16. Maeve
16
MAEVE
C old sweat drips down my back.
My jaw aches from my silent screams.
The palms of my hands are covered in dry blood from my nails.
I’m a fucking mess, and I hate it.
I hate myself.
I’m pathetic.
Worthless.
Disgusting.
“Calm your shit,” I hiss at myself, not willing to let myself cry and break down again .
My chromius is crying, whining, begging. She’s desperate for something she can’t explain, and I’m sick of trying to work out her feelings. It’s causing me agony when I’m already so fucking low. Her distress echoes across our bond, amplifying my own misery.
It’s five in the morning, and whilst sleep came easily last night, I shouldn’t have let myself be fooled. The nightmare that I was forced to endure might not have been so bad if I had let the panic out before sleeping.
I might not have had to relive that night all over again.
I might not have woken up in the pitch black, in a place that is not familiar, and panicked myself further.
I might not have tried to fight a fucking shadow.
I hate my life.
I hate how pathetic I am.
I hate that even in this new place full of freedom, I’m still the same, worthless Maeve who can’t do fucking anything.
But the worst thing? I know this feeling all too well. I know that it’ll come back and drag me into its claws, again and again, no matter where I am or what I do.
My chromius’s cries settle down, but we don’t go back to sleep. We don’t settle. We don’t do anything but lie and stare at the ceiling as we wait for Ari to wake up and make some noise.
I have no choice but to brave a shower this morning, even if I’d rather not.
I’m filthy.
Broken.
Worthless.
I’m not sure how long it takes for Ari to get out of bed, but I pull myself together and get out of the room. There’s towels in here already, and I set the shower on.
Even the sound of the water hitting the sides, and the floor, has the pit of anxiety in my stomach tightening.
But there’s nothing for it.
I’ll just need to suffer through it.
My hair is in a plait, thankfully, so I can escape washing it for another day.
But I’m not as fortunate.
I strip off and take a gulping breath before stepping under the stream of water.
The sound is deafening.
Crushing.
My heart is erratic, my legs trembling. The water feels like tiny needles pricking at my skin, each drop a new point of pain.
I squeeze my eyes shut, the tears that are falling merging with the droplets.
Bile rises in my throat.
The pizza I ate last night threatens to make a reappearance.
I fucking hate this. I fucking hate myself.
The water is boiling hot, my skin reddening as I stand under the stream, but I can barely feel its warmth.
I’m cold. Freezing. Empty.
My chromius stays silent, unable to help me through this. She’s always silent when I need her the most.
Selfish bitch.
I wash as quickly as I can before stepping out. The towel is staring at me, but I can’t move to grab it.
I won’t move to grab it.
The air can dry me, the droplets falling from my body onto the cotton shower mat. Each one hits the cotton fabric with a soft patter, a small reminder that I’m still here, still alive.
I can’t move. I can barely breathe.
But I survived it.
My heart is still racing, my body unsure why I’m so panicked, when there’s so much adrenaline coursing through our veins.
I’m exhausted.
But there’s a gentle knock on the door that startles me out of my pity.
“Breakfast is ready when you are, Maeve,” Ari’s soft voice says. “No rush, though.”
“Thank you,” I choke out, hoping my words sound normal to her.
I can’t let her in. I can’t let her see.
I’m so fucking pathetic.
I put on my knickers, and then drag my dress over my head. The soft fabric helps soothe me as I adjust it to cover me properly.
I leave the room on soft feet, following the smell of bacon and eggs.
Ari’s still in her pyjamas at the table, with a mug of tea in front of her. She looks well-rested.
“Thank you so much for breakfast,” I say, trying to keep my tone pleasant.
I can’t let her see the mess that I am.
“Don’t be silly. I genuinely love to cook,” she says, grinning at me. “How did you sleep?”
I shrug, moving over to the kettle.
“I always struggle in a new place, too,” she says, getting up to grab a mug from the cupboard for me. She points out the coffee, tea, and sugar before sitting back down with her food.
“It’s an adjustment,” I say through a tight smile. I make my tea before joining her at the table. “So, I think I’m heading back to the alpha’s place today. What are your plans?”
She grimaces. “Literally nothing. It’s my day off from the restaurant today, so I’m probably just going to clean.”
“Clean?” I look around and raise an eyebrow. “It’s pretty clean in here.”
