The Wildflower Series

by Rachelle Mills

  I knew Cassius was different from all other males as soon as I met him. It was the first time the Wild didn’t crouch her shoulders and pin down her ears when a male spoke. He looked so sad standing beside his brother Caleb when he first came down the basement stairs. It was the first time I wanted to ask a question to a male.

  Why are you crying behind dry eyes?

  He sat beside me on the couch as Belac and Caleb played pool. I couldn’t help but drink really fast, the nervous kind of drinking that makes you want to blur the world away. They were strong drinks, more whiskey-vodkas than soda.

  He called me Specs.

  Cassius’s voice sounded hollow, like an old faded echo with the word Specs on repeat in my head.

  I started to gag once those whiskey-vodkas dug into my gut. Before I could vomit on the couch, Cassius had me in his arms, carrying me to the bathroom. With the first heave of my stomach, my glasses flew off, breaking on the tile floor. I almost start to sob out loud, but the gentle palm of his hand was running over the ridge-bones of my spine. Soothing.

  He held my hair back so I didn’t get vomit on the loose strands. My spine was shaking but not from the heaving, from his touch. Deep down I knew right then and there that Cassius could never hurt me in the way I’ve been hurt. It’s not in his nature.

  I can hear the laughter from Sunday morning breakfast wisp up the stairs before climbing into the shower to drown out the noise in the rushing water.

  Scrubbing, cleaning off the scent of lone sex so none of the wolves at the table can detect the smell in the back of their throats. Once dry, the clothes are thrown in the washer and started.

  The stairs are taken with caution, not much noise, only enough to let them know I’m coming down. I hate intruding on them, but Belac left me no choice. I’m staying with the Valentines until she comes back for me. I’m getting used to that and comfortable with the Valentines.

  Cassius is at the table with each twin beside him; they are at the end of finishing their breakfast. Rya and Luna Grace are speaking over a table full of baby pictures. The mated wolves send Rya the futures that were created because of her moon gift. Fertility.

  Rya is summoned constantly to travel to packs that request her gifts be used on their sterile wolves. In return, the pack has to sign a contract that in a time of need they are to send milk to a pup whose mother has died before the wean.

  “Good morning, Treajure,” Luna Grace says while I pass her. She places her hand on my head and lets it slide along the back of my hairline. Rya smiles her best smile at me.

  “Good morning, Treajure.” Rya speaks with the hopes I say something back. I never answer. Never. She doesn’t ever give up hope, though.

  Cassius’s twins have become something more to me than just pups that I watch throughout the day. I press kisses to their heads, and the hum in my throat comes out to vibrate against their skin. I love them. It’s been six months since I really understood what that feeling was, but it was right there. Love. Something I never thought would happen again.

  Alpha Clinton is sitting in his spot finishing up his coffee, and all I can remember is when Rya giggled to me on her deck as we were watching the waves hit the shore that she thought he looked like a silverback gorilla, and as soon as she told me that, I saw it. I almost laughed out loud. Almost.

  When sitting down, I can’t help watching Cassius clean both his twins up, wipe their hands, and swat their butts to go play downstairs in the toy room. Chance starts to fuss in the highchair, and Dallas sets him down to play with his cousins.

  Caleb stretches out his spine, cracking each bone to the annoyance of everyone around the table. He’s drinking milk from a glass, looking out the big window into the backyard. Belac left for the Wilds of Valentine on a Sunday, and I think the both of us should expect her back on a Sunday. So far there’s been no sign of her. The Silverback says she’s in deep. Caleb argues about going to go get her, and his father argues back that he has to be prepared to make a choice if she doesn’t want to come back—will he be willing to live out his life in Wild form?

