Lycan Legacy (A Soulmark Series Book 5), page 16
I know I'm overthinking things and lashing out at my wolf, but the truth is I'd rather fret over this than dwell on my mother's threat.
Go, comes its request, this time the word more subdued.
"Fine," I begrudge and fumble with the clasp of the moonstone necklace. "Seriously?" I grumble, giving up the task and marching over to my dresser to tuck the precious gem away in its box.
I leave the safety of my bedroom before my doubts can hold me back any longer and tread down the stairs, only to come to a stop a few steps short of their base.
My hand clutches the railing as I lurch to a stop. The wood beneath my feet and hand give a groan as I remember in detail the night before.
A hot blush stamps itself across my cheeks and neck and further down to my breasts.
His whispered touch along my calf.
The lithe movements of his body as he prowled above me.
My brazen need.
I squeeze my eyes shut tight at the bombardment, but the images only become clearer. How easily he slipped inside of me. The toe-curling pleasure of each thrust.
"I hope you're hungry," Atticus calls from the kitchen, disturbing me from my salacious thoughts. I gasp and trip over my feet to get off the stairs. "I made a big breakfast."
I right myself with wide eyes, before mentally shaking myself. Get it together, Winter.
"Coming," I call back and make my way to the kitchen in the back. "Good morning."
"Good morning." Atticus turns and smiles brightly at my entrance. But I’m keen to notice the darker circles that frame his eyes this morning. Little sleep then, for him and me both. He gestures to the table. "Eat up."
I take a seat, eyes greedily scanning the table's contents. Chocolate chip pancakes, bacon, strawberries, whipped cream, butter, and syrup all sit snug against one another to fit at the small circular table. Lashes fluttering closed, I inhale deeply and savor the scents.
New Year's day at the Blanc pack meant goal setting, a customary check-in at every pack mates home starting with the omega, and a feast for the entire pack hosted by the alphas. The latter, as it would seem, is a custom of the Adolphus pack as well. But I doubt theirs ended promptly at eleven like the Blancs.
"Good morning."
The husky greeting is delivered close to my ear, and I jerk back at the sensation of lips grazing my cheek. The blush from earlier assaults my cheeks once more as I process the modest kiss.
"You've said that already," I chide, desperately fighting down my blush and piling food onto my plate.
Atticus hums his response and takes a seat next to me. "Are you excited for today?"
"Is Zoelle cooking?" Atticus chuckles, but nods. "Then yes."
The kitchen steeps with our silence as we begin to eat. I dare not break it or meet Atticus's flickering gaze, even if he looks more delicious than the food this morning in just a Henley and track pants—and tastes it, I recall.
"So, how did you sleep?"
"Fine," I chirp, ignoring the way my hand falters when stabbing at my next piece of pancake. The second attempt does the deed. "And you?"
"It could have been better," he admits.
A noise of acknowledgment leaves my throat as I chew my food. I ignore the fine rasp he hinges on each word as they fall off his tongue in a feign of casual commentary. I know better and so does he.
"When will we leave today for the party?"
I catch Atticus's shrug out of the corner of my vision. "Early evening. We need to go early so I can speak with Xander."
"About what?" With my full attention captured, Atticus sets down his fork and smiles back reassuringly. The comforting weight of his hand falls on my knee and delivers a short squeeze.
"Solutions. New rotations to monitor the border cracks. We don't want what happened to you to happen to anyone else. But there is one more thing I'm hoping to discuss with him."
The warmth of his hand is a distraction that both my wolf and I fall for. I imagine it sliding north to explore when the drop of his voice catches my attention. Atticus smiles somewhat wanly back.
"If you don't mind, I want to share with him a bit of what you told me last night. Explain to him the difference between tradition and old ways. I think it will help us better plan our next move against the Wselfwulfs, or help to anticipate theirs."
This is not what I expect him to say, and judging by the brief flicker of confusion passing by his eyes, it shows on my face. I smooth my features and turn my attention back to my plate.
"I don't mind—" I insist, but he interrupts.
"It's okay if you rather I not. I don't have to, but I would like to. I do think it will help. But yesterday things got... personal." He pauses, hand leaving my knee for his fingers to graze the underside of my chin and turn my regard his way. "I don't want to cut short something that just began, because yesterday felt like a beginning... at least to me it did."
And just like that, his words chase away my doubts and fears of earlier. At least, temporarily. I lose myself in the sea of his eyes and, without thought, I lean into the gentle touch of his fingers. His thumb grazes the slope of my jaw.
"It was for me too," I admit to both him and myself.
Atticus's smile is slow to come, but when it stretches wide across his face, it's as if I'm standing directly under the sun. "Yeah?"
I duck my head and look away, slipping from his tentative grasp and giving a shy nod. What are you doing, Winter? You're only making this harder for yourself. Don't fall for his charm.
"I'm, uh, glad you think so too." I cast him a sidelong glance and follow his hand as it ruffles his hair. "So, about last night...."
