Chapter 4 Acts

Gideon

When I try to touch her, she flinches. I'm good at feeling angry and hopeless. Why am I not wanted by my partner? How in the world did the lovely, content girl I met three years ago end up? My family has noticed as well. My father advised me to take her to a psychiatrist, saying that she is clearly having a mental health issue.

And when the pack discovers what? What will each person say? Do they want me to put her out of my mind? Given her mental instability, how is she supposed to be their Luna?

I gulp down my resentment and take her hand once more. Dammit, she's mine. I refuse to let her leave.

"Can you just smile, please?" I persevere.

She instantly forced a smile. I can tell how phony it is; in fact, everyone can.

"Act like a Luna!" I hold her hand too tightly and hiss in her ear. I know it's too close, but I can't help but want to hear something else instead of this terrified behavior from her.

Her eyes become icy, and her smile fades. Her back straightens, and I watch a look of scorn cross her face as she looks out at the gathering pack of wolves.

My palms are starting to get sweaty. Is Ophelia attempting to make me look bad, goddess? She views the other members of our pack as her enemies.

"Ophelia..." I sound like such a bum. The only wolves bothering me are Luna and my own mate, yet I am hosting five packs at this celebration.

Her expression goes blank. With unwavering rigidity, we meet the DarkWolves' alpha and luna. Fuck it.

It will be here too soon-the moment to ignite my birthday candles. As I approach the black-and-white candle, Ophelia moves forward to her blue-and-white one. We light them together. A thud and a few shrieks break the silence. Turning back, I discover Ophelia asleep and prone on the floor, her skin as white as a sheet.

"Ophelia!" In an instant, I'm by her side. As I pull her into my arms, her forehead is clammy, and she smells unpleasant, a little like vomit and blood.

"Take her to your infirmary, Alpha," the DarkWolves Luna's voice can be heard.

Ophelia stirs, and I stand with her in my arms.

"Shh, sweetheart, stay still."

She whispers, "What happened?"

"You fainted, baby girl." I take off, running toward the door.

Ophelia opens her eyes and looks around as she starts to become more aware. "Where are you taking me?"

"The infirmary."

She yells, "No!" and shocks me with her harsh voice. I come to a stop.

"No?" I ask her a little, threateningly. Does she have anything to hide from me?

"Gideon, I'm having headaches. You are aware of that. I'll be alright. She softens her voice and says, "I just need to relax and drink some water.

I reluctantly turn around once more. It's a significant ceremony. I can check in with Ophelia later to make sure she's okay. I lead her to her seat and settle her there gently.

Lavinia says to me, "I'll take Luna's place, Gideon," from behind. I look at her, my concern for my partner unwavering. "For the candles, I will light them so that the Luna can rest."

I give Ophelia a sly nod and a little kiss on the head. I see Jon and Delta Aaron getting closer to her, protecting her. I pick up the candle I knocked down and march back to the center of the floor. I ignore the strange look the DarkWolf Luna is giving me. I only have to finish this ceremony so I can return to Ophelia. When I quickly return to my table after lighting the foolish object, Ophelia is gone.

"Where is Ophelia?" I query Jon.

He dismisses it. "She returned to her apartment. Gideon, she didn't feel like she could take part in this really significant occasion."

I bristle, sensing the contempt in his voice. I scoff, "She fucking fainted, Beta." "Watch how you speak of her."

Jon's eyes go wide with amazement, then downcast with reverence. "Yes, Alpha."

I sit for an hour more, stewing, until I can finally get away to see how Ophelia is doing. She's snuggled up on the side of her bed. She stiffens at my approach, and I get that familiar feeling of rejection.

"Ophelia, you must speak with me. Tell me what's not right. Are you feeling under the weather?"

"No," she says, shaking her head.

Frustrated, I wonder, "What then?"

"Gideon, nothing. Perhaps a flu virus."

Not very likely. Viral infections swiftly heal werewolves. What are the odds that she won't be well in time for the ceremony?

She passed out. What happens if she develops cancer of some kind? It is not unusual for our kind. Werewolves are swiftly killed by cancer. What other symptoms might a fainting spell indicate? She had a sickly stench, like vomit. A thought tightens my fists.

"Are you pregnant?"

Startled, she looks up at me. "Nah! How am I able to be?"

Yes, in fact. It's been a year since I gave her any intimate touch. An entire fucking year of being so near her, smelling so sweet, and not being able to fuck her.

"Tell me the truth, Ophelia."

"I am not pregnant, Gideon."

I shrug my shoulders inside the ill-fitting jacket. "That's okay, Ophelia. Goddess, if you are telling lies, help me. I'm returning to the celebration." Without saying anything further, I walk away.

Now, I have to manufacture a grin as I greet my guests, taking in their condolences for my mate's illness and putting aside my packmate's sadness over Luna's absence. Two, then three hours pass as I sip glass after glass of the deep red wine. Her harsh, cold eyes on mine are still in my mind. Does she have feelings for someone else? A dog from her previous life? How come she can't just love me?

I put down the wine and stagger over to our suite, where I collapse onto the sitting room couch. I want to enter the bedroom, but I won't improve things between us in my current state of mind. Ophelia and I will speak tomorrow. My mate is her. She needs to adore me alone.

I look intently at the door. She's behind it, sound asleep on our chilly bed. That door is awful. I want to break it into little fragments and then light those twisted bits of wood on fire.

The bedroom door, made of strong wood, opens slowly. I struggle to remain silent and cover up my disgust at her toxic silence. This needs to take place. This evening.

"Ophelia, do you feel better?"

Someone murmurs, "Yes."

I try not to think of anything else to say. "Did you eat today?" First, let me try to be polite. Then, even though she doesn't like me, perhaps she will give in to the mate Bond.

She gives a brief, stiff shake of her head.

"Are you trying to piss me off, beautiful?" It is difficult for me not to be playful and lighthearted when I speak. Her sunken cheeks and pale complexion don't make her look funny. She must eat.

Her words, "I never try to anger you, Gideon," are like ice shards hurled at my skull.

"You must eat. Everyone has now left for their homes. You have no one to cook for."

"I can head to the kitchen and whip up something for myself," she replies, her tone tinged with apathy.

"Would you like to eat now?" I ask, clenching my teeth.

"Not a Gideon. I wish to be alone myself."

I even take a step back to try to leave her, but I stop myself before I can. No, I must touch her. When I try to grab her, she flinches away from me as I stalk toward her.

"Helena! I'm depending on you.

"No!"

I silently snarl. I'm unable to... This just won't stop. She shoots her little pink tongue out and moistens her lips. Goddamn, those lips are so annoying. I keep having fantasies about her mouth. I unzip and pull myself out slowly.

"You are truly amazing," I whisper, caressing her lower lip with my thumb. "I'll feed you, beautiful." She gives a small whimper, and I shudder in return. I say, "Kneel and open." "Look at me while you suck me off."

She complies. I thought she was going to slap my face, but instead she puts her mouth to mine, and my knees almost buckle. Guilt for forcing her to fight while experiencing the intense pleasure that only my partner can provide. I quickly go to her humiliating side.

She still won't let me touch her. She turns away from me, me hot on her tongue and breath. When she runs to the bathroom, I punch a hole in the wall.

Snarling through the door, "Ophelia, wash out your mouth if you have to, but you are sleeping in this bed with me,"

After twenty minutes, I can sense her eyes on me. I remain motionless, feigning sleep. She hesitates as though she's afraid, and I get a knot in my stomach from guilt. She settles down next to me, and I detest the complete satisfaction her presence gives me. I can't quit pressuring her to show me affection.