Movement 24
Tempest
Itold Quinn I wasn’t feeling well, and they agreed to watch Nico for a few hours while I rest. The lie tasted bitter on my tongue, but I hold no loyalty to Quinn. I need to speak with my father.
Walking into the hall, I head through the kitchen and back into Raph’s office.
The tent is large, so I knew there was more going on back here, but I didn’t realize how truly vast it was.
The office space is a cluttered mess. There is a large cork board with pictures pinned to it.
Raph and Luc with a young Draven, his hair disheveled, his eyes so much brighter.
There’s another photograph, a half-demon male I don’t recognize.
He’s got broad shoulders and pink skin, with long hair the color of midnight.
It leads me to wonder if Raph has had lovers in the past.
If they had wed, their souls would be permanently tied, and Raph would’ve died alongside his partner. Did he love someone, but not enough to give up his power?
The last photo is of a woman who looks a lot like Luc and Raph, and I think it might actually be the Queen Mother. She’s wearing a sweater and shorts, and it was clearly a candid picture. She’s smiling, a baby in her arms. It makes me yearn for my mother.
I find the phone amongst the mess, cord attached to the wall. I pick it up and dial the only number I know by heart.
“This is Fenris Capulet, second-in-command speaking,” Fenris says after three rings.
“This is Tempest Lupine. Could I please speak with Alpha Cain?”
There’s quiet for a moment, and then my father’s voice comes over the line. “Alpha Cain speaking, this better be important.”
I think about Nico and how he’s already calling Gemma and Draven Mom and Dad, and I weirdly ache to do the same.
I ache for some level of empathy from my father.
My mind flashes to the dream I had a few weeks back—I dreamt of calling him Dad as a child, and him slapping me for it.
I realize it might not have been just a dream, but a memory, or maybe even a warning.
“Alpha,” I say, trusting my gut. “I have narrowed it down to two individuals who may have killed Tyrus. They are both considered Executioners.”
“And?” His voice dips in tone, exaggerating the word like he couldn’t give a damn. I can’t tell if he already knew, or if he just doesn’t care.
“We should—”
“You should do what I’ve told you,” he says, cutting me off. “And not a single thing else.”
“I was just going to suggest that I take out the person responsible for murdering my cousin,” I say, my voice shaky.
“Are you crying?”
“No.” I might be anxious. Terrified even, but I do not cry. “I just don’t want to disappoint you. It’s nerves.”
“Then kill Draven when I send the word. Goodb—”
“Wait.” I take in a deep breath, desperate to get something good out of this conversation. “Draven has taken in a child. He’s a lupion. If I kill Draven, can we care for him?”
There’s a long beat of silence. “We’ll discuss that possibility at a later date. Keep your eyes on the target. And if you must, you may kill the others too,” he says as if it’s a parting gift. “Goodbye, Tempest. I will speak to you when we’re ready.”
There are footsteps entering the hall. Quinn and Nico’s, from the sound of it, and I put the phone down and cross back out into the kitchen.
“Aunt Tempest,” Nico calls out. “Are you in here eating snacks?”
Opening the fridge and grabbing a piece of poultry, I shove the meat into my mouth. “Yes,” I say, half-mumbled.
“Everyone should be back any minute now. I can hear them.” I’m grateful for his warning, and those little wolfy ears of his. He might become a strong lupion one day.
I head back into the main section of the hall, and as if on cue, everyone makes their way inside, crowding around the table and other areas of the large tent.
Nico runs up to his parents, excitedly telling them about our time together. Gemma and Draven give Nico kisses on both cheeks. They really are the cutest little family. I’m happy he’s found people to care for him. He might not be a member of my pack, but he’s an honorary member in my heart.
“Where’s Yasmeena?” I ask Lilian as I walk past Khalid and Reina, who embrace in a passionate kiss.
“I think she’s back at your tent; you should go check on her,” Lilian answers.
My legs start running before my mind can speak up, but when I get back to our tent I freeze, taking in a deep breath before entering the intimate space.
Taking a seat on the bed, I watch in silence as Yasmeena unpacks her things. She pulls a sweater out of her suitcase and stops, staring up at me. “I’m really sorry.”
“For?”
“Mostly for Baelor, but also for inviting you into the shower.”
It feels like the rug has been pulled out from under me, my heart beating uncontrollably as her words start to register. I’ve let her build a nest in my mind and she just threatened to tear it all down.
“You didn’t seem sorry when you had your ass pressed against m—”
“I wasn’t. I’m not,” she interrupts, and I nod, though I don’t understand. “I’m sorry if I put you in a weird spot, is all. I didn’t mean to not have a conversation with you about it after or leave you guessing; everything happened so fast, we just didn’t have time.”
I cock my head to the side, my entire face scrunching as I take this in.
I don’t want to seem bothered, because I’m not.
“It’s all good. I was too busy with the children to guess anything.
I didn’t even really think about it.” A half-truth.
I was busy, but she did invade my dreams. I wanted the darkness to absorb me, because even darkness would be better than dreaming of something that can never be.
“I know you don’t particularly like me—”
“I don’t.” A grin spreads across my face. Oh, how I wish that were the case. I wish I couldn’t stand her, but that couldn’t be further from the truth
“I wasn’t trying to start something romantic between us,” she says, and one of my brows ticks up.
“That’s good, because I’m not interested.” Another half-truth.
She rubs her face in her hands, clearly flustered by my teasing. “But that doesn’t mean we couldn’t start something… purely sexual.”
Did the oxygen suddenly evaporate from the tent?
