I find Nathan leaning against the wall across from them. The soft light in his midnight eyes stands out in the shadows. I can’t tell at all what he’s thinking, his face vacant of all expression as he just stares.
“Just get the shit over with, Nate.” Johann’s gaze flicks to me and then away.
“Don’t try to entice me,” Nathan intones. “I have enough of that. Plus, you were only a pawn in his game.”
Johann jumps to his feet, racing for me, moving faster than Olar can grab him.
Fearful, I reflex, blasting him. A warp of fire bursts from my hands and smashes into Johann’s chest. He flies back, feet lifting off the floor, and rams into the tile wall behind him. Dropping down into a squat with his back against the concrete, the hole in his chest slowly closes. Johann groans, fingers swiping over the new addition to his chest.
“Enough fun for one day, Johann. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Nathan pulls himself from the wall, smiling with his sharpened teeth evenly aligned. “If you’re lucky, or, if someone else’s as dumb as you, you might have a playmate.”
Johann stands and lurches across the floor to the pipe. Jumping up, he grabs hold of it and willingly hangs there.
Olar stalks past him, looking as if he doesn’t want to leave him alive. And to confirm my assumption he throws a punch in Johann’s stomach.
I turn to the door as Nathan makes it to my side. Even with the threats, the intimidation, Johann’s gloss-eyed gaze still assaults my body.
“You cannot leave me in here like this!” Johann yells when Roseland opens the door.
Nathan whips around, anger filling him too quickly. My hand shoots out, grabbing his and he calms. Rage sucked away as though it never existed. His face irritably contorts as he looks down at our clasped hands. He hates it when I control him, a part of him; a big part of him likes the beast and despises containment. But it’s required. He’d be angry with himself if he spazzed out.
Gritting his teeth, Nathan drags his gaze up to Johann. “I’m just making it as difficult for you as the person who sent you is trying to make it for me. You chose who you wanted to follow, and along with the others who choose the same, death will not come easy,” Nathan promises without ire.
I turn to the door before him, heading from, what I now call, the torture room.
Johann’s curses and hate-filled words fly at our backs until the door shuts.
I was expecting them to kill him too. Once again, Nathan takes his role as the hardest person to read in my life.
Nathan hooks his arm around my neck, and in my ear, he whispers rhyming lyrics in his language. I pick up on some words he uses often, but with others, I’m less familiar. Like the ones he’s using today. Long ‘A’s, hard ‘R’s, and ‘W’s that sound like a mix between W, U, and A, lace the accent of his linguistic. It’s settling in a way that lifts the weight of our world off my shoulders, and I let the smile steal my face. I’m supposed to be accustomed to people coming after me. Since Roehl, it’s been happening a lot. But I’m never going to get used to someone using someone else to kidnap me. And this guy was very good.
Scott leaves us to find Glen, and Olar and Roseland follow Nathan and me to his room. If I could pay for a moment alone with him, I would. I’m craving for some of his attention without interruptions or someone with their eyes on us.
Recently, Nathan bought a sitting chair for his room. It’s a dark gray like his walls, and if I were just to glance over to the corner of the room between the window and closet, the chair almost blends in. I sit in it, leaning my head back on its firm pillow-top.
“What happened in there?” Roseland asks, twisting the computer chair around and sliding it between his legs. He hugs the back of the chair to his chest, waiting on Nathan to answer.
Heading for the bathroom, Nathan throws over his shoulder, “Johann showed up at Sparks’ school, posing as her father. He was going to kill her parents and take off with her in the morning.”
“I suppose you got that bit of information when you got into his head.”
“Got into his head?” I question.
“Yeah, I did,” Nathan says, leaving the bathroom. He leans against the TV stand, adding, “I had Olar cover the pain.” He aborts his sentence, watching Olar pass him to his bathroom. “You do know there’s another bathroom in the hall.”
“Yes. But I don’t want to miss the conversation,” Olar retorts, closing the bathroom door.
Nathan looks at me, throwing his thumb toward the closed door. I shake my head, letting off to just let it go. Olar doesn’t care about anything he does or anyone’s personal space. The world is his to seize and, or destroy.
