10. Chapter Nine
The way Rhett and Creed acted when they smelled Fitz made me happy. They are going to go insane when they come to work every day and smell me everywhere.
Not only does Fitz smell like me, but so does their entire shop. My sweet mate thought he made a mess from the oil droplets but those weren’t from oil. The mess was made by me. Watching Fitz get angry at his dad had my tentacles dripping. It didn’t take long for my ink to pour from me, so I made use of it.
I added it to every single oil container they had, every grease jar, and anything else dark I could find. Then, in every corner, in every room while Fitz, Rhett, and Creed were arguing, I swiped my ink on spots in the room they will never be able to see.
Fitz is fucking mine. That means wherever he is, he has to be protected. Where he works has to be marked so others know not to mess with him. I’m sure he would have been fine considering Rhett is his friend and has probably marked this place too with his own scent.
I growl internally. That means Rhett will probably want to remove my scent and will mark his shop again. That’s what I would do, and it seems he is more like me than I initially thought.
I don’t get in the truck with Fitz when he leaves. Instead, I launch myself in the air to fly home. My wings need to stretch. I soar high above Fitz until his truck is nothing but a speck in my line of sight.
Seeing him so disgruntled about his dad worries me. I don’t like seeing Fitz unhappy. He doesn’t deserve to frown when his energy makes people smile.
I’ll fix this. Any problems he has, I’m the solution. He will never have to lift a finger again.
In a world full of chaos, I will be his sword that spills the blood that causes dismay to him.
In his kingdom of light, I will be his queen of darkness.
Our love will be considered royalty. I don’t care who I need to kill to make sure our crowns are lifted in the air as high as possible. I will stack the dead bodies of his enemies beneath us so we can stand on their backs. Our reign will be loved and feared.
Through the ones that dare to try to overtake us, I will fly them high over our land and drop them from miles up in the sky. So they can see that their only hope of survival is me.
And I will not give them any hope.
Fitz stopping at a red light yanks me from my dream. He is only a half a mile from home. I’m going to continue without him so I’m there first. I’ll grab some clothes and then pretend to do something outside to grab his attention.
The cool wind ruffles my feathers as I flap my wings. I spin and flip, loving that I’m getting this flying thing under control. It’s fun. I don’t think there is anything in the world that could give me more freedom than this.
The world from up here is so hypocritical. I can see how big and vast the planet is. The sky spans across a never-ending threshold while the town I call home is nothing but a fly on the wall when I look down. The dichotomy is beautiful.
Even though the distance between the red light and home isn’t far, clouds not too far from here are churning from a fluffy white to an ominous graphite. Thunderclaps from miles away are felt in my bones, the vibrations reverberating off my ribcage.
Panic swells in my chest at the thought of being caught in a storm. An onslaught of memories assaults me. I was strapped down and forced to do unimaginable things. I was pumped full of DNA that changed me forever. The pain. The torture. My screams echo in my mind.
I lose complete vision of Fitz. A gust of wind takes me by surprise, side-swiping me from the left. I tumble through the air, my wings trying to extend to find their rhythm again.
I’m right above the highway and I’m falling directly into it. I can’t have that happen. Too many questions will want to be answered. If people see me, I’ll be a freak. I’ll be taken and tested on. I can’t live through that again. Anxiety spills through my nerve endings. My blood is replaced by the fuel of fear.
I won’t go back. I refuse to go back.
A soul-draining scream shreds my throat when I use all my strength to move my wings against the heavy gust of wind. Feathers are ripped from my harpy wings, floating all around me.
Rain begins to pour. I fight the pull of my trauma trying to suck me down. Those memories of being in a sunless room, hearing nothing but the harsh beat of rain, the wicked howls of wind, the rolls of thunder, and loud cracks of lightning nearly make me immobile.
I’m too unstable to fly. I can’t get my wings to work. Not in this rain. My eyes burn from tears. The storm is about to rage, and it nearly has me in its claws. With an unstable formation, I’m able to tumble into my backyard. I’m not sure if I was seen and there is a part of me that doesn’t care.
I roll through the wet grass and mud, skidding to a stop just before my back door.
“Gross.” I pluck a few blades of grass from between my fangs.
I don’t bother waiting around for lightning to strike me. I get to my feet, open the back door, and run inside before the storm can get me.
Slamming the door, I lock it for good measure. Gulping, I watch how the light fades from the sky, darkening with the bad intentions of the storm. Rain begins to pour so hard, that I can hear it beating against the roof. The wind smacks the rain against the side of the house, and I jump, staring at the wall where the pummeling noise is coming from.
Water slings from the ends of my hair as I spin around. Between all the noises, I can’t seem to breathe. I cup my ears and fall to my knees, squeezing my eyes shut until it’s over. I’ll sit in this empty living room that has no furniture for the rest of the night if I have to.
