Savage One: Born Wild Book Two

by Augustine, Donna

  “Teddy.” Callon’s eyes narrowed. It was clear that a silent get out followed my name.

  I pretended I didn’t hear that last part and walked over to the chair against the wall, making myself comfortable. “I know popular opinion is that I’m fragile. Everyone thinks that I’m on the brink of an emotional breakdown at all times. I’m sure my occasional awkwardness adds to this belief. Well, you’re all wrong. Coal is soft, fragile, cheap. It’s not until it’s under tremendous pressure that it becomes a diamond. Don’t underestimate me. I’m a lot tougher than I look, and I can handle whatever is being discussed.”

  Callon leaned forward. “I’m not asking you to leave because I think you’re fragile. I’m telling you to leave because this is none. Of. Your. Business.”

  Some people might’ve been insulted. Not me. I hated when people thought I couldn’t handle something. It made me want to punch them. Him wanting to exclude me “just because” merely made me want to scream and fight it out. It was definitely better. I crossed my ankles and leaned back, getting more comfortable.

  “Oh, well then, let’s switch back to the fact that I have a right to know. If you want me out of this room, you’re going to have to drag me out.” I gripped the arm of the chair. He’d have to take his furniture too. Let’s see how well this went, because I was going to put up one hell of a fight.

  Callon stood. “Fine.” He took a step toward me.

  “I gotta get this out, and it’s not going to matter soon anyway,” Zink said, pausing our little war.

  Callon gave me a last stare before turning to Zink. “That bad?”

  Zink nodded, and he indeed appeared like a man that had to unload his burden or crack. “Lake one has moved about fifty miles north.”

  I didn’t know where that put lake one on a map. I looked to Callon. Seeing as he appeared to want to punch something, that probably meant it was too close for comfort.

  Callon nodded. “What about lake two?”

  “It’s getting close to encroaching on Cardach. They’re calling them Hell Pits because they make it smell like you’re at the gates of hell.”

  Callon opened a drawer and dragged out a map that had some red markings on it. He leaned forward, resting his knuckles on it. “I need to go see for myself.”

  “Figured you would. Told them we’d be coming back soon.”

  “When do we leave?” I asked, getting to my feet.

  Callon barely glanced my way. “You’re not going…” He leaned his head back. The word “fuck” whispered across the air.

  At least that was one fight I hadn’t needed to wage. How quickly he forgot he couldn’t leave without me.

  There would be an aftermath, of course. There always was after a recent reminder that he was stuck with me. It was usually a little chillier between us for a day or so.

  “So, when will we be leaving?”

  “In a couple of days.”

  Zink went to leave, muttering, “Fuck,” and shaking his head. “Only going to take a fucking year to get there now,” he said as he walked out the door.

  I got up, following. “Hey, Zink, my legs tend to get tired real easy. Make sure you round up when you’re figuring supplies out, okay? That year could easily be two,” I said to his back.

  This was the exact thing I’d missed most of my life. Open antagonism. No one had ever said how enjoyable it could be.

  I was laughing to myself, enjoying the moment, when Callon said, “Teddy, stay. We need to talk.”

  Four

  I stopped short so fast that I nearly fell forward. It wasn’t because he’d told me to stay. It was what he’d said. We need to talk?

  I turned, but didn’t walk back toward him. I wanted to be close to the exit before I committed to staying in a room and talking.

  He walked past me and shut the door I’d left open for my speedy escape. He walked back over and pointed at the chair in front of his desk. “Sit.”

  He wanted to talk. Worse, I was going to need to sit for this conversation? This was not good. Not good at all.

  He sat down across from me. His jaw shifted as if he were warming it up. My stomach went into my throat, preparing for a hell of a drop.

  “You need to stop leaving the house at night.”

  Of all the things he could talk about, it was this? We didn’t talk about this. It was off-limits. What was he doing? My mouth felt like I’d sucked on cotton for an hour and then swallowed it without chewing. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t swallow.

