Blood in the Ozarks

26. An Explination

There was a cold professionalism to our hand off of Jayme Donner. Donner would sit in a cell until someone from the bureau could pick him up and take him to a more secure facility for people with his kind of abilities. He should be thankful he's going through our system instead of facing his pack.

Cian and I didn't speak except to the Sheriff whose chipper attitude was nearly too much to handle. The only upside was that Ortega got the hint and managed to keep his comments to himself. For once in his life he was able to read the room.

Once we got back to the hotel the cold silence remained. Through the parking lot, up the elevator, down the long beige hallways we didn't speak. Our floor was still roped off from guests due to the investigation, but Lynda's body had long since been moved and a cleaning crew had come through shortly after. The hallway was almost back to its former state aside from haunting memories of what happened.

Ortega's eyes locked on mine as he made his way past me to his own room. He paused before unlocking the door, but I made no movement to stop him. I needed to speak to Cian alone.

The moment the door to my own room clicked shut, I finally let all my thoughts loose.

"How? When? You—When were you—" My head fell into my hands and I folded into a pile on the edge of the bed. "I—I can't believe you didn't tell me."

Sure, there had been times when I felt like there was more to Cian. But I never suspected the truth. Or more likely, I never wanted to see the truth.

"I didn't know how to tell you. And most days it's not even something I think about."

"So you never thought about telling me?"

"I didn't say that."

"Don't you think that's something you'd want to mention to your girlfriend? Something like, 'By the way, sweetie, I'm a fucking werewolf!'"

"Fiance."

"What?"

"You said girlfriend."

I inhaled a deep breath, held it for a moment, and then let the air and anguish out in one long stream.

Cian took a seat next to me on the freshly made bed. "I've told you before about my lineage." Taking my hand, he began to rub the back of my palm in a soothing pattern.

My voice got soft. "You said you were Irish. I thought you were referring to a drinking problem or something."

He gave half a smile. "My brother got red hair, and I got to be a werewolf. It's how familial genes work."

"Some gene pool," I deadpanned.

"That's part of why I made supervisor so quickly. The upper brass wanted my opinion on multiple cases. They were hitting me up left and right for my..." He rubbed the back of his neck, searching for the right word. "Expertise," he finally came up with. "People seem to think once you've become the monster, you know all others. Which I know my fair share, but I'm no mind reader."

"They should have found a psychic to hire instead."

The half smile that had been peeking out grew wider. But I wasn't completely over this news yet. After all these years of trust, we had both let each other down.

"Don't be so hard on yourself about this. I've had years of assimilation. I don't think the bureau would know if I hadn't volunteered to file the right forms."

"Forms? God, how many people know about this? Am I really the only idiot that didn't figure it out?"

"No, no of course not." Cian brushed his hand over my cheek, running his fingers through my hair. Then he reassuringly continued to stroke my cheekbone with the pad of his thumb. "I swear to you the only people outside of my family who know have a high level security clearance."

"And Ortega."

"And Ortega. But his was more of a guess than a declassification."

I pulled back from his comforting strokes. "I feel so stupid."

"Just because you didn't figure it out doesn't me—"

I met his blue eyes. "I feel stupid that I let you lie to me for so long."

"I—what?"

I stood up from the bed and wrapped my arms around myself. "You lied to me," I repeated.

"I didn't lie to you," He argued.

"When were you going to tell me?" I demanded. "When?"

He said nothing and the lack of response fueled the fire.

"Were you planning to tell me? Or were you going to wait until you turned in the middle of the night and decide to have me as a midnight snack?"

Cian's face fell; my words were a slap in the face.

"I kissed Ortega." I don't know what made me say it. The words came rushing out unable to be stopped. "Well, he kissed me. But we kissed."

The silence was deafening. Suddenly the single square room held all of our emotions and all of our unsaid words. Lies, secrets, judgements, we held back all of it and threatened to let the room explode with everything we were holding back.

Finally, Cian spoke. "I may not have told you I have an affliction, but I was always faithful to you."

"And I have always been truthful. I didn't want to have this conversation like this, but if we are going to be honest about everything now then it's something you should know."

Silently, he stood up from the bed and made his way to the door. Somehow his eyes seemed darker than when he was shifting. "I need to go think."

Then he extended a hand toward me, as if to bring me forward for a normal good-bye. Mid-reach he let his hand fall. He pursed his lips tight and then he gave a solemn nod before turning to the door without another word. We were done with arguments. We may have been done altogether.