Saving Ellie (Lycans Book 1)

by Whitney R. B.

  I move to turn around, but he places a hand on my shoulder, keeping me in place. He brushes my hair away, his breath against the nape of my neck. “You’re beautiful, Ellie. The scars are a part of you. Be proud of them, it means you survived.” My breath catches as his lips briefly graze the top of my shoulder.

  He steps away, his fingers lingering a bit longer. I quickly turn to him, clenching the towel around my body. His eyes meet mine. “I’m going to go now, be careful.” He pauses then smirks. “Not that I really mind if you slip. I’ll just catch you again.”

  My face burns. “And I thought you promised you’d stay away?”

  He laughs. “I did, but that’s only if you stay upright.” He winks then leaves.

  I pull my bag out from under my bed and rummage through it until I find my hair products. It’s been so long since I have actually done anything to it, but these visitors must mean something to Ash since they’re visiting for Thanksgiving.

  My hand shakes as I stand in front of the mirror, wearing a cream-colored sweater and brown skirt. I start fixing my hair, pulling half of it up and applying product to the curls. My heart hammers in my chest.

  He’s seen my scars. It’s one thing to tell someone about what I went through, it’s another for them to see it. Especially since they are even uglier after the latest slashing I got from Marcus.

  Does Ash really believe what he said? That I shouldn’t be ashamed of them? It’s easier said than done, though.

  Finally ready, I open the door and hear voices coming from the kitchen. Have his guests already arrived?

  My steps are padded with socks against the hardwood floor as I walk down the hall. I pause right before entering the kitchen when someone speaks.

  “How are you feeling about, you know, the challenge?”

  The challenge?

  I don’t recognize the voice. He has a thick British accent, so my guess would be Foster, but I’m not still not positive.

  Another voice I don’t recognize says, “Foster.” This masculine voice is gruffer, with a hint of an Irish accent. Russell, maybe?

  “What? I wanted to ask before Alice and Charlie get here,” the first voice, Foster, responds.

  “It’s Thanksgiving, and you’ll ruin the food,” Russell says.

  “I can’t ruin the food by chatting.”

  “The negative vibes will sink into it.”

  “That’s bloody ridiculous.”

  There’s a sigh before Ash’s voice sounds. “It’s still a ways out.”

  “Two weeks,” Foster says. “That’s not far, and considering...”

  “I know.”

  “Let's talk about this later,” Russell says. “Focus on getting the celery done. I need to put the stuffing in before placing it in the oven.”

  There’s some grumbling and a “fine” from Foster. I’m debating when I should walk in when another question spills from Foster’s mouth.

  “How has it been going with Ellie?” Foster asks.

  I hold my breath, clenching my hand to my chest.

  “I think it’s been going well, but I don’t know if I’ve changed her mind about staying. There’s also…”

  “There’s also...what?”

  I’m dying to peek around the corner and see Ash’s expression. What else is he worried about?

  “I don’t know, there’s this connection between us that confuses me.”

  “What do you mean?” Foster asks.

  “It’s almost as if…”

  “As if…?”

  “As if we’re destined mates—” The doorbell rings, cutting him off.

  Mates? Destined mates?

  I didn’t realize he still thought that. Are we? Even though I’m human? Why hasn’t he talked to me about it more?

  Leaning against the wall is how Ash finds me as he walks into the hallway.

  His eyes widen. “Ellie?” He glances back, biting his lip. “Are you okay?”

  I swallow and give a nod.

  “Okay…” He eyes me, his gaze softening. “You look beautiful.”

  My shaky hands go to my skirt, tugging it down. “Thank you.” Should I say something?

  He smiles. “I’m going to answer the door. Russell and Foster are in the kitchen, would you like to meet them real quick?”

  I straighten and wipe my sweaty hands on my skirt. “Sure.”

  Walking into the kitchen, I’m greeted with the sight of two men. One is bulky with a short beard, and his russet-colored hair is tied up in a messy man-bun. His sleeves are rolled up, showcasing pale skin and tattoos as he hovers over a raw turkey.