"It was nothing," I blurt out, my voice slightly raised. "I mean, not nothing. Just... I don't want to make a big deal out of it or anything. It's just sex, right? And we're married," I ramble on despite the screaming voice in my head yelling at me to stop. "Married people have sex all the time. For babies and also for pleasure. And I'm literally not going to stop talking if you don't step in and shut me up—"
And so he does.
Bending at the waist and rising from his chair, Atticus presses a chaste kiss against my lips. The featherlight touch works. My unruly tongue checks itself, and I release a sigh of relief as he retreats.
"I get the feeling I shouldn't have brought it up," Atticus teases. Though as I open my eyes to see his flush, I also smell his embarrassment.
"Maybe another time?" I offer in consolation, reaching out to pat his hand. "I'm not good at talking." Not with you, anyway.
He smiles and captures my hand. "Right. Letters are our things."
"And flowers," I joke and instantly regret it as Atticus's smile lights up the room.
You're leading him on. You're leading yourself on. Stop, Winter.
But I'm not sure I can.
His fingers curl around mine and bring my knuckles to his lips, his smile hardly lessening.
"And flowers," he whispers.
++
I'm left to my own devices upon arriving at the Adolphus manor with Atticus promising to be no more than fifteen minutes as he heads up the main staircase to meet Xander. Zoelle is there to greet us, but given her flustered state, I shoo her back to whatever task she was handling. She smiles gratefully and dashes off to finish giving notes to the catering staff.
Once everyone is out of earshot and eyesight, I study the house's layout.
Perhaps this information will sate my mother. Doubtful, but my other option consists of sharing my conversation with Atticus about the Wselfwulfs true nature. And while I hope she will be as horrified as me, I wonder how far her sympathies will go.
I begin with the first floor, cataloging each room in a counterclockwise fashion.
"Hey, what are you doing over here?" I spin around, my hand sailing to my heart as I stare at Callie. I close the door I’d been opening.
"Just exploring," I explain. Callie accepts my answer with a smile. Thank goodness she doesn’t possess any heightened senses or both my scent and heartbeat would give me away.
"Zoelle asked if we could finish lighting the candles in the open rooms for tonight."
I smile back, the ends of my lips holding more taut than natural. "Of course, let's go."
We tackle the billiard room first where a bartender, waiter, and card dealer are setting up their respective stations and making small talk with one another. Callie gives them all a short passing smile, then brandishes a box of matches at me.
A pretty gold candelabra wound like a winding tree branch is placed in each of the three windows that span the room.
"You look nice," she comments, striking a match.
"Thank you."
My dress is a black fit-and-flare with embellished gold bars streaking down it. The bars stop at various lengths, and for whatever reason, it gives the impression of an upside-down skyline. I secured my hair up for this dress, with a few choice curling tendrils left down to frame my face.
Callie’s donned a more casual outfit. Her dress is a midnight blue that bears only her shoulders to the cold. Underneath the short dress, she wears black leather leggings. They go well with her black booties. The entire outfit suits the Inuit woman who comes off as a bit of a tomboy to me. Though her smoky eye makeup and slick ponytail do give her a sultry edge.
"You look nice too. Happy New Year, by the way."
Callie gives a short laugh and finishes lighting the first candelabra. "Happy New Year to you too. Did you two do anything last night?"
I turn and head to the next window, folding my arms around my middle before I answer. "Dinner at Nove."
"Was it nice?" she asks politely.
"It was."
Callie smirks at my short answer. "Zoelle mentioned that Atticus and Xander were talking, do you know what about?"
The question is innocent enough, but there's a touch of too much indifference in the warrior's tone to make me believe it. I coolly take the box of matches from her with a genial smile and walk over to the last candelabra set while she finishes off the middle piece.
Perhaps with Callie, I can scrounge up some information worthy of my mother and father's appetite, something that is more useful than my observations of the alpha's home.
"About the Wselfwulfs."
I let my eyes pass the room surreptitiously, enough so to catch Callie's attention as I intend. She gives a brief nod of acknowledgment, waiting until I finish so we can leave the room together.
"What about the Wselfwulfs?" Callie's voice is all business.
"About solutions and ways to increase the borders patrol." The doorbell rings, announcing a new guest. Callie grabs my arm and pulls me into one of the several closed-off rooms on the first floor.
"Spill," she demands, crossing her arms over her chest and looking every bit the warrior she was bred to be, even all done up like this.
I lick my lips, hesitating as I search for the right words. I don't want Callie to provide me with too much information, but too little and my "loyalties" will be called into question again by my mother.
"When we had dinner, Atticus and I spoke about the differences between the Blanc and Wselfwulf pack."
Callie snorts and arches a brow. "Is there?"
At her derisive delivery, I bristle. "Yes, in fact, there are," I say, my voice crisp. "For starters, we don't allow our wolves to win other people's property or family members in fighting rings. We honor lycan tradition by respecting the established hierarchy and honoring the moon with quarterly feasts. And," I continue, wavering only a half second, "we would never stoop so low as to kill the wolves who wish to leave our pack."
My last statement makes me sick inside, for it isn't true at all. We do hunt down those who dare leave the pack, rationalizing such action by the need for secrecy with our most guarded of secrets. Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I tilt up my nose and raise an eyebrow at Callie.
