Chapter 13
13
APRIL
“Excuse me for a moment,” I say to Connor, who looks at Donovan with shock in his expression.
“I didn’t mean to?—”
“You’re fine,” I say, then hurry over to Donovan, who now has blood running down his hand and is watching my every move.
What the hell?
He looks livid.
“You’re bleeding,” I say, grabbing a cloth napkin from a table and pressing it over the open wound. “Shit, and there’s glass in here, Donovan. What are you doing?”
But Donovan snatches my hand with his clean one and leads me past the ballroom and out a pair of doors I hadn’t seen before.
We end up in a garden illuminated by tiny lights that line a stone path. It reminds me a bit of the place where Liam and I shared our first kiss.
But that time, Donovan wasn’t dripping blood on the ground.
“Let me go,” I snap, and Donovan drops his hand and turns to me, wholly ignoring his injury.
“Are you having a nice time?” he snaps, and I look at him, my mouth hanging open. “Making business transactions with Connor instead of spending time with your pack?”
I blink. “Are you jealous ?”
The audacity this man has to tell him I’m not good for him, then act like this .
“If you wanted to expand your business, all you had to do was ask me,” he says lowly, fire in his eyes. “You don’t need to go to anyone else for that, much less another Alpha.”
He smells like salt, citrus, and everything I love about the ocean, but there’s also a spiciness to his scent.
The aroma of his possession and fury.
“Connor is nice ,” I snap, and Donovan growls. “Are you familiar with that word? Nice? And apparently thought he was your friend.”
“Not anymore,” he quips.
I bark out a humorless laugh. “You’re impossible, Donovan. He approached me. He has a coffee company, we were talking?—”
“I don’t care what he has. If you want something, you ask it from me. ”
Blood drips obscenely on the ground, but it’s as if he doesn’t notice he cut his hand open.
“I’m not your Omega,” I hiss, quiet enough that it’s barely above a whisper. “Or have you forgotten?”
He narrows his eyes. “You’re mine , for all intents and purposes.”
“I’m not yours.” I sound petulant and angry.
I hope the asshole bleeds to death.
But then he takes my hand again and pulls us deeper into the garden, his ocean scent swirling around me and making my head spin until we’re under a gazebo lit by string lights. A manmade pond is next to it with the gentle sound of water bubbling.
It’s beautiful out here. Donovan’s scent mixes with lilacs and roses, and in any other setting, I would find this romantic.
“You’re mine until that contract ends,” he says lowly, and I crane my neck up to get a good look at him.
“When’s the last time you slept?” I demand, disturbed by the dark circles under his icy eyes.
He looks…off.
Like he’s sick.
He searches my gaze but doesn’t answer the question.
Droplets of blood make a sickening soft thud against the wooden floor of the gazebo. His bloody hand clutches the napkin, which is now stained with splotches of crimson.
I should let the pompous asshole bleed out.
But he keeps his gaze on me, unblinking, and the intensity of it makes me stay.
“Sit down,” I murmur, “before you bleed to death.”
His own suit is dark navy, with a pocket square that I realize matches my dress as I join him on the gazebo bench, doing my best to sit in the tight bodice. The dress fans beneath me, leaving me in a pool of crimson silk.
“Give me your hand,” I say, and Donovan hesitates.
“That’s a ten-thousand-dollar dress,” he says, and I snort.
“Of course it is. You can afford the dry cleaning, then.”
He holds out his palm, and I cringe when I see the damage the glass made. I do my best to soak up the blood with the napkin and stop when I see a particularly nasty piece of glass imbedded in the wound.
“Do you not know how to hold a drink like a normal person?” I tease. I try not to let his closeness get to me, but his scent is potent, and my mouth waters.
I missed him.
He growls. “He was flirting with you,” he says.
“He owns a coffee company.”
“I would buy you a coffee company.”
This infuriating man and his ridiculous contradictions. They make my chest ache, because I believe he would buy me a coffee company.
So then why would he say those awful things?—
“I’m going to pull this piece of glass out,” I say, interrupting my own train of thought.
He grunts in agreement.
“It’s going to hurt,” I warn him, not feeling guilty at all. “You’re probably going to need stitches.”
