Lycan Legacy (A Soulmark Series Book 5), page 20
“Got a girlfriend?” Atticus asks in my stead. Knox slants his gaze Atticus’s way. Oh dear.
“Nah, man,” he replies. “Had a girl, but she dropped me for some poser.”
The cavalier shrug Knox delivers after his comment is anything but. My hands form fists in my lap at the mocking knowledge written all over Knox’s face. It is insufferable, and for the second time today I wish to have one of the large candles to knock the smirk from his face. Or perhaps with my fist. Atticus remains cool, but there is something in his movements that reacts to Knox’s jibe.
“Lucky guy,” he responds, his blue eyes finding me.
Knox runs his tongue across his teeth, head shaking slowly from side to side. “Something like that.”
The ambient chatter of the cafe hardly scratches the surface of the sudden curtain of silence that encases our group. And then Lucy’s breathy laugh, so full of contempt, cracks it open.
“Well, aren’t we all something else? The married couple with no plans to have children—” Lucy spares me a pointed look beneath half-lowered lashes “—and two sad stories of unrequited love.”
I direct my gaze at my full cup of tea, unable to meet Atticus’s stare. The truth of Lucy’s words stings more than they should.
Atticus asked for honesty, but how can I possibly divulge the Blanc pack’s darkest secret? My parents worried only of my commitment to spying on the Adolphus pack. What will they threaten if they think the Blancs’ soulmark curse came to light?
Another war.
Another punishment.
“Winter?”
My head snaps up at the address, and I find three sets of eyes on me. Only one shows real concern. “Yes?”
“Are you feeling all right?” I hesitate at Atticus’s inquiry.
“Actually, I think I’d like to head home.”
“That’s a good idea. We’ll probably want to change before dinner.”
Lucy arches an eyebrow and looks between the two of us, lingering on my ill-covered surprise. “Where are we going out to dinner?”
“Winter and I are. You’re welcome to whatever food we have in the house. Or if you prefer, you can stay out and explore with Knox. Maybe grab dinner somewhere,” Atticus says, rising. He tosses a twenty down on the table and looks at me expectantly. I stand and maneuver around Knox, taking Atticus’s proffered hand.
“Well, then, don’t have too much fun, you two. I think Knox and I will explore and grab dinner downtown. Don’t worry, I’ll find my own way back to your place. No need to wait up,” she calls after our retreating forms.
++
We really do go to an early dinner. No matter how early it is, I'm thankful to be out of the near toxic vicinity of Knox and Lucy as it loosens the knot riding between my shoulders.
“I want you to know I completely agree with what you said earlier,” Atticus says as he studies the diner's menu. “I want them to leave as soon as possible too.”
I choke back a laugh and hide my smile behind the menu. There’s a family to my right who keeps catching my eyes, or rather, their son. He stares unabashedly at my hair. The attention brings a light blush to my cheek. Back in my hometown, the residents are used to the sight. Though this isn’t the first time I have received looks in Branson Falls, for some reason, the little boy’s stare is unnerving.
“You’d think they were made for each other,” Atticus continues, his voice trailing off with a suggestive lilt to the end of his words.
I shrug and nibble on my lower lip. “They’re different enough to warrant being awful together,” I say.
“I was curious about something… you said they were here to protect you, among other things, but why didn’t they ask to see the spot you were attacked today? Didn’t they know it happened in the downtown area?”
I’m glad for the shield of my menu as the color fades from my cheeks and my pulse dares to quicken. I take a steadying breath, calming my heart before it’s too obvious I’m nervous. “Maybe they plan on doing it a different day?”
“Winter,” he says with gentle firmness. The smooth measure of his voice coaxes down my shield, and I spare him a glance beneath my lashes. “They didn’t even bring up the attack. Not even once.”
“I don’t know what you want me to say, Atticus. I explained everything in detail to my mother. I assume she told them everything. Just because they didn’t inquire about it today, doesn’t mean they won’t tomorrow. Or even tonight.”