  The other is the leanest out of the three, but still muscular. His slightly wavy, dark-chestnut hair is coiffed in the front, but unlike his friends, he’s clean shaven. He’s tanner than the other, but not as dark as Ash. He’s also the first to look up, his knife pausing from the celery, and a giant grin takes over his face.

  “This is Foster,” Ash says, gesturing to him.

  “And you must be the famous Ellie,” Foster responds, his forest-green eyes twinkling with warmth, his voice heavy with a British accent.

  Ash lets out a sigh as my cheeks heat. “Uh, yes, I guess.”

  “And this is Russell,” Ash continues.

  Foster elbows Russell when he doesn’t look up.

  A small growl leaves him, sending a glare at Foster. “What?”

  “Don’t be a brute, there’s a lady present.”

  Russell’s tawny eyes snap to mine as he straightens. A slight blush peeks through his beard. He clears his throat. “My apologies.”

  Foster sighs. “Don’t mind him, when it comes to cooking, nothing can distract him except So—”

  “Foster,” Russell says with a growl.

  I look to Ash to see him smiling and shaking his head. I find myself smiling with him.

  “Well, I need to get the door, please behave for the few minutes I’m gone.” He peers down at me and briefly touches my lower back before leaving the kitchen.

  I turn back to our guests. Russell is already back to his turkey, while Foster is smiling at me.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Ellie.”

  I clasp my hands together in front of me. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”

  He turns his body away from the island. “Would you like to help?”

  “Uh, I’m not very good at cooking.”

  His smile grows. “Me either. I leave it to the brooding expert at my side.”

  I bite my lip and glance at Russell, but he’s completely enthralled in whatever he’s doing with the turkey.

  “Well, okay,” I say.

  He gestures for me to come closer, and I stop beside him. He moves the cutting board with celery partly sliced in front of me.

  Foster moves to the other side of Russell and helps with the stuffing. “So, Ellie. Do you fancy Ash?”

  My heart stalls as my knife pauses midair. “W-what?” I glance over at him and see a giant grin on his face.

  It’s Russell who lets out a sigh. “Foster, stop teasing her. If I don’t get this in the oven soon, we’ll be eating raw turkey for Thanksgiving.”

  Foster chuckles as he gets back to work.

  I shake my head as I cut the celery, making a small pile on the side.

  Ash enters the kitchen near the dining table with Alice and a man following behind him. Alice’s straight pale-blonde hair contrasts nicely with her dark, oversized, blue-green sweater, black leggings, and brown boots.

  A smile appears on my face when our eyes meet, and she smiles back before she averts her gaze. I look over to the other visitor next when time seems to freeze.

  Dirty-blond hair with blue eyes.

  No. That can’t be right.

  Ash wouldn’t invite Zac here after everything that happened. Right?

  While my mind tries to catch up, the knife in my hand continues.

  Russell’s hand comes out fast as lightning, catching the knife before it slices through my finger and instead cuts into his
hand.

  I let go of the knife with a scream and jump away. “Russell, oh my gosh, I’m so sorry.”

  Ash is by my side in a flash, holding me up, while tears burn my eyes. My hands shake over my mouth, trying to keep a sob in, as Russell removes the knife from his hand. There’s a deep slash across his palm, oozing blood. It’s deep. He’ll definitely need stitches. “Russell, I’m so sorry,” I mutter over and over again.

  Russell accepts the cloth Foster hands him and presses it on his wound.

  “I have a first aid kit in the hallway,” Ash says to Foster.

  Foster nods and runs out of the kitchen faster than I can blink.

  “I’m okay,” Russell says, looking at me with a small smile, still pressing the cloth into the gash.

  My tears pause at that smile. Is this the first time I’ve seen it? He didn’t even smile when I came in. But now he’s smiling to reassure me.

  Ash gently squeezes my shoulders.

  My eyes remain on Russell. “I...I don’t understand. Why did you…?”

  His gaze falls to my hands still clenched over my chest.

