Unruly Authority
I had a dream once, years ago. I could barely recall anything, but I vaguely remember striding through a forest of red willow trees and falling skies with everyone I cared about.
At some point, they couldn't continue with me, so they urged me to move on alone. They would never reach me, nor find me, and all my legs could do was walk forward, even when my heart begged I stay back.
It was scary, and having my parents crouched down below my knees felt like that dream.
And I knew then, that routines I once used to take advantage of had slipped through my fingers, my normalcy had been reviewed to fit parts of me I was never familiar with, and the two people meant to comfort me the most might never treat me the same again.
How was I supposed to react to my parents kneeling before me like I was some god they'd once lost? I wanted a hug, not reverence.
I stared at them open-mouthed and befuddled. My shoulders had slumped, and all excitement dried up as an ache grew in my chest. “Can you please get up?” I urged quietly, clenching the fabric of my pants tightly between my fingers.
The sound of shuffling mingled with the gathering footsteps behind me as my parents rose to their feet. I bit my bottom lip, unsure of what to say.
Suddenly, I felt like I was taking music lessons all over again, sitting down behind an open piano, knowing no matter what key I pressed, it would be the wrong one because I had no idea which was which.
Their gazes remained down, neither making an effort to look me in the eye. They stood awfully stiff and still, quiet too as if waiting on an order.
Why were they acting this way?
“Harlyn, a word,” Ethan strode out of the blue. As I turned to face him from where he was approaching, his palm had clasped around my wrist, gently tugging me his way.
I chewed my lips with a slight grimace, wondering what was wrong now as I followed him into what looked like an office. A click resounded as he shut the door.
“Ethan, I'm sorta in the middle of something,” I queried with a sigh.
“If by something,” he raised his fingers to put on quotes, “you mean subjecting your parents to your newfound authority, then be my guest,” he scolded with a tight tone that suggested he was upset.
“Authority? What do you mean, authority?” I squinted my eyes at him, blinking in confusion. “I'm not an Alpha, how can I exert any form of authority?”
“You're an original; you're naturally stronger than purebred lycans or werewolves, whatever term you use,” he went on to nag.
I stepped back with a deeper frown. “So I have the authority, and it's 'on' right now?” I tilted my head in question.
“Yes, and it's ridiculously attractive,” he said with a breathy grumble that had my gut twisting in tingly knots.
“Excuse me?” My cheeks heated up as I folded my hands against my chest.
Now that I picked it up, he seemed unnaturally on edge. His brows were tightly knitted, and there was a vein on the right side of his neck that was throbbing ominously. His chest was rising and falling faster than usual, and dare I say, he looked thoroughly flushed.
“Oh, are you okay?” I stepped closer to look at him. His signs suggested my authority was more than just being ridiculously attractive.
He stepped back snappily; it was so fast, I could have sworn he blinked away.
“Just please turn it off,” he pleaded, stressing every word.
“I'm not sure what to turn off here, it's not exactly a switch on my ass or something,” I scoffed, shuffling back on my feet. It was one thing after the other.
“How often will these silly changes happen? First, it was live frozen adaption, then poison from dreams, then somehow seeing and hearing things that are too far away, and now it's an Alpha's authority that's somehow acting as an aphrodisiac to you?” I ranted loudly, my frustration tipping over.
“What's next? Will I start breathing fire? Turn into a dragon and steal gold from banks because they're shiny?” I shook my hand to make a flare gesture.
“What does that have to do with anything?” He retorted in an irritated tone.
“You tell me, you're the expert,” I snapped back at him.
He clenched his fists tightly, the veins on his hands calling my attention. It was oddly attractive the way they protruded under his smooth fair skin.
“Don't look at me like that,” he growled with a low rumble that vibrated down my back.
“Like what?” I swallowed down, licking my lips. His fists were unclenched, and I looked up to meet his hooded amber gaze burrowing into mine.
He was definitely over the edge now, and the room had grown hot in response to the brewing tension.
“I'm sorry,” I said meekly, looking away immediately.
“No,” he exasperated deeply, “Don't be.”
“How exactly do I turn off what I'm not aware is on?” I asked, mentally racking through my thoughts and feelings, hoping to catch something.
All I could really perceive was the lingering feeling from the bedroom when I'd seen into town and felt like something had woken. The dull ache in my head was also still present, but that felt like an aftereffect of straining my eyes and ears.
Ethan suddenly stepped closer. Knowing he wasn't in his right state of mind, I stepped back as he closed the space between us. “W-what are you doing?” The words slipped out of my mouth in scattered parts.
“Trying to help,” he replied, persisting in closing the space between us.
“I don't work well under pressure,” I pointed out shakily.
“Your shift says otherwise,” he countered, and I groaned.
“That was a fluke!” I defended exasperatedly. The back of my thighs softly collided with something solid, and as my fingers met the flat surface, I guessed it was wood.
I shifted my gaze to peer at the dark wooden desk in my way. It held several things, from paper to pens. Right, we were in an office study.
The second I turned to tell Ethan to halt his approach, he situated himself right in front of me. His dashingly contorted face was so close I could count his obnoxiously pretty long lashes.
“You're too close,” I half-whispered.