Chapter 13 - Liv
CHAPTER 13 - LIV
Trigger warning: violence against a female secondary character and corresponding violent fight.
Poisoned wedding cakes, simple yet brilliant. Risky, as Ash Lumbry suggested. We had to find the right moment to lace the food without a Malice soldier witnessing our act.
Cool, pearlescent gloss painted my lips, breeding hope the Umbras’ plot stood a chance. Threads of silver promised the goddess heard my prayers and broke the chains shackling me to TJ.
“You look like you need it.” Heather set a brewed mug of coffee on the bathroom counter, leaning on the cabinet’s edge, watching me make my face up because I looked like shit.
Shadows beneath my eyes gave away I lay awake most of the night, plots circling my mind, dragging me on an emotional roller coaster. Resurrected dreams of being with the man who owned my heart. Apprehension of Dash holding that much power over me and shattering my world a second time. Devastation that Dash was in love with some woman named Whitney.
Bitter darkness coated my world, knowing I traded one asshole for another. Dotted concealer under my eyes and across my cheeks and nose did little to conceal the fresh round of tears. Dash Lumbry could go to hell for all I cared.
“Thank you for making this for me, Squeaky, but I can’t stomach it.” I forced a smile, my facial muscles complaining.
I took a long, shaky breath. Deal with one asshole first. Taking down TJ Malice trumped my grievance with Dash. Once I was free of TJ, I’d address my lunar matching to Dash.
Pack link aside, my sister and I were attuned to each other’s moods, and my chest lightened at her compassion. Normally, it was me taking care of everyone else. She was the one person who looked after me. If she and Steele found a way to make things work—and I hoped for her sake they did—I would lose her, and the thought crushed me more. On the verge of fresh tears, I swept her into a big hug to thank her, feeling like a shit sister that she took care of me when she needed heartening from having her fairy tale crushed.
Last night’s events deflated me. I ought to be happy I got what I damn well wished for—freedom from my arranged marriage with a detestable tyrant. Yet rejection twice by the man I called mate, slammed into another loveless relationship. At least Dash would treat my body with respect.
Sickening dread burbled in my stomach at the idea of having to see TJ and agree on the cake for our wedding celebration. Malice cunning shredded my mounting ambition of freedom, forcing me out of bed in the early morning, wearing tracks in my shag pile rug from pacing until dawn.
Exhaustion hammered me as I dusted a light layer of powder beneath my eyes. Had to look my best for my despicable fiancé this morning. Play the doting bride-to-be. Trick him into believing the wedding went to plan. Hide my damn Lunar tattoo.
Heather brushed the scabbed gash on her forehead and my thighs squeezed together. “Think I’ll need some powder too.”
Wrath pulsed in my temples as I gently dabbed concealer on the edge of her laceration, and she hissed. “Keep going?”
“Wipe all evidence of what that discustard bastard did to my face.” I giggled at her using our made-up language we created as kids. Discustard meant disgusted or disgusting, depending on the usage.
Warmth stirred in my frozen chest at how well she held up from the emotional battering from Steele. “How are you feeling?” Pushing aside my own drama, I performed my sisterly check-in.
She set down her mug and gestured up and down her body. “He declined this sexy booty." She twisted and wiggled her ass, her way of hiding her pain writhing along our link.
I panned her up and down. “It’s a mighty fine booty.” I tried to keep up the act for her sake, since she didn’t seem like she wanted to tell me how she felt.
Heather threw her arm over my shoulder. “His loss.”
“Guys check out your ass all the time.” Well, they would do it more if she didn’t hide it under layers of clothing.
She snorted derisively.
“Nimble.” Time for real talk. For her to pour her heart out to me. She said it helped her clients. “How are you really feeling?”
She sighed and counted on her fingers. “Aching forehead. Check. Bruised ego. Check. Shattered dreams.” She didn’t get in the last check when I brought her into my arms.
“There’s someone better waiting for you, Squeaky.” I squeezed every word into her, a pathetic attempt to convince myself at the same time.
“He looked really broken when he rebuffed me,” she whispered.
“No, you don’t, Nimble.” I leaned back and shook her. “Don’t feel sorry for him. He doesn’t deserve it.”
