[37] Impossible is not Irrational

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It was no surprise that my car still sat in the gravel driveway in front of the Obsidian House with pieces of debris around it. After all, the fire happed at about seven and it was just before midnight now. When Cassandra pulled up to the historic house, I had immediately rushed out of the car to get an unblocked view of the wooden building.

Nothing had changed aside from the caution tape drapery. In fact, it looked more put together somehow. There were darker marks with thicker wood. There was the scent of smoke beneath the fragrance of saw dust. There was strength after its last night weakness.

Maybe it had to do with the lasting legacy of this house, maybe it had to do with the person I was sensing inside.

"Do you want to follow me back to town or...?" Cassandra asked me.

"I'm fine," I told her. She gulped and gave me a worrisome look. "If anything happens, I'll call Ryder."

Even though he's already inside, I thought to myself as Cassandra accepted the bargain and drove off. I jogged up the stairs to enter the Everton house and Ryder was sitting on the base of the grand stair case. He stood at my entrance just in time to brace himself for me to run and wrap my body around him. I clung to him, breathing in not only his scent, but also ash and Preston and something else.

He kissed my head before pulling away from me. "Are you okay?" he muttered.

"I'm fine," I whispered and still felt the tenderness in my throat become hoarse.

"No. I mean are you okay?" he repeated with more of an emphasis. I didn't know what he meant though.

"Are you okay?" I asked, even though I could see all the anger and pain in his eyes. I grabbed his arm while scanning over any visible part of his skin before he answered. But seconds later, I took it that he wasn't going to answer. I noted it with the narrowing of my eyes and he dropped his hold on me. "Ryder, I saw you in that fire. I asked if you were okay—"

By now, he pulled away from me entirely and turned his back to walk around the immediate area, taking steps slow enough for us to hear the creaking of the wooden boards beneath our feet.

"Wanna know how this house survived?" he asked with a lighthearted tone—as if we weren't even in a previous conversation. It was scary because he said it just how Preston began preaching to me last night.

"No," I answered in a sigh and crossed my arms. "I want to know what's the matter with you."

He nodded his head over the couch, allowing me to take the moment to sit with him. I faced him and noticed that not only did my knee rest on his thigh, but he added his hand on top to begin making tiny circles. He stared at the floor though.

"This house has been enchanted to withstand and protect its inhabitants since it was built by the Lycan Elites themselves. It's almost a magical mile marker for one of the oldest pure-bred families in the Order," Ryder began with a trance-like sooth to his voice. All I could do was listen. "Evertons were known for their long line of alphas and fate put them with lycanthropic mates to breed more strong wolves and alphas..." This much I knew. "But when this house was burned twenty years ago, it wiped out almost an entire lineage aside from your dad and aunt. Generations of unfiltered werewolves couldn't tear this place apart, but one deserving fire did."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"But since it was enchanted...after all the firefighters and coroner's reports and separation of assets, the house built itself back up," Ryder continued. I didn't know if that answered my question or not, but he finally looked over at me. "That fire was the best thing that could've happened to this house."

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