Chapter 44 WON'T BE LONG
I am nauseous again. I want to shake my head and declare it is much too early to have such a weighing conversation, but I doubt it will get me anywhere. He is determined to talk this out.
"It should have happened last night, but since you weren't feeling well I didn't feel it was the right time. As soon as you're better it should happen," he continues.
I have a strong feeling I will be sick for a long, long time.
But then he will become suspicious.
Alright, then I'll leave today. I'll do it. I'll have to. Amelia helped Doreen once. Maybe she can help me now that I'm out of the cells. I know the layout of the land and the shift changes of the borders. If only I can get away from Logan and everyone else for a few minutes I could escape this hell. He sits down on the bed in front of me and cups my jaw with his hand. He has genuine concern written on his face. "You look pale. You need to eat."
I need to throw up.
He must have seen the look on my face because he jumps up and moves out of my way. I throw the covers back and rush to the bathroom. It isn't nearly as bad as last night to my relief and I'm happy to feel better afterwards.
Logan is at the door watching me in horror.
"Grace," he begins before I cut in.
"I'm fine. It's probably just a bug."
He tilts his head to the side. "It's strange. We usually don't catch human viruses. Our immune systems are too strong for them."
I shrug. "I guess I'm just a marvel."
He holds mild amusement at my downplay. "That you are, Grace. That you are," he agrees.
I just wonder how long it will take him to see right through me. I haven't ever considered myself transparent, but Logan is able to see into me more than the average person or wolf can. I suspect it has something to do with us originally being mates.
I push myself up from the toilet and make my way over the gleaming white sink. With the apple scented hand soap I lather my hands, rinse them off and towel my skin dry. Logan is still watching me closely.
"I assume you're not training today," he says. It is more of a statement than a question.
Missing a training session, no way, it isn't even an option.
I open my mouth to protest then quickly snap it shut. I have to remind myself that I am still supposed to be sick and that if I am not the result would be terrible. The mating.
I nod my head with much dismay and force a weak smile.
"Very well, Grog and I have some things to do anyway. I'm sure Amelia won't mind looking after you."
I leave the bathroom and saunter back into the bedroom with Logan behind me. I pick up my book and sit down on the bed.
"Oh, and we will be having some additional pack members arriving today. I'm sure you remember Noah, Grog's second in command. He'll be with his escort from Samuel's Pack."
The traitor, I think.
His eyes narrow. "Call him whatever you like Grace, but we're all working towards a better end."
I am taken aback until I realize I have actually spoken out loud.
"I have to go now. I'm meeting Grog on the training grounds in five." He leans towards me and places a kiss at the corner of my mouth then walks toward the door before turning back to face me. "You'll be left to your own devices. Don't disappoint me."
And then he is gone.
Don't disappoint me? What can I possibly do? It isn't like I have an escape plan in motion. No, I ain't quite there yet. First I need to find Amelia.
I allow myself to wander around the house after I am dressed, in search of food. I haven't been supplied with breakfast so I assume that means I am to fend for myself.
I find the kitchen pretty easily. I know it is on the first floor with the other main rooms. Through the living room, down the hall, and through the massive dining room. It is marvelous. At least Grog has some taste. Or maybe it is Amelia.
She is the only person who comes into sight when I enter the kitchen. She has the air of a domesticated house wife, with a spoon in one hand and a frying pan in the other. She is so at ease in her own kitchen, I am jealous.
She drops the spoon into the bowl when she sees me. Her face brightens and a smile forms on her lips. "You're up! I was just about to bring you breakfast. It's almost done, just stirring up a little ."
I look to the counter beside the stove and find a plate piled high with pancakes, bacon, sausage, ham and eggs.
"That's a lot of protein on one plate," I note.
She laughs. "It's the boys. They insist on a heavy amount of protein in their diets." She picks up the spatula and adds two more pan cakes from the pan to the plate. It is a mountain of food.
“It looks great," I praise her. "You're a natural in the kitchen. It's much more than I can say for myself."
"It takes some practice." She motions to the food. "You can set the food on the table and I'll go get the kids. They're usually famished as soon as they wake up."
Kids? She must mean hers.
She disappeared from the room and I hesitantly walked behind the counter and pick up the plates of food.. They smell heavenly. My mouth is beginning to water and my wolf growls.
In the dining room, the places are already set; all that is missing is the food. I place it in the middle of the table and go back for the rest of the dishes. When they are set I take a seat and wait for Amelia to arrive.
More than Ten kids come barreling in the room before her and all of them take seats around the food. They don't wait before digging in. Amelia takes up another seat and starts in as well. I take that as my cue to do the same. The food tastes as divinely as it smells and the kids think so too because none of them speaks a word while they consume it. The only noise is the clinging of the silverware against the plates.
When breakfast is over and everyone clears out of the room, Amelia and I begin to clean up. We load the dishwasher as full as we can and sit back on bar stools at the counter to rest.
"That went a lot better than most mornings," Amelia says. "I guess they were too tired to argue over who got the last link of sausage."
"Do you take care of them," I ask her. "All of those kids, I mean."
She smiles. "Not all of them. I just feed them and send them on their way."
"I see them training from time to time," I say. “Logan told me they are trained to fight just as much as we are."
She nods her head, sympathy spreading over her features.
"Unfortunately that's true. Grog doesn't exactly see them as children more than he does weapons. They're geared up and ready for war. According to him they are our ultimate weapons. After all, who's going to kill a child?"
Her words pull out some maternal instinct in me and I quickly cover my stomach with my arms. Nothing of what she has told me is a surprise, but now it means something even more to hear it. What if it were my child out there learning to fight and kill? I do not think I can handle it.
"Where are your children?" I ask her.
She glances through the window towards the heavily guarded grounds and sighs. "With the rest of them. Grog woke them early. They're training with the best. He expects more out of them than the other children therefore they require more hours of training."
My chest tightens and I feel pity for those poor children. A father is supposed to be loving and protecting and caring. Grog is none of those.
My thoughts drift back to the day I saw them all fighting the first day Logan and I trained. It was the first day I laid my eyes on that little girl. The one who wouldn't assimilate.
I begin to describe her to Amelia who immediately seems to know who I am talking about. She holds great sympathy for the girl. The look in her eyes tell me that much.
“Dana," she says. "Eight years old."
"Did she ever get-"
She shakes her head. "No. She hasn't been adopted. She's been moved to a separate home for her lack of cooperation. No one has gotten anywhere with her. She cries for her parents and brothers night and day. They were killed in next to the last raid." I remember how she looked the last day that I saw her and my eyes begin to water. I can never understand how it feels to lose my whole family to a vicious pack and be truly alone in the world. These people are not her family and they never will be.
"She's still alive then," I say.
"She is," Amelia says. "Grog promised Logan he'll allow you to adopt her when you are mated. I imagine it won't be long now."