by H G Lynch
Chapter Sixteen
** Tilly **
Eventually, I found my way back to my cabin. I was cold and dirty, my feet hurt, my mouth tasted like bile, and I had leaves and blood matted into my hair. My hands shook so badly, it took three attempts before I could twist the handle, glad I hadn’t locked it earlier. I doubted I could have handled putting the key in the lock.
I stumbled inside, collapsing against the door as it closed behind me. For a minute, I just stood there, leaning, breathing hard, and unable to move or think. Wetness touched my collarbones, and I felt the tears rolling down my cheeks, dripping off my chin. I hadn’t realised I was still crying. It felt as if I’d been crying forever, but somehow, I just couldn’t stop. My heart was slowing and the burning in my leg muscles cooling, so I pushed myself away from the door and padded unsteadily across the floor, leaving dirty footprints on the wooden floorboards.
I got to my room and pushed the door open, slipping inside with the desperate need to sleep for nine hours…or nine days. All I wanted was to crawl into bed, careless of my muddy feet or bloody dress, and pass out. I closed the bedroom door behind me, my vision blurring. The room was dark. I hadn’t left any lights on before I left, and I didn’t turn any on then. Sighing, my eyes still watering, I turned and reached behind me for the bow of the golden ribbon pinching the dress at my waist. I couldn’t slip out of it with the ribbon tied, but my quaking fingers scrabbled uselessly at the tangled ribbon. It was double knotted, and my hands weren’t steady enough to undo it.
With a rising feeling of despair and frustration, I made a choked noise, grabbing at the ribbon around my waist. I was ready to tear it apart to get the damned dress off, and then there were fingers over mine—light and steady, undoing the knot with ease. I gasped at the unexpected touch, jerking away and slamming my back against the door. My heart thundered in a panic, and it took my dazed, blurred eyes a long moment to work out who I was staring at in the dimness.
First, I saw the eyes, the crystal blue of the sea at sunrise. I paused, suspended in a state of warring emotions. I wasn’t sure whether to relax or not. My fear vanished, but it was replaced with something almost like fear, something that made my heart stumble the same way. But I knew I was safe. If I was safe with anyone, it was with Spencer.
My eyes adjusted properly, and in the moonlight coming through the open window—I swore that window hadn’t been open a minute ago—I saw he was naked, again, and covered in both blood and dirt as much as I was. I dropped my gaze, my breath catching raggedly in my throat. My nails dug into the soft wood of the door at my back. I was still crying, silently, almost absently.
“Tilly, it’s okay. It’s only me. It’s okay,” Spencer said gently, his voice near a whisper.
He took a step forward, and I flinched despite myself. He stepped back. I kept my eyes on my blackened feet. There was a shallow cut across the back of my left foot that ran up my ankle, visible through a rip in my dress.
“It’s polite to knock first,” I said, breathless and hoarse. I glanced at his bare feet, as filthy as mine, and felt a strange sort of comfort. Dominic had come to me, dressed and clean, frightened of me. Spencer came to me naked and dirty, nothing like fear in his blue eyes. “It’s also polite to wear clothes,” I added drily.
Spencer laughed roughly. “Yeah, sorry. I just…I was out looking for you after you ran off, and I didn’t think before coming over here,” he said, not sounding the least bit embarrassed about it.
I, on the other hand, even in my current state, felt heat rise to my face. It was dawning on me that there was a naked boy in my bedroom. The thought made me dizzy, so I slid down the door and sat on the floor with my knees tucked to my chest. I gripped my legs and leaned my forehead on my knees, breathing hard. God, I’m a wreck, I thought.
Spencer hesitated, standing in the middle of the room, and then grabbed a blanket from the bed, wrapping it around his hips. Then he sat down on the floor two feet away from me, facing me. The black ink of his odd, angular tattoo peeked out from the edge of the blanket. I couldn’t read his expression, not because of the dimness, but because it was Spencer, and I had enough trouble figuring out his expressions when my brain was working properly. Right then, I could barely keep my eyes open. I hurt all over, including inside.
