Savage One: Born Wild Book Two

by Augustine, Donna

  Zink was leaning on the railing, back to me. The cold didn’t exist as rage burned my flesh and boiled my blood. I could kill him right now. I knew it in my gut. I wouldn’t, but I could.

  He didn’t bother turning as he said, “You’ve clomped your way after me. You have something to say?” He looked over his shoulder with a smirk. “Unless you’re too scared?”

  “You think I’m afraid of you? You think you’re special because you’ve got a pair of fangs?” I walked up to him until we were less than a foot apart. “Go ahead, get all beastly on me. Let’s see who makes it off this deck.”

  He snorted. “You’ve got some balls on you. I’ll give you that.”

  “You had no right to tell anyone about the Hell Pits. That was my story to tell.” I pointed but stopped short of shoving him the way I wanted. I was so angry that I feared I really would kill him if I touched him, and we hadn’t come to that point, yet.

  “And would you have told?”

  “You really think I’m the scum of the earth, don’t you? But you don’t know me.”

  “What I think is you don’t belong here. You’re a liability and a taker. You bound yourself to Callon and locked us all up with him. They deserved the truth. So excuse me if I don’t give a fuck if you thought you should be the one to tell the people I’ve been living and surviving with for years.” Zink thumped a fist against his chest.

  “And you didn’t waste a second telling them, did you? No, you wanted to be the one, and you didn’t care how bad I might look or how Callon might be portrayed either.” What the hell? I was so angry that I was even defending Callon if it meant attacking Zink.

  “I wouldn’t do anything to hurt—”

  “I don’t want to hear it. You keep on believing your truth and I’ll do the same. If I have to stay out here and discuss it with you for another second, we’re going to really find out who won’t make it out alive.”

  I gave him my back, daring him to try something as I walked inside.

  Callon was in the hallway, leaning on the wall. Great. Now he’d want to lay into me and tell me what an ass I was.

  “What? Would you like to have words with me now? Would you like to tell me how wrong I am?” I asked, knowing he’d heard every word.

  He straightened up and shrugged. “Not at all. Thought you handled that fairly well,” he said, and then turned and walked away from me.

  * * *

  I walked down the stairs as quietly as I could, avoiding the centers that always made them creak louder. The place was dark except for the lamp I carried as I crossed the hall and made my way into Callon’s office.

  I opened the top cabinet door and lifted the lamp. There it was, slithering toward me already. How was a normal person supposed to sleep knowing this stuff was here? And for me? Who wasn’t anywhere near normal? It was an impossibility.

  Callon might not want me to leave the lodge at night, but I didn’t have a choice if I wanted to get sleep. He’d left me none.

  He couldn’t know until I was at least a good mile away. After all, I didn’t want the man. I needed the beast. That was the only way I’d get a few hours of sleep tonight. At this point, there wasn’t much I wouldn’t do to get some, either.

  I blew out the lamp, leaving it on the desk before tiptoeing out of the office and across the hall barefoot. My shoes dangled from my fingers. I’d don them as soon as I was outside.

  There was a creak, and I froze, listening to nothing but my own breathing for a minute. Even that might’ve been too loud, but there wasn’t much to be done about it. I slowly twisted the handle, holding it open until I grabbed the opposite side, then slowly released it, trying to keep it from clicking home loud enough for someone to hear. I wasn’t giving him too much credit, either; the things he heard would make a ladybug blush red.

  A shape moved on the horizon, a dark silhouette against the snowy pines. I could’ve stood there all night and watched Callon. He had a glide to his walk that was so graceful it couldn’t be human. Although I would’ve preferred to watch another time. I’d had plans for tonight.

  “Going for a walk?” Callon asked as he strode toward me. His head shifted down an inch.

  Had he been waiting for me? Had he known? “Am I not allowed to get some air?” I asked with feigned nonchalance.

  “You’re not going for a run tonight. Inside.” He walked to the door and held it open.