Heather’s gaze looked anywhere but me as she tucked a lock of auburn hair away from her face. “I can’t help it. I’m a sucker for broken men.” She pretend slapped her forehead but stopped short with her wound. “Shit. A sucker for broken people.”
I tickled her armpits. “Don’t you dare try to fix him. He isn’t worth your kindness and compassion.”
She shrugged and wagged her eyebrows. “It’s what I do.”
Heather never gave up on a broken soul. She championed them from her corner like a boxing trainer.
“You don’t give up on a lost cause, that’s for sure.” I finished applying makeup to her wound. “Are you going to get in contact after this has all died down and see if you can work it out?”
“No. He’s broken and beautiful to look at like kintsugi.” Resignation in my sister’s voice struck like a bell. “Fuck, is he beautiful.” She bit her lips. “Tall, dark, handsome. Long hair and sexy beard. Rugged like a bear. Looks more like a knight than a prince.” She fisted her hands and sighed. “But he doesn’t want to be put back together.”
Her side of the pack bond closed off and I knew it was a lie. The dreamer in her wanted things to work out, yet he obliterated any trust between them. If he wanted to patch things up, the move had to come from him. Doubtful, by the sound of it. All my hope was dashed by his damn best friend last night.
“Come on. Get your ass in gear. We’re meeting the baker at 9AM.” Heather nudged my coffee mug at me. “You need something in your stomach.”
“Fine,” I groaned and accepted the mug, slowly sipping at it and moving around my cabin, packing my handbag. Sunglasses. Gloss. Tissues in case TJ got abusive again. Knives tucked into my boots. Should have used them last night and ended all this bullshit. Hindsight’s a bitch.
An hour later, we waited at the bakery for TJ to arrive. Thirty minutes late. Probably had a late night nursing his bruises. Hopefully got drunk and didn’t wake up and his less vile brother took the reins. Red Wedding, here we come either way. An end to the Malice reign of terror on the Central West.
I rubbed my curled lips at Dash’s TV reference. Some things hadn’t changed.
The baker came up to me with a smile. “Is your fiancé late?”
Relief whirred in my chest that he hadn’t made it, and I crossed my fingers, hoping fate caught up with him and he never would.
“Yes.” I forced a smile back. “Can we get started without him?”
Dammit. I should have snuck into BeWitched to buy some sleeping potion or poison to take out TJ before the wedding. Hindsight’s double the bitch.
“Certainly. Let me get the tray for the tasting.” The baker left us by the counter.
Squeaky wheels rotated as the baker rolled the cart carrying seven frosted cupcakes on a platter to us. “We prepared seven selections for you.” He removed the fly screen from over the top and sliced up the first cupcake into four. “This is lemon coconut. It has veins of lemon curd layered with coconut icing.” He gestured for us to try it.
As the name suggested, it tasted of tangy and sweet lemon with a coconut filling swirling on my tongue. If it wasn’t for the sickening dread in my stomach, I would be all here for sampling cakes… even if it was for a shitty occasion.
“What do you think?” the baker enquired, his best customer-service smile on display like the cakes boasting in their glass countertops.
“Oh, the coconut is divine,” Heather cooed, her lips rubbing together. Bless her for trying to keep the mood light. I knew my sister too well, and she got lost in the fantasy, planning her dream wedding to her prince… someone who didn’t look a thing like that bastard, Steele.
“Too tart.” Or maybe it was the acid in my stomach, stirring my trepidation.
The baker didn’t bat an eyelash at my frankness and served up quarters of the next cupcake. “The next is toffee apple. It’s a light, fluffy sponge cake paired with salted toffee sauce.”
Heather caught my wrist and squeezed as she devoured her slice. “Squeaky,” she groaned. “This is even better.”
I appreciated her trying to lighten the tension building at the back of my skull. A combination of a headache from lack of sleep and stress from having to play along to the Umbras’ crazy plan and not tip off my bastard of a fiancé and get murdered in the process.
The broken love heart toffee shape on top of the cupcake got stuck in my teeth and I picked it out. A sign for my wedding. Broken hearts and minds. Tastes and textures blended into a thick mud in my mouth and settled like concrete in my stomach.
