Chapter 3 - Donna
Nicholas Bartalow is the most insufferable creature I’ve ever met.
How does he still have the balls to show his face here after what he did?
He’s bold, I’ll give him that. Brave and arrogant about his confidence, no doubt. But those aren’t traits I find commendable. On the contrary, it makes it harder to stand him, makes me hate him even more.
What a jerk!
“Ugh!” I groan, blowing out a frustrated breath through puckered lips as I sink my head between two pillows, fists pounding against the lush covers on either side of me.
I feel as pathetic as I must look, but at least no one is around to see me in this state. My arms flail in the air, and I kick my legs like an insolent child throwing a tantrum because I didn’t get enough candy today.
It’s not like I want any candy from him, anyway!
Not after what he did last summer. Back then, I was so blissfully unaware of how heartbreak could disrupt someone’s life. I’d never known pain of that magnitude until I met Nicholas Barlalow and lost myself in his forest-green eyes.
Those eyes were a trap, and I fell into that rabbit hole; it took me almost the whole year to crawl out. Every step I’ve taken since then is careful, cautious, my jaded heart refusing to become a victim like that ever again.
No one knows what it’s like to be rejected until they’ve experienced it. I had no idea until it happened to me. Cecelia once told me what happened between her and my brother when he rejected her before leaving for black ops, and all I could do was empathize with her and offer her advice.
But they were meant for each other, and my brother is nothing like the self-centered, arrogant Nicholas. He did what I knew he would, and he stepped up and became the man who deserves to be with my best friend.
I was stupid enough to fall for the wrong guy, because there’s no redemption for a man like Nicholas.
The first time I met him, I saw that cocksure glint in his eyes.
That should have been enough of a warning sign to stay away, but he was so charming—oh, so very charming and cunning—that I’d ignored the red flags and fell hard.
But falling as hard as that also means the impact is harder, and the crash sent fragments of my heart scattering into pieces I’m still picking up to this day.
I sigh heavily and press my eyes shut against the moisture threatening to overwhelm me, willing myself to stop thinking about him and fall asleep instead.
But just as I take a deep breath to calm my nerves, those very nerves are ignited with awareness when my lungs fill with the fresh scent of wood and spices, with a hint of lavender that’s almost missable without recognition.
Nicholas….
My body naturally responds to his scent as I sit upright, throwing my legs off the bed and drifting toward it as if it beckons to me. Mindlessly, I walk to the door of the lavish tent, my heart slowing down when I’m an inch away.
Behind the door, I can hear him breathing, and my own breath catches in my throat, my heart skipping a beat. When it pulses again, sensations spread through my body, goosebumps erupting on the flesh of my arms.
I snap my thighs shut, appalled by the natural response to Nicholas’s closeness, even with the tent separating us. I gasp in horror, my fingertips tingling in the same way they used to whenever I touched him.
I hate that he still has this effect on me, and I clench my hands into tight fists, not wanting to feel the effects of breathing in his scent.
I thought I’d made myself strong enough to combat my feelings, but maybe I was wrong.
Maybe I need to be stronger.
The only feeling more powerful than this one is my hatred for him—raw, undiluted anger that burns from the core of my being, sparked the moment he rejected me in Wells.
Clinging to that hatred with every fiber of my resolve, I pull myself together, crawl out of the fog I almost lost myself in, and head back to bed. I’m not going to let him get to me like this. I’m not going to care that he’s outside, hanging near my tent for whatever reason. I don’t care.
My body, on the other hand, is wildly out of sync with my hatred for Nicholas, little flickers of electric awareness pulsing through my veins and crawling beneath my flesh as if vying for my attention.
I slip into bed, burying myself in a cocoon between the pillows and sheets and covering my head to make it go away—to make this feeling go away. I can’t stand his existence anymore, and I can’t wait to get as far away from him as possible.
“Tomorrow…” I whisper to myself with reassurance. “Tomorrow is another day…tomorrow I’ll leave….”
I repeat the reassuring words to myself until I’m calmer, until the sensations subside and nearly disappear. Only a dull ache remains, but I close my eyes and allow that feeling to drag me into the void of sleep. That’s the safest place for me to be tonight, far from Nicholas, far from pain.
***
“...that’s why Cece and I decided to visit my friends. As the newly appointed alpha, I want to strengthen ties with all the packs who joined forces for black ops,” Dominic continues, explaining our visit to Nicholas while we’re seated around the dinner table.
“I’ll take any excuse for my best friend to visit me,” Nicholas winks at Dominic, turning back to his dinner plate.
But not before stealing a glance at me.
My heart flutters, and I look down at my plate, frowning as I reach for my wine glass.
What the hell is going on? Why am I feeling so skittish? Under the table, I’m kicking my legs like a kid on a swing, ready to take flight in the air.
I take a sip of wine and steal a glance at Nicholas, only to find him staring at me through his lashes. Eyes fiercely penetrating in emerald, my heart skips a beat, my breath catching in my throat, while my nerve-fibers sizzle with awareness.
Something unexplainable is happening, and for the first time in my life, my inner wolf feels out of control. Too hot. Too flushed. Too large for my body, for my skin.
I need fresh air.
Clearing my throat as I tear my gaze away from Nicholas, I turn to find my brother staring at me expectantly.
“Are you alright, Dons?” he quips with an arched brow, tone suspicious as he continues staring at me. “Did you hear what I asked?”
