Chapter 3 : Lucas
"Yeah, sure, come on in," Amelia answered, pulling the door open a little wider.
Lucas shouldered in, seemingly aware of just how much of the space he took up. He looked sheepish, which was completely out of character for him. He was usually full of quiet confidence. It seemed they were both on unfamiliar footing.
Amelia studied him carefully, taking in the sight of him. It seemed like tonight was the night for inappropriate thoughts because she realized that before then, she had never fully appreciated how handsome he was.
Lucas had light brown hair that he usually styled over to one side, with the sides kept short. Tonight, though, it hung in a messy mop across his forehead. His blue eyes were like sapphires set in his skull, striking and brilliant. He had a square jawline, sharp enough to cut glass. The shirt he wore was almost too tight, his pectoral muscles visible under the thin fabric.
Amelia felt like a mess compared to him. She knew her hair was wild and she was only able to smudge so much mascara off of her cheeks from her crying before she opened the door. She felt uneasy under his scrutinizing gaze as if he might see too much. She wanted a chance to brush through her hair, maybe wash her face.
"Sorry it's such a mess in here," she said lamely, sweeping the spare change off the corner of her nightstand and into the drawer.
"You should see Beason's dorm. I don't think the kid's done laundry in three weeks," he told her, attempting to reassure her.
Charlie Beason was only very recently old enough to leave his parents' quarters. The family housing was in the next building over, with the solitary dorms on the ground floor of this building, which was nicknamed The Main. He was a sweet boy, though he seemed to struggle with staying organized.
Amelia chuckled at the thought of the clumsy eighteen-year-old. He was brilliant, so they had done most of their schooling together. She wasn't surprised at all that he wasn't staying on top of his laundry, though.
She plopped down onto the bed, shoulders sagging. It felt wrong to chuckle right now. Everything felt wrong tonight. Maybe nothing would ever be right again.
"Is there something I can help you with?" Amelia asked, realizing she still had no idea what Lucas had come for.
"I was speaking with Tess," Lucas started, hesitating to finish his sentence.
Tess was the head healer. She had rich, dark skin and kind, brown eyes. She kept her hair in intricate braids that hung down her back unless there was an emergency, during which she would stuff them into a surgeon's cap. Amelia always had a soft spot for her, and Tess always slipped sweets to Amelia when she came into the Med Wing for anything.
Amelia nodded to try and encourage Lucas to continue.
"We will bury Logan tomorrow at sunset. You've got a lot to decide on between now and then, but I was wondering if you would like to deliver the eulogy." Lucas scrubbed a hand across his jaw, a nervous gesture Amelia recognized from many of the meetings she'd sat in on with her father.
The impact of the words was nearly enough to drown her. It was as if she'd jumped off a bridge, hitting the surface of the water and then sinking under. She once heard that if you jumped from high enough, the surface of the water would feel as hard as concrete before you broke the surface tension and drowned.
That was exactly how she felt.
She let her father down again. That was the entire reason she came to bed early. She promised herself she would work on the words she would speak over her father at his burial. She couldn't do it. No matter how hard she tried, the words just simply wouldn't come. She climbed into bed to let herself cry, and that still didn't make a eulogy appear.
The guilt nearly crushed her. Her hero, the man who raised her, was dead, his body waiting for burial in a chamber in the basement, and she couldn't find the strength to memorialize him out loud.
Crystal, salty tears slipped down her cheeks again. These tears were different, not the violent, racking sobs from earlier. Instead, this was pitiful, the tragic path of mourning down her soft, pink cheeks.
"Hey, hey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you cry," Lucas breathed, rushing to sit next to her on the bed.
He took her face in his hands, using his thumbs to swipe the tears away.
"I shouldn't have asked, I'm sorry. I know this is all so fresh. It's so new for all of us," he assured her, tugging her to his chest.
Wrapped in his massive arms, Amelia felt safe. Maybe the world was going to hell in a handbasket, but she would remain untouched if she could just stay here. His embrace felt like a suit of armor, and she wondered if he would care if she fully crawled into his lap.
Was it pitiful to hope she would disappear? Maybe, but she didn't care. She wanted to disappear. There would be no bliss like blowing off the surface of the earth forever, to join her parents and her ancestors among the stars, gathered around the Goddess of the moon forever.