I shake my head, my hands gripping the bedsheets, not wanting to dive deeper into these feelings that have been corrupting me. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“If we’re going to have to tolerate each other, we might as well get some of our frustrations out while we do it. Don’t you have to bite me or mark me with your scent or whatever?”
She has a point, even if it’s misguided. “My fingers definitely smelled like you,” I say.
Yasmeena’s deep tan skin blushes pink, as she lazily saunters towards me. “If we’re really going to sell this whole engagement, I think your mouth should taste like me, too.”
She straddles me, and I find my hands making their way to her thighs, shifting upward to grab a handful of her perfect ass. “Maybe,” I start. I’m desperately trying not to give in to this temptation. “But we need ground rules.”
“Oh?” she asks, and I roll her over onto her back, holding myself up to hover above her.
“We do not kiss unless there’s an audience,” I say. “No sweet words, no whispered confessions. Everything we do must be calculated. If I touch you, it’s because I need you to smell like me. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” she says, her voice breathy. I can scent how badly she wants me, and it’s driving me wild.
“Or it’s because I want to.” Because I do want to.
I want her legs wrapped around me, her fingers in my hair as I fuck her with a strap.
But I know, and hopefully she knows, that we can’t afford to play these games.
I might mark her or use her, but this isn’t about to spark a relationship between us.
Not when I plan on destroying this place when I leave here.
I run my tongue up the side of her neck and whisper in her ear. Climbing off of her, I gesture to the suitcase. “Put on one of the outfits you didn’t get to wear and let’s go. We’ve got flyers to go pass out.”
“I just got back from Proditorum, I’m exhausted,” Yasmeena whines, but I shake my head.
“And yet we’ve got a performance to advertise,” I say, not giving in.
Yasmeena decides on a black miniskirt, a white top, and a red-leather jacket that makes my cheeks heat. I can’t help but envision her in just that coat alone, with her sleek black boots that come up to her knees.
I change into cargo pants and a black crop top—a perfect balance between feminine and masculine—and we exit our tent.
Coming up to Absinthe’s workshop, we enter the tent to find Absinthe holding a stack of papers.
“Just who I was looking for!” she says, and hands me the stack. “Here are the flyers, as requested.”
Yasmeena grabs a flyer and holds it up for us to view.
The Sinner’s Circus presents: Unmasked.
“Shouldn’t the title be something like United?” I ask, but Absinthe shrugs.
“It’s Gemma’s concept, I just came up with the design and had them printed.” Absinthe’s face is painted with hearts on both cheeks. “Did Baelor bother you while we were gone?”
“No, thankfully not. I didn’t even really see him.”
“Good. Hopefully he doesn’t bother you again,” she says.
We exit Absinthe’s workshop and head towards the large metal gates leading out of Hel’s Carnival. The sun is high in the sky, but there’s a nice fall breeze as we make our way towards the economic district.
When we reach a street lined with felion-owned businesses, we start passing out flyers for our new show.
After Roxanne’s death, I half expected the felion to treat me with suspicion and disdain, but they’ve been surprisingly kind. Every adult we’ve offered a flyer to has reacted with interest, or at least polite rejection.
“It’s a show you won’t ever forget!” Yasmeena says as she excitedly hands a flyer to a younger woman.
“You sound like Raph,” I tease.
She rolls her eyes. “I sound like I’m trying to advertise.”
“That’s fine, but if you start doing jazz hands, I’m out of here.”
We continue down a walkway, enjoying the crisp air, when I smell something rich. Cinnamon and honey, it’s heavenly.
“What is that?” I ask, and Yasmeena’s head cocks to one side.
“A bakery?”
I sigh. “Yes, I realize. What is that smell?”
“Do you wish to try it?” she asks, and I nod.
We follow the smell until we reach a cute building that reads Haeresis Bakery on the front. Opening the door, Yasmeena and I step inside, where my nose is met with hundreds of smells.
Cinnamon. Brown sugar. Honey. Cardamomum. Elderberry. ??i h?i. Le cerfeuil.
It all smells otherworldly.
Yasmeena orders a few baked goods for us, and we take them, sitting at one of the small round metal tables outside. It’s nice, just existing like this for a change. No carnival performance or political affair, just two beings enjoying a sweet treat.
I’ve never been big into sugar. I’m essentially a carnivore, but I’ve learned it’s nice to indulge. We never had stuff like this in the den. Pack Escalus believed you must hunt or be hunted, that food is for strength and survival only, but I disagree. I think food can be enjoyed and savoured.
I think my feelings for not only food, but also life, have evolved since joining Hel’s Carnival. I find myself yearning, wanting more for myself. It’s a dangerous development.
Yasmeena picks up a cinnamon and frosting-coated swirl and glides her tongue against the top in small, circular motions. I know she’s just licking off the frosting, but I can’t help where my mind starts to wander.
I want to feel her body against mine once more.
I want her to taste me, to feel her tongue press against my throbbing core.
To ride her face. Frankly, I might want to taste her even more.
Getting lost in her heat sounds like a death most divine.
To have her beg for it. For her to scream my name as I finally let her finish.
I want all of it. Bad. And it terrifies me, this desperation I feel. It surpasses lust and desire, pummeling me into a space I’ve never wanted to enter.
Genuine affection.
I don’t just crave sex, I crave her. Yasmeena’s whimpers and her stolen glances, and her pleasure. I crave the bad days as well as the good, and it kills me that I’m going to be the one to pull the plug on this, but I am bound to my duty as the next Alpha.