“I know, but I want to sort out the office, in case you’d like it, and then gut the other spare room, in case it’s needed,” she says with a shrug.
My heart skips a beat. “You… you’re happy for me to stay?”
Her face falls, sadness and shock filling it. “Did I… was I not… do you not want to?”
Relief floods through me, washing away some of the lingering anxiety from this morning. I laugh, a genuine one, and she grins. “We’re being very fucking awkward right now.”
“We are,” she says, laughing. “Stay, just for a little while until you get your bearings. I don’t want you isolating yourself.”
“Ugh, you sound like my therapist,” I mutter, lathering a bit of toast with butter before taking a large bite.
“Well, mine would agree with the advice,” she says, winking at me. “So, put me out of my misery and keep your new friend company.”
“Do we need to use those labels?” I ask with a sigh.
I don’t know what I think about the idea of having a friend. I’ve never really had one, and whilst Ari is lovely… I don’t want to taint her life with my problems. I don’t want to put trust into another person who will just let me down.
This feeling is foreign. Unsafe. Unwanted.
My chromius hisses at me, desperate for the companionship that Ari is offering us.
“No,” Ari says with an eye roll. “I’ll make sure to warn Nora that you like us to just be people who sit together and exist, without ever being friends .”
“Good idea.”
She snorts. “I’ll clear this up and go get ready. Take your time.”
I don’t hesitate in shovelling the food down, and she returns just as I finish up eating. Ari takes my plate and washes it before sitting down with me to finish our tea.
It’s nice. There’s no pressure to talk or fill the silence. No real awkwardness or fakeness.
I’m content.
It’s really strange, but I quite like this feeling.
I get up to wash my mug in the sink, but I spot an expression on Ari’s face that causes me to freeze. She’s not scared, but she’s pressing her index finger to her lip, a pinched look to her brows.
She’s unsettled—anxious, even.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, still not moving from where I’m standing, my arm awkwardly hanging the mug a few inches above the sink of water.
“Nothing,” she says, and I’d believe her if her other hand wasn’t clenched so tight that her entire hand has gone white.
“I’m terrified to move because something is clearly wrong,” I say, slightly turning my head to see her properly. “What’s going on?”
She sighs, reluctance filling her. “I have OCD,” she says, and I tilt my head. “Obsessive compulsive disorder.”
“Okay. I know what that is, but what am I doing wrong?” I ask, still unwilling to move from the position in case that triggers her further.
“You can’t wash your mug in that water.”
I nod my head, stepping away from the sink, grateful to lower my trembling hand. “Can I wash it in another sink?”
Her face reddens, and she ducks her head, her blonde hair falling perfectly to hide her face as she lets out a whine.
“Why are you embarrassed?” I ask, putting the mug on the counter. I spin to face her, raising a brow.
“It’s stupid,” she mutters, still not looking at me.
“Probably,” I reply. She has OCD. A disorder literally full of obsessions that are founded in illogicalness . Whatever her intrusive thought was, it likely will seem silly to me.
But, to her, it’s anxiety-inducing and terrifying.
I can relate. Kind of.
So whatever compulsion she has or whatever thing she needs me to do to ease that burden from her, I will.
Without even hesitating.
Her head snaps up, and she narrows her eyes at me. “You’re being a bitch.”
I shrug, examining my nails to hide my hurt. The familiar sting of rejection, of being too much, slices through me. “Well, at least you’ve met the true me.”
I knew it would happen. I knew she’d find the real me horrible.
Disgusting.
Filthy.
Worthless.
Her face softens, and she reaches out towards me before snapping her hands back in realisation. “You’re not a bitch, Maeve, I just said you were acting like one. You’ve been nothing but kind, respectful, and honest since I’ve met you.”
I roll my eyes, ignoring the weird flutter of my heart. “Just tell me what’s wrong with the water so I can go for a wee.”
She grins. “You and Nora are two peas in a pod.”
“Well, you and Nora are far more alike than Nora and I are, with your rejections and mental health issues,” I say with another eye roll. Ari just laughs, and it’s weird, the warmth that spreads through me.
She’s not getting annoyed or pushing me away.
She’s not once snapped at me for my attitude or rudeness.
She’s just been kind and respectful… and honest .
My chromius purrs softly as if acknowledging this rare moment of peace.