"I can't," she whimpered, hating how weak she felt.
She was bred for strength, for leadership. Her father and mother had been wise, strong, and brilliant. They'd been unflappable in the face of adversity, and here she was, crumbling into the arms of a man. She hated that he saw her like this, and something about that only made her cry harder.
"Hey, hey, hey, don't worry. It's alright. I can do it. If you want, we can work on something together, and I'll deliver it tomorrow. As Beta, no one will think anything is odd if I give the eulogy instead. You're in mourning. He was your father. It will all be okay," Lucas assured her.
His kindness only made her cry harder. He had seemed like such a solemn man, this softness made him that much more impressive. Vaguely, Amelia remembered that his parents were killed in the war, and she wondered if that was how he was so good at comforting someone. Maybe his pain made him kinder.
It was unfair. He'd been orphaned at such a young age. She should be the one comforting him. She should be able to pull herself together better than this.
Worry plagued her now, unsure if she was ever cut out to lead this pack. If she didn't feel the undeniable call to being Alpha, she wouldn't be surprised if someone else stepped up to become Alpha of their pack. She didn't deserve it.
Lucas
Lucas wanted to cradle Amelia in his arms forever. She was soft, innocent feeling. She'd left the door open when he came in. He knew she didn't want anyone to get any ideas. Her father could be a bit overprotective when it came to his daughter. Lucas didn't imagine she'd had many boyfriends at all because of that. He was curious but now didn't seem the time to press.
No, it wasn't the time to press at all.
Amelia looked up into his eyes, and at that moment, all he could think about was the golden color of her eyes, the color of the full-bellied harvest moon. He felt drawn to her like the tide, unable to resist her gravity. At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to feel her full, pink lips on his mouth, and he instantly felt guilty for it.
Still, she studied his face, eyes darting from his own eyes, to his mouth, and back to his eyes. He wondered if she felt whatever pull was there too if maybe she was struggling with the same thoughts he was.
It was irreverent. His leader, the man who had been like a second father to him, lay dead in the basement, and here he was debating the morality of kissing his daughter. Lucas was disgusted with himself, but it didn't stop his heart from marveling at the beautiful woman in his arms.
"You're the Alpha now, and I'm your Beta. I'll always be here for you. If you need anything, just call me, or text me, or whatever you want. I'm room one-oh-two downstairs. I'm serious, if you need anything at all," Lucas's voice trailed off. He wasn't sure what he was trying to say.
He wanted to ask if she wanted to stay with him tonight. If she was okay by herself. He didn't want anything from her, well, he didn't expect anything from her, but the thought of her alone here tonight was something that didn't sit right with him. She shouldn't be alone.
"I'm okay," she assured him, sniffing and swiping at her nose. Her cheeks and nose were rosy pink, and it was as endearing as it was sad.
Amelia
"It's okay to not be okay," Lucas reminded her. "You can't strong-arm pain."
"I don't see as though I have another choice," Amelia confessed. It was true. She felt trapped almost. Maybe failure was inevitable. Maybe the Goddess had always meant for things to end this way. The more she allowed herself to sink into worry and despair, the more reasons she found to never dig herself out of it. It seemed this might only be the beginning. Maybe their entire pack was under attack.
"Don't forget about your support system. I know the whole pack will be looking to you for leadership, but they're also ready to help you through this."
It was something she hadn't thought of before. She knew how much pressure she felt, knowing how much they would all be relying on her, but she hadn't once considered the fact that her pack, her people, might be willing to be there to help her through this. It was something she would still be mulling over in the morning.
"Thank you, Lucas. Really. I appreciate it. I know you're hurting too," she told him.
"Don't sweat it. A loss like this can destroy a pack or make it stronger. I know we'll come out better on the other side of this," Lucas assured her.
He started to stand, but Amelia placed her hand on his forearm to stop him.
"I have some questions about what happened today. I can't let those damn rogues slip by just because I'm sad," Amelia stated, her voice a confusing mess of sorrow and anger.
"Hit me with them," Lucas answered, sitting back down on the bed.
"I need to know about the rogues. Tell me everything you know."