Finding Wisp (Finding Us, #2)

by Noelle Marie

  I swallowed. “What do you think is going on?” I demanded, shoving the pregnancy test I still had clutched in my fist at him before releasing it. “This thing is defective or something.”

  The way Abram fumbled with the little stick would have been funny if it wasn’t for… well, everything.

  Abram frowned, examining it. “What’s wrong with it?” he asked.

  “What’s wrong with it?” I repeated frantically. “What’s wrong with it is that… that it says I’m…”

  Abram raised his eyebrows. “Pregnant?” he finished for me.

  The word, spoken aloud, and so casually, too, instantly caused tears to spring into my eyes. The only upside to the situation was that Abram looked nearly as horrified by the sudden waterworks as I was.

  “How did this happen?” I demanded miserably, burying my face into my hands in an effort to hide them.

  Abram sighed, awkwardly patting me on the back. “There, there,” he muttered, sounding so out of his depth that I nearly choked on a fit of hysteria-tinged laughter.

  “It is Derek’s, right?”

  My entire body tensed at the unexpected question, and I jerked away from the man. “What kind of question is that?” I demanded. “Are you trying to say that I-?”

  “I’m not saying anything!” Abram denied, raising his hands in surrender. “It’s just, I know you weren’t with cub the last time I saw you, and you’ve been gone for three weeks.” His face twisted, like he knew what he was about to say – to ask – next would be painful. “I guess what I’m asking is,” he braced his hands on the edge of one of the sinks, “did anyone… touch you while you were gone?”

  I immediately thought of the way Felix would run his fingers over my skin, the feel of his lips on my neck.

  “No one touched me,” I snapped, but there must have been a blip in my heartbeat because the porcelain crumbled beneath his hands.

  “Not… not like that, anyway!” I hastily added. “No one r-raped me,” I said, stumbling over the horrible word.

  I must have been believable enough – and for what it’s worth, it was the truth – because Abram’s death grip on the sink slowly relaxed. “Okay,” he muttered.

  “Yeah.”

  Which brought us back to square one.

  I bit my lip. “What am I going to do?” I asked, like Abram somehow knew the answers. “What’s Derek going to do?”

  All the different ways he could react made the urge to puke begin to resurface all over again.

  Abram sighed, returning to awkwardly patting my back. “I’m sure everything will be fine.”

  The man probably would have been more convincing if he had sounded like he believed it himself.

  The truth was, though, that neither of us had any idea how Derek would react to this kind of… news.

  It wasn’t like he had known I was a bearer when we’d had sex.

  For some reason, he hadn’t picked up on what Abram called my “naturally sweet scent” when we’d first met – or he had, but hadn’t known how to interpret it. According to Abram, it was probably because he didn’t have any experience with it. After all, he hadn’t been around other shifters since he was fifteen, and even before then, it had only been his parents and Abram and his wife.

  He theorized that it was the same reason Derek hadn’t yet noticed I was… well, expecting.

  The pregnancy was still new, and the scent wasn’t all-consuming yet. Derek had probably noticed a bitter edge to my scent, but he’d most likely assumed that I was just coming down with a cold or something equally as harmless.

  Not that I was coming down with, you know… a baby.

  I was terrified of telling him.

  We had just reunited after spending three weeks apart, after all. (Not that that had been my choice, but still.) And despite his obvious protective streak and declaration of affection, the last words he’d spoken to me before shipping me off to Cornelius – to Felix – still resounded in my head.

  “I don’t love you.”

  I swallowed.

  Regardless of my fears, I knew I had to tell him. And I would. (We hit another bump in the road, but this time I managed to withhold my wince.) You know, eventually.

  * * *

  Three days later, I still hadn’t worked up the courage to tell Derek.

  It wasn’t like I enjoyed keeping the news a secret; quite the opposite – it festered inside of me like an ulcer. (Or, you know, a baby.) I was a jittery mess, jumping at every little thing and more apt at filling the silence with nervous chatter than ever.

