(Winter vacation is OVAH! And now it's back to the grind! It's almost done J2 more to go)

Chapter 29

Bishop told Katrina to make him forget, but the fevered strain in the whites of her eyes told him that she had other things on her mind. He had meant to appease her to talk. Bishop didn't know what in hell he'd say or even wanted to hear.

"Harden yourself to disappointment," is what his father drilled into him. To keep himself rising above whatever shit came his way, and distance himself from anything that'd jeopardize his rank.

But running a hand through Katrina's slick locks and cupping her cheek to meet those dark browns, he knew he was done for. Water drops from the shower clung to her eyelashes and clavicle, almost begging him to slide his tongue along it, and feel her shiver against him. More and more, the dark desire curled into every muscle. The curves of her hips taunted him, and Bishop wanted nothing more than to expel the hurt and the pain that happened in this beautiful girl.

Their lips met in a hard, desperate kiss. It was a slow like a kindling fire needing stronger fuel to set them both alight. Bishop didn't ask when he played with the sash cinched around her waist. He didn't pause when he slipped his hands beneath the terry cloth, one gliding up her thigh and the other, sliding under the material to her chest. Katrina gasped her approval in his mouth.

More.

"Bishop," she breathed against his skin as she arched upwards.

Who was he to deny her. He broke away from her and licked a swathe up the middle of her chest to the dip between her collarbone. He bit the patch of skin between his teeth, marking her. The material slid off her shoulders, teasing him that he only had to undo that tiny knot, and take what was his What had always been his.

Out there the expectations of the pack, his father, and his family weighed him down like a chokehold, controlling his future. Here, near her, he could get relief.

Katrina shifted against him, her eyes still shuttered and closed off.

"What's on you mind?" Bishop commanded, wrapping around her arm and pulling her into his lap. The heat from her shower crawled deep into his skin wherever she touched.

Katrina wrapped her arms around his neck, her eyes downcast.

"I'm sorry about everything," she croaked, resting her head against his neck. Her words pressed into his neck. "Baby, I'm sorry that happened."
She lifted her head back up. Katrina looked like she wanted to say more, but she clamped down. Even now she didn't trust him to tell him everything.

Bishop sighed, loosening his grip in her waist. Relief seeped in. He thought she was going to reveal some secret shed' been holding. With a start, it made him realize that he didn't fully trust her yet either. They'd been thrown together because of fate, but were they actually strong together? "It's not anyone's fault. Don't worry about it."

"What about us?"

That brought his head up. He stared at her. "What do you mean? About us?"

Katrina blew out a breath shakily. She lifted herself off of him and sank into the mattress. "A-after we're done here. With Jagger and his cronies, I'm going to leave."

A streak of pain shot through him as sure as a knife wound. Bishop stilled his movements, not trusting himself not to touch her. Questions rose up in him. "Leave? And go where? For how long? The pack is at its weakest, you know that. So you need to be here."

I need you to be here.

Guilt and heated resolution rimmed her eyes. "No, you don't. I've never been suited to be Alpha Queen."

He stood, needing to get some distance. Bishop spun around, pounding a fist into the wall. "Then why the fuck did you jump into the pit? That's on you, baby."

Katrina hesitated, then continued with a renewed steel in her voice. "It was my mistake. I should've left things as they were."

"Your mistake?" he spat, raking a hand through his hair. "Big, fucking mistake, wasn't it? You come here, inject yourself into my life, and now you want to tuck tail and run like a coward once things get hard."

Katrina jumped off the bed. "Running isn't always cowardice. I'm not leaving you high and dry with Jagger running around—

"Oh, so you're going to use us to make things safe, and then drop everything behind."

They were both shouting now.

"What am I leaving behind?" she challenged. "The wave of destruction that I caused? I'm giving you space to take care of your responsibilities."

"Yeah? Well, they're your damn responsibilities too."

"You haven't even tried to hear me out! I'm leaving to get help from the packs in other states. I'm doing my part to bring some reasonable protection to keep something like this from ever happening."

Bishop broke into her personal space, not caring that she was trapped against a wall. "And what happens when you get us this help? It would take years to gain enough trust to foster a contract of protection. Are you going to come back intermittently, like a fucking booty call?"

She shoved against his chest, but Katrina might as well have hit a marble statue. "Don't talk to me like that? I knew you wouldn't understand. All you care about is whether things happen according to your plan."

"Well, my plan's better than yours apparently. You're leaving me to hold the fort while you do what you always do best. That's why you're a coward."

