Pack Punished, page 26
part #3 of Thrown to the Wolves Series
Staring at his back, I force the words out of my mouth, hating him just a little bit for not facing me when I’m bearing my soul, while also relieved that he’s offering me the mercy to do so without having to see his condemning gaze. “Yet every day I wake up and look you in the face with a smile, having to remind myself countless times that half of the interactions I remember us having haven't actually happened. It’s hard, Hunter; so fucking hard. Sometimes it’s almost impossible to remind myself that my memories are only dreams.”
With a distressed sound, he begins pacing. “Stop.”
Pretty sure I’m going to throw up, I snag a water bottle off the counter, taking a sip. “No. You respect me enough to be an asshole when I don’t realize that I need you to be, so I’m going to extend you the same courtesy. You’re falling apart, and either you let me slap some duct tape on your wounds, or you talk about your damn feelings, but you have to do some sort of patchwork before you completely splinter apart.”
Twisting his mouth into a grimace, he replies, “I don’t have to do jack shit.”
My lip twitches. “No, but you acknowledge that I make your depressing life suck a little less by being in it, so you’re going to roll with it when I tell you that I want to take a nap. You can either sit there cranky as fuck and watch me live my best life, or climb in with me. Ultimately, it’s your call if you’re joining in, or being a creepy weirdo watching me sleep. Come on.”
Grabbing his hand, I drag his grumbling ass into the bedroom. It’s a basic set up with a queen sized bed, a dresser on the opposite wall in the corner with a large mirror mounted above it, and shelves lining one wall that hold the various items Sebastian deemed worth owning. A photo album, some books, knives, and wood carvings. There’s more empty space than not, but I try to tell myself that the fact there’s anything sentimental on them at all is a good sign.
Kicking off my shoes, I release Hunter to crawl across the mattress and pull back the sheet we’ve been using as a blanket. Settling into place, I punch the pillow no less than fourteen times, flipping it twice to recapture the cool side, as I attempt to capture the elusive, optimal position. Without the luxury of air conditioning, though, it’s more difficult than relaxing.
A few minutes later, Hunter crawls in behind me, sliding an arm under my pillow and putting my neck at the perfect angle to finally be able to close my eyes. “I don’t like this,” he whispers. “I can see him toying with the Slaughters like this was all a sick game, but why would he watch you suffer from afar instead of here where he could control what happened to you? Isn’t that what those sorts of sick fucks get off on?”
Scooting back against him, I bite my lip as I mull it over. But the harder I try to organize my thoughts, the more difficult they are to articulate, so I blurt them out half-formed, hoping they’ll solidify into something sensible when out in the open like earlier. “Because he wanted Annika away from this place, and me too, even if we don’t understand why. There’s something going on here that makes people grow hopeless and complacent, so maybe he wanted us free of it for... some reason.”
Grinding my teeth, each word I spit out is a challenge. “Kaige and Damian have an extra ability, so it’s not a surprise that Ash does, especially since he’s the king of the castle. Alphas manipulate the feral energy of our wolves, and our wolves are connected to every part of our system. Most may focus on comforting, strengthening, or weakening, but they’re only looking at one application of energy. Damian thinks outside of the box and coaxes our wolves into healing our bodies, because they are us. It’s not that crazy to think that Ash is able to tap into where our wolves are connected to our brains.”
Shaking my head, frustrated, I latch onto my rumbling wolf as confirmation that I’m on the right track. “I don’t think he’s really the threat that you think he is, you just think that he is. He fucks with people’s heads, and that’s the source of his power, not actual power. He turns you not only against each other, but also against yourselves.”
Slowly, he articulates his thoughts. “I don’t feel the same hopelessness as I did before we brought you back here. I don’t know if it’s because of you, or because of how your bite made us immune to external manipulation, but things feel different than before. If you made us tamper-proof, though, I don’t know why you wouldn’t be.” Before I can manage a statement, he scoffs. “Scratch that, Kaige was able to affect you before you bit him, but I think he was onto something when he was trying to seduce you by the campfire. You give us a fraction of your power to hold onto so when you’re barely holding on, we can take the lead.”