  I didn’t budge. “The Magician is dead. The Hell Pits are still hours away. It doesn’t matter if I go for a late-night walk anymore.”

  “His people aren’t dead.” He angled his head toward the door.

  “They will be if they touch me.” I looked out at the pines.

  “Inside.”

  The threat was clear. Go inside or he’d make me go inside. Damn if he’d miss an opportunity to manhandle me. If it had gotten me the beast, I wouldn’t have cared. And not just a taste of the beast, because he was right there under the surface, but full-blown fur, fangs, and the scariest thing this side of the ocean. Scary to everyone else, that was. To me? It was like going to sleep with the best security blanket ever crafted. That was how I’d get some sleep tonight. Not this human shit.

  I measured the distance, wondering if I could make it to the tree line. How far ahead would I need to get before the beast would take over the chase?

  “You won’t make it two feet.”

  God, sometimes I hated him. I wasn’t even sure why I hated him so much, but I did. He made something inside me want to turn feral and scratch his eyes out.

  Tuesday could say whatever she wanted about how feelings overlapped, but she wasn’t the one experiencing pure rage at his high-handed ways right now. No, this wasn’t anything good. This was pure, undiluted hate of a purity not yet experienced by most of humankind. The sickest part was that was why I could sleep with him. There wouldn’t be any hard feelings if things didn’t work out, because no one would be looking past that moment.

  I turned and walked back inside. He followed my every step, intent on giving me an escort back to my room. He opened the door and then stepped aside.

  I walked in and stood there, looking at the bed with the mussed covers. The clock on the table showed how many hours I had left before the sun came up and the ruse of trying to sleep would finally end.

  “What’s wrong with you? Why do I smell fear on you?” he asked, and I could hear a timbre that almost sounded like the beast trying to break free of the man’s bonds. It was the hint of the beast that drove my answer. The beast was loyal to me—he wasn’t Callon, calculating and resentful that he was tied to me. The beast understood me the same as I understood it.

  “I need to run. It’s the only way I can sleep.” That wasn’t the full picture, but it was true enough.

  Callon took a step toward me. “The Magician is dead. Baryn is dead. You’re in a house surrounded by shifters that could rip most things apart with their teeth. You’re safe.”

  He turned and walked toward the door, taking any chance of the beast coming out with him. I wanted to let him go. I was tired of this game. But one look at the bed wrenched my fears from me. “They’re not dead—not for me, at least. When I fall asleep, they’re all there waiting.”

  He stopped walking. I watched his back as he stood still for a few moments, as if he were being pulled in two directions. He turned partway toward me. “If you need me to stay, I’ll stay.”

  “I don’t need you. I need…” It didn’t matter. I crossed my arms and looked away from him. “Just go.”

  Thinking of another night of those dreams felt like I had Baryn’s hands wrapped around my throat, stealing my ability to breathe.

  “You need the beast,” he said.

  I didn’t confirm nor deny. It didn’t matter. I wasn’t getting the beast tonight, and nothing else would do at the moment.

  He walked toward me.

  I stepped away.

  “It’s close by,” he said, his voice even rougher.

  I turned, fo
rgetting my annoyance in the face of my need. When I looked at him this time, I could see the red shading his eyes.

  “I’ll stay.” He made a slight motion toward the bed.

  I should do as he asked and not push the matter, be happy for whatever I could get. Except what good would it really do me if I was waiting for him to leave as soon as I fell asleep? Then I’d be tossing and turning all night—again. When he was the beast, I knew he’d stay all night.

  “What?” he asked, growing more agitated.

  “Nothing.” I shrugged.

  “Teddy.”

  Did it really matter anymore? He already knew every embarrassing, horrible thing about me. What was a little desperation to top things off? “How long do you think you’ll stay, exactly? Just so I know and don’t get startled when you rise.”

  “How the fuck did I end up here?” He was shaking his head.

  He wrapped an arm around my waist, hoisted me up, and walked to the bed. He picked me up when he was the beast too. Did this mean he was going to change? Was there still hope?

