Pack Poisoned, page 22
part #2 of Thrown to the Wolves Series
Mentally seething, we fall into mutual silence, getting back to work while leaving her to deal with everything on her own like she’s accustomed to. I swore that I’d show her she could rely on other people without it being a weakness, and I’ve already failed her, time and time again. I don’t deserve to be by her side, but I’ll be even more damned than I already am before I let Hunter worm his way into the position.
I wonder if he’d hate me so much if I told him that I buried the evidence of how he and Damian murdered Noah Laroque before she could see it.
Chapter 14
Kaige
You can do this. Worst that will happen is she’ll awkwardly accept it and brush you off; that’d be nothing new. Or, you know, laugh in my face. Deep breaths, Kaige. Women love books, so obviously, she’s going to be thrilled you showed up at her door.
After a little more pep talking, I rise to my full height, striding down the hallway with my head held high, and stomach full of rusty nails. If she doesn’t have an interest, I can respect that, but the timing is never going to be perfect, so I can’t keep putting this off. I’m not going to live with the regret of never taking my shot.
Approaching her bedroom door, I raise a fist to knock, only to pull to an abrupt stop before my knuckles can make contact with the wood. The fine hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, the air charged with an electric tension that prickles across my skin. My senses aren’t the best during the day, but I’m still able to pick up on the muffled, aggressive tone on the other side of the door.
“You cannot be this fucking stupid, Sabrina.” It’s a feminine voice, enough static accompanying it that it only takes a second to click that it must be her mom. The elusive Annika Slaughter that’s been hunted for the majority of my life like some mythical creature, a story of rebellion told in hushed whispers under the cover of night.
Though I’m not sure why the Slaughters want her back, because she sounds like a total bitch.
“Hence why I’m asking you to clarify some very important pieces of information that you’ve conveniently never brought up.” Though she’s attempting to keep things civil, Sabrina’s clearly struggling, volume steadily rising.
In the brief time that I’ve known her, Sabrina takes a step back to process before reacting in most scenarios, yet contradictorily, is quick to temper. Defensive, yet not an angry person. She stands her ground and respects herself enough to hold firm to the boundaries that she’s set in place, likely a direct result of the woman on the other side of that phone.
“I don’t owe you a single thing. I’ve sacrificed my entire life in order to raise you, and look at you now; throwing yourself at any man that pays you a lick of attention. You’re supposed to be better than that, Sabrina. Better than the rest of them. Yet you’re simply... average. It’s disappointing, really, when I’d expected you to actually amount to something after how much I invested in you.”
Twisting the handle, I drop the bag and shove the door open, letting myself in. Sabrina’s back is to me, one hand braced on the top of the dresser across the room with her head bowed. Chest heaving as she takes slow, deep breaths, she seethes, “Yes, poor you. It must’ve been so draining the few times you actually attempted to parent. All that neglect really eats up time from your busy schedule.”
“You-”
“How often were we even home at the same time since Dad died?” she spits, growing more incensed. “Between school, work, and finding my way home from whatever new hellscape you decided to ditch me in, I’m impressed that you even remembered that I was alive half the time. Pretty sure you had some time after work to pick up a hobby if you’d really wanted, so don’t act like some victim that had every waking moment of your life eaten up by an ungrateful child.”
“Why would I spend any more time with you than necessary? You’re an abomination that kills everything you tou-”
Plucking the phone out of her hand, I end the call. She whirls around, cheeks and neck mottled red, and blinking back furious tears. The way that her body trembles, vibrating with barely restrained energy, has me tugging her against my chest before she even opens her mouth. She’s adamantly refusing to shift for whatever reason, but her other half is attempting to claw her way out by force to murder the thing that made her host so upset. The same way that Sabrina eased her mates through the transition so that their beasts didn’t ravage their counterparts beyond repair, she needs help shoving hers back into its cage until she’s mentally ready to unleash it into the world.
