Lycan Legacy (A Soulmark Series Book 5), page 37
Her lips thin. “If you can’t promise to return me home, then I won’t help you.”
“But I don’t know if I can even keep that promise!”
“Promise or I won’t help!” she shouts back.
Something wraps around my shin and yanks it back, so I am on both knees before her. I stare in shock at the fairy. My wolf snarls and pushes to the forefront of my mind as Luna's temper flares. But it’s not just her temper… Luna's eyes shine with unshed tears.
It takes a moment for me to leash the wolf’s anger, taking special care to examine her. I’m sure if it weren’t for the heavy perfume of flowers, I would be able to scent her real emotions.
“Luna… I can’t promise to find you a way home,” I tell her with regret.
Like a child who has not gotten their way, she spins herself around. The tips of her fingers are visible from the back as they reach around her middle. Her crying fills the air, but instead of the attack I’m sure is to come, the plants converge onto Luna. They wrap around her protectively, and she leans on them for support.
“It’s not fair,” I hear her say. “Nobody will help me go home. Nobody cares.”
Her tear-ridden words tug at my heartstrings. Tentatively, I rise, my knees shaking as I step to the bed and reach for her. Her skin is surprisingly cool to the touch, and it is evident in the way she jumps she does not expect my approach or hear it.
“What?” she bites out, wiping furiously at her cheeks even as her tears continue.
“I can’t promise to find you a way home, but I vow to you, Luna, I will help you however I can in your efforts to get home. But not before Zoelle is awoken. I’ve already given my word to the coven and Xander that I would—that I will help them fix this mess.”
She sniffs, and suddenly the vines and roots push and pull me forward until I’m right next to Luna. I almost tumble into her from the force of nature and stare at her wide-eyed and nose to nose. Her violet eyes widen in a similar fashion as my slate gray ones, but it's the gentle mingling of our equally snowy white hair that draws her regard away. Her fingers reach up, touching the ends of my long hair.
“Okay,” she whispers, voice sullen but sound. “I’ll help.”
“You will?”
She nods, then turns watery eyes back to me. “And you promise to help me after?”
I capture her hand in mine and press it over my heart. “I swear I will help you after all of this is done. When Zoelle and her baby are safe and we’ve learned what we can from the yellow birch tree, I’ll be your faithful companion and help you find your way home.”
Luna smiles weakly back at me.
++
Atticus is waiting at the bottom of the stairs for me. He casts anxious glances at his phone, then up the stairs. When they land on me, I still.
“We need to go,” he says. His voice is clipped.
“Is everything all right?” I ask, scurrying down the stairs and letting him usher me into my coat and straight out the door. A black SUV is waiting at the end of the driveway; Xander’s scowling face peers out at us through the passenger side. “What’s going on?”
Atticus urges me on faster. His hand at the small of my back guides me firmly forward.
“I’ll tell you at home.”
I dig my heels into the ground. “Nooo,” I say, head moving quickly back and forth, knowing all too well that Xander can hear. I round on Atticus, keeping my voice as low as possible. “Tell me now. I’m not going in there with a fuming mad alpha, who is already furious with me.”
“It’s either in there with him or inside with a coven of witches, who just found out we’re bringing in an outside sorcerer.”
I gulp. “Car it is,” I breathe, already back to speeding toward it.
Once we are fastened up inside, Atticus peels out of the driveway and down the road. I hold back the urge to counsel Atticus on his speed, even as the residential homes go past us in a blur. Xander is barely able to contain the low growl rumbling continuously out of him.
I shrink back in my seat, catching Atticus’s gaze in the rearview mirror.
“I can’t believe they have the gall to scold me. As if I’m a child who doesn’t know what they’re doing—that I'm unreasonable and rash. They’re the ones who messed up tonight.” A snarl rocks the inside of the car followed by a loud bang.
My heart jumps in my chest as I slam myself back against the seat. It is only Atticus’s voice that keeps me from leaping into the trunk to get away from the alpha’s anger.