Katrina flinched visibly, and he almost regretted the words before she slammed her knee up into his family jewels. White hot pain shot through him. He bent over cursing.

"Shit, you goddamn bitch," he growled, grabbing both of her arms and slamming her against the wall. "You want to hurt me? Good. Keep at it. At least it shows you have some fight left in you."

Her breathing was rapid as she struggled against him, trying to break away. "Get off me. Get the hell off me."

Bishop immediately let go, not liking the twisted anger shining in her face. Katrina's hair splayed across her shoulders, the wet strands clung to her lips. Bishop's fingers hummed to touch her, but he was still seething from anger.

He shoved his warring feelings of anger and love a million miles away. All emotion stripped from his face. Even his breathing calmed. When he spoke, it was rimed with cold determination. "Get dressed. We'll talk about this after I make contact with Jagger's followers."

With that, Bishop twisted the door knob open, and let it slide behind him without ever sparing her a glance.

Days spurned into weeks. As the promise of silence stretched between them, Katrina busied herself with rifling through the burnt husk of her home, gathering the untouched remains in boxes, and calling moving vans to allocate them to a storage locker in the city. It seemed that her time at school was shorter than she'd anticipated, but with Anita as headmaster, Katrina left it behind altogether. It surprised her however when Calliope clamped her oversized suitcase next to hers in the backseat of Katrina's new car. She hadn't said anything, and Calliope hadn't given up much. The unspoken agreement to venture into new wolf pack grounds was sealed, and Katrina didn't have it in her to argue with another person she cared about.

College would always be there later.

Rayyan insisted on finishing his senior year with Anthony and Jaya. The relationship between him and Jaya was still up in the air, but Katrina hadn't missed the way Rayyan tensed whenever Jaya came in the room. Or that time he'd practically bit off Anthony's head for throwing an arm around her chair during a movie outing.

Bishop hadn't spoken much since that night in the bedroom. He stayed just a few doors down off and on during the week, leaving at dawn and crashing into bed deep into the night. There were purple shadows under his eyes even on days he got sleep. His hair was uncharacteristically mussed and hectic, which only made him look more dangerous and unapproachable. The Alpha duties were wearing him thin, but according to Anthony, they were making progress. It seemed that many of Jagger's followers couldn't stomach killing whole families. The Cato money and influence that went into building new homes and provide jobs for them didn't hurt either.

Even when there was no need for him to leave, Bishop made himself scarce after dinner. Sometimes ordering a pack meeting sporadically. Amidst the chaos, no one but her noticed the snub. Desperation clawed at Katrina. A part of her wanted to give him back the silent treatment two-fold, but the stronger part was well aware that she had mere days before leaving.

At the end of another week Katrina woke up to the sound of water running muddled with raging metal rock. It was a Friday night so she had just driven to the pack house hours before after a night out with the girls. Dayna had grown close to all of them. She was lonely and expressed interest in joining Katrina and Calliope.

Sliding out of the covers, she peeked in the hallway. A sliver of light fell through the crack in the bathroom door where someone was unmistakably taking the shower. The list of suspects narrowed down to the only person she knew who listened to 44Magnum.

Without hesitation, Katrina pushed the door open and closed it behind it with a quiet click. The heat from the water filled the room with a cloud of steam. Condensation skimmed the mirrors, and beyond the glass shower door was the blurred sight of Bishop Cato half-submerged under the showerhead.

The artwork on his forearms were dark against his pale skin. And there was a new tattoo on his shoulder blade, she couldn't make out.

Katrina meant to charge in and demand he talk to her, but the sight left a painful heat growing in her belly.

It had been so long.

As if sensing her, or maybe he knew she was there all along, Bishop turned halfway, and locked eyes with her through the glass.

Katrina averted her gaze, when he stepped out and wrapped a black towel low on his hips.

"You can turn around now."

Katrina spun around, and reared back at their close proximity. Somehow he'd crept up behind her. The heat of the shower wafted off his bare chest and warmed hers.

His blue eyes bore into her, cutting as deep as he could. "What are you doing here?" Katrina almost flinched at the steel.

She floundered. "I-I thought we should talk, like you said."

For a second, something flickered across his eyes, but it must've been a trick of the light because Bishop never betrayed any expression. Merely staring at her like she was a stranger. "About what?"

"Um, I'm leaving soon and so if you still wanted to—

"So?" he questioned, reaching behind her to grab a towel from the hook. Water droplets drizzled down his large bicep as he raked it through his hair, soaking up the water.

