Chapter 5 Vae
Vae
PAST
Maria walks down the line, looking like a general from one of those war movies. Her dark brown eyes narrow, and her high heels clack when they hit the lino. I love that sound, though I will never tell her.
We’re supposed to be scared, but I can’t find even an iota of fear in me. Deacon reaches out and clasps my hand. I reach for Mal’s. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him grab Raynor’s.
We are a united front.
She doesn’t miss it, and, I swear, I see her lips tilt just a fraction before she firms them and snarls.
“Which of the four of you did it?”
I keep my eyes straight ahead. Don’t laugh, Vae. Do not laugh.
“Which one of you did it!” she roars.
My lips twitch, and she zeros in on it like a bloodhound.
“Vae!”
“Yes, madam?”
“You did it?”
I shake my head, but I can’t stop the smile from peeking through. Maria gives us no love, but she doesn’t treat us badly either. She gives us what she can, and I love her anyway. She is my mum, even though I will never say it out loud.
“I’ll never tell!” I say like it’s a war cry.
She stops, turns on her heels, clicking them together, and bends so her face is at the same height as mine.
“You will live to regret your decision, child.”
I smile back, completely unafraid.
PRESENT
The contract arrived in my email early this morning. I’d read through the points carefully. It was suspiciously detailed. Enough that I sat for a while having the worst case of second thoughts.
I need to quit my job because I’m now employed by Marilyn on a very basic salary, but I don’t need much.
My sole job is to get Deacon and Malcolm to grow up.
This is underscored by a very specific list. Arriving on time.
Attending and behaving in a professional manner at club events and venues, including on the ice.
Maintaining clean uniforms and hygiene. Sticking to club rules, including no partying, drinking, or brawling.
To adhere to their strict diets. Showing empathy and consideration for other people and learning to work together with the rest of the team.
It’s a short list. There’s only seven items on it. Seven totally and completely normal requirements that should be easy to reproduce in my best friends.
It seems like an impossible task. No, it is an impossible task.
I almost turned it down, but the first three months of rent at the apartment are mine, regardless, with no stipulations on where I choose to live.
I don’t need to get Deacon and Malcolm to accomplish all of them, just most of them.
But if I can achieve this miracle, I will get a bonus that is substantial enough that it could be the deposit I need to start my little bakery dream, that would have me self-sufficient and able to support myself.
Ironically, my contract isn’t with the Scented Scorpions; it’s with Marilyn herself. Which makes me nervous, though I can’t say why.
There’s also a brochure for an omega matching centre, where I can go to request an alpha to help with my heat. Or, like she offered before, a brief write-up on Jansen, an alpha she is friends with who is good in these kinds of circumstances.
Just thinking about it gives me the ick.
I’d signed it and sent it back within minutes and then stewed on it all day, second-guessing myself.
An hour ago, I received a text message saying there was a car with a delivery for me. When I went out to the road, a nice beta handed me an envelope that was strangely heavy. A quick check showed a copy of the contract and a bank card that had a note attached saying to be used for rent.
I’m staring at it now, helpless, because I know if I set up that card or pull out the contract, it’s going to change my life, and I don’t want to. Not yet.
Footsteps in the hallway barely give me enough time to shove everything under my pillow. My door swings open, and Mal stalks in. He kicks off his shoes, lays down on my bed, pulls me into his arms, and tosses a thickly muscled thigh over my legs just for good measure.
I could drown in his caramel scent.
“Truce?”
My tension eases with his quiet question. “Okay. Just tonight.” I hesitate. “Where’s Indy?”
“She, Raynor, and Deacon had a massive fight, and she’s gone home.”
I am relieved, yet also still strangely hurt. They should dump her, wake up, and realise they want to be with me forever.
Yeah, right.
“You should have seen Deac on the ice today; he was on fire.”
I wriggle in his arms until I’m facing him, my face buried in his chest.
With anyone else, this position might be sexual, but we’ve been hugging like this for years, and it never means anything to them.
“Was he good today?”
“Good?” Mal pauses. “I’m not sure good is the word. Violent. Distressed. Furious.”
I bury my face in his chest again.
Mal strokes a hand down my back. “It was hilarious; I thought the coach was going to bust a vein. I’ve seen him mad, but not like that.”
“Is Raynor speaking?”
“Not yet. He will, though; it’s only a matter of time.” Mal kisses the top of my head. “But what did you do today?”
“Work,” I mumble, lying through my teeth.