“As long as it doesn’t ruin your dress, it’s fine.”
I shake my head. “I don’t understand you,” I huff.
“You’re the most beautiful thing here. You deserve to stay spotless,” he says evenly. I meet his eyes for a moment, catching the intensity of the iciness behind them.
He’s so confusing.
At least I know what I get with Hunter and Liam.
Donovan hides what troubles him, and frankly, I don’t have the energy to drag it out of him.
But I can’t deny the pull I feel to him, and the urge to uncover his secrets.
It’s awful.
Ignoring his compliment, I clutch the jagged shard between my forefinger and thumb, carefully pulling. I should wait until I have tweezers, but a thick piece of glass in his palm could easily grow infected.
I don’t want to see him hurt, at least not from something like this.
He’s still as I pull the shard out, then place it next to me on the bench of the gazebo.
“Is that all of it?” I ask carefully, as he examines his palm, looking unaffected by the injury.
“It’s fine,” he says evenly, wrapping the napkin back around his hand. “Thank you.”
“You should get that checked out,” I say. “You’re probably going to need stitches.”
“It will be fine,” he repeats, and I look at him incredulously.
“Why are you like this?” I blurt, drained from my conversation with Hunter and still heartbroken from Donovan’s words.
He raises an eyebrow. “I’m sorry?”
“It’s just us out here,” I motion to the garden. “You don’t have to pretend to be jealous or compliment me.”
At that, he actually chuckles . “You think I’m pretending,” he deadpans. “You think I enjoyed you talking to Connor in there?”
“Frankly, I don’t think you enjoy anything,” I say, my face flaming. “I don’t know what’s happened since my Heat, but I thought we were at least friends before. And now…” I motion to his face. “You’re acting like an emotionless vampire. You’ve shut off from me completely, and that’s fine, but giving me ridiculously expensive clothing and filling my bank accounts when you don’t need to doesn’t make sense. No one knows you’re doing it. So why , when it’s obvious you can’t stand to be around me?”
He's silent for a moment, studying me. “I do those things because I want to,” he says softly. “I…like doing those things for you.”
I swallow, tears springing to my eyes. “You told me I wasn’t good for the pack,” I say finally. “That I wasn’t good for you .”
I hiss the last words.
He flinches slightly and looks away from me.
“I misspoke,” he says.
I swallow. “You…misspoke,” I repeat. “You misspoke ?”
He nods, and I’m furious at myself for how relieved I feel at his words.
I don’t want him to have this much power over me, not after he’s hurt me so deeply.
I stand and look down at him. “Is that your way of apologizing, Donovan?” I hiss. “You can’t even say you’re sorry ?”
He stands as well, towering above me, fury in his eyes. I try to take a step back, but he grips me by my shoulders, pulling me closer to him. “Do you want to know what I’m sorry for?” he growls, and I freeze in shock as he continues. “I’m sorry that you heard what I told Steven. I’m sorry that he was even in your presence, and he was able to fucking look at you.”
My head spins, and he backs me against the wall of the gazebo, my back digging into the wood and surely ruining the precious ten thousand dollar dress. “I’m sorry that you’re the only fucking thing on my mind, and that I can’t even sleep when you’re not around. I’m sorry that I wasn’t the one that saved you from that hellhole.”
I blink in shock. I recall Vincent’s words from the other day about the death of my captor.
“The three inmates that jumped him suddenly had money put on their books. The most an account can hold at one time.”
I swallow. “What are you talking about?—”
“I’m sorry I let you down before I even met you,” he spits. “That’s what I do, April, and I’m fucking sorry.”
My eyes widen. “Is that what this is about? My past?” I shove at his chest, but he’s immovable. “You have some weird savior complex because you didn’t even know me at the time? What the fuck, Donovan?”
“I cannot be what you need. Ever. And I’m sorry for that.” He continues, looking down at me. “But that doesn’t change my feelings for you.”
I shake my head in disbelief. “What do you mean, that’s what you do ?” I shove at him again, and this time, he steps back. “What are you talking about?”
His lips thin, and his scent darkens. “I can’t save you, April. I can’t save anyone.”
I scoff. “I don’t need saving. I save myself. It’s not your job to save me.”