I don’t even have a bed. I only use the bedroom to watch Fitz out the window when he is in his kitchen.
The doorbell ringing surprises me, startling me so much, I fall on my ass. My tail wraps around my leg, my wings wrap around my body, and all I want to do is sink into the floor.
A loud pounding on the door happens next. It sounds too similar to the thunder outside. It all reminds me of being on that table, the pounding of a hammer to break my bones just so the scientist could see how long I took to heal.
A sob catches in my throat. I lift my knees to my chest, burying my face between my legs, and try to take a deep breath.
“Holly? Are you okay? I heard you scream,” Fitz shouts from behind the door.
I lift my head from my hiding spot, staring at the door for a moment to see if I’m imagining things.
“I just want to make sure you’re alright,” he says again, his tone soft with a hint of worry. “Holly?”
I’ve waited too long to answer. I hurry to stand, realizing I’m soaking wet and muddy. I toss my damp tangled hair over my shoulder, slip and slide to the door since my feet are wet, then cloak myself in my human disguise.
I wonder if they ever found the camper’s body.
Another worry for another day.
“I’ll be right there!” I shout, dashing to the bathroom for a towel. I dry myself off, needing my chameleon ability to work.
I dry off the best I can, practically rubbing my skin raw. “Shit!” The towel gets caught on my fins near my ankles.
The cotton tugs and pulls on the sharp ends of the fins. That’s when I notice how dry my scales are. A piece of a fin just broke onto the floor.
I haven’t been soaking myself in the lake as much as I should, even though it’s in my own backyard.
“Okay, let’s see if it worked,” I whisper to my reflection in the mirror.
Focusing on my human disguise, I’m relieved when the camper comes into view and all of my monstrous features disappear.
Sprinting out of the bathroom door, I rush to pull on clothes and then I run down the hall. I take the corner too quickly, and I stumble, smashing my shoulder against the wall.
“Ow,” I growl, snapping my teeth at the corner as if it bit me.
“You okay?” His tone is more curious than earnestly worried now.
I yank the door open to see a soaking-wet Fitz standing under the awning. His shirt clings to his body, the damp material leaving nothing to my imagination. Every abdominal muscle is outlined. His pecs are firm and defined with a slight curve to prove his manual labor.
There is nothing like the body of a man who does physical work. His hat is on backward, the wet ends of his hair curling. His freckles are most pronounced right now for some reason. I’m lost in the perfection of my mate.
“Hi,” I croak out. “I’m fine. I dislike storms. That’s all. They aren’t attached to good memories.” I wrap my arms around myself, forgetting about the murderous rage. It’s still there but there’s nothing I can do about it right now. “You risked your life to come check on me?” That’s so sweet. He could have drowned in this rain waiting for me to answer the door.
He rubs the water off his face. “I wouldn’t say I risked my life. It’s only water, but if you want to ride out the storm together? We can. My day got derailed and I could use a friendly face right now.”
I know all about the horrible day he is having. “Oh? What happened? Are you alright?”
He adjusts his stance, his boots splashing the water pooling beneath him. “Want to talk about it over hot chocolate or wine? I can make us dinner or dessert. Maybe we can put on a movie.”
I fight a smile, twirling my hair around my finger like a lovesick girl.
I suppose I am.
I am so lovesick, the only cure for it would be for me to stop existing. I don’t mean death because I’d haunt him, or I’d try to come back to life like I did this time. No, I’d need to die in purgatory for my obsession with Fitz to cease to exist.
“Is this a date?”
A crooked grin takes over his face. His lashes are small spikes from being wet from the rain and they fan over his cheeks as he glances down, blushing.
“Well, I guess it is. No pressure though. You don’t like storms, and I need a friend. You were who I thought to come to first. I’d like to get to know you better.”
I’m not sure if I’ll be able to control my disguise for that long but I’ll try. I refuse to miss time with Fitz.
“I’d love to. I need an umbrella. Do you have one?” I can’t get wet or he will see who I really am.
“I do. Let me run and grab it from the truck.”
“I know, it’s silly. I’m not afraid of getting wet. The storm, the rain, it all just—”
He steps closer, pinching my chin with his thumb and index finger. I hold my breath, wondering if he is really this close to me, touching me, staring directly into my eyes.
“It isn’t silly if it makes you feel safe.” His thumb rubs over my chin, the rough skin of the callouses leaving a slight scrape behind with every sweep the pad of his finger gives. “Would me getting the umbrella make you feel safe?”
I swallow, realizing I’m nervous. My entire body feels flustered and hot. I’m not sure if I can continue to look him in the eyes. I might combust. Those long lashes blink just before his eyes hood, a sultry heat blowing the pupils.
