Lola (Completed)

32 Let Them Go

Bastian

I have to palm myself, squeezing just a little too hard at the sight that greets me when I finally manage to make it back to the apartment above Ryker's offices.

Lola is sprawled out on the bed, sleeping. She's only wearing one of my t-shirts and a pair of skimpy black underwear. The two outfits that she still owns are folded neatly on a chair at the desk in the corner. All of her clothes are ash. So are mine, now that I think about it.

I really want to curl up next to her, maybe slake some of this burning lust I feel, but she and I need to talk. Hank and Brett updated Ryker and I on our mates' movements today. I know Lola visited Samuel and I know that they saw the packhouse burning to the ground.

Ryker was not a happy wolf when he heard about Mac's jail visit. He ordered that she not be allowed back inside, especially now that both of her parents are locked up next to their oldest child.

Lola's father is held in the secure cells, next to Jacob. I hope that Tom Greer can speak with his daughter, offer some closure, but I'm beginning to doubt the male's sanity.

We're both truly orphans now.

I reach out to stroke Lola's cheek. Tear tracks streak her soft skin. My fingers leave a smudge mark. I need to shower. Lola lets out a soft huff of air and I smile. She's so damn beautiful, even worn out with dark circles under her eyes and taut skin over her cheekbones. Soon, I'll have normalcy with my pussy. A honeymoon would be nice. We'll make a new home on RueHarbor land and settle into a typical, happy life.

I step into the shower. It's huge, meant for a male Ryker's size, but I'm clumsy. The shampoo bottle hits the tile floor when my elbow knocks it over.

"Shit," I curse quietly. I'm still not entirely used to my larger size, yet.

My wolf stirs, alert to the presence of soft femininity walking into the bathroom.

"Bastian?" Lola yawns delicately. Soft brown eyes blink sleepily. Open, I can see that they're a little red, probably from crying and being rubbed.

"Hey, sweet pussy. I didn't want to wake you up."

Lola takes off her shirt and steps out of her undies as if she's half asleep. For a second I'm afraid that maybe she's sleepwalking again, but her eyes meet mine with lusty awareness and I know she's awake. She slides open the shower door and steps inside with me. Her mouth meets mine, tongues tangling as I pull her flush to my body. She pulls away a second later. "The smoke..." she murmurs.

"Yeah." I step back and pour some of the shampoo onto my palm and scrub it over my head and face. I checked on the packhouse earlier. It's gone, and I still smell of smoke. I didn't want Lola to smell it all over me. There goes that plan. She's feeling that loss deep, but I can't regret destroying that place and everything that burned inside.

"My mom is dead," she states softly. It's not a question. She knows.

"I killed her," I confess.

Huge, calf-brown eyes blink up at me. I can't tell if she's crying in the shower or not.

"She knew about my dad," I explain. Like ripping a bandaid off.

Lola clutches her chest leaning against the tile wall with a soft exclamation of shock. Grief strikes her and her wolf hard, sending the she-wolf to curl into the fetal position even though Lola remains standing. "How do you know?" she asks me in a husky voice. I don't offer my support, not yet. She needs to absorb the fact that her mother is a duplicitous bitch and that I killed her.

"She told me that he loved you," I offer her my explanation of what happened.

I watch her face, her posture. I can steal a peek into Lola's tormented soul through the Claim I have, but all I see on her outwardly is sorrow. Without saying anything she takes the soap and starts to scrub my chest. She's repressing this latest pain and like a coward I let her do it.