“It’s my job to take care of you.” He stays still, his eyes cold.
My head spins. “Why are you talking in riddles? Just be honest with me, Donovan. You can do that, right?”
I want to break his walls down, but if he refuses…
“I cannot be what you need, April,” he snarls.
“That’s not your decision. You don’t get to decide what I need. I decide.”
“You don’t know what you need,” he spits. “If you did, we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.”
My eyes widen, shame building in my chest.
“I misspoke,” he snaps. “I always do, when it comes to you. But I also know that this wouldn’t end well for us. You need something I— we —can’t give you.”
“You don’t decide that for me! ” I yell in Donovan’s face, all my hurt and shame on display. He remains still as stone, unmovable. “What are you so convinced you can’t give me, Donovan? What are you so sure of? Is it love ?” I choke on the words. “Because I don’t know if I can do that either! I don’t even know if I’m capable. But…you’re my friend, or at least I thought you were. Just talk to me .”
But his eyes have grown cold, and he simply looks down at me with indifference.
My words meant nothing to him.
“You should go back inside,” he says, an underlying command in his tone. My body fights to disobey him, to stand in the gazebo and tear my heart out in front of him.
“One day,” I say, my voice shaky. “You’ll realize you’re making a mistake.”
His face flickers with emotion, then turns impassive. “Go inside, April,” he says softly.
“I feel sorry for you,” I continue. “I fought to stay alive. You act like you’re already dead.”
I choke out the last words and hurry out of the garden, the metallic scent of Donovan’s blood still on my fingers.
I can’t breathe. My lungs burn, and the bodice doesn’t help me get enough air.
I try to hurry to a bathroom before anyone can see me.
A bathroom that I still can’t locate.
I pass by Connor, who mouths, “ I’m sorry .” I shoot a fake smile to him, then head down floral wallpaper covered hallways until I think I see what might be a bathroom.
“April!”
There’s a loud, feminine voice behind me, and my stomach drops.
Kelly fills my vision, her powdery Omega scent swarming around me.
This isn’t happening.
Not right now, when I’m on the verge of a nervous breakdown.
I cannot have a conversation with Pack Axton’s ex-girlfriend right now, especially when it feels like there’s a ten-pound lump in my throat.
But Kelly doesn’t notice. She looks lovely in a periwinkle-colored tulle ballgown with a stunning diamond choker around her neck.
She looks like she belongs with Pack Axton.
Kelly’s not broken.
She’s perfect.
She embraces me in a light hug and kisses my cheek, a champagne flute in her hand. “You look… stunning ,” she gasps, her eyes wide with delight. “I’m so happy I ran into you! I’ve been looking for you all night!”
My stomach drops. “Oh?” I ask, doing my best to appear confident after Donovan shattered my heart.
“Yes! I wanted to say hi to you and make sure you were still coming to my wedding!” Her hair is half up in luscious waves, and her makeup looks professionally done.
I feel…inadequate, to say the least.
And I almost forgot about that damn wedding.
It’s the last event on the contract, and then my arrangement with Pack Axton is over.
Oh, god.
Will the last time I see them be at their ex’s wedding?
I’m going to vomit champagne all over Kelly’s gown.
“Well?” Kelly’s flawless face is scrunched in confusion. “You are, right?”
I chuckle politely, despite cringing on the inside. “Of course! How could I miss a wedding on an island ?”
I can hear Skylar snort laughing at me in my head for how ridiculous I sound.
But Kelly giggles. “Yes! I just wanted to make sure! I tried to talk to Donovan again, but he wouldn’t give me a straight answer.” She sighs. “Honestly, April, I don’t know how you do it. Those men are infuriating.”
I swallow. “They’re…something.”
“I’m glad they have you, though. They need someone with a decent head on their shoulders.”
I need her to stop smiling at me like that. It seems like she’s offering genuine friendship, but every time I look at her, all I see is what I could never be for the pack.
“Thanks,” I say, still feeling insignificant. “Do you know where the restroom is, by the way?”
“Oh! I think it’s that way.” She points in the opposite direction I was headed, to a different area I would have never entered. “Watch out with that door, though. It gets stuck.”
“Oh, thanks.”