  “You’re human. You would’ve gotten hurt.”

  My bottom lip wobbles as tears fall once more. Ash picked good friends. People who care for others, even if it ends up harming them. It makes me miss Jane.

  Foster walks back in. Both he and Russell move to the sink to stitch and bandage his hand.

  “Do you want to go see Kathy?” Foster asks.

  Russell shakes his head. “I’m fine. Doesn’t even hurt.”

  A whimper escapes. How could that not hurt?

  “Ellie,” Ash says softly, turning me in his arms and wrapping me in his embrace. “Are you okay?”

  I nod against his chest. He shouldn’t be asking me this. My gaze snaps to the side as I remember why this happened in the first place. Both the man and Alice have remained on the other side of the kitchen. My eyes narrow. That can’t be Zac, right? Ash would’ve mentioned him coming.

  Noticing my turned attention, Ash loosens his arms. “This is Charlie.”

  I grip Ash’s shirt, taking a closer look at the Zac look-alike, and notice the crow’s-feet at the corners of his eyes. Eyes that radiate concern and kindness. He’s an older version of Zac.

  “He’s Alice and Zac’s father,” Ash says.

  I blink. My eyes travel to Alice. Did she know it was her brother that was there with Marcus? From the downcast, guilty look on her face, I’d say she did. Why didn’t she say anything?

  The conversation I had with Ash about omegas pops into my mind.

  Alice is an omega. Of course she wouldn’t say anything. We’ve barely spoken before. She might have even thought I’d blame her for her brother’s actions.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” Ash says. “They are so different in my mind that I forget how alike they look.”

  “I-It’s okay.” I release my hold on him as I turn back to Charlie. “I’m sorry.” It’s not his fault he looks like Zac. I feel horrible for being scared.

  “Nothing to be sorry about, sweetie. I know the reputation my son holds. It’s only normal to be afraid.”

  Foster and Russell move back to the island. I move forward and help Foster clean up the blood that was spilled and throw away any celery that can’t be saved. Russell works on the turkey with one hand for a few more minutes before asking Ash to place it in the oven.

  “Ellie?” Charlie says. He’s on the other side of the kitchen now while Alice washes the used dishes. “I wanted to apologize for the role my son played in attacking you. I don’t know where I went wrong with raising him, but I hope you know just how sorry I am that he was part of it. I hope you can forgive this father for the actions of his son.”

  I shake my head. “I don’t hold you accountable for his actions. He wasn’t the one who hurt me anyway.”

  He looks surprised at my comment but nods. “Thank you.”

  The aroma of turkey and casseroles increases as time passes. Since we finished preparing the food and placed them in the ovens—why Ash needs four, I have no idea—we’ve moved to the family room where two leather couches and a rocking chair reside. Instead of watching a movie on his flat-screen television, Ash brought out some games. We’re currently sitting on the rug in a circle playing Uno.

  Foster places a blue seven on top of a green seven card. He gives Alice a cheeky grin when she shoots a glare his way.

  “You’re cheating. I swear, you’re cheating.”

  He laughs. “Nah, how can I cheat? I can’t read your cards from the other side of the room.”

  Alice is a lot more competitive than I thought she’d be. Foster seemed to know that from the beginning and has egged on that side of her. She’s like a completely different person.

  Russell places a card down using his bandaged hand. Guilt eats at me. I can’t believe he did that so that I wouldn’t hurt myself.

  Charlie’s next and shakes his head while placing a blue card on top of Russell’s. “You’re just easy to read, Alice dear.”

  Alice’s brows scrunch together as her eyes narrow on him. “We play this every Sunday together. If I’m so easy to read, why do I win so often?”

  A guilty smile appears on Charlie’s face.

  She gasps. “Dad!”

  Foster howls with laughter, throwing his entire body backward.

  A small growl passes Alice’s lips as she leans forward to pick up a card, the first one being a blue. She sends Foster a smug grin and places the card down.

  I send my own glare at Ash when he places a skip down, making it Foster’s turn again. How many skips does this man have?

