Bonded

Chapter 7

Greyson groaned as he returned to consciousness. He felt hungover but didn't remember getting drunk. His skull felt too tight around his brain and the rest of him felt like it had been pulled apart and then put back together again. That is when his memories of the previous day came back to him. He sat upright in his bed.

"Please, don't get up." Rebecca's voice came from behind him.

"Huh?" Was the only answer he could muster. He turned on the bed to see her curled up in the corner of his hideous couch writing in her journal.

"You don't have any clothes on, and it was awkward enough the first time. So, please, don't get up."

Greyson looked down at himself and saw the truth in her statement. The only thing covering him was a blanket that had fallen down around his hips.

"Becca, maybe you could, I don't know, toss me a pair of sweats or something. You know, to help ease the awkwardness."

"Sure!" Rebecca was far too perky for Greyson's mood.

"What are you still doing here? I figured you would have run off while I was sleeping."

"Grey, that's not fair." She flung a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt at his head.

"Isn't it? I mean, it seems to be a pattern with you." He pulled the clothes on over his body.

"Look, I only stayed to make sure you were okay. You seem to be okay, so I'll go." She snapped at him and began stuffing things in her backpack.

"Devon told me you OD'd."

Rebecca's movements stilled at his announcement. "Oh."

"Rebecca, you have to stop." His bare feet padded across the apartment towards her.

"Oh? Is that what I have to do?" Standing up straight, she dropped her bag, the contents spilled out across the floor.

"Yes. You could have died. Doesn't that scare you? Because it scares the shit out of me."

"I saw you turn into a WOLF! You're a fucking WEREWOLF! Doesn't that scare the shit out of you?"

"We aren't talking about me right now." He managed to keep his voice calm, when inside, he felt anything but. Greyson really didn't want to think about it. It was too insane. Instead, he channeled all his fears and confusion at her.

Rebecca moved so she was looking him directly in the eye. "Fine. Yes. It terrifies me. Of course, it terrifies me. It terrifies me more than I can tell you... but it isn't enough. It's not enough for me to stop. I wish I could quit. I wish I could quit for you. I wish I could quit for me. I wish I was stronger. But I can't."

"Why not?" It was a simple question asked out of genuine curiosity.

She gives him a wry smile. "Because I love drugs. I love everything about them. I love the colors of the pills, their sizes and shapes. I love the tiny baggies. I love the smells, the textures, the tastes. I love them. I love them all. But most of all, I love how they make me feel. I love that I feel like I can breathe, like the walls aren't constantly closing in. Like the world isn't trying to crush me. I love that when I am high all those thoughts that pound at me all day long are quiet. My brain gets blissfully silent. You have no idea how loud it is in here." She tapped her finger on her temple. "Greyson, I love you. And I love how much you care. But I can't. I'm not ready."

Rebecca bent to gather her things into her bag once again. She stood, slung her bag over her shoulder and moved to the door. Greyson snagged hold of her wrist stopping her.

"Becks," Greyson's voice cracked. "Wait."

He pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her smaller body.

"I can't lose you. You're the only family I have. Yesterday, you saved me. I don't know how you did it, but you saved me." Suddenly, he pushed her away from him.

"You should go."

"What?" Rebecca was going to get whiplash from his moods.

"You should go. I'm a werewolf! I could attack and kill you at any minute! I am a violent, blood crazed creature! Get away from me! If I hurt you..." He trailed off unable to put words to his fears.

"Grey, you aren't going to hurt me." Rebecca wrapped her arms around his waist.

"I'm a werewolf, Rebecca... How is that even possible?" He was on the verge of tears. He felt everything he knew about himself and the world was suddenly wrong.

"I don't know. The last known werewolf died nearly 300 hundred years ago."

Greyson stepped away from her to pace. He tunneled his fingers through his hair as he journeyed back and forth from his bed to his couch.

He came to a sudden stop and looked at Rebecca with fear in his eyes. "You can't tell anyone, Becks. Not Devon. Not Kurt. No one. You can't say a word. Promise me. Promise me you won't say anything."

"Greys..."

He closed the distance between them in three long strides. He towered over her. Panic radiated off him. He grabbed her by the shoulders and gave her a small shake, so she knew he was serious. "Rebecca, you just said it. The last werewolf died 300 years ago. And I am pretty sure he died in a prison somewhere. What happens when people find out I'm a werewolf? What happens when the police, or the military find out? I'd be locked up. I'll be thrown in some deep, dark hole somewhere. If I'm lucky! They could perform all sorts of medical experiments on me. Or they could just put a bullet in my head and be done with it. I bet you could get in trouble for just knowing me. Becks, promise me you will never say anything to anyone."

"I promise, Grey. I promise. I won't tell anyone." He sighed in relief and her words and crushed her to his chest.