I nod quickly, then turn to hurry away from Kelly, nausea pooling in my gut.
“Wait!”
I stop to look at Kelly, my face hurting from the tight smile on my face.
“I owe you an apology, April.”
I frown. “For what?”
She swallows, and I see insecurity flash in her eyes. “I was rude when we first met. I just assumed you were one of Donovan’s art students, and I was dismissive to you. I’m sorry.”
I raise an eyebrow in surprise. “I’m not worried about any of that. It’s fine, Kelly.”
“Yes, but first impressions are important to me!” she exclaims. “I think you’re great for the guys, and maybe one day we could do a girl’s shopping trip together?”
Yup. I’m going to vomit all over Kelly’s shoes.
I can’t even be mad at her, because she’s so freaking nice.
I’ll never be as nice or as confident as her. I’ll never invite someone on a shopping trip just for fun .
“That sounds great,” I say, the lie tasting bitter on my tongue. “I would love to. But if you’ll excuse me?—"
“Of course!” she takes a sip from her champagne and grins. “We’ll talk soon, okay?”
“Sure!” I repeat, trying to sound as chipper as she does and not like I’m on the verge of a breakdown. I turn and make my way in the direction Kelly pointed.
I vow not to burst into tears until I’m safely in the bathroom away from the guests.
The bathroom is in a secluded area, far away from the rest of the chatter. It’s not multiple stalls; it’s just like it would be in someone’s home, with a single toilet and vanity sink. Floral wallpaper lines the walls, and sconces illuminate the room.
I close the door and lock it behind me, fighting the anxiety that comes with being locked inside. I lean against the wall and put my face in my hands.
What a fucking mess.
I breathe in and out slowly, but I can’t shake the image of Donovan’s intense gaze.
Who is he to decide what’s best for me and why does he torture himself about it?
I wish Skylar were here. She would know what to do.
She’d probably tell me to kick him in the balls, actually.
I groan.
I try to recite flavors of macarons in my head, listing off different colors and ingredients until my vision clears and my head stops pounding. I lean against the wall, letting out a deep exhale.
I need to go back out there and find Hunter and Liam. I need to at least pretend to be a good girlfriend.
After a moment of gathering myself and accepting that my life is a cruel joke, I unlock the door and attempt the turn the doorknob.
It’s stuck.
I try again.
The doorknob doesn’t move.
“What the fuck?” I mutter under my breath.
I fiddle with it, grip, and twist it.
Nothing happens.
A trickle of anxiety makes its way through my bloodstream, followed by a wave of panic as I struggle with the door.
You’re not back there. You’re in the bathroom of a fancy Victorian house.
My chest constricts and my movements grow frantic. I place a heeled foot against the door and tug , but nothing happens.
I pull and yank, then start pounding on the door, my fists burning.
I’m locked in here. I’m locked in here, and I can’t get out.
I start kicking wildly, scuffing my perfect thousand dollar shoes and throwing my body against the door.
They’re the same movements I used to do in the dark, desperately trying to open that fucking door.
Except this door is pristine, and that one was…that one was in hell.
But it feels like I’m still there, because I can’t get out .
I bang on the door. “HELP!”
I don’t care that I sound crazy.
But the bathroom is far away from everything else. The chatter and music faded long before I reached the hallway.
No one is going to hear me.
I kick at the door, but nothing happens. I try until I’m sobbing and gripping the handle like a lifeline.
I have a full breakdown in the bathroom, hot, ugly tears streaming down my face and ruining my makeup.
I’m only proving Donovan’s point.
How could anyone want me anyway, when I can’t even handle being in a room with a jammed door?
What if he saw me weeping because I couldn’t get a door open?
My inner Omega whimpers with shame, the sting of Donovan’s rejection still in my mind.
Finally, kneeling on the floor, I dump the contents of my clutch out until I find my phone.
With shaky fingers, I unblock the number I never should have avoided in the first place.
But I had to block him at the time. I knew his texts would hurt, and it would be easy to give in to him when I was in Isleton.
He understands my anxiety and fear like one else, because he suffers from it, too.
I swallow my pride and text Liam.
Locked in the bathroom. Please help.
Then I drop my phone, place my face in my hands, and weep.