  I wanted to argue with the Alpha that I need Belac back, but my voice was blocked by teeth, the sound bouncing off enamel to be swallowed back down deep in my gut. The day she left, my screams were silent for days after. Chin tucked to chest, there was no hope to keep my glasses on. I didn’t want to see anything. She left me, and I hated her for it. She told me, promised me she would never leave me. Ever. I believed that promise. She lied. Caleb took the sharpest point of my anger. I stabbed him the way I felt stabbed by Belac. Caleb and I couldn’t live together in his house anymore. He felt awkward with me around him all the time. He felt strangled and suffocated. He couldn’t take a shit by himself anymore without someone hovering around his space. I paced at night. He got no sleep; neither did I. He brought me to his parents’ house and told them he was unable to handle me anymore.

  Cassius, in those early days, was the one to sit beside me while I looked out the window. He started to tell me the made-up stories I never knew belonged to me. He has a way of talking to me with a voice that clings to the deeper layers of skin. Not the dead parts that will eventually flake off. He called me a princess, and I thought of him as my prince. My body is made of scars, and in those beginning times, Cassius somehow looked at me without noticing what has been etched into my skin. He actually was looking at me, and he made it so I could never look away from him.

  Letter 2

  Cash,

  The doctor was honest with us. Be honest with yourself. I’m not going to make it. You know it, and I know it. He said not to give up hope, but it’s more for you, not me.

  I felt the Wild slip away today. I felt her give her last dying bit of energy to the pups, not to me, but for the pups so they have a better chance at living when my time comes. I couldn’t tell you this when you asked me about my Wild, if she was all right, because you couldn’t feel her anymore. Forgive me for keeping that from you. I wanted you to keep your hope.

  She sacrificed herself for them, and I can’t believe what I’ve put my Wild through. I hope to make peace with my Wild in the Moon. I hope she can forgive me. Do you think she can forgive me?

  The Wild loved you; she loved you right from the beginning, the moment we inhaled your scent in the clinic. Before our eyes even opened up and saw your face. You were holding my hand, but she thought that it was her paw you were holding. I remember you brushing the hair away from my forehead. It felt like love. It was the second before I opened my mouth and turned your eyes into something that looked like hate.

  The Wild never hated you. It was impossible for her to hate you, no matter what you put me through, put us through. I put her through more. She hated me more. She didn’t blame you for the hate, the rage, the violence, because it was nothing compared to what she did within me. All those years she had to endure Clayton. All the years his hands were on me she had to suffer under them. She didn’t feel his hands the same way I did. She only felt a sickness that came from his touch, not the desire I felt.

  Clayton brought me great pleasure, and my Wild suffered because of it.

  Every time you touched my skin, she would try to hold onto that feeling, that excitement you gave us deep down. It was her first time to experience those raw primal feelings. She wanted you. No matter how much I spewed at you, she always only wanted you. No one else. She was loyal to you and your Wild, Cash. I need you to know that.

  The Wild was your biggest supporter…me, not so much.

  There was a time I wished I could sever her from my soul somehow, a way to get rid of her so I could be with Clayton. To be human, maybe? They are the lucky ones; they have a choice. They get to love who they love and not have it dictated to them.

  Now that she is gone, really gone, I can’t stop the loneliness I feel. I can’t stop my suffering inside at losing something that for the longest time I wanted dead.

  I’ve been so selfish. Selfish to the Wild, selfish to you. I never thought love could turn
you into something you hated.

  Kennedy

  Chapter 3

  Bruises in the Color of an Overripe Peach

  Cassius shifts in his seat. His family all notices that he has something important to say. I hold the stillborn breath in. Carson, and Crane, the pussy smasher, hold onto their coffee cups; they have a smell of a hard night of beer seeping from the pores of their skin. They look heavy-lidded and wrinkled up.

  Cassius clears his throat—the vein in his neck is pulsing.

  He takes a drink of water, pulling in his bottom lip with his teeth. I’d love to feel those teeth on me, pulling my flesh into his mouth.

  “Do you want to say something, Cash?” the Alpha asks, and Cassius opens his mouth up, closes it, takes another drink of water. Swallows.

  The Luna looks at her male, and Dallas stops everything to look at number three. Caleb cracks his neck before sitting down. Carson and Crane put their cups of coffee down.

  Something in the pit of my stomach says this isn’t going to be good for me. There is a stutter to the beat of my heart; it’s trying to find its normal rhythm.