  I knew Derek must have noticed my strange behavior, but so far, he’d had the decency not to say anything about it. That didn’t mean I didn’t feel his worried gaze constantly trailing after me, however – which, of course, only served to make me more anxious.

  The only time he ever left me alone was to go check on his cabin. (So far, it remained undisturbed.)

  Of course, that just meant it was Abram’s eyes on me when he was gone, burning a hole through my body as what I imagined were judgmental thoughts like “Why haven’t you told him?” ran through his head.

  It wasn’t like I could hide from either of them, either.

  Not only were they meticulous about literally having one of them within ten feet of me at all times, but Abram’s… house, for lack of a better word, wasn’t exactly roomy.

  The run-down building looked like it had been a charming cottage at some point in time, but after nearly two decades of neglect, it was falling apart. The main floor was in rough enough shape, but the upstairs was completely inhabitable. Even the stairs that led to the second floor were dangerous, made of rotting wood that was as likely to hold my weight as break under it.

  I remembered my reaction when I’d first seen the decaying structure that served as Abram’s home – equally shocked and saddened by what my eyes were taking in.

  I stared at the decrepit cottage before me. Buried in overgrown shrubbery, I didn’t recognize it for what it was at first – not until Abram began to approach the building.

  It looked more like a haunted house than somebody’s home. Half the windows were boarded up, and the washed-out blue siding barely clung to its sides. Shingles were falling off the roof of the structure, and the wrap-around porch was nearly overcome with vines.

  “This is, um… well, it’s…” I trailed off hesitantly, grasping for a polite way to describe what I was seeing.

  “It’s home,” Abram finished for me, voice gruff, but I thought I might have detected a hint of defensiveness in his voice and immediately felt guilty for my reaction.

  I nodded. “It’s great, Abram, really,” I said. And it was – anything was better than where I’d been, after all. “Thank you for letting us stay here with you,” I added sincerely.

  The man seemed surprised by the remark, and he rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. “Yeah, well… it’s no mansion.”

  “No, it’s better.”

  Despite the obvious repairs the house was in need of, it was true.

  Abram’s cottage was preferable to the mansion-like house I’d been staying at. Even before Felix had hauled me off to the basement and shackled me to the wall, the house hadn’t felt like home. Despite its beautiful architecture, it had been cold – unfeeling. Covered in fancy, gold-tinted wallpaper and filled with white furniture and portraits of a dead woman, I had never been able to relax.

  The food was better at Abram’s, too. Marianne was a fine chef, but I preferred Derek’s simplistic cooking. He had made it his personal mission to fill me up with hardy beef and potato stews and an array of fruit-filled pies since we’d arrived at Abram’s.

  This morning, however, he’d made a platter of buttery eggs with a heaping side of bacon.

  The smell of which was currently making my stomach swirl with upset.

  Now that I knew, well… what I knew, I had no idea how I hadn’t noticed the symptoms before.

  I supposed I had assumed that the constant queasiness
I’d felt in the basement was the result of being forced to endure Felix’s slimy presence day after day. Unfortunately, however, the nausea hadn’t abated since being rescued.

  It was only a matter of time until I threw up all over myself and Derek started asking questions. (The thought of which, of course, didn’t serve to quell my stomach.)

  I picked half-heartedly at my eggs, forcing myself to nibble on a slice of thick-cut bacon. The greasy salt that usually delighted my tongue made my stomach clench.

  “Something wrong with your food this morning?”

  I stiffened at the innocent question. (Except, of course, coming from Abram, it wasn’t innocent at all.) I glanced up at the man who sat across the table from me, offering him a frown. He knew very well what was wrong – and it didn’t have anything to do with the quality of my breakfast.

  My eyes darted back down to my plate when he pointedly raised his eyebrows. “No,” I muttered.

  But it was too late. Because Derek was staring now, his gaze hot on the side of my head, and even though I wasn’t looking, I just knew that there was a frown pulling at his mouth.