He looks from my eyes to my lips back to my eyes only to drop to my mouth again. The tip of Fitz’s tongue licks his bottom lip before he inhales a deep breath and takes a step back to put space between us.
“Give me a minute. I’ll be right back with the umbrella.” He never takes his gaze off of me as he slowly walks backward.
My mate chooses to step out in the rain rather than remain dry under the awning. Rain pours, soaking him in seconds.
“Don’t move,” he warns, taking another step.
I wrap my arms tighter around myself and smile. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Good. I’d hate to have to track you down when this is the best part of my day,” he says, giving me that crooked shy grin I’m obsessed with.
He turns his hat around, the rain dripping from the bill. Tucking his head, he runs next door to his house, jumping over the step leading to his front door. I can’t see him anymore which leaves me alone outside in the storm.
I jump when thunder shakes the ground. My heart forgets the calm and chooses to beat at a pace only caused by anxiety. I lean against my door, close my eyes, and hold a hand to my chest.
The wind howls like a wild lone wolf in a snow-covered field. Regardless of how good the gusts feel against the heat of my skin, it doesn’t tame the fear controlling my body. I’m frozen in place. This is unlike me. I have no reason to fear storms anymore now that I’m free.
The doctors can’t hurt me anymore. I’m stronger than they could have ever been. I’m stronger than most of society.
Is this my punishment for my lack of humanity when it comes to claiming Fitz? Maybe.
I’ll happily take this punishment. Fitz is more important than my fear. I’ll battle anxiety every day and deal with storms if it means I get to have him. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do to make him mine even if it means living in his subconscious for the rest of my life.
I don’t hear the heavy splash of boots because of my own blood rushing through my head. The whoosh of the umbrella opening has me opening my eyes to see Fitz standing directly in front of me, drenched.
He turns his hat backward, lifting the umbrella only over my head. “It’s okay.” Fitz cups my face. “There’s always calm after a storm. It will pass. Come on, Wildflower. Let’s get you inside.”
“Wildflower?” I ask him, stepping under the umbrella he kindly provided.
“Yeah. You remind me of my favorite flower, which we have already discussed, but also, something tells me you have a wild side.”
The memory of me fucking him while I invade his dreams tickles my mind. “You have no idea,” I almost growl.
He steps into the rain again, holding the umbrella directly over me so I don’t get wet.
“I’d love to have even the slightest idea,” he says.
“I’m not sure if you could handle my wild, Fitz.”
We both turn to look at one another while walking through the storm to get to his house.
“I think you’ll be surprised when you learn I can handle more than you could ever imagine, Wildflower.”
My breath catches with hope. That dangerous fucking human emotion that has no business in my new form, but damn it, Fitz makes me hope.
I trip on the edge of his driveway. I barely have time to think to brace myself for impact. I won’t have time to get away from Fitz before my monstrous form takes over in the rain.
I’m planning the worst scenario in my head as the driveway becomes closer to my face when Fitz’s arm wraps around my waist. He catches me, forcing me to be inches away from his face.
His eyes do the dance again, dropping from my eyes to my lips. “Are you okay?” he rasps, the rain beating against the top of the umbrella to remind us we aren’t alone.
I can’t seem to find my voice which never happens. I’m part siren. I always have a voice.
Not now. Not when I’m so close to Fitz, his eyes roam all over my face as if he is memorizing it for himself.
“Wildflower?” he calls me in his gentle, deep, yet soft voice.
I could fall asleep listening to him, lulling me to sleep. Maybe one night, a very long time from now when he knows the truth about what I am. If he is able to love me for what I am.
“I’m okay.” I glance up, noticing I’m still mostly dry while Fitz is choosing to be soaking wet. “You’re soaked. Let’s get inside.”
“I’m just showing you rain doesn’t hurt, but I’d love to know why you think it does. When you are ready to tell me, of course.” He straightens us, leaving my heart trembling for him. “Come on, let’s get you inside.”
We step onto his porch and that’s where I notice the empty plant pots lining either side under the awning. I’m shivering from the cold and I’m worried that any second, my human disguise will fade.
Fitz opens the door for me, and I remember when I broke into his house last night. He forgot to lock the back door. Granted, I doubt he expects anyone to hop the fence to break into his house.
But a girl wants what she wants.
I step inside, the warmth wrapping around me like I wish Fitz would. That’s fine. I can wrap myself around him later. Why wait for him when I know I’ll be getting my fill of him tonight?
Doe Eyes shakes the water from the umbrella, setting it right inside the door on a rubber mat. Getting to watch him in his home gives me reassurance that I’m not an intruder. I like seeing him in his element.