Well, fuck.
Am I making a friend? Is it really this easy?
Do I have to use that label out loud?
Ew.
“You can’t use that water or you’ll burn your hands so severely that your skin will fall off, and then you’ll go into septic shock and die,” she says so matter of factly that it genuinely takes everything in me to not laugh.
But, fuck me, it’s hard.
The water isn’t even steaming. It’s probably lukewarm at best.
“Okay. Can I pull the plug out and refill it, or…” I trail off, waiting for her to tell me what she needs from me to erase her anxiety.
She tilts her head before shrugging and nodding. “Let’s try it.”
So, I empty the sink, rinse away all the suds, and then refill the sink, making sure to use more cold water so there’s no steam. I wait for the okay from her before washing my mug.
“Thanks,” she says quietly.
“Hey, not only am I invading your private space, but I’m going to be just as much of a pain,” I say just as quietly. “Don’t ever be afraid to tell me what you need, no matter how silly, because, chances are, I’ve got my own stupid request to make.”
She smiles, and I’m once again blown away by how beautiful she is. “Kind, respectful, and honest .”
“You make me sick,” I mutter, dispelling the feelings, and she laughs.
There’s a knock at the door, and we both freeze before Ari jumps up.
“It’ll be Caspian,” she says, and I follow her through the flat. The door opens before we get to the passageway, and it’s closed just as quickly.
The mythical energy belonging to the siren fills the air, and I’m grateful that I’m intrinsically stronger than him. I hate the allure that they give off.
I round the corner as Ari gives him a hug and a good morning, and he smiles at me.
“Good morning, Maeve,” the dark-haired man says. His curls are outrageously beautiful, and his eyes are a piercing bright green.
His scent is full of danger, an almost sultry amber and burnt wine, but I can smell the strong mate bond he has.
He’s powerful, probably double my age, at least.
But behind his grin, I can see the wariness, the hesitance .
“Morning,” I reply, not returning his smile. “Are we ready to go?”
“You’re so serious,” Ari teases. “Give me a text once you’re on your way back, and I’ll make sure we’ve got lunch ready for you.”
“Thank you,” I murmur, not taking my eyes off Caspian.
He’s clearly got the same thoughts because I don’t even think he’s blinked.
“See you soon, Maevey Baby,” Ari says, and she squeezes Caspian’s hand before leaving.
It’s interesting seeing how personal she got with Caspian, considering Alvie, the man literally trying to earn a spot in her life, gets little more than aloofness.
“Come on, then,” Caspian says, his voice huskier now that Ari has gone. “How was your night?”
“You don’t need to pretend to care,” I say, following him out of the apartment.
I can’t get into the lift without his card and wait by his side.
“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t care.” His dark brows draw together, and I can’t decipher the look on his face.
A small shiver runs down my spine as his gaze lingers on my face, too intense, too knowing. “If you say so.”
The ride down to the foyer is the most awkward I’ve had since arriving at the pride because Caspian can’t take a fucking hint.
He’s constantly staring at me, and those eyes of his are annoying as fuck because he seems to be seeing so much more than I ever intended to give away.
“I know I’m beautiful, but if you continue to stare at me, you’ll never be able to see again,” I snark just as the doors open. I storm ahead, ignoring the cheery good mornings from the people in the foyer, and instead, stand and wait for the valet to bring Caspian his car.
He doesn’t say a word to me as the car approaches, and he’s curt but thankful to the valet. I get into the back seat, not wanting to sit anywhere near him.
“Maeve—”
“We’re not going to do this,” I say, looking out of my window. “Just stop staring because it makes me uncomfortable. It’s not much to ask.”
My chromius shifts uneasily, sensing my discomfort and amplifying it.
“You just seemed familiar,” he says slowly.
“Familiar?” I scoff, still refusing to look at him. “I’m sure I am.”
He heaves a sigh. “You don’t need to be so…”
“We don’t know each other, and I have no intention of changing that,” I say firmly. “You’re rude, have made me uncomfortable, and have yet to apologise. Or stop.”
He clenches his jaw, and the rest of the drive is tense and uncomfortable. I don’t know what his problem is, but I’m not going to sit here and entertain it.
I’ve lived too long letting men like him make me feel small, uncomfortable , just for existing in the same world they do.
I won’t tolerate it. Not anymore. Not here.