“Ssh, I’ve got you.”
Keeping my voice steady and calm, I imbue her wolf with a sense of security. It’s ten times more challenging than when I first met her, when her wolf was barely more than a wisp of consciousness, and even more difficult than I imagined to convince one as dominant as hers to cede control. Simultaneously, I siphon some of her feral energy into myself, but as a gradual trickle so as not to scare her off.
Several minutes pass by in silence, Sabrina’s face buried in my chest until her breathing eventually levels out and she whispers, “Why’d you hang up on her?”
Because I couldn’t kill her.
“She wasn’t giving you anything helpful anyway, only stressing you out to the point of spontaneously combusting. No point continuing a conversation that was going downhill fast.”
Releasing a heavy sigh, she pulls away. “Thanks. Not only for intervening, but for the mental bucket of ice water to help me get my shit together. I’m oka-” Abruptly, she cuts herself off, catching sight of the dresser that she was leaning on during the conversation.
The one with a blackened handprint seared into the surface.
We both stare at it for far too long, neither of us knowing what to say. Her mates may shift into beasts more akin to hellhounds than wolves, but we’ve dubbed them as such simply due to their size and the smoke that clings to their coats like a camouflage made of night air. None of them have displayed an inclination for anything flame related, and Sabrina...
She’s in human form. In the middle of the afternoon.
The others have mentioned that they believe with the right stressor they could shift during the day, but they’re reluctant to experiment unless it’s necessary in case there’s some terrible consequence since we’re all in uncharted territory, here. That in itself is an incredible concept to consider, but this?
‘You’re an abomination that kills everything you touch.’ Her mom knows. Whatever Sabrina is, that woman is well aware, yet is refusing to talk for some reason, would rather her daughter hate her than explain a damn thing.
“Is your mother always that delightful?”
Attention rapt on that damning handprint, she apologizes. “Pretty much. I’m sorry, by the way. I can typically keep myself in check when talking to her, so I’m not usually such an asshole, but,” she trails off, distracted.
Putting myself between her and the object of her distress, I lean against the dresser to conceal it from view before carrying on our conversation. “It’s harder than it used to be?” At her nod, I give a sympathetic smile. “I'm sure, what with your wolf being loose now, and all. Our emotions are more primal than you’re used to dealing with, so don’t beat yourself up over it. Hell, I’m impressed you didn’t chuck your phone at the wall and flip a table or scream into a pillow. Isn’t that what most humans would do, without even having someone inside of them chomping at the bit to get a piece of the action?”
Her small smile doesn’t reach her eyes, but those eyes are gradually showcasing more coral as she wrangles her wolf back under control, her pupils receding bit by bit. I was very careful after my conversation with Boden. While she needed help, I didn’t take over. All I did was take enough of the edge off to make things bearable, helped her find her footing so that she could finish dealing with the problem herself, simply with a support system.
“If it makes you feel better, my mom may not be that bad, but we don’t have the best relationship, either.”
Interest piqued, she prompts, “How come?”
Gesturing for her to sit on the foot of the bed where her back will be to the dresser, I wait until she’s seated before taking a spot opposite her, a respectful distance away. “I’m the spitting image of one of my fathers. Unfortunately, they all passed several years ago, and naturally, it’s a sore spot for her.”
Strumming my fingers on my knee to dispel some of the energy thrumming through my veins, I make it seem as if I’m pausing for dramatic tension, when in reality, I need a second to sift through the images and impulses flitting through my mind. Pictures of the Hawthorne library filled with a sea of blood, bodies floating lifelessly on the surface. Of a starving teenage Sabrina as she traps a rabbit, turning off her emotions to cope with slitting its throat so that she doesn’t die in the freezing wilderness.
My fingers clench into a fist as I curb the desire to butcher someone whose face blurs from one to another in rapid succession, each visage taking a stab at her.
How does she deal with all of this and appear so... unaffected? Upbeat and sarcastic, masking it all with humor and a smile.