“She likes it.” Heather answered for me, sending me a reassuring squeeze down our bond.
“Fabulous. What about pistachio and honey?” Fuck. Flavors I normally adored but couldn’t get past my lips without wanting to hurl. “It’s a pistachio-infused butter cake brushed with honey syrup filling.”
Coffee and bile surged up my stomach at the swing of the door and the thump against the wall behind it. Wind howled as five men barreled inside the shop. Fuck. TJ. Alive and breathing. Dressed in his usual jeans, boots, sleeveless flannel shirt, the outfit I expected him to model at our wedding. Flanked by four of his men, all packing weapons by the flash of dark carbon steel jammed in their jeans. Vengeful pleasure skated through me at their bruises, bandages, and missing teeth, reminding them those pussy bitches got own by the Lumbrys last night.
“Started without me?” my would-be fiancé sneered, his filthy, dark gaze panning me, and herpes-infested tongue scraping against his bottom lip.
Thinking about his tongue, his hands, his cock coming near me made a violent wave sweep over me. I gripped my stomach and held back the flood wanting to shower the tiled floor. Blood froze in my veins and my heart thudded furiously trying to push the solid mass through my body to no avail.
“Sorry, we had to start without you.” Good, keep it polite and friendly like the blushing bride father ordered me to feign, even though my wolf urged me to smash the platter over TJ’s skull and break it. “The baker has another appointment after us.” Hint fucking hint. Turn up on time. The world didn’t revolve around assholes like him.
The baker eyed us both and reluctantly lifted the plate to TJ. “Now that you made it, try the pistachio and honey flavored cake.” His voice came out shaky and hesitant as he repeated the description to my scowling fiancé.
TJ snatched the sliver of cupcake and stuffed it in his mouth like the filthy pig he was. “Not bad.” He spat crumbs of cake all over the floor.
Nausea teased the back of my throat, heightening the need to vomit. I hoped to hell this crazy plan of Father’s worked because I didn’t want to be caught dead in public with this swine.
The baker swallowed and pretended to ignore the boorish asshole in front of him. “Our next selection is raspberry and white chocolate.” He plastered on a sweet smile that reminded me of the twirled frosting. In this industry, he probably came up against dickheads like TJ all the time. “White chocolate mud cake with layers of thick raspberry coulis.”
“Raspberry what?” TJ swiped a filthy finger, the nail stained with grease, through the frosting.
I wanted to bury my face in my palm.
“It’s French for sauce.” The baker smiled sweetly in a failed attempt that came off as condescending.
TJ grunted and stretched out his nauseating finger to me. “Taste it, baby?”
Fuck, no. This was his way to torture me. Show me what I was in for when I belonged to him. If I ever belonged to him, with the new plans set in motion.
Play my part, I heard Father’s voice in my head. Act civil. Play dumb. Lull TJ into a false sense of security.
Difficult when my wolf screamed to snatch our knives from my boot and drag them along the crocodile skin on his throat and end this. Slash the same lines across the throats of his men.
I summoned all the fury of tending to, nursing, and housing battered wolves in my sanctuary that escaped the Malices. Rylie. Countless other names and faces. Worlds shattered by this bastard. A shifter whose heart I’d stop beating.
“Not hungry.” I’d bite off that swine’s fucking finger if it came closer, just like I would his dick when he tried to mate me. The idea of him touching me spiked adrenaline in my blood, encouraging me to bolt and take Heather with me.
Stick to the plan, Father’s voice shouted.
TJ’s hand snaked out and grabbed my chin, squeezing so hard my jaw creaked. “Open. Now. I won’t ask again, wifey.” The nickname stopped my heart.
I kept my damn lips on lockdown and shoved at his chest.
The baker gasped and backed away, clearly not having dealt with this kind of customer before.
Fuck. This was turning to shit fast. Father would roast me the way Ash Lumbry did his goddamn son for letting this get out of hand. Every nerve in me rebelled and refused to comply.
Heather slapped TJ’s arm. “TJ. Cool it, we’re in public.”