“I get the feeling it’s not the only reason why they’re here.”
I swallow but am saved from answering when our waitress comes.
“We need another minute,” Atticus says without looking to the plump older woman. She nods with an amiable smile fixed in place and leaves.
“I told you the other reason,” I say.
Atticus sighs and leans back against the squeaky cushion of our booth seat. “I think there’s more to it than that as well.”
“Well, that’s all I can imagine it to be.”
Silence. It rings loud in my ear as we remain in our standoff. Distrust paints his face by his furrowed brow and downturned lips. This close I can even scent some of his disappointment. I swallow the thick lump forming in my throat and curl my arms around my middle.
“I don’t want to pressure you, but something doesn’t feel right about this. And you’re acting differently. Sometimes I think I glimpse the real you. Or maybe it’s who you could be. Still soft and a bit shy, but shining at every moment. But 80 percent of the time you have some shell erected. It’s worse now that they’re here. I don’t know how to get past it. Time, probably,” he admits with a forlorn sigh. His expression softens to one of empathetic understanding. He closes his eyes and rests his head back against the high back seat. “I thought, maybe, the sex had changed things. It usually does. I guess I shouldn’t have assumed anything.”
“Can I take your order, sweethearts?”
We startle as the waitress reappears, and stare numbly at our menus.
“Just an order of fries for me,” I say weakly, handing over my menu.
“I’ll have the same and a diet coke.”
When she’s gone, I reluctantly meet Atticus’s gaze. Words fall forfeit on my tongue as I search for some reasonable explanation. But what do I say? I wasn’t raised to be some open book with my heart on my sleeve. My parents took that from me so long ago. Even now they have their claws in me pursuing their wishes.
“I don’t know how to be different,” I say, feeling more self-conscious than ever. I re-wrap my arms around my middle, fingernails digging into my sides. “How I act is how I was raised.” How I was bred.
“And those glimpses I see? Where does that come from? Them?”
I shake my head, but one person comes to mind. The one who I’m doing this all for. “Juniper.”
Across the linoleum-covered tabletop, he stretches a hand toward me. I stare intently at it like it’s my very doom before reaching out and accepting his warmth and strength. The beta influence is not what I expect to receive through the contact, and my eyes turn to saucers as I stare at him. A rush of acceptance and understanding courses through me.
I attempt to tug back my hand, but he holds fast, shaking his head. “Don’t. I get it, okay? She’s like a sister to you. It’s no wonder you feel you can be so open with her. I guess that means it’s only the people you feel safe and comfortable with that get to see those glimpses, huh?”
Again, I’m speechless. “I suppose,” I whisper, eyes darting away from Atticus's face and rapidly blinking away the odd wetness that has gathered there.
“Well, then,” he says, his voice carrying a teasing note, “I guess I should be happy to have fallen in with such an esteemed group. Even if it’s only in bursts.”
“Why are you so nice to me?”
Atticus smiles widely and rubs this thumb across my palm. Shivers race up my arm. “Because I know something you don’t.”
“What?”
“That we’ll be everything together. It’s not a question of ‘if,’ but ‘when.’ I’m just waiting for you to see it too because I don’t think your pack has done the soulmark justice. Our souls are meant to be one, Winter. And that’s an incredible thing.”
My lips part in breathless wonder. Right then and there I almost tell him everything. About the curses. About my parents’ intent. About what I’ve done.
“Here you are, kids. Enjoy.”
The fries are set down in the middle of us, and Atticus’s coke directly in front of him.
“She is surprisingly quiet,” Atticus says good-naturedly and goes for a taste of the fries with a cheeky smile. “Maybe it’s her supernatural power?”
I smile weakly back and go for a fry, my confession locked away once more. Keep quiet, fool, I berate myself. Think of June. Will you destroy her future chance at happiness?
I slump in my seat. Apparently, I’ll just destroy my own.
