by Hettie Ivers
“I don’t care.” She flipped her long brown hair over her shoulder and crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m merely curious what your angle is and why you’re lying to Milena.”
“It’s not a lie. With the polar ice caps melting, there’s been increased poach—”
“Got it.” She slashed her hand through the air. “We all give fucks about the environment and endangered wildlife in this house. But save the bullshit for my bleeding-heart sister-in-law. This is about Maribel, isn’t it?”
“No.”
“You saw something in the seer’s mind, didn’t you? Something about Maribel? Was it Sloane’s future you saw?”
Shutting my emotions down and adopting a stoicism I was far from feeling, I replied, “For the last time, Sloane is not Maribel.”
Her smile was smug, her eyes reflecting an age-old bitterness toward me that I might never fully comprehend. “You were never her true mate. Were you?”
Lessa would always be family to me. For that reason alone, I stared her down in silence rather than react in the manner in which I felt compelled in the moment. There was a time when I’d loved Lessa with all my heart. Not in a romantic sense. Never in a romantic sense—although she’d even stooped to seduction efforts over the years in her attempt to wrap me around her finger the way that most men were. But I’d only ever loved her as a brother loves a sister.
The difference was that I was the kind of brother Lessa had always needed, but hadn’t wanted. I had forever refused to indulge her in the manner her father had—in the way that Alcaeus and their younger half-brother Alex persisted. Part of me believed that was the reason Lessa resented me most. Yet another part knew better.
“That’s why you left Washington. It was something you learned from the fledgling seer’s mind that unsettled you, wasn’t it?” Her brow pinched. “But if you think she has proven ability, why would you pull the rest of our men off their duty watching her?”
I decided to go with a partial truth, hoping it would prevent her from investigating further. “I heard that Emil was coming to visit the seer. Given the recent discord between our packs since Round Rock, I felt it’d be best if we steered clear of him. I didn’t tell Milena because I didn’t want her to worry—or worse, to risk her own well-being by attempting to confront Emil to try and win him back over to our side.”
Lessa rubbed her forehead, releasing a faint grunt of disgust. “She’s either our Alpha or she isn’t, Kai. Milena’s made of sterner stuff than all of you give her credit for.”
“All of—who the hell are you lumping me with? I’ve been Milena’s greatest supporter since day one. You just called her a bleeding heart. You’ve been her harshest critic at every turn ever since Alex handed her the reins.”
“Because she needs it.”
“Well, that is fucking rich coming from—”
“She is a bleeding heart. But that’s what fuels her power, and I, personally, wouldn’t mind seeing Emil hit with a lightning bolt or two.”
“I don’t disagree, but Milena is pregnant.”
“And more emotional than ever. It’s the best time for her to throw a lightning bolt at Emil’s head.”
“Would you be reasonable? I know firsthand how long Emil can hold a grudge. He won’t be forgiving Milena anytime soon, and she’s not going to start a war with his pack by killing him, so no good can come of her confronting him right now. She’d be wasting her time and potentially upsetting herself and the baby. Nearly the entire werelock world knows how much Emil still loathes and resents me for taking Maribel from him, and that was over a century ago.”
“Right.” Her eyes rolled. “How could I forget your shining moment in werelock society history when you, a damaged freak of nature, stole the most highly coveted, brilliant, beautiful werelock in the world from ‘Prince’ Emil.” Her eyes flashed amber. “But what the rest of the world doesn’t know is that I stole her first.”
I scented the spike in her adrenaline, and I stared impassively back, my pulse never wavering. Predictably, when she didn’t get the reaction she’d wanted from me, she pushed things a step further.
“Look, there’s something I never told you about Maribel and me.” She glanced down at the floor between us, inhaled, and slowly released her breath. “Maribel and I … we were more than best friends.” When her eyes lifted to mine, she completely failed to mask her obvious delight behind the austerity she was attempting to convey, as she soberly confessed, “We were lovers.”