Looking at his phone, Nathan concludes, “It wasn’t going to happen, but what’s to say he wouldn’t try to kill her parents. Couldn’t have that.”
“I don’t know now,” I mutter derisively, thinking about Dad giving me a hard time lately.
“You don’t mean that, Ladybug,” Nathan mocks.
“What happened to you?” Roseland asks Nathan. His brows pull together, and he drags in a breath as though Nathan’s choice would draw on heavier consequences.
Nathan lifts his gaze to Roseland. “I didn’t want to,” he emits, the humor he’d used with me gone.
“Since when?”
“It’s greater than that.” Nathan flicks his gaze up to the ceiling as if he were reading his next words in the paint. “Roehl’s testing me. He knows I’ll drop each of them and send them back to him gift wrapped.”
“So, what? We hold them hostage in the let out until. . .?” Roseland asks with a continuing motion to his hand.
“I’m not sure yet. It depends on when the next one comes.”
Olar swings open the bathroom door. Its whack against the wall breaks into his words. “I think we should drop them by twos. Make them kill each other, and we’ll watch.”
That sounds gory. “I think I’ll skip that.” Feeling Nathan stare a hole through me, I shift my gaze to him. He nods for me to come over. Hell Yes. Favorably, I go. Standing before him, I wait for instruction; if he will make the first move or should I.
He grabs my hips, pulling me to him. “You were taking too long,” he groans, pushing his arms around me. Subsequently, the bond has us both messed up. Nathan just has a more tamable hold on his bonding with me. “Turn off your brain, Sparks,” he says, leaning down, kissing me. I rise on my toes, brain shutting down, body coming alive with a swelling passion that’s been expanding in me and never subsides.
My tongue grazes his lip and is met with his brushing it. As the door closes, the overbearing awareness I held from others being in the room is gone. Feeling the relief, I breathe in, taking in more Nathan scented air than my lungs can handle. Curling my arms around Nathan’s neck, he lifts me by my thighs making our difference in height a non-issue.
Leaning back, he gazes. “I miss you.”
I look him over, admiring him. “Me too,” I say, pushing my hands up the short sleeves of his fitted shirt.
“I didn’t kill him because you were there. I wasn’t just going to turn him into nothing, and I didn’t want you to see that.”
I lean down to kiss him, but stop half way to his lips to say, “I don’t care.” As I’m closing the remaining distance his door whips open.
He lets me down to the floor and Little Nathan’s rattling off. “I’m sorry. I probably should have knocked, but Justin and Taylor are going at it heavy! We need your help.”
Without question, we rush from the room.
THE BASEMENT’S TRASHED. HANGING ceiling lights flicker as they swing back and forth. The coffee table, once evenly sat between the couches and TV is smashed, seeming to be from someone being slammed onto it. The kitchen side of the basement is in shambles, the counters, fridge, stove. . . They’re all a memory.
Natalia stands off to the side near the wall the TV once occupied, clear of any crossfire, yelling for Taylor and Justin to stop. They’ve separated, lethal expressions daring the other to make
the next move. I rush to Natalia’s side, wrapping my arm around her shoulders. She squeezes me tight, watching Nathan cross the floor to his sister and her mate.
Taylor’s reddened complexion is a clear indication she’s lost control and spazzed out on Justin. She’s been doing that lately, something about what Roehl did to her. I’ve not yet gotten the full understanding of it because we rarely talk to Taylor, and to not rile Nathan up we don’t talk about her either.
Justin stands his ground, the only one who can take Taylor’s blows besides Nathan. In full Hybrid form, his jet-black hair hangs down his back in the constant ponytail he wears. Eyes darker than nightstand out against his pale, powder-like skin. He’s been good about not fighting back with Taylor when she’d spaz, but today, it looks like things got out of hand.
“What happened?” Nathan asks, playing peer mediator. His tone’s dull and his dislike for needing to step in is present in his demeanor; arms hung at his side, shoulders slumped, head tilted a bit to the side. He even adds the ‘roll of his eyes.’