“You knew the risks, Xander. You knew what they were going to try, and you supported it. Don’t get this way,” he says with vehemently. “We talked about this, man. We knew.”
A disheartening feeling rides through the pack bonds, and so close to the source, my stomach clenches painfully. A small whimper eeks past my lips, but the men ignore my discomfort.
“Fine,” Xander replies tersely.
In the passenger side window, I glean a bit of Xander’s reflection. His face is drawn, and his eyes stare out the window bleakly as his hand winds up around the back of his neck. Then, I watch as his top lip curls back, another snarl of fury releasing.
“They can’t keep me away from her,” he says harshly. “And they sure as hell won’t keep Jax away from her. She’s my soulmark. She’s carrying my child. If I discover they’ve tried another of their worthless spells without my consent, I’ll—”
“Don’t go there, man,” Atticus interrupts, pulling to a stop on an empty street. He stays put, turning to Xander more fully. “All anyone wants is to wake Zoelle and set things right.”
Thick tension enters the car as Xander remains quiet. I still, all too aware of the implicating silence, and clench my jaw tightly shut. When their gazes search mine out in the back seat, my head is already ducked submissively. My eyes are glued to my lap.
“As already proved, we don’t all have the same wants,” Xander says frightfully composed.
I hunch a bit further, feeling the alpha’s displeasure directed my way. Tilting my head to the side, I present my neck in an offering of apology.
Atticus growls lightly. “Be careful with your words, brother.” The warning draws both sets of eyes away from me, and I breathe a sigh of relief as their tenuous weight lifts. Peeking at them, I note both sport rosy-hued cheeks and stern frowns.
“She—”
“Is not the enemy,” Atticus cuts in sharply. “She was just a pawn used by her own fucking parents. You can’t sit and steep in this anger. We need to be focused and alert for the pack because the real enemy is out there waiting. And stop riling things up with the witches. You had to know they’d be offended by you calling in Jax. Come on, man. He’s a Stormrow. You know their history.”
Xander deflates. Though his cheeks still remain colored from both embarrassment and a touch of shame, the rest of his face remains ashen as his gaze turns somber.
“I can’t stand going on like this without her,” he confesses, his voice hoarse.
Atticus claps a hand onto his shoulder, leaning in. “You have too.”
With his ability to manipulate the pack bonds, Atticus pulls at the support and love spread out among the pack and directs it toward the alpha. His brow furrows in concentration as he bolsters Xander back to a reasonable state.
Xander shuts his eyes with a grateful shudder, his head bowing an inch in gratitude. Without thought, my hand rises and rests upon Atticus’s. His blue eyes flit to me, but only momentarily. For the first time since joining the pack as the female beta, I attempt to manipulate the pack bonds as well and draw from myself heavily.
A sweat builds at the back of my neck almost instantly. Being the beta might allow me this special privilege, but without any practice, there is a strain to my efforts. I squeeze my eyes tightly shut and concentrate.
I send Xander my love, gratefulness, and admiration.
Love, because he so desperately needs to feel it without Zoelle to fill that space in his heart.
Gratefulness, because his pack has shown me what it means to live and be happy.
Admiration, because his sheer strength and power awe me. Because he doesn’t use either to force his pack to submit to his will and uses it to empower them.
A warm hand rests atop my own. It pulls me from my work as I open my eyes in a daze. Two sets of eyes are back upon me, as well as the alpha's hand.
“Thank you, Winter,” Xander says sincerely. “But you’re giving too much. You’ll pass out at this rate.”
He gently moves my hand away onto the back of his chair instead, and I slump forward with a wave of exhaustion. A hand briefly touches my cheek, or so I think. When I have sense enough to look, I cannot determine which man showed the small affection.
“Let’s get going,” Xander says. “All of us need rest after the night we just had.”
