Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
“FATAL ATTRACTION” BY REED WONDER
LUNA
“Urrrgghh,” I groan, my head pounding as I blink my eyes open. The light in the room is dull, the blackout blinds mostly pulled shut, thank fuck, but my head feels so heavy it takes a minute for me to remember what happened.
Last night. The party. The drink that I’m now pretty sure was drugged with something by that blonde bitch, the one who I remember being here that first night the triplets were home.
The rest of the night is a little fuzzy, though I have flashes; Blade finding me, demanding to know what I’d drunk, then getting me into the truck, bringing me to my room.
The other two were there as well. Then nothing.
Taking my time, I sit up, letting the room settle its spinning. Looking down, I see I’m still in my dress from the night before, though my shoes have been removed. Gently, gingerly, I swing my legs over and place my feet on the floor, letting my bare toes sink into the plush carpet.
Taking a couple of deep inhales, I push up, noticing that my door is ajar.
Weird, I always shut it and usually lock it for good measure.
Though I guess I should probably stop in case anything happens.
Deciding to focus on one thing at a time, I push to standing, letting the wave of dizziness wash over me, leaving my fingers and toes tingling.
After that passes, I decide a shower is in order. It may help clear my foggy head and make me feel better. My skin feels gross, like there is dried sweat on it.
“One step at a time, Luna,” I coach myself, focusing on getting to the bathroom. I glance over at my dresser, my stomach clenching when I see my bottle of pills. Did they see them last night? What will they think?
“It’s none of their fucking business,” I murmur to myself, making it to the bathroom and shutting the door behind me.
Stripping off, I take a long, hot shower, which does wonders to clear my head and ease the ache from my stiff joints.
My mouth still feels dry as a fucking desert, so water is my next port of call.
Wrapping a towel around me, I head back into the bedroom, spotting a bottle of water on my bedside table, something which definitely wasn’t there yesterday.
Shrugging and taking the gift for what it is, I open it, swallowing almost half as I stand there, dripping in nothing but a towel.
It helps clear my head further, but my body shivers, despite the summer morning heat.
I don’t have the air con on in my room, too often I feel cold even when it’s roasting outside.
Placing the cap on the water, I put it back on the table before heading to my closet to get dressed. Comfy leggings, a vest, and an oversized sweater are my choices. I even grab my big, fluffy slipper socks because my feet are like icicles.
I catch a glimpse of myself in my dresser mirror as I go over to take my morning meds. There are purple smudges under my eyes, and my cheeks are pale and sunken.
“Not looking your finest, Luna.” I sigh, pulling my gaze away because I couldn’t exactly help getting drugged and it clashing with my meds.
Downing my daily pills, I glance at the clock and notice the time. Ten in the morning. Hopefully the terrible triplets—their new name—have gone out and it’s safe to go downstairs for a bite to eat.
Taking my time, mostly because I’m still a little woozy, I make my way downstairs, phone in hand, and into the bright but slightly clinical kitchen.
It’s modern, sleek, and has all of the top-of-the-range shit, plus a chef who comes in every day to prepare meals.
Bernard—the chef—isn’t here, but I freeze when I spot all three of my tormentors, as if they were lying in wait for me.
Chase is reading something on his tablet, no doubt it’s the Financial Times or something equally as boring.
His shirt has the top two buttons undone, exposing some of his inked-up chest, and his sleeves are rolled up again, showing off corded forearms covered in ink that have no right being as hot as they are.
His eyes flick up to me the moment I enter the space, staring, analyzing.
Blade is leaning against the counter, studying me with that cold calculation he’s perfected. He’s in his usual uniform of black everything, and I hate how fucking good it looks on him.
Thorn is in front of the kettle, a pot in front of him as he scoops some tea leaves into it.
I’ve noticed he prefers loose tea, and by the smell, it’s one of the green tea blends he has, which are surprisingly good.
My favorite is the cherry blossom one, not that I’ve told him or confessed that I’ve even had some.
His gaze flits to me, his brows deeply furrowed, and something inside my chest tightens at the concern which seems to be in his green depths, dulling them from their usual brightness.
An uncomfortable silence washes over us as I take another step into the room, and another, walking over to the fridge to get a bottle of water and see if there is anything to eat.
I ignore the way my hand trembles as I reach for the handle, but as I’m next to Blade, I catch the way he notices, his eyes narrowing.
Chase breaks the silence first. “Quite the performance last night. Care to explain?”
I force a dismissive laugh, shutting the fridge and turning to face him with a saccharine smile plastered on my face. The gall of this man. “I’m just not used to drinking spiked drinks. Sorry if I embarrassed you.”
“It wasn’t spiked. Not with alcohol anyway,” Blade cuts in.
Hearing his voice is so rare that I’m speechless for a moment. “It wasn’t alcohol. At least, I don’t think so, but I’m not sure what it was mixed with. Your blonde friend didn’t exactly tell me what drug she used.”
His brows drop. “Blonde friend?”
“Yeah, she was here the first night you guys got back. Big fake tits, fake tan, fake lips,” I sneer.
There’s nothing wrong with taking care of yourself, and I’m a great believer in people can do whatever makes them feel good, but I don’t think turning yourself into something you were never meant to be is the way forward.
And maybe this bitch should have spent less on her body and more on a personality transplant.
“Rachel?” Thorn asks, stepping away from his tea-making and towards me.
“I don’t know what her name is. She never introduced herself, though her brunette friend said it was a virgin cocktail, so maybe she spiked it. They said you told them to look after me,” I answer, and Thorn shakes his head.
“We didn’t say shit to them.” His voice is a low rumble, a growl that I’ve not heard before.
Then he clears his throat, looking at me with a frown, and that concern is back, making the skin around his eyes tight.