Why didn’t you tell me Tilly? I thought we were friends. Dominic’s voice, full of soft hurt, echoed in my head. The way he’d looked at me when he said it, the fear behind the hurt, the way he’d bristled at my nearness when I shoved my finger in his face, the way he’d backed away from me with all the others when I blasted Olivia…to keep their secret. Even the way he had bared his teeth at me, as if I was a threat, and he might rip me apart if I made one false move. All of it flashed through my head, every image like a punch to the gut or a spear to the chest.
My best friend was scared of me, maybe hated me. What was I supposed to do with that? What could I do? Nothing. I couldn’t change who I was any more than he could change who he was. Who, not what, because my powers were a part of me as much as his wolf was part of him. So why was I automatically a monster and he wasn’t?
A hand touched my arm, but I didn’t flinch that time. I was shaking again, sobbing loudly into my knees. I lifted my head, tears falling onto the stained fabric of my dress, and leaned into Spencer. He put an arm around my shoulders, cradling me against him, and I cried into his chest instead. He was warm and solid, and still smelled like rainstorms and wood smoke, but he also smelled like sweat and coppery blood. I didn’t care. I was just glad to have someone I could trust there with me. Comforting me.
Carefully, Spencer stroked my knotted hair, not snagging the gnarls or tangles. “Shh, Tilly,” he murmured, his breath hot on the back of my neck. “It’s alright.”
I shook my head, gasping. “No, it isn’t! They all hate me now! Dominic h-hates me! He’s s-scared of me, they all are!” I forced the stuttering words out between sobs, shaking so badly I nearly bit my tongue. My chest felt tight, as if someone was crushing my ribs into my lungs, and my throat was full. My fingers were bunched in the blanket over Spencer’s leg, my thumb brushing the skin of his knee, but I barely noticed. I was too terrified.
“They…they’re going to kill me, aren’t they? Now that they know wh-what I am, they’re going to kill me! You saw the way they looked at me! They all think I’m a threat, that I betrayed them, that I-I’m one of them…” My words dissolved into harsh gasping, on the verge of hysteria.
Pushing me back, his fingers gripping my shoulders, Spencer shook me hard enough that my teeth rattled. “Tilly!” he snapped, not unkindly.
Through the blur of tears, I looked at him. His eyes were wide and startled.
“Tilly, nobody’s going to kill you! I swear, nobody is going to kill you,” he promised, his voice quiet but full of utter conviction.
He believed what he was saying, he meant it…but his words were so like the promise Dominic had made to me that I twitched. “You can’t know that. Not for sure,” I whispered.
He shook me again, just gently. “Yes, I can, and I do. Nobody is going to lay a finger on you, not a single member of the pack, no matter how scared or angry they are now. They’ll calm down, and we’ll talk to them. Both of us, together. And nobody will hurt you. I won’t let them hurt you, Tilly, not for any reason.”
The intensity in his blue eyes, the bright way he was looking at me, made me believe him. He was my wolf, even if he wasn’t only a wolf, and he would protect me. My wolf would keep me safe.
Slowly, I nodded. “Okay,” I rasped.
Spencer’s grip on my arms loosened. He looked ruefully at the marks he’d left on my skin, mumbled an apology, and started to get to his feet. I grabbed his wrist, stopping him. He jerked in surprise, looking down at me. I peered up at him through lank, dirty strands of hair, my face tight and tear stained.
“Please,” I whispered, “Don’t go. S-stay here…with me. I don’t want to be on my own. I won’t feel safe. What if the witc
hes come for me? Or what if they make me sleepwalk again? Or what if—”
Spencer ducked down beside me, putting two fingers over my lips to hush me. “I get it. I’ll stay…if that’s what you really want?”
It was almost a question, so I nodded, his fingers brushing against my lips. My lips tingled.
“Okay then. But maybe first I should…” He frowned, plucking at the blanket he was wearing.
I blinked. It took me a moment to realise what he meant, and I blushed. “Um, yeah. You should probably…” I swallowed, releasing his wrist.
“Yeah, I’ll just go…get dressed.” He stood, moving toward the window. He turned back, one hand on the sill. The moonlight threw sparks from his eyes. “I’ll just be a couple of minutes. Will you be okay till I come back?” he asked, his face uncertain.