  Foster places a draw two on top of the pile. Russell follows suit with a second one and Charlie places a red draw two on top of that.

  Alice throws her cards face down, her blue eyes blazing. “This is ridiculous. You’re all cheating.”

  Foster laughs with a grin. “Take the cards, love.”

  She grumbles as she grabs six cards and adds them to her pile.

  When it finally gets to my turn, I’m finally able to use one of my wild cards and change colors.

  “Uno.” I grin and a groan comes from Ash.

  “This is why I was skipping you.”

  “Have you been looking at my cards?” I accuse.

  He shrugs, but a grin forms on his face. “You don’t hide them well.”

  “I’m clamming,” Foster says, placing a card down. “Food almost done, mate?” he asks Russell.

  Russell straightens and looks over the couch with narrowed eyes. “Ten more minutes.”

  “Clamming?” I whisper, leaning into Ash on my left.

  Ash chuckles. “He means starving.”

  “Don’t be afraid to call him out on his weird phrases,” Alice says, looking at her cards with a scowl before placing a wild draw four and calling out, “Yellow.”

  It hasn’t escaped my notice that Alice seems more comfortable here with them than she did while I was in the hospital. Is it because no other eyes are on her to judge or bully her?

  Ash groans. “I’m not even going to grab the four cards, Ellie wins.”

  Foster jerks his head up. “What why?”

  I grin and place my last card on the pile, a wild.

  The boys go into the kitchen to get the food ready while Alice and I set the table. I’m hit with a sense of nostalgia. The last Thanksgiving I had that was actually good was with my parents before they died. I was only ten, but we would always go outside and play in the snow. My parents would bundle me up, and we’d build a snowman if there was enough snow, have snowball fights, and make snow angels.

  “How are you feeling? Any better?” Alice asks, following me with silverware while I place the plates down.

  “I’m doing okay.” I shrug. “Still have a headache on and off, and I’m tired a lot, but other than that I’m fine.”

  I glance at her to find her nodding. “That’s normal with concussions.”

  Well, t
hat’s a relief.

  Walking around, I place a plate down at the head of the table. Who’s going to sit where? I eye Alice again. Her pale-blonde hair is much lighter than her brother’s or Charlie’s. She doesn’t really look like either. Her eyes are definitely the same blue as Charlie’s and Zac’s, but that’s about it. She must take after her mother.

  Which begs the question, where is she?

  “Have you worked in the hospital long?” I ask.

  She lets out a heavy breath, placing the last set of silverware down. “Yeah. Since I was sixteen.”

  I bite my lip. I wish that told me more, but since she’s a lycan, I really have no idea how long ago that was. She looks to be not much older than me, maybe twenty-two, but so does Ash and he’s over a hundred.

  I get a flash of her bright blue eyes as they briefly meet mine before falling back to the table. “I’m thirty-three.”

  I blink. So, she’s young. I was expecting her to say she was in her eighties or something. I look over at the guys, my eyes falling on each one of them. Foster and Russell are bickering over food, Ash is smiling and shaking his head at their antics. Charlie interjects, saying something that causes Foster to burst out in laughter.

  How old are they? Are they closer to Ash’s or Alice’s age? It’s so hard to tell. I know Charlie has to be older than everyone, but does being a pureblood or an omega change how fast you age?

  Alice follows my gaze. “My dad is in his four hundreds. Russell is one hundred and twenty-one. He just had a birthday. Foster is ninety-eight. Sophie, who isn’t here, but usually hangs out with them...or at least she used to...is eighty-six. So they all are around the same age.” I turn back to her to find her staring at them, wistfully. She looks at me with a small smile. “I’ve always felt a bit weird being the youngest.”

  I try to give her a reassuring smile. “Well, we can be youngins together.”

  I instantly regret it when her eyes light up, and I remember my plan to leave.

  “What’s it like being human?” she asks.

  I jerk back. “What?”

  Her hands clench onto the back of one of the chairs, her eyes downcast. “Sorry, that was a strange question.”