Blood of the Covenant (bxb)

Chapter Twenty-One: Macho

Ethan's POV

Tyler is flushed and breathless when he returns to us. There's an energy, an excitement, in him I hardly think human after this horrible day. But it cheers me up. Reminds me that there is a life that waits for me beyond today.

He becomes somber and respectful when he steps inside the apartment. My grandparents are thrilled that he is back so quickly. I am, too.

"What were you doing?" I ask, setting my mug of tea down. After he left, we all cried in the kitchen for a bit. Then we... sort of... pulled ourselves together and took our lukewarm tea to the dining table. We chatted, if that's believable. We talked about their life in San Francisco and my plans for college. There wasn't much to talk about in either topic.

"That's a surprise," Tyler responds lightly, tilting his chin up to play at aloofness.

"Hello, Tyler," grandma says with a smile. She reaches to pat my shoulder. "I think we are all ready for bed. Have a good night, you two. You know where we are if you need us."

My grandmother is not subtle. She expressed shock when she found out I hadn't yet marked Tyler. Both she and my grandfather began lecturing me about what a travesty that is. I think they were just happy for something important to talk about that didn't involve tears. I tried to explain the situation to them, but they wouldn't hear it. They said it was clear that he loved me, and that I shouldn't let my manners get in the way of what we both want.

Such things are weird for humans to talk about. Werewolves like to pretend we are much more sex-positive, but I couldn't imagine a worse topic to discuss with my grandparents. Especially now.

I won't mark Tyler tonight. Even if he verbally consented, even if he begged me for it, I can't. I don't have the energy to give him the patience and attention he deserves. I currently have the libido of a soggy pillow.

And I don't want to fuck my soulmate on the day of my mother's death.

The very thought fills me with guilt and dread. I'm not sure why. Maybe I hate the thought of seeking pleasure when my mother lies, cold and stiff, on a slab somewhere.

The thought makes me so violently sick the room starts spinning.

I hug my grandparents. Tyler, does, too. Maybe the sight should warm me, but it doesn't. I'm too tired. I feel bruised and battered, all cried out, all of my concentration spent for the day. I can't be careful anymore. I can only hope I don't say anything stupid to Tyler.

Tyler sits at the table with me, finishing off his mug of tea. The leaves have been in it entirely too long, it must be so bitter as to be undrinkable. But Tyler sips it without flinching.

"Thank you," I say, wrapping my hands around my mug. I wish it was still warm. I feel freezing, though the apartment is cozy. It's like my bones are made of ice.

"For what?" he asks.

"For... everything," I say, unsure.

"You don't have anything to thank me for," he says, taking another sip.

"Thank you for... being here. But giving me space," I say. "And thank you for coming back. I... I was worried you wouldn't."

"I will always come back," he says. His brown eyes meet mine. I see something there I haven't seen for days. Confidence. Security.

The sight makes my entire body feel warm. My frozen bones begin to thaw.

"I was just trying to keep a balance, you know," Tyler says gently. "Be here for you, but give you your space. Let you be alone with your family. But I didn't want you to think I was upset. I... I don't want you to think of me right now."