“I’ll drop off Winter and go back with you,” Atticus says, pulling out of park and back into the street. Early risers begin to enter the road as well, commuting out of the quaint town to another for work. Our speed this time is to the law.
“No,” Xander states after a minute of silence. “Go home with Winter. Take the day off work and rest. We need to be at the top of our game, and your boost helped—both of yours—but I know how much it took out of both of you. Our planning can wait until this afternoon.”
We say no more, although I couldn’t even if I wanted to. The magic and tiresome task of boosting the alpha leaves me drained. And yet, some spark of promise keeps me wide awake as I stare at Atticus unabashedly.
He had come to my defense. He had stuck by my side all through the night. What does that mean?
Atticus parks in the curve of the cul de sac in front of our house and hops out of the car, leaving it running for Xander. When I exit, I don’t expect Xander to wrap me up in a brief hug and place a kiss atop my head. A little quiver racks my body when he pulls away and gives Atticus an even larger hug.
Xander eyes us both when he reaches the driver side. “Be good to each other,” he commands.
I nod, then follow Atticus up and into the house. He makes no attempt at conversation as he shrugs off his coat and hangs it up. His lips stay sealed as he takes my coat from me and hangs it as well.
Anticipation sweeps up in my chest as words creep up my throat to the tip of my tongue. Locking eyes with Atticus, I take a deep breath.
“I think we should talk.”
“I’m going upstairs to call work and go to bed.”
Our sentences clash together just like our eyes. An awkward moment passes, and Atticus shifts uncomfortably under my disappointed look.
“You should get to bed too,” he recommends and slips up the stairs with nothing more to be said.
I stand in silence with tiny fissures of hurt splitting my heart as I watch him go. Minutes later I am still in the foyer staring up at the upstairs hallway. Indecision leaves me paralyzed. Part of me sullenly accepts his rejection, thinking it is more than deserved. But another part wonders at how he can turn his back upon me so easily. How, when there is a magnetism drawing us together time and time again?
I tried to ignore the draw and push it aside, but I don’t want to fight it anymore.
I don’t want to fight with him anymore.
I drag my feet in the direction of the kitchen, intent on getting a glass of water, when the sight of the wallflowers steals my attention. Faithfulness. The last conversation in the kitchen dashes through my mind. All those promises I made to Atticus… only to be slighted with his indifference.
Hurt pierces my heart, along with one of deep frustration and remorse.
I’m trying, dammit.
I allow my teeth to sink into my bottom lip. The pain it causes diverts my attention momentarily, but not enough to keep my lament from repeating. I’m trying. No matter how many times I get rebuffed, I will keep trying. My wolf rumbles its agreement.
My newfound determination forces me back the few steps I have taken, and I stare hard at the stairs.
I take them two at a time, breathing fast and hard as my courage builds. We are going to talk because this limbo we stand in, this perilous line we walk, is too much. One of us—maybe both of us—are at risk of a fatal misstep. If that happens, we won’t be the only ones to suffer, and I can’t summon the selfishness necessary for such a careless act.
Even if it hurts… try.
I open his door.
“Atticus, we need—” We need to close our mouths, I think belatedly as I stare at his crouched form near the gas fireplace.
The curtains are closed, and the room is bathed in soft light from the bright flames and the few candles that decorate his long dresser. Lavender and sage perfume the air, innately calming me.
Atticus rises, his bare chest gleaming in the swaying and flickering firelight. Dully, I note his shirt tossed haphazardly near the wicker laundry basket.
“What are you doing in here?” he asks.
I continue to stare for my speech is forgotten. After all, his pants are unbuttoned, and the sight alone makes a hot flush rise to my cheeks. Atticus places his phone on the mantle perched above the fireplace, then crosses his arms over his chest.
“Well?”
I swallow thickly. “I wanted to talk….” But the damn speech I had in my head is still nowhere to be found, and as it happens, the sight of the soulmark on Atticus’s chest is distracting. I marvel at the three small, intertwined rings that are the symbol of our souls.