Even I need to exorcize those demons or contain them, can’t simply let them float around free in my mind. It’d drive me mad.
“Kaige?” She tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear, frowning. “You don’t have to talk about it. Seriously, it’s okay.”
Shaking my head as if it can physically dispel the thoughts from my head, I clear my throat. “Nah, I’m good. You know how it is when you take a trip down memory lane; sometimes you end up tripping more than you anticipated. Anyway, now she struggles to even look at me, because every time she does, she sees him. I’m the living, breathing reminder of everything she loved and lost, and would rather forget.”
Picking a song to play on repeat in my head, I drown out all other thoughts beyond the ones I choose to focus on, my fingers tapping the rhythm on my knee. “She took new mates, and whenever we meet up for the occasional dinner, they make more eye contact with me than she does. The real kicker is that I can’t even appreciate their efforts to do so, since I’m not sure if it’s because of my alpha designation, because I’m their mate’s son and they want to score points with her for being on their best behavior, or if they actually respect me as a person.”
“Well damn, trauma bonding for the win,” she says with a grimace. “I’ve got nothing besides... that sucks, and I’m so sorry.”
I shrug a single shoulder. “It is what it is. We don’t get to pick our parents, and we certainly can’t control what they do. All we can do is decide how we respond, and though it might hurt less to avoid visiting completely, I’m a glutton for punishment who still chooses to hold out hope that one day she’ll be in a better place with her grief. Fair to me?” I snort. “Fuck no. But it’s my decision to keep putting myself in that position rather than cut ties completely like I probably should for the sake of my own sanity.”
Unconsciously, my eyes flit to the dresser, a sinking feeling causing my chest to ache. Forcing my gaze back to her, I wink. “Good thing I’ve embraced that I’ll never be sane and revel in the chaos instead.”
She caught my slip, though, and splays her fingers wide in front of her, staring down at her hands with a furrowed brow. “What are you doing here, anyway? Did you need something?”
Here goes nothing.
Nerves assault my system that have nothing to do with my other half or the toxic energy that I stole from Sabrina. The nausea in my stomach is all mine, and I must say- not a fan.
“I got you something.”
She cocks her head, confusion morphing her features as I slide to my feet, retrieving the bag that I dropped in the hallway when I stormed in. Returning to the bed, I pass it her way, internally chastising myself for acting like a teenager fumbling his first bra clasp.
“Cinjin and Bo helped load it up, so if they’re setting me up to look stupid, cut me some slack.”
She pulls the device from the bag, eyebrows leaping to her hairline. After it powers on, she begins scrolling through the digital library as I hold my breath. When she chuckles, the sound is such a massive relief, it has me releasing a pent-up breath and nearly falling back on the bed. “I’m surprised that they were actually helpful instead of sabotaging you.”
Sheepishly rubbing the back of my neck, I admit, “We may or may not have bonded over torturing Carter.”
Her head snaps up at that, the gift temporarily forgotten. “Did he suffer?” My hesitant nod has her beaming. “Good, fuck that guy.”
“Want to see something gruesomely amazing?”
At her wary agreement, I withdraw my phone from my pocket, pulling up the picture of Cinjin’s artwork. Snorting a laugh, she steals it from me to inspect in depth, zooming in on certain parts. “Cinjin’s work or yours?”
“Cin’s.”
Her smile only grows. “I figured. It’s an absolute shame that we can’t put this one up on the fridge.” Sighing, she meets my eye. “We should probably delete the evidence, shouldn’t we?”
I think serial killers are onto something with their trophies, because damn, am I tempted to one up Cinjin and bring something back if it makes her smile like that at me.
“Probably,” I relent.
Committing it to memory, she deletes the photo and passes the phone back to me. Snatching up her phone, she fires off a text.
“Singing his praises? Hate to tell you, but it will completely go to his head.”