Briefly, I considered shifting into my canine form to prevent myself from laughing in Lessa’s face—in order to avoid embarrassing her more than she was already embarrassing herself. But instead, I opted for shutting my eyes and scrubbing a hand over my mouth to quell my initial laughter reflex as I reminded myself that she was Antonio and Alyana’s daughter and Alcaeus’s only sister, and that she’d very recently been rejected by her own mate. It wasn’t right to kick a bitch when she was down.
“I’m sorry, Kai. I figured it was time you knew the truth.”
I nodded subtly and removed my hand from my mouth as I regained my composure, gesturing for her to continue.
“The truth is, weeks before the night I introduced you to Maribel, she had already left Emil—in her heart—for me.” She shrugged sheepishly. “I only know this because … well”—she clasped her hands together over her stomach—“because after three decades of friendship with her, during which I’d even pushed her to date my own brother, Alex, I finally realized that I had romantic feelings for Maribel myself.”
A better man would’ve stopped her. That wasn’t me today. Stone-faced, I allowed Lessa to continue.
“I told Maribel how I felt, and she confessed that she reciprocated my affection. We slept together.” Lessa blushed as those three words left her.
It was authentic. It gave me some small comfort to know that as she entered her fifth century, Lessa was at least still capable of feeling something genuine.
“Neither of us had ever been with another woman before, of course.” Lessa broke eye contact as she said this, and for a moment, I felt sorry for her—knowing how well Maribel had always been able to get just about anyone to do whatever she wanted. Except for me.
“Maribel didn’t want anyone to know,” she continued. “Neither of us wanted anyone to know. Lesbianism was so taboo then.” She shook her head. “My point is, although technically she was still seeing Emil the night that I introduced you to her, Maribel and I had been sneaking around behind Emil’s back for weeks. So in truth, I was the one who stole Maribel away from Emil. And I’ve let you take the blame and feel his wrath for it for all these years because I’ve felt honor-bound to keep Maribel’s confidence about our love affair.”
Ah, fuck it. Lessa was already resigned to hating me.
“Thank you for sharing that, Lessa. There’s something that I, too, never told you about my wife—my true mate, Maribel.” I took a step closer and looked her dead in the eyes. “You weren’t the first woman Maribel ever slept with.” Leaning in, I held her eye contact and added, “You weren’t even the last.”
The shock on her face was priceless. I elaborated, “I only know this because … well, because I was there—with her in bed during the times that we had other women join us. And because I knew my wife. My mate,” I emphasized the word again. Because it was fact. “I knew her sexual preferences—the ones no one else was privy to; the desires Maribel thought were shameful and wished to hide regardless of my continued acceptance of them.
“If it’s any comfort to you, after she and I met, Maribel never again slept with another woman without my express permission. Nor did she do so outside of my immediate presence. Oh, and while we’re being so honest with one another, I think it only fair that you know, Maribel did request that you be invited to join us once.” I paused to watch her eyes widen. “Naturally, I said no.” I imitated the sheepish shrug she’d given me. “It was the only time I got angry and disgusted with her over such a request. I told her
that I would only ever view you as my little sister, and I let her know in no uncertain terms that she was never permitted to sleep with you again.”
What I didn’t say was that I’d done the latter out of concern for Lessa more so than the personal revulsion I’d felt at the thought of Lessa sleeping with my mate.
Beneath Lessa’s stunned expression, I could see the conflict arising in her: the age-old, unconscious internal struggle of whether she should cry first and then blast me, or blast first and sob in private later. That was always a gentleman’s cue to exit.
“Please convey my apologies to Remy for this,” I threw over my shoulder as I turned on my heel and teleported away, knowing that her stepbrother would bear the burden of consoling Lessa over the bomb I’d dropped.
17
Lauren
“How come you haven’t moved off campus?” Michael asked. “You’re a senior, aren’t you?”