“Your home is beautiful,” I say, breaking the silence between us. “I love the beams.” I point to the ceiling, loving the color of the metal. “I wish my house looked this good. It’s still empty.”
“Empty?” Fitz takes off his hat, giving the cap a good shake before hanging it on a hook over the coffee table.
He’s an organized guy. His keys are in the bowl on top of the coffee table. His hat is strategically placed right above the keys. His coat is on a hanger next to the door. Everything is ready for him to walk out if he needs to.
I lift a shoulder, shrugging. “Yeah, it’s no big deal. I’m still shopping for furniture. I am picky with what I like.” Because everything I like is in this house and eventually, this house will be my home. Why would I spend the money I stole on useless furniture when I could spend it on Fitz?
“If you ever need any help, I’m pretty handy. I can help you repair or fix anything. If you need a truck for furniture shopping, I don’t mind at all. I bet it would be fun to go together.”
“You’d go shopping?” I question in disbelief, strolling into his living room to plop on his couch. “I thought men didn’t like shopping?”
He unlaces his boots and then kicks them off. Each one thuds against the wall before falling to the floor. “I’ll be right back. Hold onto that thought. I need to get out of these wet clothes. Actually, do you want some dry clothes too?”
I gasp, jumping off the couch. A huge wet spot is on the cushion. “I’m so sorry, Fitz. I wasn’t even thinking. I ruined your couch.” What was I thinking? I know better than to plop on someone’s sofa soaking wet.
It’s been too long since I’ve been around people. I’ve forgotten how to act. Even now, I feel odd pretending I give a fuck about the couch. I’ll destroy this couch. It means nothing to me but it might mean something to Fitz. If it’s important to him, then it is to me.
That’s how I’ll be living my life or everyone and everything will be at my mercy.
“I don’t care about the couch, Wildflower.”
The unexpected closeness of his voice has me gasping and spinning around. He’s so close, that I smack against his chest.
“Sorry,” I chirp, cursing myself internally for how I’m behaving. How am I becoming such a mess around him? I’m the one always in control.
The connection between us is different. Our bond, our claim grows stronger the more time we spend together, and I didn’t expect for us to spend any time together while he was conscious. A man like Fitz could only ever love a woman like me in his dreams.
I’m not the kind of woman for him to bring home to his mother. Although, lucky me, he doesn’t seem to have a good relationship with her.
“What’s wrong, Holly?” He puts distance between us by taking a step back. “I didn’t mean to make you nervous. I won’t hurt you.”
“No, I don’t think you would. You…you do make me nervous but not in a bad way, Fitz.”
He holds out his hand with that charming smile. “Come on. I’ll give you some clothes and I’ll pour us a glass of wine.”
I need to run out of this house and away from him. Being around him is too difficult to keep my human cloak. Any moment, my hair could turn blue, my scales or fins could show, or my tail could decide to have a mind of its own.
And yet, I slip my palm across his because I’m not strong enough to run away from my mate. “That sounds perfect.”
“Follow me.” He tugs me behind him, following him up the staircase next to the front door.
I stare at a few pictures lining the wall. “These pictures are great. Who is this?” I point to him and a woman. His arm is around her.
I’m going to kill her.
“That’s my sister.”
Damn it. I can’t kill her.
“You two look happy.”
When he gets to the top of the stairs, he leans against the wall and crosses his arms. “We were. Things were simpler then.”
I don’t like the tone of his voice. It’s resigned as if things aren’t as simple now. “What changed? Has something happened?”
“That story requires wine and dry clothes.” The sadness from his face is gone. He cocks his head in the direction we need to go. “Come on. I’m freezing in these clothes.”
“How many bedrooms is your house?”
He swings open his bedroom door, flipping on the light. I want to brag about how I’ve been in this room and on his bed.
“Five. I know it’s just me, but I always wanted a big family. I figured I might as well get a house that, hopefully, can hold that dream. Heck, two rooms are about to be taken.”
The drawer to his dresser grinds as Fitz opens it. He plucks a black shirt from the top. “I hope you don’t mind an old garage shirt.”
“Are you kidding? You’ll be lucky to even get it back.” I snatch it from him before he can take it back. I bring the shirt to my nose and inhale. “Smells like you.”
He grabs a shirt too, pushing the drawer shut while laughing. “Well, according to my friends, that’s a bad thing. They said, and I quote, “I reek today.”’
I step into his space, pressing my nose into the middle of his chest. Lifting my eyes to his, I can’t help the possessive growl that rolls in my chest for him. My beasts are all too happy to be this close.
His Adam’s apple bobs and I hear the slight change of his heart rate increase.
“They are wrong. You smell delicious to me.” I need to be careful. If I lose control, it could mean the end of my entire plan to have Fitz fall in love with me.
I won’t stop until he does.