  He dropped onto the bed with me. “I’ll stay until morning. Get under the covers,” he barked.

  I would’ve preferred a growl, full fur, and fangs, but we were getting closer. I couldn’t complain. It was obvious he didn’t want to be here. I might’ve seen lust in his eyes earlier, but there wasn’t any like along with it.

  I kicked off my shoes and pulled the covers over me. He pulled off his shirt and tossed it to the chair. I looked at the clock and did the math. Not ideal. I’d be a couple hours short of what I needed to really catch up, but I could work with it.

  He settled into the bed and, with an arm around my waist, dragged my back against his front. That was new. He was right. The beast was close to the surface. I couldn’t imagine it was Callon who wanted me close. I thought I had to go running through the woods to get this, but it seemed other things triggered him almost as well. It wasn’t perfect, but then again, this was pretty comfy. Now if I could figure out what I’d done to get it…

  His breathing evened out behind me.

  “You have such good control.” Except at certain times. “What makes you shift, exactly? Do you just choose, or does it come on suddenly?” Tell me all your secrets.

  “Your fear makes it hard to stay human.”

  Hmmm. That was interesting, and he gave it up easily enough. It wouldn’t do me much good. I wasn’t going to intentionally scare the shit out of myself. That would be counterintuitive to what I was trying to achieve—a nice, calming sleep. Still, it was a start.

  “Why is that?” I shifted away from him just enough to turn over and face him. Him admitting that another’s fear made it hard for him to stay human sparked a lot of questions. It must’ve been a predator-type thing. Like dogs or something? I’d keep that comparison to myself. The dog reference wouldn’t be flattering at all, and I was going for answers, not chasing him out.

  He let out a long, annoyed sigh. “It makes me want to kill something.”

  I knew I was right to like the beast. “Does it always want to kill things?”

  “No. Sometimes it wants to do other things.”

  Other things? I couldn’t imagine it sitting around and reading a book. Oooh. It liked to kill and it liked to fuck. How very interesting. Now we were really getting somewhere.

  “If the beast likes to kill and fuck, how come you don’t?”

  “I can’t go around randomly killing people.”

  “I’m not talking about killing people. How come you don’t fuck?” I had a feeling he knew I’d not been asking him why he didn’t go on a killing spree.

  “Who says I don’t?” His offhand answer wasn’t what I wanted to hear.

  “Who is it that you’re fucking?” He was my beast. We had a thing. It wasn’t a normal thing, but there was some weird sort of ownership. I’d trapped him, after all. They should trap their own beast. It was a lot of work and grief, and now I was supposed to share?

  “No one at the moment. Go to sleep.”

  He did want to fuck. This was perfect. We could use each other, and maybe I could get him in my bed every night and sleep too.

  “I don’t have anything for you to kill, but maybe you should fuck me? You’re stuck with me anyway at the moment. I mean, it’s convenient in that way, right? We could mutually use each other.” My confidence was picking up. I’d presented him with a logical reason why we should share a bed for more than sleep. According to what Tuesday said about single guys, Callon would be jumping all over my offer.

  “You use a lot of people that way?” The slight growl to his voice didn’t remind me of the beast this time, but something was off.

  “Are you afraid because of the death thing? Is that why you don’t want to sleep with me? It’s okay. We can discuss it. I’m not personally offended. I’m curious, is all.”

  “Can you please go to sleep?”

  That sounded nearly painful, and I was fairly certain Callon had never used that P-word ever before. “Does that mean you don’t want—”

  “Go. To. Sleep.” He pulled my head down and planted it to his chest, so even if I did talk, it would be muffled.

  That hadn’t worked out so well. I’d talk to Tuesday and regroup tomorrow.

  Seventeen

  The lodge was loud in the mornings, but I sensed the absence of certain voices before I set foot in the great room for breakfast.

  Callon had been gone when I woke up, and now he wasn’t here either. Neither were Zink, Hess, or Koz. The mountain of food on Tuesday’s plate told me they wouldn’t be returning anytime soon.