“Was it good?”
I make a noncommittal sound. There are some evil thoughts I have that mess with my brain and try to take me down a crazy dark path.
If I go to sleep, will I wake up tomorrow morning?
I’m never going to experience this moment again.
And this one I will never love the way I love them. Not in my lifetime.
Can loneliness kill a person?
I wonder how long until I expire.
“Have you set your alarm?” I mumble trying to suppress my anxious thoughts.
He mumbles into my hair, but I’m too content to move. This is my happy place.
“Mmm.” Mal squeezes me close to him. “Do you really have to go?”
My eyes open. He’s said this to me before. I’ve heard him say this before. To his aunt when she came for the one and only visit. To our foster carer when she died, and now to me. But I won’t be like them. I’ll still be here, won’t I? This isn’t the end of us, is it?
PRESENT
I jerk upright, reaching for my phone to silence the shrill scream. A heavy arm tries to pull me back down, and Mal snuggles into my back, groaning and rubbing, oh, God, morning wood. I mean, it’s not the first time I’ve felt it, but there could be consequences.
I scramble out of his arms, managing to roll onto my stomach and reach for my phone, but, damn, if Mal doesn’t follow, pushing my thighs apart and draping his body over mine.
This stupid, ridiculous, self-indulgent feline part of me preens, wanting to do nothing more but curl up smaller so he can cover even more of me. The heavy, hot weight of him crushing me to my bed that smells like him and me. His hard dick nestled between the very thin sleep shorts I’m wearing.
I claw at the pillow, struggling to breathe evenly. He flexes, and I just about melt. This sensation of pulling claws at my lower abdomen, grabbing nerves and muscles and turning me to liquid heat.
“Mal!” my voice comes out in a croak. I clear my throat while I fight to remain still. “Mal, please. You have to wake up.”
Why? Why does he have to wake up? He will regret this if I let it continue, that’s why.
He nuzzles my shoulders and reaches over me, grabbing the pillow.
His hands are all veiny and huge. Strong, capable hands, I’ve fantasized about those hands.
I bite my lip until I taste blood. He grunts as he thrusts up, the enormous length of him now nestled between my ass cheeks, my shorts wedged high.
I bite my wrist and pant, squeezing the pillow as I try to get hold of myself.
“Mal!” I shout.
He grinds into me again and then stills.
“Oh, fuck!” Just as suddenly, he rolls off me, springing up. “Shit, sorry, Vae. Oh, man, I’m late. Gotta go.”
And just like that, he’s gone. I bury my face in the pillow, trying not to cry. My pussy aches, and I’m wet, wetter than I’ve ever been. I slide a hand down and carefully slip my hand between my thighs. I’m soaking.
This must be slick.
“No!”
I spring up as fast as Malcolm did.
“No. This isn’t right.”
The door slams open, and Deacon glares at me. “We’re late. You’re driving. Hurry up.”
I want to protest, but I don’t want him to pay too much attention to me.
“Okay,” I say weakly.
His eyes travel up and down me before he inhales. He takes half a step into the room, his eyes burning with a light that makes me dizzy.
“Deacon! HURRY UP!” Mal shouts from the other end of the house.
He steps back, and I’m able to release the breath I’m holding. With one last lingering look, he steps out of my room and races off. It doesn’t take me long to get ready, and, in fifteen minutes, I’m sitting in the car, giving myself the pep talk from hell.
I glare out the windscreen, trying to get my body under control. But I vividly recall the way he felt, the sensuous way he moved on me.
“Oh, God, stop, please.”
I reach into the glove box and pull out some of the scent-neutralizing spray I picked up yesterday.
It smells awful, which is bizarre, but as long as it masks mine, I don’t care.
I spray half the damn bottle in the car with me, but the minute I see Mal on the porch, my scent tries to make an appearance.
I spray my clothes and shove the bottle in the side of the door.
Mal climbs in the back, right behind me where I can’t see him, but I can feel him.
His hand lands on my shoulder, and I can feel his breath on the back of my neck. My whole body tenses, ignoring my screaming brain.
“Indy’s coming over for dinner tonight. It would be really good if you could make her favourite.”
I stiffen, the warmth, the arousal leaching out at an alarming rate, leaving me distressingly clear-headed and cold, so cold inside.
I glance in the rearview mirror and see him smiling at his phone. It was supposed to be a glance, but I can’t look away, not until the door wrenches open, and Deacon slides into the passenger seat.