It was Friday afternoon and a rare, sunny forty-two degrees out. Michael and I had run into one another as I was leaving my last class for the day, and he’d asked if he could walk me back to my dorm so that we might catch up. I was still suffering intermittent visions of the white wolf and feeling horribly on edge. Michael’s presence was a welcome distraction.
“Well”—I scrunched my nose up—“I should be a senior. It’s my fourth year. But I switched majors a few times, so I’ll most likely be graduating next year at this rate.”
“That’s perfectly respectable. Nobody finishes a four-year degree in under five anymore.”
“So true, isn’t it? Why do schools make it so hard to get the credits you need?”
“Because it’s good for business,” he said with a laugh.
“No kidding. To answer your other question, if you haven’t noticed it yet, you’ll soon realize that the campus is basically the epicenter of town, so there’s not much to gain by moving off campus. This is pretty much it.”
“Ah. I see your point.”
We lapsed into companionable silence for several paces. My dormitory building was coming into view, and I desperately wanted to say something to address my embarrassing behavior the last time I’d seen him. I don’t know whether I was spurred by my recent sleep deprivation, the nightmarish visions, Kendall’s dating lecture the other night at Wolfsbane, or the fact that I was actually going out with someone in the next week who my mom had selected for me just to get my hands on Granny Nina’s journal, but I decided to take matters into my own hands and see where I stood with the sexy Brit.
“So, I was wondering … would you want to go out with me sometime?”
Michael halted in his tracks. “What?”
I stopped as well and turned to face him, willing myself not to blush. “I mean, I know we only met a few days ago, but you’ve already been drooled on by me, so I figured I didn’t have anything to lose by asking. And I thought maybe the other day when you said that you weren’t afraid of wolves it meant that you were interested in—anyway, if you don’t want to, that’s cool, because we have classes together and it might get awkward if—”
“I want to, Lauren.”
“You do?”
“Yes.” He smiled, looking genuinely surprised—and flattered—that I’d asked him out.
Awesome. Now what did I say? I’d never actually asked anyone out before. “Cool.” I turned and started walking again.
Michael fell into step beside me. I could feel his eyes on me. Was I supposed to say something more? After a beat, he prompted, “When?”
“Huh?”
“Shouldn’t we set a date?” His voice was amused. “Or were you posing more of a hypothetical question? Perhaps you’re polling all the men on campus to see what percentage want to date you this week?”
“You guessed it,” I answered with a nervous giggle. “Actually, I’m helping my former ‘sister’ Jana conduct a black widow survey for deviant sosh class. We’re trying to gauge how many men on campus are willing to be mauled by wolves in exchange for the pleasure of my company.”
Michael took hold of my arm and pulled me to a stop. “Hey. You’re not responsible for any of those boys being attacked.” He looked so earnest—so concerned—that it almost made me want to go out with him for real. “You know that, right?”
I nodded quickly, feeling self-conscious. “Of course.”
“Good.” His eyes searched my features, lingering on my lips. “Now, did you want to finish asking me out, or are you going to make me pick a date for our date?”
Damn. He really did want to go out with me. “Can I check my calendar and text you later?”
He bit the smile forming on his lips, his eyes crinkling with amusement. “Why do I get the sense you’re trying to put me off?”
“What if we went out as just friends first?”
His forehead crumpled. “Pardon?”
“Is it okay if the first time we go out it’s more like a buddy hang-out sesh thing?”
He started laughing. “I’m sorry … did you just ask me out on a date and then immediately friend-zone me?”
“No. I mean—kinda. Yeah … I guess so.” I stuffed my gloved hands into my pockets. “Is that okay? It usually goes better if I let people grow on me rather than try and force an attraction right off the bat. Not that I’m saying I’m not attracted to you—because I think I am. I mean I know I am, because I definitely don’t get that puke taste in my mouth like I normally do with other guys when I think about kiss—fuck, that came out wrong. Could we cancel everything I just said?”