  “I met someone,” Cassius tells the entire table on Sunday. The family’s special day. The table hears what was told to me last night. I was hoping what he said was just whiskey-drunk lies—that he’d forget in the morning. For a terrible moment, I’m afraid my spine will push through the back of the chair.

  The burn in the middle of my chest spreads, growing malignant, unstoppable.

  I don’t want to burn, not like this. Not this way. The Alpha brings his hand to cover his Luna’s. It’s hard to watch the squeeze of his fingers. Tight smiles spread around the table. Mine shakes, but that doesn’t matter because no one is looking at me. Hope spreads crystal clear on his face with a promise of happiness attached to the smile on his lips.

  Blinking.

  Blinking back tears because Cassius looks the way the sun does, all shiny and warmth. He’s radiating. Biting my inner cheek, forcing an exhale, forcing an inhale. Forcing a smile that shakes raw from the way I’m melting to the bones.

  Cassius’s head raises, meeting his father’s eyes first, then his mother’s. He lets them fall on number one, two, four, and five. Rya is next. I wait for my turn. It doesn’t come. He doesn’t let our eyes meet. I sink in my chair as the glasses fall from my face before I have time to catch them. They land underneath the table, but no one really pays attention to the noise. It’s Cassius they are focused on.

  Half-blind half tear-filled eyes search for the glasses with fingertips that are stretched out wide, covering as much space as quickly as I can.

  “Who is she?” Luna Grace starts to unravel the process of who she is.

  “A female that can be claimed. She’s one of the females from last night I was introduced to.” He says with this calmness that makes my heart bash up against the inside of my chest.

  Let the unraveling begin.

  “Which one?” Carson asks. His voice isn’t strong enough to compete with the blood rushing through my ears.

  I sit back up on the chair, not meeting anyone’s eyes. I can’t look at how happy everyone is.

  “Her name’s Hazel.” There is a surrender of reverence the name brings out from Cassius’s mouth. To me, it’s a common name. I hope deep down she’s ordinary.

  “That’s a pretty name,” Rya says, and I flinch, open-mouthed. No sound comes out, and for once, I am thankful for the silence.

  “Hazel is with Tommie’s pack.” Carson shows why you can always count on him knowing useless things.

  “You know where she lives?” Cassius perks up. Everything is now focused on his brother.

  “Yes, not far from here. A few hours away.” Carson’s knee is shaking. I can feel the vibrations through the floor. It competes with my own shake.

  “I want an unofficial meeting with her.” He speaks calmly, and I have my heart inside my throat with randomness that makes me feel dizzy and sweaty.

  “I’ll make some phone calls.” The Luna straightens out her shoulders.

  “I want to meet up with her later today if possible.”

  The Luna laughs. “No Luna will let that happen. I’ll ask, but I think she will make you sit for a while. I’ll let you know what she says. Rya, do you want to make the call or do you want me?”

  A pause.

  “I’ll make the call for Cash.” Rya smiles through her words to her best friend.

  “I could make the call,” Cassius casually says.

  The Luna and Rya both say, “No,” at the same time.

  “How serious is this, Cash?” Dallas asks while looking at his hair.

  “I want to see her again, unofficially.” Cassius rubs at his beard.

  “Tell us about her? What was it that made you interested?” his mother asks.

  He swallows the pause as his fingers flex away from the fist he was making.

  “Her eyes, they caught me off guard.”

  “Anything else?” His mother pursues more of an answer from her son.

  “She’s beautiful and looks like Kennedy in a way. She reminds me of Kennedy.”

  My ass presses harder into the chair.

  “Hazel is an asshole, or at least that’s what Tommie says, and Tommie likes everyone,” Carson speaks up.

  “Why would she be an asshole?” The Luna seems invested in the answer.

  “I’m not sure. He just said she was an asshole and likes to take shit that doesn’t belong to her. I didn’t ask for details.” Carson’s hand goes over his shaved head; his neck has a red flush to it. I feel like he’s sweating out all the beer he had last night.