Katrina tried again, her voice sounding smaller. "I thought if you still want to talk, I'd…we'd do it," she trailed off, wanting very much to disappear into the floor. All of a sudden she felt very aware how apart they were in status. Katrina might have been his Queen, but Bishop had no use for her in any regard.

Had his feelings changed?

No. They had problems, yes, but it wasn't possible for him to flip flop so fast.

She could fix this.

Bishop sighed, annoyance marring his features. He cinched the towel on his hips tighter, and leveled his gaze on her. "I thought it was obvious I didn't. Want to speak to you, that is. Katrina, you took it upon yourself to leave, so I'm doing us both a favor and letting things lie."

"I never said I wanted things to be over," Katrina protested, her hand closing around his arm. "I j-just need to do something to help without risking anyone's lives but mine. I can't stand being here. Looking at everyone whose lost someone because of me."

Bishop sneered. "So, it's more about you than anything else, right? If you felt so raw about it—somehting that wasn't your fault in the least—then stay and fucking fix it."

"I am fixing it," she argued. "I'm showing everyone that I have my own skills. Do you hear what they say? That I'm your lapdog. I don't have their respect because I haven't earned it."

Katrina's chest hitched as she struggled to breathe steadily. All her life, she'd either spent it running away or depending on others. This. This she could do herself. Her touch couldn't just be lethal.

Bishop wrenched his arm out of her grip easily. Something about him told her that he would not welcome her touch. "Sounds like you made your decision."

Katrina stared up at him, discreetly aware of the door behind her creaking open. A fragrant cloud of wild flowers wafted from Dayna leaning against the threshold in a short, tight leather dress. In stiletto heels she towered over Katrina. Her long, tanned legs crossed, looking as if they went on for miles. Katrina felt dumpy in her tank top and sleep shorts.

"Hey there, Katrina," she said, smiling. "Are you coming with us?"

Katrina had gotten to know Dayna a little, but she was well aware that Dayna had no desire for Bishop. Her presence was there to accompany Bishop to foster meetings between Jagger's people. Her beauty and her status as an outsider doubly drew people in, making her an invaluable asset on Bishop's team. The snake of jealousy wrapped tightly around Katrina's heart.

Katrina opened her mouth to answer, but Bishop beat her to it. "No, she's not."

Taking his cue, Katrina left, not daring to look back at him.

On the night of the new year, Katrina steeled her resolve as she approached the dinner table. Marveling at how they had become a sortof makeshift family after all that happened, Katrina felt her heart squeeze to see Rayyan and Bishop talking to each other as if they were friends. It was the weekend and for once everyone was together. Even Anita had eventually come around, and cooked dinner for them. There was still a vast distance between mother and daughter, but somehow it was growing less and less. Calliope was at her side, giving her unspoken support as she stood to face them.

The move drew their attention.

Katrina shifted from one foot to another uncertainly. She was pointedly looking away from Bishop. At Calliope's gentle nudge, she opened her "Hi, everyone. Well, as you know, Cally and I have been planning to visit the Detroit wolf pack for a few weeks now."

"Followed by New York, Massachusetts, Maine, and so on," Calliope jumped in with her usual tact.

"Right," Katrina said. "So…um, we were planning on leaving tomorrow night."

"So, it'll be awhile since we see you bozos," Calliope finished, smirking.

Protests broke across the table.

"You can't just leave."

"Wouldn't a phone call suffice?"

"What's the hurry?" Rayyan asked, his voice rising above the others. "We could've gone out and had one last celebration."

"How about brunch?" Katrina suggested, smiling broadly at him.

"You're on. Everyone else in."

Bishop cleared his throat, slicing into his salmon methodically. "Paul, and the other hunters have information to impart before they leave for California. The meeting might cut into it."

Katrina kept her expression entirely blank. Rayyan glowered at Bishop.

"Then, cancel it," he demanded through gritted teeth.

"It's alright, Rayyan," Katrina said, trying to get him to back off. "It's just brunch."

She hadn't mentioned to anyone that Bishop had effectively broken up with her. The days were brighter for everyone and that was just another thing she'd ruin. Even Cally looked at her quizzically, demanding silently they were going to talk about it later.

Bishop looked up nonchalantly. Katrina burned under the heat of his gaze.

"I'll try. Can't promise anything."

With a curt nod, Katrina breezed into her seat, her heart hurting from keeping her feelings wrapped up tight within.