Michael’s eyebrows had crept to his hairline. “Wow. Okay.” His head bobbed slowly. “Well, that’s … a first for me. I confess, I’m not sure whether to be flattered or not that I’ve passed your puke-taste-in-the-mouth test.”
I was grasping for the words to apologize without insulting him further, when he chuckled and said, “I think I need a bit more information to assess. Was it a barely-squeak-by kind of pass or did I pass with flying colors? On a scale from one to ten, with one being the least puke-tasty and ten being the most, where have you ranked me?”
Okay, maybe I could date this guy for real. “Solid two and three-quarter stars,” I deadpanned.
“Oh!” He threw his hand over his heart and stumbled back several steps.
“Hey, that was a compliment.”
“Can’t wait for you to insult me.”
I hadn’t smiled much at all in the past few days. When my grin widened amid the laughter that overcame me, I felt the sting from the newly formed scab on my lip as it cracked and the cut reopened. I ran my tongue over the spot and tasted blood. Figures—just when I’d stopped thinking of Stranger-Danger for ten seconds.
“Well, you drive an ego-crushing bargain, but my answer is still yes. Yes, I’m down for a buddy hang-out sesh with you. Whenever you want.” He raised his hands in the air. “Zero pressure. I can rock the friend zone like nobody’s business.”
I hadn’t stopped grinning. Why couldn’t I like Michael more than I did? “Awesome.”
Michael’s gaze focused in on my mouth again, and his brows pulled together. He stepped forward into my space. “You’ve got a little something …” He licked the pad of his thumb and pressed it over the cut on my bottom lip. I was too caught off guard to react as his thumb swiped over the spot where Kai had bitten me. I watched Michael’s Adam’s apple bob in his throat as his hand withdrew. “There. All better now.” Smiling, he backed up, and he proceeded to walk backward several paces as he said in parting, “See you later, okay?”
He’d turned and was too far away to hear me murmur “Bye” in return by the time I snapped from my bemused stupor. The cut on my lip had ceased stinging when I ran my tongue over it. In fact, it was gone. I couldn’t even find where it had been with my fingertips when I reached up to palpate the spot.
18
Kai
The times I’d entered and manipulated Lauren’s dreams, I’d followed a variation of the same routine: I’d terrify her by hunting her down. Then I’
d bite her—shocking her into a state of acceptance and submission—before bringing her to orgasm while I watched, spellbound. While I inhaled her essence and absorbed her every thought and feeling.
But I had never penetrated her in any of her dreams with more than my tongue and fingers—for fear of losing control. Recently, I’d escalated things to seeking my own release.
I’d begun the dream manipulations with the goal of getting her out of my system. I had thought that if I felt the full force of her hate and revulsion for me in those dreams that my obsession would abate—that once my wolf tasted her pure disgust for our monster nature in the flavor of her blood and tears, we would be able to leave her alone. But it hadn’t worked that way. In fact, it had backfired. Horribly.
With each successive dream, Lauren’s arousal had come faster. Progressively, she’d come to almost embrace my attacks—to the point of taunting and baiting me into doing what she wanted me to do.
Deep down, it was what I’d wanted; what I had quietly hoped for despite how often I told myself I desired the very opposite. I should have stopped after our very first dream encounter. But I was too weak.
That first dream invasion had been the worst failure ever.
And the best.
My wolf had chased her from campus through a dark forest and into a cave. I hadn’t bitten her in that first dream; I hadn’t so much as scratched her. She’d been distraught enough by the sight of my giant wolf snarling and snapping at her that she had completely come undone.
I had sworn to myself beforehand that I wouldn’t compromise in my mission, that I would push her until I’d achieved her utter hate and revulsion. But that very first time, I had cracked under the force of her tears and had shifted into my human form as I loomed over her on all fours.
She was balled up on the cave floor, tears streaming unchecked down her face as frantic sobs racked her. And she was so exquisitely, inconsolably terrified. So divinely helpless. My broken soul was divided.