Without looking up from her phone as she finishes her message, she smiles wistfully. “Cinjin is... he’s the kid that asks you to watch him do a stupid trick four hundred times in a row, but is used to people brushing him off instead of seeing that he’s trying to make them happy by distracting them from a shitty world. He’s overdue a little praise.” As she fires off the message and sets her phone aside, she picks back up the e-reader. “I’m likely setting myself up to receive an onslaught of doodled pictures every time I turn around for the foreseeable future, but that’s a gift that doesn’t cost a single thing except time, which makes it one of the best.”
Accepting the brutal torture of a man as easy as that, she returns to skimming her new library with a look of appreciation and amusement. “I’m sensing a theme; subliminal messaging.”
Cringing, I remind her, “I only paid, they picked out the books!”
Chuckling, she amends, “I didn’t say it was a bad thing.”
Tapping the screen to bring up the blurb on one, she flips it around for me to read, and I cough uncomfortably upon discovering that it’s literary porn disguised beneath a plot and now I definitely look like I’m making a move on her. My reaction only serves to make her laugh harder, and for a long while, I simply observe her. It’s quickly become an addiction, watching Sabrina. One that I doubt I’ll ever be cured of.
Since I have a hint of her mindset now, after enough time has passed that it risks falling into awkward territory, I bring her attention back to me. “If you’d like, I can teach you how to shift things around in your head to make them easier to cope with.”
With only the slightest hesitation, she nods, setting aside her device. “I’d appreciate that. Things have been a little... rough,” she finally settles on, giving me her undivided attention.
For a moment, I’m paralyzed. I complained about her not noticing me, but having the full weight of her focus isn’t anything someone could prepare for. There’s something about her presence that goes beyond an alpha commanding the respect and attention of everyone in the room, something uniquely her, that inspires the desire to rip my heart out of my chest and throw it to her feet for judgment. The desperation to earn her praise is so visceral and intense, it may as well be dubbed a personality trait.
If I didn’t already believe in the concept of magic, I would have no choice but to accept it now. There’s something ethereal about Sabrina that’s simply beyond what my mind is capable of comprehending.
My voice is gravelly as I say, “Then let’s see what we can do to make it easier on you, shall we?” Clearing my throat, I scoot closer, holding my palm up in offering. As she slides her hand into mine, I explain, “If you pull too much, I’ll draw it right back, so don’t panic if it requires a little give and take. I’d like to get you to the point that you can draw it in slowly instead of a landslide that makes you sick or knocks you out of commission.”
As she closes her eyes, I coach, “Breathe it in. A long, slow, deep breath that makes you stronger with the inhale. When you feel the first traces of energy, visualize severing the connection before continuing to draw in air.” She gets it down after only a few attempts. “See? You’re a natural. A hell of a lot faster than anyone I’ve ever met.”
Scoffing, she snarks, “You don’t need to feed my ego, it’s okay. I almost killed three people less than two weeks ago, so it isn’t exactly hard to look good compared to that.”
Waiting until she opens her eyes, I make sure she sees the sincerity in mine. “I’m not blowing smoke up your ass, here. Most of us spend our childhoods toying with our abilities and limits, and it’s not until we’re teenagers that we have such precise control. It’s hard to stop, Sabrina; the power boost is pretty damn intoxicating.”
Her hand flexes in mine before swiftly releasing it, a blush spreading across her cheeks. “Oh.”
It has to be a crime to look that godsdamned alluring. A siren, I tell you.
Before she pulls away from me completely, I get us back on task. “So, tell me if I’m on the right track, but I’m assuming all of those images and impulses are floating around loose in your brain? Sneaking up at random times to stab you when you’re not prepared?”
Her tongue darts out to wet her lips, and I track the motion like a man dying of thirst. “Exactly. And I think that’s why I picked up on your first lesson so quickly. You put things in terms that I can easily visualize, and I really appreciate it.”
You can’t kiss her, you can’t kiss her, you can’t kiss her.