  In the time since the Magician had attacked, I’d run through the forest more times than I could count. Callon had chased after me every single time. I’d wake the next day and that would be it. We didn’t speak about it. Ever.

  I didn’t want to speak about it. I’d thought he didn’t either. It was the unwritten rule we’d both silently agreed to. Now here he was, speaking about it and trying to stop it.

  The only thing that came to my mind was a resounding no. A no in all capitals that was repeated infinitely. If I gave up my runs, how was I supposed to sleep? The two hours or so I managed between my thrashing? How was a person supposed to survive like that? Absolutely not.

  “No.” I leveled a gaze at Callon that would’ve burned a hole through anyone else.

  I crossed my arms to hide the rage that was making my hands shake. It was one thing to be mad. It was another to lose control. I was about to do the latter. He was asking me to never sleep again. Did he realize that?

  A hint of red tinted Callon’s hazel eyes, the beast flaring to life within. He wasn’t trying to scare me off. Callon knew better than that. He probably didn’t realize how close the beast was to the surface. I knew. I always knew. I waited for it sometimes, wondered how I could bring it out.

  Callon the man and I didn’t always click. Callon the beast was different. I understood the beast, and the beast understood me. We were alike. Attack first and deal with the aftermath later. Kill, and then count the corpses. Follow your gut at the expense of everything else. Survival was mandatory. Freedom was priceless.

  If he were the beast right now, we wouldn’t be having this talk. The beast wouldn’t cage me. He’d understand what that meant. What it did to one’s soul. Captivity wasn’t surviving. It was dying a slow and miserable death. If I was willing to live like that, I never would’ve run from the village.

  “No?” Callon asked, as if he’d never heard the word before. Callon leaned back in his office chair. If he locked his jaw any more, I feared it might break in two.

  “No.” I stared back, eyes narrowed. I’d say it as many times as he needed until it sank in and he stopped asking.

  “The Magician attacked you and you’re saying no, you won’t stop?” Managing to get words out of a jaw made of granite was a true miracle.

  “Why is this a problem now but not before?”

  “Because it is. I shouldn’t have let it go on this long.”

  Let. Let it go on. Let, let, let. The word was a hammer beating into my heart, making it thump until everything in the room was red to me. My fingers dug into my arms from rage.

  “You’ve been letting me?”

  “Yes. That is what I’m saying, and I can’t let you do it anymore,” he said, emphasizing the word as I had.

  Was he trying to make me lose my mind or was this a special gift he had? No wonder we didn’t do this talking thing much. We were incompatible at it.

  “You don’t let me do anything. I won’t be told where I can go, what I can do, or how I’m supposed to live. I won’t be confined to this building during the hours you see fit. I’ve already lived that life, and I won’t do it again. I’ll never do it again.” If the beast were in front of me, this wouldn’t be a conversation. He’d be running through the forest with me, relishing in the freedom. It was the man that was my problem.

  His jaw twitched again. “Teddy, this isn’t the same thing, and you know it.”

  Easy for him to say. He hadn’t been treated like a beaten dog for the majority o
f his life. Let someone try to cage him and we’d see if he were singing the same tune.

  “I’m not an idiot. I know the risks, and it’s up to me to protect myself. I won’t sit on a bench by the door waiting for someone to say I can go out. Caged is caged. There’s no difference.” I was the one speaking through my teeth this time. Too bad I couldn’t sprout fangs the way he could. A nice, long pair of canines to bare would come in handy. As it was, I nearly growled my words anyway.

  He stood and then leaned his hands on the desk as he towered over me. “Don’t turn this into a fight. You won’t win.”

  “Ha! We’ll see about that. Go ahead, let the beast out and we’ll see what happens.” I stood, leaning in. “Or are you afraid because he’ll side with me?”

  Had he learned nothing? Did he think posturing was going to make me run and do his bidding? The only thing that truly scared me was being trapped. He could skip around here all day long in beast form, human form, whatever hybrid form he could come up with. Fighting didn’t scare me. Part of me embraced a good fight. It made me feel alive. Nothing would ever be as bad as being trapped.