I hesitated, and then nodded. He sighed, then flung himself out the window, the blanket fluttering free as he disappeared into the darkness beyond the windowsill.
Shivering, I got up and shut the window, locking it. I’d have to let him back in, but at least nothing else could come in while he was gone. Well, obviously they could, but I just had to hope nobody was angry enough to break down the door to get at me. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to put up much of a struggle, if any at all.
Safe in the knowledge that Spencer was coming right back, I fumbled my way into the bathroom and flipped on the shower. I didn’t wait for the water to warm up before peeling off my dress—it stuck to my body where the blood had seeped through and had started to dry to my skin—and stepping into the shower. I had finally stopped crying, and my hands were steady enough that I managed to scrub most of the dirt and blood from my skin and hair. The crescents of my finger and toenails were still black, and there was a knot in my hair that I couldn’t be bothered to wrestle with, but I was mostly clean. I couldn’t do anything about the cuts or scratches, or about the bruises I was going to have the next day.
By the time I got out of the shower, I was feeling more stable. I wrapped myself in a towel and scouted out the walk-in wardrobe, pulling on cotton shorts and a t-shirt. I returned to my bedroom. It was still dim, lit only by the moonlight streaming through the window, but I could see well enough. A rapid tapping on the glass made me jump, and I looked up to see Spencer scowling on the other side. I went and unlocked the window, sliding it open. He climbed in.
“You locked it,” he muttered accusingly as he closed the window behind him.
He flipped the lock anyway. Then he turned to look at me. I think I stopped breathing for a second. He was dressed in simple black jogging bottoms and a matching t-shirt, both somehow not as black as his damp hair. There were no signs of dirt or blood left on him either, so I guessed he’d showered too. His skin looked startlingly white against the black. In the dimness, he was an odd combination of shadows and light, charcoal and chalk. Except for the reflective shine of his eyes.
Knotting my fingers together, I said, “I was worried someone might come in while you were gone.”
He frowned, but he just nodded, standing somewhat awkwardly next to my bed. Somewhat awkward myself, I recognised once again that there was a boy in my bedroom in the middle of the night. The fact that he was no longer naked and savage looking was little consolation to my nerves, but I knew it would be ten times worse for my nerves if he weren’t here.
Clearing his throat softly, Spencer shoved his hands into his pockets. His head was bowed so I couldn’t read his face. “Um. I can sleep on the floor…or in the other room, if you’d prefer?” He sounded as uncomfortable as he looked from his posture.
I started to nod, ready to agree, but then I paused. I glanced at the dark trees outside the window, the full moon hanging like a bulbous leering face in the sky. With something fluttering inside my chest, I moved to the bed and peeled back the covers, sliding in. I felt Spencer watching me, and I turned, raising my eyebrows at him expectantly. His eyebrows rose in response, surprise rather than expectancy. There was a question in his eyes.
I patted the space in the mattress next to me, shifting back against the wall. “Please?” I murmured shyly.
Spencer hesitated a moment, then nodded once sharply. I thought, more to himself than to me. Then he strode across the room, pausing only a split second before sliding into the bed next to me. He was as tense as a bowstring, and he relaxed only a fraction when I flipped the covers up over us and lay down. My back was pressed against the cool wall, my fingers secretly clenching the sheet under the pillow. Spencer’s eyes were bright, locked on mine. He leaned over, eyes never leaving mine, and my heart slammed into my ribs—but he was only reaching up to yank the curtains shut over the window. Then he leaned back and my heart subsided, deciding to remain in my chest after all.
I’d thought I was exhausted before, but with Spencer lying next to me, I couldn’t seem to close my eyes. I stared at him, watching the play of shadows on his face, the flickering of gold in his eyes, and he stared back. I wondered what he was seeing, what I looked like to him right in that moment. I felt raw and exposed, but I also felt alright with that, because I knew Spencer wouldn’t hurt me, wouldn’t judge me. I wished I knew what he was thinking.
“Tilly,” he whispered suddenly.
“Hmm?” I murmured back.
He hesitated, as if he was considering what he was about to say very carefully, and I saw his eyes flicker. Then his mouth curved slightly, and he murmured, “Goodnight.”