She doesn't look apologetic, her standoffish posture still in prime form.
"No offense, but as far as I've seen, there isn't a lot of ‘gray area’ in the lycan world. You're either traditional or not, and those who trend toward the former are getting... desperate. I witnessed firsthand how people react when they fear they're losing the foundation of their life. It isn't kind."
Her brown eyes sharpen on some faraway point. There is no doubt in my mind she recalls said people right now. I glance away, my brow furrowing in response to her words.
"I don't think this is as black and white as you say, but that's a discussion for another time," I tell her.
She turns her solemn regard back to me. A smirk slowly crawls upon her darkly painted lips. "You remind me of Zoelle," Callie says. Her head cocks to the side, and the smirk softens around its edges. "Maybe because of your rank. Being the beta goes hand and hand with a certain type of compassion that's alluring. You're personable without even having to try, which is a lot like Zoelle, except you're far more... diplomatic than her."
Laughter and greetings ring out from the foyer after the doorbell rings again, but we both ignore the jovial commotion.
"And whose qualities do you share as the fifth? Quinn?"
Callie laughs and leans back against the dresser. It jostles at the unexpected force of her movement, but Callie pays the noise no mind. "Yes and no. We're both unafraid to be blunt, but I'm not nearly as colorful as Quinn." Brown eyes narrow in their regard of me. "I see bits of Irina in you too. Although I didn't know her well, there was always an elusive quality to her personality. Something hidden."
I color and once again am relieved that Callie doesn't possess any lycan abilities.
"You think I'm hiding something?"
The breathy quality of Callie's laugh sets my nerves on edge. She regards me thoughtfully, taking her time as she does so. It is the epitome of unnerving.
"I think there's more to you than meets the eye." My muscles lock up at the casual observer and the former warrior notices. "Is there something you're hiding?"
My features draw together in a show of consternation, as I decide to give her a half-truth. "I wasn't raised to be an open book. That's not how you survived in the Blanc pack."
I'm tempted to say more and defend myself, but I bite my tongue. All of this sharing of information is having an unexpected side effect—the Adolphus pack bonds are winding around me once more.
It's a curious thing, for although Callie is a soulmark, she isn't a lycan. Nonetheless, her presence in the pack must be substantial for a non-lycan to summon the pack bonds up like this.
"I get that. More than the others probably do," Callie confesses, her shoulders sagging downward as she frowns at the ground. "When I belonged to the Wardens of Starlight, they taught me to be strong and smart. They taught me to hate the supernatural and how to kill all number of things. But what was most important to the wardens was loyalty. The fact that I left them for Keenan was unacceptable."
I worry my bottom lip, eyeing this more vulnerable side of Callie with veiled astonishment. "But he's your soulmark."
She gives a one-shoulder shrug and meets my eyes again. "I'm sure that made it worse. My decision ruined my father and brought shame to my family, but I think, at the very least, my brother understood. Him and a few close friends. Maybe even my mentor...."
Callie trails off, her gaze going distant once more with that cutting focus. I shift my weight from foot to foot, taking in her story. Then she gives a brisk shake of her head, her long ponytail whipping to one side. Our eyes meet, and a sparkle of something I cannot place twinkles in her chocolate eyes.
"I made my choice, and I wouldn't do it any other way if I had the chance," comes her matter-of-factly response. Callie rolls her shoulders back and crosses one ankle over the other. She's the picture of confidence and self-assurance.
"Which was to join the pack?" I'm uncertain as to why I ask the question with such confusion coating my words.
Callie smirks. "Yep. I like to think of myself as a sort of generic brand she-wolf. I'm a great fighter, and with my bracers on, I'm a real challenge, even to some of the higher-ranking lycans here."
I glance at her bare neck and wrists pointedly, then dip my questioning gaze to her ankles. If she is wearing these "bracers" now, I can't determine where they are.
"Bracers?"
Another chime of the doorbell enters in response. Callie lightens her lean and twists her head in interest to the door.
"Callie?" I ask, drawing her regard back to me. If I can make her to tell me what they are….
"It's a product of the Wardens of Starlight. They're given to our fighters because it enhances our speed and strength, which lets us go up against supernatural opponents more evenly. I don't use them as often now though," she continues, her eyebrows slanting together harshly and her nose wrinkling. "Keenan doesn't like me out in the field because I'm technically human, even if we make a great team."
More laughter sounds from the foyer, and several greetings and cheers arise from the group. Callie steps away from the dresser and passes me a smile.
"We should probably finish that last room," she says.
"You're right," I agree.
This new information for my parents will hopefully appease them, and maybe even draw their focus away from the Adolphus pack for a time as they look into it. Better still is that their ire with me won't be taken out on Juniper.
Not yet at least.
"Winter." My name is quiet on her tongue, and her fingertips brush the back of my arm. I pause midstep in my exit to toss a look over my shoulder. Her arms are dropped to her back pockets, and her features smoothed to something more open and tender. "I just want to say, everyone is happy you're here, and we're all glad to see how happy Atticus is too."
I smile back, my throat bobbing up and down erratically as I swallow the sudden emergence of my guilt. "Thank you."