“Nathan, please talk to her? She has lost it,” Natalia nervously begs. Her fear shudders her body, vibrating my arms. I rub her hands, hoping she can feel through my touch that everything is okay. Since Papa Nathan’s passing, her settlement in life has diminished. She’s jumpy and more alert than the other Sephlems I’ve met. I worry about her, and I want her to know that whatever she needs I’m here, even if that means my silence and reassuring her with something as pointless as my touch.
Nathan nods, responding to his mom without looking in her direction. “Justin, calm down and tell me what happened.”
Justin shifts his weight, body still hunched, ready to attack. “Something’s wrong with her,” he rushes airy and without a voice in his Hybrid form.
Nathan seems as if he wants to, but he doesn’t look at Taylor as he asks, “What’d you do?”
Taylor adjusts, letting her complexion take back its tanned tone. Justin changes as she does. Throwing her hands to her chest, she cries, “He’s calling me, Nathan.” Stepping toward him, she adds, “I spazzed out and Justin took a few blows.” Her hurt filled, downcast gaze gradually rises to Justin. “I’m sorry.” He gives her single nod with the darkness leaving his eyes and color filling his cheeks.
Nathan moves from Taylor’s path, avoiding her oncoming. “Look at the basement,” he blurts. “Justin apparently took more than a few blows.”
Taylor veers to approach him, arms extended in front of her, requesting his embrace.
Nathan’s head falls in a bow. A mix between disbelief and dissatisfaction is thick in his eyes as he looks at Taylor through is upper lashes. He slowly shakes his head, murmuring, “Taylor, if you value your mate’s life, you won’t come any closer.”
Halted mid-step, she stumbles. “You would kill my mate because of what happened?” Her shock creeps in her words causing them to rise and fall accusatorily.
Nathan’s eyes swirl midnight. Natalia’s grip on my hand tightens as we watch him face her. “No,” he corrects. “I’ll kill you.” His most direct attack against her yet.
We gasp, all sucked dry by his promise.
Taylor drops to her knees, clutched hands pressed to her chest. Sobbing, she holds herself as if a chill’s knifing through her again and again. I can’t imagine the hurt her brother’s words have on her. The relationship they once had disappearing like passed time, her feeling it slip away from her ounce by ounce.
“Nathan!” Natalia shouts, startling me. “That is your sister!” Her rage heats her face, crimson staining her young cheeks. “You don’t mean that, son.” She chokes on her words. “You can’t.” She rushes to Taylor’s mewling body. “You need to help her, Nathan. She can’t fight this on her own.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, feeling Nathan’s anger overcome me. Sometimes, his anger’s so powerful it locks me up. Breathing, I wait for it to pass. Stepping over blocks of splintered wood, scraps of couch, and pieces that’d fallen from the ceiling, I meet him. I slide my fingers over his palm and find the empty spaces between his fingers, sealing them, filling him with a comfort I know will calm him down. “It’s okay,” I tell him.
He looks down at me, eyes swirling green-brown. Turning away, he breaks our grasp, rejecting it. “I can’t.”
“Nathan!” Natalia yells.
He halts, grimacing.
“You will help your sister. Consider all that she’s done for you! You’ve always helped family! What happened?” she barks.
Nathan whips around, anger deep in his reddening face. “She happened!” He points at Taylor. “She was supposed to be my family! She messed up; she betrayed me.” His voice lowers to a wicked utter. “She has done a lot for me, and so did the person she used to help cross me. But you don’t see me walking around here helping him, or calling him family.” He looks down at Taylor crying out in pain. “Go to him, Taylor!” he shouts at her. “You owe it!” Backing away from them, he pivots but stops when Natalia’s tears fall.
“Nathan, I cannot believe you.” She kneels down, trying to help Taylor from the floor.
It hurts him, seeing his mother cry and struggle, but he doesn’t move. Little Nathan rushes over, pulling Taylor to her feet.
Nathan turns away from them. “I’m leaving. Gotta get back to watching out for these assholes coming to take Sparks, thanks to Taylor’s feebleness.”
“Nathan!” Natalia barks. “If you do not help your sister, I will ban you.”
What the hell does that mean?!