Balance
Chapter 12
Once, when I was eight, I walked the back of a couch like a balance beam. In my imagination, a tumble to the wrong side meant certain death. But to cross meant I would accomplish what none had before. My great act had been performed for the newborn Juniper... who was asleep in her bassinet.
I remember the rush and exhilaration as I took each step, even as the couch gave way to wobbles and rocking. I kept my balance through it all.
The same precarious walk today does not feel like what it did then.
The streetlights pass in a blur on our way home, their luminous glow mingling with the snowfall. It’s beautiful in its chaos, but unfortunately not a strong enough diversion from my turmoil.
My parents are not good people.
They are manipulative and self-serving.
They are proud and cruel.
I rest my head against the glass and revel in its icy touch. It is a balm to my growing headache.
And I may be just as bad.
I wish Atticus to be less than he is. It is a terrible thought, but I wish it still. Perhaps if he were, it would be easier to betray him. Maybe it would ease this gnawing guilt pulverizing my insides. Inside my coat pocket rests my phone, clutched ruthlessly within my grip. Text messages from Juniper populate the home screen, all unanswered but seen by me.
Juniper: Toby broke up with me
Juniper: Please call ASAP
Is this my parents' way of nudging my progress along? Or were their plans to derail Juniper’s future always something within their sights?
Will my compliance even help?
This, among all things, feels like the largest betrayal. For I cannot give up on June, because she has never given up on me—not once. I bite my tongue to dissuade tears from rising. My emotions are a mess, and I’m not the least bit confident I can keep them in.
“Winter?” The tentative address only makes matters worse.
I sniff and wipe hastily at my eyes. “I’m fine,” I insist. “I’m just… feeling a bit lost.”
The truth of my statement hurts. It feels as if my heart is being pummeled by some unseen force and there is nothing I can do to stop it. Not until I make a move. Where do I stand? Where? Where? Where?
“Hey, hey, don’t cry,” Atticus croons, quickly pulling the car over a block short of home. “Winter, I—I don’t know what’s wrong. Why do you feel lost? What’s going on? Is it Lucy and Knox?”
Hair sticks to my face as I vehemently shake my head. “No, I—” To my horror a small sob breaks past my defenses.
Remember, Winter, no man likes a blubbering fool. Shed tears for no one.
“Just ignore me. I’m being sensational,” I persist. Atticus fumbles with his seat belt, and an instant later I’m doing the same. “I just need some fresh air.”
Before he can stop me, I’ve slipped out the car door. The graze of his fingertips against my back speeding my efforts. I slam the door shut behind me, utterly shocked by my behavior.
I’m having a mental breakdown.
A full-blown panic attack. I haven't had one since I was a little girl.
The world around me doesn’t contain enough air. Of this, I am entirely sure. I struggle to capture my breath as some strange physical entity bears down on my rib cage.
“Winter!” Atticus's sharp call does little to break the turbulence wreaking havoc in my mind. Nor does the weight of his hands on my shoulders.
At some point, I’ve buried my face into my hands. Wheezing and sobbing, I unabashedly hide from the world with my body turning more numb by the second.
I tremble as I latch on to each frantic thought that passes by me.
Juniper will crumble over my parents rough handling.
Atticus will turn me out with the knowledge of my deceit.
And someone will die. Someone will die because of me. That’s what the aunt had said. That’s what she saw. Because of me.
My hands are pried away from my face with some effort by Atticus. Although his lycan strength is far greater than my own, my desperation fuels a force I’ve never exerted before.
“Winter, calm down. Talk to me. I can’t help if I don’t know what’s wrong,” he pleads. The persuasion of his position challenges the weak points of my panic, and slowly but surely, the betas calming influence drowns out my anxiety. But I still feel hopelessly numb.
“I just need some….” My gaze darts away uselessly as if the answer to all my problems lies somewhere ahead of me.
You’re going to get someone killed. That is what the witch had said, and—
“Winter. Look at me.”
