34. Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Three
Lysander
M y heart hammers against my ribcage as I run toward the lacy white foam of the waves breaking against the beach—not because of the exertion, but because of the knife’s edge of panic sinking into my mind at the sight of Teddy and this Anton guy.
I splash into the warm salt water, my steps slowing as the sea rises past my shins, my knees—until I dive into a breaking wave—paddling to where Teddy and Anton tread water beyond the swells.
“Hey—why’d you take off?” I call to Teddy as soon as I’m within earshot.
“And who’s this—the trust fund kid?” Anton nods his head at me, his massive golden cross necklace glittering just beneath the water’s surface.
Teddy’s tight expression turns into an outright frown, but he doesn’t respond directly to Anton—opting instead to bypass his comment entirely and introduce me as if nothing has happened.
“Lysander, this is—” Teddy begins, but I cut him off, not bothering to warm the chill in my voice.
“Yeah, I know who he is,” I interrupt coldly. “Why did you just take off like that to talk to this asshole?” I take a page from Anton’s own book, talking to Teddy about him as if he weren’t there.
Anton lets out a big belly laugh and tips backward so he floats easily in a reclining position.
“Oho, the prissy little tranq-boy is defending his territory! How cute!” he teases in overblown baby-talk.
“Shut the fuck up Anton, don’t call him that,” Teddy groans with exasperation.
That’s about all I need to see. Some machismo-laiden paragon of toxic masculinity who had matched with Britt is being a complete and total ass. Not exactly a surprise.
Teddy was probably trying to avoid interacting with him by ditching out into the surf, and I can’t say that I blame him. Since the escape plan backfired, I’ll act as rescue team—collecting Teddy and bringing him back to the rest of the pack so that we can circle the wagons until this stupid drama farming exercise is over and we can go back to the peace of our villa for the rest of the night before we have to pack for home tomorrow.
I look to the shoreline, and my stomach clutches as I see a cluster of people approaching our beach chairs; a small blonde woman, in an even smaller pink bikini, making a straight line for Ursula’s open seat between Ash and Mavren.
“Hey Teddy,” I call to him. “I think we’d better get back to the others,” I suggest uneasily.
“Ah, shit,” Teddy hisses under his breath once he catches sight of the unfolding drama on the beach. “Yeah, you’re right Sandy—let’s motor.” Teddy prepares to begin the swim back to shore with me—when Anton’s hand splashes up and out of the water with surprising speed—clamping part way around one of Teddy’s massive biceps.
“C’mon man, have you really turned into a complete and total pussy in the last few days?” Anton asks Teddy, incredulity knitting his brows.
“Let go of me, Anton,” Teddy warns, pulling his arm free of Anton’s grip easily.
“You’ve got to be kidding me, man—are you actually serious right now?” Anton shakes his head in disbelief, barking a fake laugh when Teddy doesn’t respond, just turns his back on him.
I begin to paddle toward the shore, Teddy splashing behind—when I hear Anton’s voice again, breath hitching slightly with the effort of paddling and kicking after us as he taunts, “You’re really gonna just lift your leg and alpha piss all over Ursula and her lame ass pack when you could pull a literal goddess even hotter than Britt once this stupid show airs and you’re still single?” he scoffs.
Antons words make something inside me recoil, a sour sensation like nausea turning my stomach, but Teddy doesn’t say anything—just keeps kicking and paddling behind me—until both of us can touch the bottom once more, legs pumping in the wet moving sand, as the waves draw back from the beach.
“You can’t be serious dude! ” Anton continues to call after us, stumbling his way onto the sand—hot on our heels.
I reach for Teddy’s hand, but he doesn’t take it—instead snatching his entire arm away, his strides taking him further from Anton—but also from me.
The rejection hurts so deeply, my eyes begin to well with tears. Suddenly I’m back on the grounds of the family estate—reaching desperately for my father, being shunned for being too soft, too emotional, too feminine—too needy.
Through the blurred vision, I catch sight of a flash of red—flickering like flame. I blink away my tears to see Ursula, Mavren, Ash, and Ronan backing her up—my pack on a collision course for Teddy, Anton, and I.
“Oh what—you called for reinforcements because you can’t have a conversation man-to-man anymore?” Anton gestures at the united front of Pack Gold bearing down upon us, punctuating the question with a mocking laugh.
