Changeling (Completed)

Day Thirty-Nine

Day Thirty-Nine - Barely - Nine Days Overdue

How is it that I still float instead of sleep? Oh, the body, I mean my body, needs rest just like anyone else, but my brain doesn't? That is not the way it is supposed to be, but here I am, floating along while Ronson cradles the-my body in his arms.

I avoided telling him the truth by falling asleep. I have to get the story straight. I'm not used to telling people what I am. What I was. What I am?

I sigh pathetically and go back into the body, blinking sleepily up at Ronson.

"Hi, beautiful," he murmurs gently, "almost there."

Ronson decided to bring me out of the clinic, despite my tiredness. The little cottage is tucked away next to the forest the Council wolves run in, a pretty spot. It's close enough to the mansion to be useful, but far enough that Benji and Ronson commandeered a souped-up golf cart to take us back.

Questions about this place spin 'round and 'round. Wolfie didn't ever tell me why the Council exists, or even who lives at the mansion. I never asked her, either, because what was the point? I miss her. I have so many questions and I've lost my Wolfie-girl.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" Ronson asks me.

"Just thinking about things," I respond.

"How is your chest?" he asks. His hold on me tightens just a little as if the utterly snail-like pace Benji is driving at is somehow going to irritate my wound.

"Good," I mutter. It twinges occasionally, but nothing else. Pretty miraculous, really. We turn into the driveway. The Council's mansion is in semi-darkness. I am kind of glad that we are arriving so late. Hopefully, that means fewer wolves to witness Ronson's reaction to my secret.

We get out of the golf-cart in the odd process of me being handed to Benji, then back to Ronson after he gets out. I feel a little like luggage, but precious and fragile. They're handling me with kid-gloves and I sort of like it.

I feel Benjamin hover close behind us as we walk onto the portico and inside the mansion. I want to see Hannah and Tyler (even Goonie) and the pups again, but part of me is enjoying the comfortable silence between my two men and me. Benji hurries in front of us and opens the door.

Shit. I spoke too soon.

"Ronson," Shana snaps. She is wearing a dark grey pinstripe business suit. It's close to one in the morning and she is dressed up for the boardroom. Weirdo.

I sigh audibly. I'm too tired to muster up the level of putrid hate I should feel for Shana. I really just want to tell Ronson my secret. Just rip it off like a bandaid, and Shana is once again interfering.

"Shana," Ronson growls back at her.

OK. I need to interrupt before Shana drags Ronson into some inane argument. Especially because I don't know if he will want me when he finds out what I am. I need to make plans, I guess, for this very uncertain future. Maybe I can live with Hannah and the Hulk. I can teach their children all about basket weaving and killing people with stilettos.

"Alpha Ronson, can I speak with you privately?" I effectively cut Shana off when she starts to speak (read- whine and fume like the bitch she is), "please."

"Yes, of course, Innie. Shana, I'll talk with you later." Ronson sneers at her a little. Crap-on-a-stick he is really mean to her.

We all go into a dark office on the first floor. Benji turns on a lamp and a mellow light fills enough of the space for me to see the plain, but expensive decor. A dark walnut desk, a grey safe, and a matching filing cabinet are all neatly arrayed near the back wall. The only thing that is out-of-place is the large bed tucked into one back corner.