Nuzzling the back of my neck, he presses a kiss to my heated flesh. “I’m going to need you to clarify what you want from us, because I’m getting mixed messages, here, princess. Do you want to take the lead, or let us dominate you?”
The corner of my lips twitch. “Stop making it sexual.” When he releases a low, rumbling laugh, I admit, “I want you to acknowledge that I know what I’m talking about, but then I want you to be so desperate to use me, my feminism checks right out the door.” He arches his hips into my ass, showcasing exactly how much he likes the idea, so I clarify, “I want you to prove exactly how much you want me, how desperate you are to fuck the thoughts of any other man from my head. But I also only want you to be that lust-crazed because you know exactly who I am, and none of the things you find scare you away.” A stuttered breath escapes me as he slides a hand down my stomach, dipping beneath my waistband to circle my clit. “I want you to want me because of the hot mess that I am, to fuck the chaotic thoughts right out of my head, and then stand by my side as we face whatever problem of the week is trying to do us in.”
Though it makes me mentally weep, I wrap a hand around his wrist, stilling his efforts. Warily, he rumbles a gravelly, “What are you doing?”
“The same thing you did for me the past couple of weeks; making sure you take care of yourself whether you like it or not. So right now, I want you to get some sleep, because if we’re already not thinking clearly, sleep deprivation is going to make it worse.” Tugging the sheet over us, I command, “Sleep.”
Though I can’t see him, I can feel the sarcasm wafting off of him as he rolls his eyes. “Oh, you're right, it’s that easy. I must’ve simply forgotten how to do it.”
“Fine then, let me bore you to death until you pass out simply to escape my monotonous droning.”
He scoffs, the sound heavily laden with derision. “I'm a thirty-two year old man. I'm too old for bedtime stories.”
Tossing a look over my shoulder, I blink at him expectantly until he caves, grumbling under his breath, but snuggles closer. Dramatically clearing my throat as I resettle on my pillow, I begin, “Once upon a time, there was this cranky asshole who thought that his overbearing attitude was perfectly acceptable because he assumed that he came off as brooding and mysterious. Spoiler alert, he was wrong. People just thought he was a dick.”
He snorts in amusement, but doesn’t interrupt, so I continue. “Then one day he came across his worst enemy; his female counterpart. She, too, was a bit of a dick, but lucky for her, she had nice tits so she could actually pull it off. Plus, the rest of her sparkling personality balanced it out, so everything was cool. For her, of course, not him.”
His breath tickles the back of my neck. “Naturally. Makes perfect sense.”
“Only to discover that he wasn't really an asshole, he just had shitty people skills and was overtired. Practically a Princess and the Pea retelling. And our amazing heroine used some of her many, many, maaaaaaaaany talents to deduce the problem.”
It might be my imagination, but his voice sounds more subdued. “And what problem was that?”
“That he needed a new mattress because his was lumpy as hell and about ten years past the point of needing to be replaced. So the moral of the story is he was simply stubborn and a cheapass, not really an asshole like everyone thought. So he wised up, ordered a new bed, and was so grateful to the heroine for solving all of his problems that he bought her a cookie and showered her in affection for the rest of their days. And they all lived happily ever after.”
With a few soft chuckles, he pulls me tighter against him, banding an arm firmly around my stomach. "I thought this story was supposed to be boring."
“Alas, the heroine was flawed and couldn't tell a dull story if her life depended on it.” Even my eyes are feeling heavy now, my words coming out sluggish. “So the overtired, stubborn cheapass got over himself and finally went to sleep.”
Voice heavy with exhaustion, he mumbles, “That doesn’t sound like him at all.”
Humming, I counter, “Of course it does, because he’d do anything to make the heroine happy. And nothing would make her happier than him shutting up for a change and getting some much needed sleep.”