  His eyes flared a stronger shade of red as he leaned back. “In case you aren’t aware, we’re one and the same.”

  I scoffed loudly as I tilted my head back. “Hardly. He’d never try to cage me.”

  “You mean the way you caged me within a certain distance of you? That way?” He tilted his chin down, eyebrows raised, eyes full of accusation.

  Bastard. Did he really want to drag this all out as if he were an innocent in it all?

  I let out a sigh. “Yes, there might have been some overstepping with a spell and a witch, but you can hardly claim the injured party. Let’s not forget that the only reason you ended up stuck with me was because you sent your people to look for me. Why? Because there was something to be gained from getting to me first. You’re as guilty as I am, and don’t forget it. Come to think of it, why do you even care if I go out at night? I can’t get that far from here, anyway.”

  He pointed at me. “Which makes it worse. If someone were to get you pinned down, they could use you to pin me down. I’m not warning you again. Don’t wander.”

  I got up. Even if he’d said nothing else, I would’ve gotten up because of that pointy finger. When someone pointed at me, I had the overwhelming urge to break their finger. The urge this time was staggering.

  He sat down in his chair. “You can go,” he said, as I was already leaving.

  I wanted to turn around and rip his head from his shoulders.

  “Yes, finally something we agree upon. This conversation has been completely exhausted.” I walked to the door. If he thought I was going to ask permission every time I walked out of the lodge, he was crazier than I thought.

  I turned. The look in his eyes proved he had no such delusions about keeping me in line.

  “Don’t test me on this,” he said as I walked out.

  Test? Was that what he thought I’d be doing? That was where he was wrong. I wasn’t a child testing anyone. I was a grown woman who wouldn’t be living by someone else’s permission ever again.

  I shook my head but said nothing else. His words and behavior were barely a ripple in the ocean.

  Five

  Tuesday was wagging her foot so fast that it shook my entire bed. “Is it really that big of a deal?”

  I’d relayed everything that had happened and she could ask that? I rolled onto my side, to make sure she heard what I was saying. “Tuesday, he’s trying to tell me I can’t leave the house.”

  Her eyes moved around as she sorted it out in her head. “But he did have a good point about you trapping him.”

  If she’d looked directly at me, she would’ve stopped talking there, but she was too busy in her own thoughts.

  “He probably has his reasons.” Her hands fluttered a bit.

  “Just tell me one thing. When did you become team Callon?”

  She might’ve missed my slack jaw, but my tone got her attention. She turned on her side, unfazed by my facial theatrics. “Do you think it’s normal, this thing you guys do? Ooooor, maybe there’s something more? It seems to me that for two people who don’t talk much, you get awfully agitated—”

  “Normal? Is that the standard we’re trying to live by now? Is it normal to be able to transfer life from one person to another? Or turn from a man to a beast? Normal has no place in my life. What we used to do was fine, and now he’s screwing it all up. How am I supposed to sleep? That is what’s not normal here. Depriving me of my sleep.”

  “Does he know that’s the only time you sleep well?” she asked, like she were some sort of detective now.

  “Tuesday, have you not listened to anything I’ve said? Of course not. We don’t talk.”

  “But you just did.”

  “Yes, but I wasn’t going to tell him I needed him for anything. That would be insanity.” I took a deep breath. I’d battled it out with Callon. I couldn’t afford to alienate my only friend here. “Look, I’m not trying to bite your head off, but please don’t ask me to stop what I’m doing too. I can’t. And Callon better realize it’s not happening.”

  “I’m just wondering if there is some other reason, is all. Why give you a hard time now?”

  “I don’t know, and he didn’t tell me. He threw out a dictate, so he can go to hell for all I care.”

  * * *

  Tuesday might be right. Maybe Callon had another reason, but I couldn’t trust him to tell me if there was. We didn’t have a relationship built on trust. Ours was something closer to glued together with tar.