  I feel lighter now. He won’t let an asshole around his twins.

  “I mean, she’s pretty straightforward. Nothing wrong with that.” Cassius’s voice interrupts the triumph that my heart was feeling for a second.

  A bell rings from the playroom in the basement.

  “That’s my ten o’clock appointment,” Caleb announces while looking at his watch. I follow Caleb out of the room because I’m not sure the beat of my heart can take anymore without it failing in my chest.

  “Treajure, don’t get too close to my ass. I’m still healing from the last time you shanked me.” He makes a stabbing motion with his wrist, he gets it wrong, but I don’t say anything about that. I hold my spot while he walks down the stairs backward, looking me in the eyes the entire time.

  “It was a flesh wound. Stop being dramatic, number two,” Crane, the pussy smasher, taunts. He laughs to himself, and Caleb will get him, he always does, but Crane doesn’t care. He likes the battles they embark on. One day I really think Crane thinks he can one-up Caleb. I put my faith in Caleb, not Crane. He’s too young for the way Caleb can play.

  A pink child’s chair is in the center of the playroom. Caleb is singing at the front desk of Dee’s salon. She has everything out to do hair and nails. No red allowed. Caleb had a fit when he saw it was one of the colors she had. He threw a tantrum that even Chance would be envious of.

  He yelled into Cassius’s face that Dee will not be wearing red until she’s twenty-five. Cassius agreed and threw out the color.

  Dee looks over the sign-in sheet meticulously. She looks up at Caleb, then back at the sheet, taps the pen to paper.

  “Uncle Caleb.” She looks around at the pretend crowd, and he raises his hand.

  “Please take a seat.” Dee instructs him where to sit and proceeds to take his hair out of the bun, letting it fall to his shoulders.

  “What are we doing today?” She’s got the ends of his hair between her fingers, giving a shake of her head, not liking what she’s seeing. Real scissors are in her other hand because her uncle doesn’t care if the ends are a little uneven. He makes it work on him.

  “I was thinking a trim, and I need my nails done.” He looks at his bare nails; the polish already has worn off. She grabs a hand, inspects each nail, then the other one.

  “You’re a mess.” He agrees with her.

 
She snips and snips, too much from the right, not enough from the left, but to her, it’s a masterpiece that her uncle praises. Nails are next, a light pink that bleeds into the skin surrounding his cuticles. She takes her time, he is patient, and before long he’s all done and it’s my turn.

  “Perfect.” Her voice is excited. She is getting better and better with each appointment.

  “That will be twenty dollars.” She holds out her hand, and Caleb puts a fake twenty in it with tip. I’ve signed in as well, and Dee looks over her list before calling my name, “Specs.”

  The rest of the morning is spent in the salon, while Chance and Ken play with their toys. They refuse to sit for hair or nails.

  Our games switch from salon to school to making a spaceship out of the box the new fridge came in. We draw windows and buttons on the inside so we can blast off into space after we eat our lunch inside it.

  One by one they each lay down, sleepy-eyed, before I curl up beside them at the entrance. Afternoon naps at their best.

  When I come out from the cardboard box, Cassius is sitting on the bottom step. I’m not sure how long he’s been there. He closes his sketchbook and holds it in his hand. His hair is pulled into a bun, and he’s taken a shower and trimmed his beard. He’s got on a few shirts that stretch slightly across his chest. Clean jeans, not joggers. He even is wearing socks. He’s still wearing his layers, but something is different. I notice immediately.

  “I’m going out this afternoon.” His words bubble up like champagne in a flute on New Year’s Eve when everyone cheers to a better New Year. I never thought while raising my glass this year that this would be his year.

  Raising my head quickly, I push the glasses up the bridge of my nose.

  “Uncle Caleb is taking all of you to his house.” The way Cassius talks, this makes me feel included. I’m not his child.

  The pups squeal. Before racing up the stairs, he grabs each one of them, nudging his cheek against theirs.

  “I’ll be back tonight,” he affirms when he turns to walk up the stairs. I get the view of material shifting with the way the muscles on his back flex and relax.