“Look, whatever was in that drink, you said last night it reacted with your meds, and if you’re on something…
medications, whatever… we should know. For safety. ”
I stiffen, my fear of them having seen my medication making me prickle all over. I don’t want them to know about what’s happening to me. Not only have they not earned the right, but I don’t want to be that girl again. The sick one. “I’m not an addict, if that’s what you’re implying.”
“Then why did I see all those bottles of pills on your dresser last night?” His voice is cold, critical, and cuts with accusation.
My heart thrashes inside my chest as I think of something to say to put them off. “You poked around in my room? Invasion of privacy much?” When in doubt, snark and anger for the win.
Blade steps closer, the warmth from his body both welcome and distracting. Wait, not welcome, nope. There’s nothing relieving about having any of them this close. “What you do affects this family now. Answer the question.”
I hold his gaze, ignoring the way it’s so dark, so intense, I almost get lost in it. “It’s for migraines. I get them chronically.” My voice is softer than I intended, and I fucking hate that any of them can affect me like this.
Thorn lets out a breath that almost sounds relieved, but Blade just keeps his gaze locked with mine. Assessing. Probing for answers I’m unwilling to give, and I can’t shake the feeling that he knows I’m lying.
My phone buzzes in my hand with an incoming call, startling me but breaking off the stare off with Blade. I take a couple of steps away from him, turning my back and only then looking at the screen, seeing it’s my mom.
“Hey, Mom. How’s the trip?” I ask quietly, ignoring the three pairs of eyes that burn into my skin like the sun through a magnifier.
“Hey, Luna love. It’s lovely, thank you. Dr. Tate called. Your first chemo session is next Wednesday, so I’ll be back to take you and will pick you up on Friday, okay?”
I can feel my face fall, no doubt draining of what little color it had as my new reality becomes that much more real. This is going to suck. Big hairy donkey balls suck.
“Oh, okay, that’s great,” I say, trying to make myself sound cheery even though I just want to curl into a ball and sob.
“Okay, Luna love. I’ll see you Tuesday. Love you.” Her voice sounds too cheerful for the news she just gave me, and before I’ve even managed to say anything back, the phone goes dead.
Taking a deep inhale, I plaster the biggest fake smile on my face.
“That was Mom. Well, it looks like I’ll be out of your hair for a few days come Wednesday.” All three of their brows lower.
“Why? Where are you going?” Chase questions, and it takes a lot to hold my anger in check.
I know it’s justified, they’ve been first-class assholes, but also part of it is just fury at the situation I’m in.
That I’m having to go through this shit again.
Plus, why do they give a fuck? They’ve made it clear I don’t belong, so surely this is good news to them.
“That, dear stepbrother of mine, is none of your fucking business,” I say softly, walking over to the fridge and grabbing a bottle of protein shake that no doubt belongs to one of them, but I don’t give a fuck right now. I just want to get out of here.
“We’re not finished with this conversation, Goldilocks,” Blade rumbles from next to me, and I slam the fridge shut before turning to face him.
“Actually, we are. I repeat, my health is none of your damn business.” I’ve still got that fake smile in place, but it’s getting harder to keep it there, and if I don’t get out of here soon, I may just crumble at their feet.
“It is when you collapse at parties we took you to,” Chase comments, and it’s the lack of tone or inflection that almost makes me lose it. Yet somehow, I manage to keep it together.
Walking past Blade, I step right up to the opposite side of the island from Chase. “Then don’t take me to any more parties. Problem solved.”
Then with my head held high, I spin on my heel, which is a fucking mistake, because I wobble, swaying on my feet and having to grasp the counter behind me for a moment for support.
Thorn takes a step towards me, but I hold my hand up, not saying a thing as I straighten up before walking out of the room, my spinning head held high.
“FACEDOWN” BY CHASE ATLANTIC
CHASE
We all watch Luna as she walks out of the door.
She’s still shaky, still a little unsteady on her feet, and I want to snarl at her to sit the fuck down before she falls over.
Not that I care about her. It just would get messy if she were to collapse again.
Father would be displeased at the drama of it, even if he seems to continually dismiss her. Yes, that’s the reason.
“Migraines don’t cause those symptoms.” Blade is straight to the point as usual, but there’s something about his tone, something that sounds a little bit like the worry that is tightening my gut.
“Maybe she has anxiety? That would explain a lot,” Thorn says, his tea-making abandoned as we try to figure out the puzzle that is Luna Wilder.
Sighing, I tell them what I’ve learned this morning, even if I don’t want to question why the need to discover what lies behind Luna’s symptoms is bothering me. “I called Richard’s assistant. Luna’s mother has been taking her to ‘appointments’ weekly.”
“Therapy appointments, probably. If it is anxiety,” Blade comments.
He’s spoken the most I’ve heard him since Luna and her mother appeared in our lives.
It’s nice hearing my brother’s voice again.
He gets too in his head, isolates himself from the rest of us too often. Has done so ever since Mom died.
“Whatever it is, she’s terrified of us finding out. She gets a deer-in-headlights look whenever it comes up.” That’s unexpectedly insightful for Thorn, who’s usually the party playboy type, not really concerned with anyone else. It gives me pause.
“I have Jerry and Percy keeping an eye on her,” I tell them, a twitch in my jaw, making my muscles feel tight. I don’t like unknowns.
Blade doesn’t object, which shows his concern even if none of us will admit it. Clearly he wants to know just as much as I do what our new stepsister is hiding.
Thorn’s brows are deeply furrowed, and he glances back at the now empty doorway. “What if it’s something serious, guys?”
“Doubtful,” I scoff, going back to the Financial Times, though I’ve been reading the same sentence since I heard Luna come down the stairs. “Girls like her always make things up for attention. It’s probably just anxiety or something equally asinine.”