A knuckle grazes the underside of my chin. The skin-to-skin contact startles me enough to do as he asks. I’m not sure of what’s happened to his leather gloves, but the pull of his fixed stare keeps me distracted enough to lose the thought as soon as it come. His blue eyes are dashed with vibrant gold, the lycan in him observing my reactions carefully.
“What do you need?” he asks, his raspy voice pulling at my heartstrings.
“Time,” I murmur. And so much more. "They won't stop."
Another little cry bursts from me before I resolutely shut my mouth. Too much, a voice scolds, you're saying too much.
Atticus rests his forehead against mine. Our breath clouds before us, mingling together as it did the night of the full moon. My frayed nerves take to the action like a balm. I nuzzle my tearstained face against him, breathing in his scent and closing my eyes.
“Whatever is happening… whatever is wrong, I can help, Winter. Let me help.”
In one fluid motion, he cups my jaw and brings our lips together. They slant across mine in an almost punishing fashion. The drag of his lips consumes my gasp and draws me up onto my toes. Atticus responds in kind, his muscular arm locking around my waist while he presses me up against the side of the car.
I grapple at his neck and back, searching for purchase with a desperateness that makes me quake. Anything to get away from my torturous guilt and anxiety.
We go from zero to sixty when a lurid moan draws past my lips. In the next instant, hands grip the back of my thighs and hoist me into the air. There's no choice but to wind my legs around his waist to aid his effort. My hands find new purchase on the bulging muscle of his biceps.
No second is spared to adjust or think or breathe because Atticus’s mouth is blazing a trail across my jaw and behind my ear. And—
“Oh God.”
His growl follows my gasp, and once more his lips assault my own. Panic forgotten, I return his attention with equal fervor. As if kissing him will somehow save me. For that is what I wish for most.
Let me be the damsel that he comes to rescue.
Let him defeat my wicked parents and slay all the enemies at our border.
Let this kiss be true love's and break every curse.
“You can’t keep hiding from me forever, Winter,” he whispers harshly against my lips. "You can't keep locking yourself away." I’ve barely the time to inhale before he shows me his frustration in a painfully obvious way. Atticus rolls his hips into mine while his hands head north to knead my ass. He knows exactly what he’s doing as the second roll of his hips catches me in just the right place.
“Atticus.”
His name is a mere whimper across my lips, and he repeats the motion. Harder this time, earning something close to a whine from me.
“You’re mine, Winter,” he pants, his hips unrelenting as I squirm against the back of the truck and Atticus’s hold. “Anybody who wants to cause trouble with you—they go through me first. Got it?”
I nod helplessly back, stifling a moan as pressure begins to build across my body. Atticus steals another kiss from me, this one, far more thorough than the last. He kisses me as if to prove his point. Nothing can get to me with Atticus as my shield.
Without mercy, the hands that keep me captive slide back down my thighs, only to urge them further apart. My legs tremble at the action but provide no further resistance as his rock-hard arousal grinds against my center.
Though the frigid wind whips the snow against our exposed faces, it melts in seconds to run down our fevered skin. I’m burning from the inside out, I think in a daze, my lips chasing Atticus’s. I need out of my clothes and most certainly out of my thick down jacket. But I’m going nowhere fast kept prisoner as I am to his ministrations.
The chance of my climax inches higher with each passing minute. The insufferable heat that plagues me builds like an inferno until I’m sure I’ll die of heat exhaustion in the blizzard swirling around us.
“Nothing comes between us,” he gets out through gritted teeth. My lashes flutter open to stare into his golden eyes. “Nothing.” Nobody, his eyes insist in silent reprimand.
When his teeth bite down on the corded tendons of my neck, I release another whine, my hips bucking against him to find release. Atticus makes an encouraging noise, his hand slapping against the back of my thigh before his fingers trespass closer to the source of my torture.
I whimper and writhe against the onslaught of sensation, eyes wide as I stare into the flurry of white above us. I close my eyes when the wave of my orgasm takes hold of me, my back arching painfully so. The only means to stifle my cry is by biting down upon my lower lip. Even then my cries of fruition fill the quiet air.