  “You need to eat, honey,” he half-requested, half-ordered in that way he liked to do.

  For some reason, it ruffled my feathers, and I had a defense on the tip of my tongue when he leaned over from his spot next to me and added more gently, “Please, Wisp. You’re even thinner than I remember.”

  I didn’t know if it was the “please” or the obvious worry in his voice, but my irritation withered away either way. I offered Derek a weak smile before gathering up as much egg as possible on my fork and taking a bite. I chewed as long as I could in an effort to put off the inevitable, but eventually, I had to swallow.

  I knew as soon as I’d done it that it was a mistake.

  Not a half-minute later, I felt bile burning its way up my esophagus.

  I jumped up so quickly from the table that my chair clattered to the ground.

  “What-?” Derek attempted to ask, shooting up beside me.

  But I didn’t have time to explain. If I opened my mouth, it wasn’t answers that would come spewing out.

  I rushed to the bathroom, managing to throw myself in front of the toilet before I promptly retched.

  I gagged, choking on vomit as I heaved the (admittedly meager) contents of my stomach into the toilet bowl. Bile burned the inside of my nose and tears blurred my vision as my body forced itself to retch.

  It wasn’t until I was finished that I even realized Derek had followed me into the bathroom and was somehow kneeling next to me and hovering over me all at once. His hand, large and warm on my back, was running up and down my spine in a soothing motion.

  Abram was there, too, leaning one shoulder casually against the doorway. I was tempted to glare at him, a part of me blaming him for this entire ordeal.

  Right. Because he forced you and Derek to-

  I cut that thought off before it could form.

  “Better?” Derek asked.

  I nodded miserably.

  “Good.” He paused. “Then do you mind telling me what’s going on?”

  I fought the urge to point out the obvious: that I had an upset stomach. It obviously wasn’t what he meant, and sarcasm wasn’t exactly going to help my cause. So avoiding his gaze, I shrugged.

  For a moment, he was silent. Then…

  “Right. I’m taking you to a doctor.”

  I froze, all thoughts stuttering to a stop as panic took hold of me. Because Derek couldn’t take me to a doctor. They would know.

  “What?” I exclaimed, mouth working faster than my brain. “No!”

  “Then give me something to work with here, Wisp!” Derek demanded. He sighed, tucking a stray piece of hair behind one of my ears. “Something is obviously wrong. You’re barely sleeping, hardly eating. Just… tell me what to do to help you.”

  I swallowed, guilt at the extent of his worry slamming into me.

  Maybe you should just tell him.

  “I… it’s just…” The truth was on the tip of my tongue.

  You’re pregnant, a voice in my head urged. Say it. What’s the worst that could happen?

  But then I remembered – “I don’t love you.” – and my throat closed up around the words. I snapped my mouth shut.

  Unfortunately, Derek wasn’t about to let me off that easily. “It’s just what?” he demanded.

  “It’s just…” I stalled, the heat of Derek’s and Abram’s combined stares warming me from the inside out – and not in a good way. “My body isn’t used to it yet!” I finally managed to sputter, the excuse practically flying from my mouth. “Eating more than once a day, I mean,” I rushed to clarify at Derek’s confused frown. “Felix… he only fed me once a day – usually in the evening, and even then, he made me…” I trailed off, my face burning. “He made me eat from his fingers.”

  It wasn’t a lie. (So why did shame well in my chest?)

  Derek’s entire body had stiffened half-way through the explanation, tendons straining against his neck as an angry flush crept up his cheeks. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?” he grit out between clenched teeth.

  I bit my lip. “I guess I just didn’t want to upset you,” I admitted quietly. It was more truth heaped on top of a lie.

  “Goddamn it!”

  I jumped at the expletive, flinching when Derek drove his fist into the floor in a sudden flurry of movement. The tile cracked under the strength of his fury.

  “Of course I’m upset! I’m furious!” I couldn’t help but tense when he took me by the face, hands cupping either cheek, immediately feeling guilty when he frowned in response. “But not at you,” he stressed, “never at you.”