She straightens her spine, adding, “And it will be you who we will no longer refer to as family.”
Despair moves stealthily over us. “You will ban me?” Nathan asks in a flat monotone. Then the anger thrashes through him forcing him to shout, “Me! Taylor put Tracey’s life on the line, my life on the line for her selfish needs!” He points from his sister to me with an angry thrust of his index and middle fingers. “She risked my heart!” he shouts, pointing to himself. “All because she wanted your husband dead.” He leaves my side, gating toward them. “She did that! She promised herself and me to Roehl all because he gave her some edge to get me to kill our father! And you would ban me?!”
Natalia takes a single step toward him, daring him with a look that could kill.
He retracts, looking down at her. “She betrayed our family,” he continues in a lower voice. “And you want me to help her? Just ignore what she has done?” He snorts. “You should be thankful she’s still alive.”
Natalia’s hand whips back and smacks Nathan, sending his head turning left.
Taking his bottom lip in his mouth, he bites down on it so hard my lip hurts. Leaving his head turned, he looks at me from the corner of his eyes. I can see the million and one thoughts crossing his mind, the rage and calm twisting the color in his irises. He would never lay a finger on his mother, but he wants to release the beast in other ways.
“Babe,” I mutter hurtfully, knowing he’s talking out of anger, and both of them need to calm down. Natalia knows how hard to hit or blast Nathan without it hurting me, but by the sadness in her eyes, she regrets she did.
Nathan shifts his gaze from me, letting his lids close over his dark eyes as he turns to face his mother.
She won’t let Nathan see her falter, but she steps away from him. She stands strong on her promises even if it means hurting herself. “Son, you heard what I said.” Tears roll from her eyes, and her soft voice shakes as she tries to hold in the grief. “I’ve been back and forth with you two for the past few months. But this”—she points to Taylor’s shivering body—“Has gone too far. She cannot handle this alone, Nathan.” She takes a breath to calm herself. “I know you and Tracey have a lot going on. And I, too, am not sure of what Taylor’s intentions were. But we love our family regardless of what they’ve done to harm or hurt us.” Nobody speaks as she takes a long pause. “Roehl was not our family, never has been and never will be.” She shoots Nathan a deadly scowl, expression and voice hardening as she adds, “A
nd it is your fault he isn’t dead.”
Little Nathan helps Taylor as the three pass Nathan and me, heading upstairs. The basement door slams, causing the picture on the walls to rattle and a couple to crash on the floor.
Nathan grunts, kicking the shredded couch across the remainder of the room. It skates across the floor, plowing a couch-sized hole in the wall.
I cross the floor to him, trying to force my fingers through his tightly balled fists. “Accept it, Nathan.”
He unclenches his fists, and my fingertips slide over his palm feeling the indentation his nails made in his skin. “She’s wrong for that shit,” he grumbles, calming down. His high shoulders fall, and the blush on his ears fade.
“Come on. Come lay down with me,” I encourage, pulling Nathan to the bedroom in the basement. Thankfully, it’s gone untouched. A bed, dresser, and nightstand crowd the small room. A window above the dresser lets in the light of the late afternoon so I don’t concern myself with turning on the light—a single lamp sat on the black nightstand. I lay us down with his head resting against my chest. Our bodies settle on the mattress, and I take in the silence, running my fingers through his shorter hair on the sides of his head. It helps.
When comfort settles in, Nathan slams his arm against the wall causing the brick to crack.
“Um, if you keep destroying the house, we may have to move,” I say.
Tilting his head back, he meets my gaze. “Why are they fucking with me?”
“I don’t have an answer for that.” I lean my head back against the headboard, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. “Your mom just wants you to help your sister.”
“Something’s wrong with her. It’s like after the many times our father tried to kill us. He’s family, Nathan, and we love family,” he echoes his mother’s words. “I sat back and let him live and he damn near took our lives. What makes them think I’m going to allow family to take us down again? You know what I say?”
“What?”
“Fuck family.”
I sit, listening as he goes on about his mom. When he takes a pause to grumble, I ask, “What’d your mom mean by it being your fault for Roehl not being dead?”
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