’t seem all that happy to crush all my dreams. "It’s simply not the right time to do it when we are besieged with enough trouble already."
He continued, "Until Darach’s condition improves and Hornstead’s food arrives, I cannot leave Fangborne unguarded. Thunderstrike might catch wind of my absence and strike― or Hornstead might decide to renege on their agreement when they think I’m missing."
Damon shook his head.
Needless to say, if Damon wasn’t leaving Fangborne, I wouldn’t be either. He would never let me revisit such a place alone, and since I promised to only let him know about this, I couldn’t get Blaise to come along either.
"You’re important to me, Harper, but right now, I have to put the pack first," Damon finished firmly, even as I detected a tinge of regret in his words.
"And you would never let me go without you," I added wryly, accepting the fact that this was a mystery that had to wait another day. I turned the locket over and over, the cold silver slowly warming up in my hands.
While I wanted to find out more about my mother, it wasn’t as pressing a need as making sure Darach was fine and Fangborne was still standing.
After all, my mother was already dead. Waiting a month later would not leave her any more alive than before. And I already had her locket― I suppose if I was truly desperate, I could grab a bobby pin and pick it open, or simply get a locksmith.
Or I could hammer it open. Hopefully, I wouldn’t reach that point.
"Will wonders ever cease? I never thought you would actually listen to me without argument," Damon said, his eyes purposely widening in dramatic shock, but his voice full of indulgent warmth. "I should check the forecast, it might be a new moon."
"Oh, shut it, you," I grumbled, rolling my eyes, even as my cheeks warmed at Damon’s amusement. It was rare that we were getting along without coming to blows or trading sharp insults at each other, and I wondered how long would this strange peace last.
"Of course, if you were going to run off I’d have to send Elijah after you, and that’ll be a waste of manpower," Damon continued. "You can’t get far since you can’t run and you have no driving skills to begin with."
"Thanks. I hadn’t noticed that I’m way out of my league when it comes to leaving this place," I replied dryly. Damon didn’t need to look so gleeful at the thought that I couldn’t escape.
Even if I could, I knew better now than to go off alone. I couldn’t even handle Elise back then― if more hunters showed up, I would be in deep trouble.
I couldn’t forget about the strange light I saw on the second floor of the house. If there was indeed someone trapped inside, I certainly wouldn’t be able to rescue them on my own.
Of course, if vampires showed up, I would be nothing more than a blood bag. I shuddered as the image of Doctor Thomas’s dead body floated in my mind, and I instinctively reached a hand to my neck.
One slit and he was gone, and they drained the blood out from him like a child with a juice box. An innocent man, whose worst crime was to save Blaise. The very thought made my blood boil.
"Stop thinking so hard, it doesn’t suit you," Damon said, poking my forehead. Unbidden, my brows had scrunched up together earlier. I squawked and slapped his hand away.
"Excuse me? Are you calling me dumb?" I protested.
"If the shoe fits," Damon said with a shrug, an awfully smug look on his face. It made me want to do ridiculous things like punch him in the lips... with my own lips.
Oh god. I had to stop that train of thought immediately. Even if I wanted to kiss Damon — a very big if — I wouldn’t do it in a room that Blaise and I shared. I cleared my throat and tucked the locket back into my pocket. Then, I began to busy myself with putting my mother’s ashes back where they belonged― in the silver urn instead of Blaise’s tupperware.
It was a bit harder than expected since the mouth of the urn was a lot smaller than the tupperware. Bits of my mother’s ashes floated all around the air before drifting to the floor. I stifled a curse.
"Do you need any help?" Damon asked as he watched me struggle.
"I’m fine. You can’t touch the silver, remember?" I reminded him, in case he forgot about this crippling fact. "And you must be busy. Go do what Alphas do."
"But I can pick up the ashes for you," Damon said simply. My mind stuttered to a stop at his words.
"Huh? The ashes― there’s no need for that," I protested to Damon. After all, it was my own fault that there was such a mess to begin with. "There’s a lot of it and―"
And I doubted Damon, mighty Alpha that he was, would actually be willing to help me pick up my mother’s fallen ashes. Not only was the act somehow beneath him, but the silver locket seemed to burn a hole in my pocket, reminding me who — or what — she was.
My mother was a hunter, someone that would sooner shoot a silver bullet packed with wolfsbane straight at Damon’s heart than accept a helping hand from him, dead or alive.
But despite my words, Damon crouched down and painstakingly began to pick up bits of gray off the floor. My mouth fell open as I could only watch, stunned. Damon had the same look of focus and longing when he picked up the necklace that had fallen off my neck during the wedding, but this time, it was directed at the multiple gray splotches all over the floor.
Not the necklace that marked me as his future Luna, but at my mother’s ashes.
One by one, his fingers slowly grasped each flake with a delicacy I did not know he had, as though each speck of ash was a priceless jewel and not some burnt remains of a hunter. He deposited his efforts in the palm of his other hand, which cradled them so carefully I almost thought he was holding an infant’s head.
Then he stood up and meticulously transferred them into the urn, bit by bit, so as to ensure that they would not fly away again.
Unknowingly, my eyes began to fill with tears.