  I grabbed some eggs and bacon, my plate looking modest compared to hers, and dropped into the seat beside her.

  “Where are they? Why are they missing?” I asked.

  “They went to experiment with some of the sludge,” she said with a full mouth of eggs, right before she shoved a piece of sausage in.

  “How?” Callon couldn’t get that far without me.

  She struggled to swallow a large mouthful before answering. “He sent Koz to fetch some more samples and bring them back to the farthest spot Callon could go without you.”

  He was experimenting without me? I was supposed to be the leader of these expeditions. It wasn’t like he didn’t have the chance to tell me as he was rolling out of bed this morning. I stabbed a big chunk of eggs, but the mush didn’t fight back, making it wholly unsatisfying. Should’ve gone with sausage. At least it would’ve felt like I was breaking skin.

  “You can slaughter those eggs, but I think he was trying to let you sleep,” she said around a piece of bacon.

  “Whose side are you on?”

  “Sorry. You’re absolutely right that you should’ve been included. He should’ve woken you before he left at dawn. That was. So. Incredibly. Wrong.” She shook her head.

  “Thank you,” I said, not caring that I’d had to prompt her back to my side. As long as she was there now, I wasn’t going to split hairs.

  I looked about the breakfast room. Only a couple of stragglers left: some guy named Tommy, who did repairs and was quick with a smile, and Frenchie, who never smiled at all. Both lived in the surrounding cottages, outside the lodge. I wished they’d get a move on. This was definitely not a conversation that needed to be overheard. It was bad enough I had to have it.

  “They’re all gone?” I asked.

  “Yes. Why? What happened? Is this about that weird tension last night?” She was curious enough to put down her fork for a minute.

  “There was no tension last night. I offered that thing to you know who last night. He pretty much ignored me.”

  Her lips parted and her eyes got squinty. Her gaze shifted down, staying there for a second before coming back to me. “We’re talking about the thing? And nothing?”

  “Yes, the thing. I thought you said I only needed to present myself for the taking? That it would be a done deal?”

  She curled her lips in and chewed on them. “You must not have
presented yourself correctly.”

  “I did what you said. He wasn’t taking. He didn’t want to take. There was no appetite for this meal.” I’d laid it all out. Couldn’t have made it plainer if I’d stripped down in front of him.

  “No,” she said, wagging her finger and finally looking confident about something. “He wants you. I can see it. You must have done something wrong. You messed up somehow.”

  “I put myself out there like a sacrificial lamb. You said it was easy.” This was not my fault, no matter how she tried to twist it.

  “Did you look dead? That’s not good. They like to think you want them really bad.”

  “I did not look dead. I offered and he didn’t want me.” If we didn’t have company in the room, I might’ve yelled. As it was, I had to whisper violently in her direction. She was totally trying to pin this failure on me.

  She turned away from her plate. “It normally is. I need a play-by-play of exactly how it went down so I can pinpoint where you went wrong.”

  Had she not heard me? “I gave you a play-by-play. I asked if he wanted to have sex and he ignored me.”

  She rolled her eyes, as if I were the problem. “But how? Did you touch him? Did you lick your lips and bat your lashes? Maybe get a hair flip going?” Tuesday enacted all of these movements as she asked, as if I needed visual cues and the words weren’t enough for my feeble brain to take in.

  It didn’t matter. It was a no all around. “No, no, and no. You said it was easy, so I went with the most direct approach. I didn’t bother with all that fluff. I asked him outright and he ignored me.”

  She shook her head and then slipped a hand over her forehead. “Well, there’s your problem. That’s almost as bad as lying there dead. You need to warm them up first.”

  I waved a finger at her. “You didn’t say anything about warming him up.”

  She shrugged. “Because a lot of times it’s not needed. Clearly he needs a warmup.”

  I didn’t respond as I sat back in my chair, staring at her.

  “What?” she said, with no lack of defensiveness on her part.