“Sounds like this heroine needs to get her priorities straight. Wasn’t she just talking about foot rubs and orgasms?”
“No, that was me. Get your princesses straight, you harlot.”
Chuckling, he presses a lazy kiss to my shoulder. “My mistake.”
Eyelids heavy, I scoot closer against him, pulling the sheet tighter around my shoulders. “Don’t beat yourself up about it, nobody’s perfect.”
His words are slurred, already half-asleep. “Of course you are, shut up.”
With a sleepy smile, I close my eyes, breathing easier. The only thoughts left weighing on my mind are random images of people engulfed in shadows, slowly dragged down into the puddles of blood at their feet. They’re there and gone in a flash, my subconscious packaging up the nightmarish thoughts and chucking them into their designated corner where they can’t hurt me, leaving me with only the peaceful sound of Hunter’s rhythmic breathing, and a comforting swell of heat that reaches all the way to my bones.
***
"How the hell are you sleeping right now?" Damian’s pissed off voice jolts me from my dream.
“Great, I just got him to sleep. Now he's going to be cranky for the rest of the day; I hope you're proud of yourself.”
Hunter growls, his voice a rumbling vibration against the base of my neck. “I'm not a damn toddler.”
Prying open an eyelid, I peer at Damian glaring down at us. “See?”
He scrubs a hand down his face, pacing beside the bed. “He was watching you this entire time, Sabrina. He knew what you were, who you were, and did nothing. And now that you’re back here, he’s acting like it’s no big deal, laughing at all of us like he’s twenty steps ahead. What does he know that we don’t? Why can’t we see it?”
With a long sigh, the residual sleep fades from my body. “You wanted to bring me here; I'm here. You want me to get the Slaughters on your side for when you're ready to try and take Ash out again? I think we're well on the way to that being a possibility. So tell me, what good does repeating the same mantra of 'We wanted the depressed mountain men to see you, but how dare they look at you? Let them get to know you so they'll be inspired to mutiny, but don't talk to anyone, because they'll want to bone you and men are evil,’ do?” Pushing myself upright, I shake my head, more tired than I was when I laid down in the first place. “What do you want from me, Damian?”
He flops down on the mattress near our feet, frustrated and defeated. “Fuck, I don't even know anymore. Everything seemed so clear when we left, but now that we're home, I'm constantly on edge looking at every potential threat and noticing things I’d overlooked before you were involved.”
Haltingly, Hunter suggests, “Or we’re noticing things that we couldn’t before she claimed us.”
My eyes widen, gazing down at Damian sprawled out at our feet, his hand resting on my ankle. “Kaige couldn't do anything the first night you shifted.” Scrunching up my face, I nearly growl as a headache begins to form. “But all of you have been able to fuck with me to your heart’s content even after I claimed you.”
He furrows his brow. “Maybe there's an exemption for those of us within the pack to affect each other?”
The longer I focus on it, the angrier I get. “Maybe you guys are immune, but I'm not. I don't even get the default canine-spirit-inhabited benefit of being effortlessly athletic like the rest of you.” Freeing myself from them, I slip off the bed and growl, “If Ash can screw with people's heads, it would explain why I keep struggling to hold onto thoughts, and the immunity I gave you as to why you guys are finally seeing things around here like they really are.”
Bypassing my backpack, I tug on my suitcase’s zipper. “In what world is that fair? It’s like I’m being punished for being helpful.” Rummaging through the contents, I pull a couple of things free and return to toss them on the bed. “I swear by all that’s unholy, if our quest turns into me playing sidekick and giving you all of my power so you can kill someone and reap the glory, I’m embedding a fork into each of your retinas.”
Unbuttoning my shorts and shucking them off, I step into the navy, pleated skirt. “Do I want to be the hero?” As I draw up the zipper on my side, I snort. “Fuuuuuuck, no. But the only thing that would piss me off more than people expecting me to solve their problems for them would be if they took credit for my hard work.”