  If I stayed in bed, I wasn’t going to get much sleep, but I wouldn’t be looking for trouble. I had too much trouble as it was. Staying in bed was definitely the safer choice.

  But why should he get to tell me what to do? I had to stop listening to Tuesday. She was letting the lovey-dovey stuff with Koz get to her head. Her situation with him was robbing her of all logic, draining all the fight out of her, sucking up her feistiness. I couldn’t let it get to me, too. This get-along stuff seemed to be contagious.

  I grabbed my sweater and threw on my boots, getting more worked up by the second. Callon was not going to tell me what to do. If I wanted to go out, I was going out. Screw his rules.

  By the time I was halfway down the stairs, I saw Callon waiting for me, the light from his office spreading into the hall, catching his profile.

  Fine. He could tackle me at the door if he wanted, but this was a war for my freedom.

  I kept walking, and he shifted so he was blocking me. I was about to dodge around him.

  “There’s something you need to see,” he said. I looked at his eyes, the telltale sign of his temper. There wasn’t a hint of red.

  Dammit. Tuesday might’ve had lovey-dovey head, but she might also be right. There was something else going on.

  He walked toward his office, and I followed, like I was walking toward my burial. I already knew about the Hell Pits. There was only one shoe to drop, and I liked that one even less.

  He pointed to the seat behind the desk. Then he reached over, opened a drawer, and dropped a piece of paper in front of me, a broken black wax seal flaking onto the desk. There was only one person I could think of who would use a black wax seal.

  My eyes went to the paper and then to him. “This is for me?”

  It was a stall. I didn’t want to touch it and certainly didn’t want to read it.

  He stood, hands in his pockets, feet shoulder width apart, and nodded once. It was a heavy nod, like his head weighed more answering this question than if he’d been asked if he wanted a second cup of coffee.

  I fingered it. “The seal is broken.”

  “I know. I broke it.”

  That might’ve bothered some people, but not me. If it had been a note from Tuesday, I would’ve cared. The people who were aware I was here were all ones that made the top of my friends list. Even though Callon and my relationship was clouded by distrust and all sorts of m
ixed-up emotions, he was on my short list of allies—for now. If he wanted to intercept a letter that was probably bringing ill-boding news, he was welcome to break all the seals he wanted. Sometimes our tar bond was tacky and horrible. Sometimes it was warm and gooey. This was one of the latter moments.

  “Am I going to want to read this?” I asked, hoping he’d paraphrase so I didn’t have to.

  “Probably not.”

  I needed to stop being a ninny, pick the thing up, and read it. I lifted it, trying to not let the tremble in my hand show. It was pointless. The paper shook like a reed of grass in a hurricane.

  I read it. Then I read it again, and it still didn’t make sense. I read it a third time, hoping it would click.

  “He wants a truce?” I continued staring at the note, as if the letters would rearrange themselves. Nothing about this made sense.

  “That’s what he wrote.” Callon’s emphasis made his meaning clear. Words, especially hastily written ones, meant nothing.

  “When did this come?” How long had he known and how mad should I be? Although I didn’t feel anything but fear right now.

  “We got word he’s been sighted not far from here. This came by pigeon yesterday.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me he was around?”

  “So you could toss and turn some more? I didn’t see the point.”

  I wanted to be angry. I should’ve been furious, except I’d known the Magician was out there. If Callon had told me, I wouldn’t have even had the twenty minutes of sleep I got here and there. If it had been Tuesday, I might’ve done the same. There were things I didn’t tell her to save her the grief. Things that weighed on me so heavily that I was afraid I’d drown in a puddle one day.

  I hadn’t wanted to know. If I had, I would’ve questioned him earlier today when he told me not to leave the lodge. I hadn’t.

  “Don’t hold back on me again,” I said, because even if I didn’t want to know, I had to. That was what surviving was about. Knowing things, especially when those things could kill you.