“Shut the fuck up, you limp bitch.” I fought him for that response, thumping his chest, and he snarled with uneven, nicotine-stained teeth.
Every instinct screamed to slash his face, but I had to restrain myself, make it look like I didn’t ignite the coming mutiny against his pack. “Don’t call my sister that,” I snarled instead, holding back my full strength, showing weakness to an enemy, which went against my wolf’s compulsions.
His men sniggered and circled their boss, shoving Heather out of the way, blocking her.
Heather attempted to remove her cell and call Father, but one of the Malices snatched it away and pocketed it. “Give it back, asshole.”
Fuck. So much for playing nice prior to the wedding.
TJ snagged the back of my neck, his palm an icy chain forcing my face to his finger. “Learn quick, little Alpha. Do as I say, and that beautiful body will remain mostly creamy. A little black and blue, because that’s the way I prefer you.”
His men laughed like fucking hyenas.
My shewolf roared at the threat, prepared to drop onto all fours and battle this son of a bitch. Four soldiers surrounding him and human witnesses in the bakery warned otherwise.
The baker retreated behind the counter and snatched up the phone receiver. “Miss, do you need me to call the police?”
“Yes!” Heather shouted, earning the crack of a palm to her cheek that knocked her off her feet.
“Heather!” I jerked at TJ’s grip, and he just laughed. The bastard got away with this behavior for too long when everybody feared him.
The baker punched numbers hard as he dialed 000 for the police.
One of TJ’s soldiers broke away, moved behind the counter and snagged the phone from the baker’s hand, slamming it on the ground and stomping it to pieces.
“Hmm. So beautiful,” TJ rasped. “I’ll make a real wolf out of you.” I wretched at the graze of his knuckle along my cheek. Scaly, dry skin along silk. “Hurt you good like I did that Lumbry bitch, Whitney.”
The name turned my stomach. Dash’s love. The one he left me for.
“You’ll respect me as your wife!” I snarled and drew back my fist, propelling it into TJ’s mouth. Knuckle cracked on teeth, both crunching, breaking. Pain swelled in my fist, but it was the sweetest relief I’d ever felt.
“Bitch!” TJ spat out a tooth. His fifth lost in the space of twenty-four hours. Soon he’d have none left, and I’d be the one to remove the rest. Anger twisted his features in sharp, inhuman edges. His wolf emerged. Bastard didn’t even hide it from the humans. The fastest way to get reports to the Guild to hunt us down and slaughter us.
The filthy pig cornered me against the wall. Normally, I didn’t back away, but I didn’t want him touching me—hell, breathing on me. My stomach bottomed out, and I fought to keep its contents down. Everything about him disgusted me from his greasy, sallow skin, and hillbilly teeth to his filthy voice, and leering dark eyes, black as the soul of a demon.
“You like it rough, don’t you, baby?” He swiped some frosting under my eye. “I’ll fucking break teeth and your jaw when I take your mouth.”
That was it. My knee came up and connected with something hard. Bastard wore a cup. Learned his lesson last night from Dash and his men.
I couldn’t smell or sense anything above my bitter rushing fear. My heart sped so fast, I almost passed out. Adrenaline pumped in my veins, boosting my strength, but terror locked my muscles.
TJ raised a fist to beat in his warning. The action snapped my wolf into action, and she slid into place, snarling and scratching his face. Hollering, he reared his head back and whipped it forward, headbutting me. World spinning, I slumped to the floor.
“Liv,” Heather whimpered from somewhere to my right.
I fumbled for purchase, finding cold tile. My other hand slid to my boot, clutching the hilt of my knife. Killing him was worth the jail time. A boot crushed down on my hand, and I howled.
Car horns honked outside, and someone yelled. Commotion on the street. Thudding metal. What the fuck was going on?
Glass shattered as the door flung open and smashed into the wall.
Heather whimpered and her hand caught the top of mine, squeezing. “Oh, fuck. Not again.”
Heavy footfalls announced the arrival of a new body. Policemen, hopefully, by the thumping of boots over glass and tile.
“Don’t fucking touch her,” a voice cracked like a whip. Something dark and violent slid into my bond, promising blood and pain.