  Derek buried his face into the crook of my neck, his stubble pricking me through the collar of my shirt. “Christ, I want to…” he started to mumble, but trailed off a second later before taking a deep breath, practically inhaling my essence through his nose. “It doesn’t matter,” he muttered, pulling back so that his eyes were once again meeting mine. “You are what matters,” he said, hands still clutching at me like I was something precious. “You don’t have to be afraid to tell me anything, Wisp. Not ever, okay?”

  Derek was being so sweet about everything.

  It was almost like the universe was giving me another chance to tell him about the baby.

  But no matter how hard I tried to muster up the courage, I just couldn’t, and in the end, all I managed to do was nod.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “Ouch!”

  I tensed at the sound of Wisp’s distress, fighting the urge to run over to her and make sure she was okay.

  After all, I could see that she was fine. She was a mere thirty yards away, feeding the damn hens. One of the fuckers had just gotten a little too excited about the seed she was sprinkling on the ground and had pecked her foot.

  “I’m choosing to interpret that as a kiss hello, Geraldine,” she mumbled, shaking off the sting before dropping another handful of seed on the ground.

  I snorted. More like the demented chicken was trying to eat her foot. Even though it had been a week since our return to Pine Ridge, they were still acting half-starved.

  In anticipation of the days I would be off rescuing Wisp, I’d left plenty of feed out for them. Knowing the thoughtless hens like I did, however, I was sure they’d eaten it all that first morning and had pecked away at the dirt, consuming nutritionally-deficient pebbles, the remainder of the days I’d been gone.

  I still couldn’t believe I had let Wisp talk me into taking her here to visit them.

  As far as my enhanced senses could discern, my cabin had remained untouched since our jaunt to Seattle. There was no tell-tale evidence of prowling nor any unfamiliar scents lurking in the woods. By no means, however, did I think that meant we were out of danger. I wasn’t about to drop my guard and let us – let Wisp – become victims of the same fate as my parents.

  Unfortunately, when Wisp batted her doe-like eyes at me, I had ver
y little power to resist whatever she asked of me. When she had pleaded with me to let her be the one to feed the hens this morning, I hadn’t had the heart to say “no”.

  Part of the problem (aside from the obvious danger) was that I hadn’t wanted to say “no”.

  All it took was a single thought of the atrocities Wisp had suffered due to my foolishness, and I was nearly overcome by the urge to give her anything – everything – she wanted. The images of her chained to the wall and of her bruised and bloody wrists were permanently branded into my brain.

  And that was only the tip of the iceberg.

  Just thinking about her confession of only being fed once a day – and the fact that that sick fuck Felix had made her choose between eating from his hands or starving – made me wonder what else she could have gone through in that basement, what else she wasn’t telling me for fear of my reaction.

  I thought of how jumpy she had been since I’d found her, how she flinched sometimes when I moved too quickly, and I didn’t like where my mind went.

  In fact, it made me sick.

  Especially because, as much as she had tried to hide them from me, I had seen the bruises on her arms. I’d even caught a flash of the suspiciously finger-shaped marks disappearing into the waistband of her shorts when her shirt had ridden up one day.

  I was trying to respect her privacy, and I told myself that Wisp would tell me the real extent of what she had gone through in that basement when she was ready. It was nearly impossible, though, to hide the righteous anger that threatened to strangle me at the thoughts that flew through my mind.

  I did it anyway, knowing that if I let it show, there was a chance she would never tell me.

  I was pulled from my thoughts by Thane, suddenly yapping loudly from where he lingered near Wisp. He was growling at one of the hens. (He and the chickens had a love-hate relationship – namely, he loved to chase them, and they hated him.)

  “Thane, stop picking on Henrietta,” Wisp scolded, tending worriedly to the hen who fluttered aimlessly around her feet. “You’re alright,” she soothed, sprinkling a generous helping of seed down near the disgruntled chicken. “There you go. Does that make it better?”