“Maybe you should take a hint and just get out of here, Anton,” I snarl, lips pulling back from my teeth in a hateful grimace.
“Nobody asked you, kid!” Anton shouts back at me, before starting in on Teddy again, “What—did you pick up a twink boyfriend too in the process?” he scoffs, and I stop dead in my tracks—holding my breath.
Teddy whips around so fast that Anton actually walks directly into him— Anton’s hands up to keep himself from knocking skulls with Teddy.
“Anton—what the fuck makes you think that you know me?” Teddy growls, his alpha aura expanding like crackling electricity in the salty sea air.
For a moment, I could swear I saw fear flash in Anton’s eyes.
“Because!” Anton’s face softens into a knowing smile—his hands rising to rest on Teddy’s shoulders affectionately. “You and I are the same Teddy, old pal.” He grins warmly—leaning in to whisper something I can’t hear in Teddy’s ear.
Whatever he says makes Teddy jerk back—free from Anton’s grip; a look that reviles the secret words—that speaks of pure disgust.
I’m worried Teddy is going to wind up and punch Anton’s teeth in, when Ursula appears between the two alphas—her olive gold skin and brilliant crimson swimsuit making her appear as some angel of war between two sparring demigods.
“Alright you two—no one brought a fucking ruler to the beach so we can call it quits on this dick measuring contest you’ve been working on over here,” Ursula snaps, her voice devoid of its usual brassy warmth—a cold and inflexible base note to her reprimand.
Anton stumbles back a step—visibly shaken.
“U-ursula?” He blinks, actually seeing her for the first time.
“Anton, the asshole gym owner, I presume?” she claps back—hands in fists posted on her hips.
“I—you,” he stammers, taking in the sight of her.
“They’re tits Anton, Britt has them too—if you don’t have something nice to say—which I know you don’t; why don’t you literally ‘pound sand.’” She sneers, shoving past him to grab my hand.
“Ursula—wait, I can explain,” Anton stammers, his expression softening as he tries to plead his case. “This isn’t what it looks like.” He jumps into her path—standing so close to the two of us that I can smell his coal-tar whiskey scent even in the high wind. “Teddy isn’t what he looks like,” he spits out, venomously—his hand reaching for Ursula’s arm.
Something inside me breaks free, like the branch of a flowering tree snapping and falling to the ground—its green wood, shifting and slithering into the shape of a snake, coiling its body in readiness to strike.
Anton’s fingers barely have time to touch Ursula’s wrist when I explode into action.
My fist connects with the underside of Anton’s jaw as I drive it skyward—a choked sound of pain escaping him as he topples backward into the sand.
Ursula sways on her feet as my theta scent vaporizes with the heat of my rage—Anton’s eyes drooping closed from my tranquilizing perfume rather than head trauma as he slackens—flat on his back in the sand.
“Oh SHIT! Let’s go, Sandy!” Ash cheers with a loud clap—though the others seem a bit more reluctant to celebrate outright.
I turn my attentions to Ursula—steadying her woozy weaving with an arm around her waist.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have resorted to violence—but when he touched you, I just saw red.” I hang my head, shame coursing through me.
Ursula blinks away her drowsy haze, lifting one hand to touch my face as she looks over my shoulder at Anton snoozing in the sand.
“There might have been a better way, that’s true—but considering how much trouble Anton was having with listening or respecting boundaries—I have to admit that I’m glad you threw hands at him before he put hands on me.”
There’s a chorus of affirmative humming and nodding from the others, but Teddy just has his face in his hands, shaking his head.
“Now is neither the time or place,” Mavren begins in a cool, serious tone. “But you have some explaining to do when we get back to the villa tonight, Theodore,” he growls, his alpha aura settling like a weighted blanket over our pack. “Assuming that none of us are kicked off of the show for these little antics.” Mavren’s gaze sweeps over us, his disapproval palpable.
I open my mouth but Mavren holds up his hand. “I’m not saying you weren’t justified in putting him on his ass, Lysander, I’m just saying that we gotta face facts. It’s a distinct possibility.”
Teddy crosses his arms protectively in front of his chest, but nods solemnly in the affirmative.
Nothing left to do but help Anton up off his ass, and wait to see if the consequences of this action land me and the rest of our pack in a disciplinary disqualification and ejection from the show.