Smiling, I relaxed, leaning slightly away from the wall at my back. Spencer’s knee brushed mine, the heat of his body warming me. His dark hair fell into his light eyes, tangling in his lashes. I closed my eyes.
Safe and warm with him lying next to me, I replied quietly, “Goodnight Spencer.”
** Spencer **
He sensed someone was at the door before he heard the knocking echo through the cabin. Immediately alert, Spencer sat up in the bed, ears pricked to catch the sound of knuckles rapping on wood and boards of the porch creaking under nervously shifting feet. He knew who it would be, and grimaced.
Spencer looked down at Tilly, lying in the bed next to him, and for a moment felt dizzy. She was still asleep, pale morning light filtering through the closed curtains and onto her face. Her white-gold hair was rumpled, tossed across the pillow, her sugar-pink lips slightly parted as she breathed lightly. There were bluish shadows under her eyes, and there was a thin, red line of a scratch just above her left eyebrow. In sleep, she looked so young and fragile, and there he was, a half-feral half-wolf creature, in her bed while she dreamed on. The amount of trust she’d put in him, asking him to stay the night, was incomprehensible to him. It made something in his chest ache a little. He lifted a hand, his fingertips hovering over her cheekbone, desperate to touch…
The knocking came again, louder and more insistent, and Spencer jerked his hand back. With a muttered curse, he slid out of the bed carefully, not wanting to wake Tilly. She had been through enough; she deserved to sleep at least a little longer. He cast a glance over his shoulder as he slipped out of the room, seeing the soft shape of her body under the covers and the unguarded expression on her sleeping face, and then he closed the door and padded, barefoot, down the hall.
The person at the door started to knock again, and Spencer strode past the kitchen and living room. He let out a breath between his teeth, willing his expression to relax, and threw the door open. There, on the porch, as he’d expected, was Dominic. In the shadows under the awning, he looked worn and tired, with his curls all tangled as if he hadn’t bothered to brush them when he rolled out of bed, and smudges under his eyes. His mouth was a thin line, and he looked surprised at first to see Spencer on the other side of the door, and then angry.
“What are you doing here?” Dominic snapped, his eyes narrowing.
Spencer looked his half-brother up and down, just slowly enough to let Dominic see the contempt in his eyes, and then leaned his elbow casually on the door handle.
Dominic tensed visibly, his jaw clamp
ed. “Let me in,” he commanded when Spencer didn’t reply. “I need to speak to Tilly.”
Without a word, Spencer stepped back, swinging the door open wider, a clear invitation to Dominic to come in, though what he really wanted to do was to send the curly headed tosser away and slam the door in his face. Glaring at Spencer, Dominic stepped over the threshold and looked around. Spencer closed the door quietly and turned to Dominic, who looked uncomfortable, standing with his hands in his pockets in the middle of the cabin, half-way between the living room and the kitchen. The boy’s green eyes darted around the room, looking for Tilly. Spencer prayed his knocking hadn’t woken her, that she’d sleep on until he could get Dominic to leave. He didn’t want her to have to deal with her supposed best friend until she felt like it.
“Tilly is still asleep,” Spencer informed him in a tone that dared the other boy to figure out how he came to know such information. He moved to the kitchen and leaned forward with his forearms on the countertop, steadily eyeing his half-brother over the low wall separating the breakfast bar from the kitchen.
As Spencer had intended, Dominic’s cheeks flushed, and his eyes darkened. “What are you doing here?” he repeated, a mixture of anger and jealousy clouding his normally cheerful face.
Spencer wanted to ask him the same thing, but refrained because he thought he already knew Dominic’s reason for coming over there first thing in the morning. Knowing it would infuriate the boy further, Spencer smiled—a wry and secret twist of the lips. The muscles in Dominic’s arms tightened as he fisted his hands in his pockets, but his expression didn’t change. Spencer had never seen his half-brother look so fierce. For a second, Spencer contemplated leaving it at his smile, without saying a word, letting Dominic make what conclusions he would. Then he remembered the last encounter they’d had in the cabin, and he couldn’t bite his tongue on his next words:
“This time,” Spencer said coolly, “I did spend the night here.”