Damian rises up on his elbows. “Not that I’m opposed or anything, but what are you doing?”
Sitting down beside him, I tug on a sock, rolling it up my leg until it ends mid-thigh. “Distracting you. Is it working?”
An appreciative rumble vibrates his chest. “Very much so, but can I ask why when we're having a pretty important conversation?”
Moving to the other foot, I explain, "Because I'd like to keep contributing to it, and it's getting harder and harder to hold onto my train of thought where Ash is concerned, so I shifted to a parallel track where I’m not directly thinking about him." Rolling onto my knees, I straddle his lap.
Stretched out on his side of the bed, Hunter lifts his head, resting his cheek on his fist. “And that required you to change clothes, why?”
Damian slides his hands up from my waist, over my ribcage, and teasingly brushes his thumbs across my nipples before retracing his path down. While slowly raking my nails from his shoulder down to his chest, I face Hunter with a raised eyebrow. “Are you complaining?”
The tension that I thought had permanent residence in his eyes has lessened a fraction, softening some of the hostility that he wears like armor. “That someone might have been fucking with my head my entire life? Yeah, I’m complaining about that a little. But honestly, I’m used to having someone in my head that likes to torture me, so I’m not as pissed as I probably should be.”
To punctuate his statement, his pupils expand as he shifts closer to us on the bed, never once taking his eyes of me. “That you’re looking like that while sitting on another man’s lap?” The small, amused smirk that lights up his face as he lightly runs his knuckles down my cheek has a shiver snaking down my spine. “Complaining about that a bit, too, actually.”
Swallowing, I roll my hips, eliciting a tortured groan from Damian. “Well, since you’d be unhappy no matter what I did, there’s no point in trying. See you later, I’m busy.” Dipping my head before he can respond, I kiss Damian.
Damian’s breathy laugh against my lips is followed by him running a hand down my thigh to the hem of my skirt before working an agonizingly slow path upward beneath it. “I’m certainly not complaining, but how does getting laid help any of us think straight? Because there’s far less blood going to the head we actually need in the game than there was five minutes ago.” Nipping at his lip, he hisses in a sharp breath.
“I'm experimenting. Expanding on Kaige’s theory, what if when I claimed you, my wolf slipped you some of the power she was capable of, but I wasn’t strong enough to handle if it flooded back all at once? There was a block keeping her suppressed my entire life, and if Annika’s claims are true, then being around shifters would gradually strengthen her. You destroyed the block, and I was suddenly surrounded by shifters constantly; it would’ve been a massive onslaught when I was already struggling with the small amount of images and thoughts I was taking in from you guys on top of my own issues. If I’d had to handle everything at once without an adjustment period, my brain likely would’ve melted.”
The red rings framing his silver irises practically pulse before they’re gradually consumed as his other half rises to the surface. Voice taking on a dangerous edge, he decrees, “She’d never let that happen, and neither would we. If she had wanted complete control of your body, she’d have taken it by now.”
My stomach flips at the conviction in those words, and not for the first time, I wonder how much the creatures lurking inside of us really know. Yet even though they can speak to us, they spend the majority of their lives as silent shadows, watching the world pass by through the eyes of others.
Hunter catches onto the direction of my thoughts. “If that’s the case, then maybe if you take some of it back from us, it’ll help you fight off whatever ability Ash is using.”
The mention of his name already has my mind wanting to wander off down a different path. “Bingo.” Damian’s hands have stilled throughout the conversation, and I push him onto his back in silent prompting. “Because even after going all out the night of the lycan slaughter, you guys didn’t completely burn through your reserves like I did. Slade thought it was because you'd taken on more baggage throughout your lives and had more practice, but I don’t think that’s it.”
Reaching between us to flick open the button on Damian’s jeans, I lean in to whisper in his ear, “Power is a heavy burden to bear, and even you couldn’t lift it to throw it into the burn pile as fuel.”