“I’m tired, Winter,” Atticus says softly. “You should go.”
Should, not must.
“I don’t want to. I want to be here with you and make sure you’re okay. I want to talk about where we stand and how to move forward after tonight.”
He shakes his head firmly, lips thinning minutely. “I don’t want you here.”
Ouch.
Atticus casts his gaze quickly away after saying the words and walks over to the dresser. I follow his movements with my eyes, glued to the spot. The fine needle of hurt pierces my heart again. Just as I’m accepting tonight’s attempt as a failure, my lycan hearing picks up on the slight increase of Atticus’s heartbeat, and I feel my own go still. I assess the scene once more. Between his furtive look and pulse, his words hold considerably less bite... and far more interest.
I step further into the room, making sure to close the door behind me as I take in a steadying breath.
“I don’t believe you,” I say, my words shaking.
Atticus stills with his back to me but says nothing. I take another step. Try. Make amends.
“These past few days have been hell, and I know it’s my fault, but the only times I’ve felt even remotely okay and as if there is an end in sight to this terrible mess… it’s been with you at my side.”
He gives another shake of his head, this one is delayed. “You feel that way because of my rank and because the nearness of pack is comforting on some level to every wolf. For the record, that feeling of being okay goes only one way. Thanks for asking how I feel—oh, that’s right, you didn’t.”
My cheeks flare red as shame slaps me in the face. In the moment, I am prepared to snap back when I see the glint of gold in his eyes, but my retort dies at the back of my mouth when his shoulders drop.
“You’re right,” I say, closing my eyes and balling my hands into fists at my side. “I didn’t ask, and I should have.” I open my eyes and take a slow breath. “How are you?”
His eyes blaze.
“I’m pissed. And hurt. You betrayed us for a pack that clearly doesn’t value you… but worse is that I get why you did all this. I know you did all of this to protect June, but it still hurts.”
“I’m sorry, Atticus,” I whisper and shuffle back a step. “I’ll never stop being sorry for this, but I hope one day it will hurt you and the pack a little less. Until one day the hurt scars over and no longer causes you pain. But I’m not going to stop trying,” I tell him, my last sentence firm yet choked with emotion.
Atticus remains stoic, but his heartbeat is a thunderous sound in the quiet room.
“I’ll do whatever it takes to make things right with you and the pack to earn back your trust and heal this wound, but you need to know that I’m not going to stop fighting for you or us.”
I slip forward with care. The race of my heartbeat joins Atticus’s.
“You said my feelings were one-sided, and that’s fine”—even if it hurts like hell—“because you are still the light at the end of the tunnel for me. You’ve been it for me since the moment we met.”
Atticus turns. His blue eyes are stricken with golden lightning as he takes me in. I halt all of my movements, unable to read the expression in his eyes or the carefully smooth facade he wears. The hair on my arms and neck rise as his gaze narrows.
“I love you,” I insist and take a shaky step forward. “I tried not to because I thought it would make everything easier, but choosing between you and June was the hardest decision I’ve ever had to make. I convinced myself you would be strong enough to handle my betrayal, but that was foolish and selfish of me. You have every right to be mad and hurt. I’m just… I’m so sorry I did this to you and the pack. I’m sorry I did this to us.”
The gold in his eyes flares.
“Do you mean it?” he asks roughly.
“Every word,” I respond back, my voice just as unpolished as his own. I shuffle forward and concentrate as I did before in the car to push my love and remorse through the pack bonds for Atticus to feel. Please feel it, I pray. “Can’t you tell?” I ask breathlessly.
Atticus prowls forward, each calculated step making my breath come in panicked pants. Will he reject me again? Or will—
“Say it again,” he demands, his voice pitched low with heat that doesn’t hold its predicted measure of anger. I nearly sob in relief.
“I love you,” I say, and am quick to wipe away the tears that break loose. “Atticus, I vow to you I’ll do whatever it takes to earn back your trusts and the pack's.”