“I—er—sorry,” I stammer, flustered. An invisible chain wraps around my throat, choking me, the air around me suffocating. I feel a bead of sweat break out on my brow and lift my napkin to my forehead.
“Donna…? You look like you’re gonna be sick,” Cecelia worriedly exclaims, getting to her feet, but I stop her from rushing over to me with a raised hand.
“I’m fine, Cece, I promise. I just…I just need to be excused to—” I clear my throat. “I need the restroom.”
Cecelia nods as she cradles her growing belly, slowly sinking back into her seat and glancing at Nicholas. He calmly rises to his feet, strolling behind me and pulling the chair out just enough that I can stand up.
“I’ll show you where the restroom is,” he assures me, his voice calm and measured. “You’ll have to know where it is if you guys are gonna be here for the next two weeks,” he chuckles lightly, throwing Dominic and Cecelia a charming grin.
At this point, my knees are practically shaking, weak from being so close to him. I’m about to lose my mind, my vision blurring as I follow him down the hallway toward the bathroom.
He appears so calm and collected that it makes me feel crazy to be feeling this way. Where is this coming from?
The first time I met Nicholas in Nightmist, we’d shaken hands, and I thought I felt something stir, but I dismissed it.
The second time I met him at Dominic and Cecelia’s wedding, I tried to deny feeling drawn to him.
Now, it feels like I’m going into heat—it’s everything Cecelia described it to be, but worse.
“Over there, on your left,” Nicholas points out, but his husky tone is my undoing. The little dignity I had left crumbles when my knees cave, and I stumble forward.
A pair of strong hands clutch my shoulders like protective pads, warm, inducing a raging fire through my veins, but also catching me before I fall forward.
“Whoa…careful there, Donna,” Nicholas’s smooth, sultry voice warns me gently as he steadies me on my feet. But the moment he turns me around to face him, our eyes meet again, and I lose myself in the vibrant, emerald depths that call to my inner wolf.
A frown flits past his face, his expression smoothing out in recognition this time. Without a word, he pulls me into the bathroom, shutting the door behind us as his breath comes out in uneven pants.
His hands return to my shoulders, his eyes never leaving mine.
“Your brother’s gonna kill me for this…” he drawls, his hot breath fanning my face and arresting me in this moment where nothing matters.
Not my brother, not Cecelia, not their unborn child, not Dominic and Nicholas’s friendship. Nothing matters except quelling this aching desire, and that’s when I reach out and grab the back of his head, pulling him in for a ravenous kiss that awakens every dormant nerve ending in my body.
He kisses me back with equal fervor, his tongue diving into my mouth for exploration, his hands all over my waist, my hips, my rear, my thighs.
“What’s happening?” I pant when I break the kiss, frowning deeply as I stare into eyes that have turned dark with greedy desire.
“I don’t—” Nicholas gulps, licking my saliva off his lips. “All I know is that I must have you.”
My heart skips a beat again, my fingers carding through his blonde hair. Now that we’re so close, I can see every tiny freckle on his face, the way his mouth is shaped like a heart because of a prominent cupid’s bow, pink and swollen from our abrupt kiss.
“This is crazy…” I try denial, but it doesn’t work when Nicholas leans in again.
“No, it isn’t,” he protests, eyes lingering on my lips with hunger. “I’ve wanted you since the first day I met you, Donna. You’ve just been holding out on me.”
His eyes lift to mine again, and I see a flicker of sincerity that makes me realize I wasn’t imagining things all along. Every silent half-smile, every stolen glance, every time our paths crossed—it meant something.
Dominic was destined to be Nicholas’s best friend, because I was destined to meet him through my brother.
I shake my head slowly, saying, “I’m not holding out anymore.”
Nicholas’s lips curl into a seductive smirk, and he kisses me more passionately this time, deeper, desperate.
He breaks the kiss, breathlessly rasping against my lips, “Meet me in the courtyard at nightfall….”
***
My heart lurches even before my eyes spring open, jolting me awake with the memory of that night haunting me even when I try escaping him through sleep.
Sighing in exasperation, I turn on the bedside lamp on the nightstand, covering the air in a soft, yellow glow that should feel cozy. But even as I hug my arms over my chest, nothing helps to stop the tears from falling from my eyes.
I wish I hadn't seen him tonight, because seeing him again only unearthed the memories I'd buried. That dream felt too real, and I don't want to relive the biggest mistake of my life.
I’ve never felt more alone than I do right now, than I have been feeling for this past year, when I couldn’t reveal to anyone what happened in Wells.
If I brought this up with Cecelia, I know what she’d tell me—the same thing I advised her when she discovered that she was my brother’s fated mate.
I don’t want to hear that fate is always right and that I should always follow my heart. I did that before, and that same heart got broken, ripped to shreds as if it meant nothing.
That's why being friends with Tobias is less complicated. With him, I don’t need to care about fated mate bonds and werewolf packs.
With him, it’s simple. He laughs when I make dumb jokes, listens when I ramble about case studies, and never makes me feel like I’m walking a tightrope between duty and desire. He’s just…safe.
But safety doesn’t stop the ache in my chest, and it never did for almost a year. I rode those thunderous waves of my heartbreak without anyone offering consolation—not even Tobias, even when he saw me cry.
He thought I was just overwhelmed with my studies, that’s all.
Being friends with him might be simple, but it’s too simple for these complicated emotions.
A fated mate bond is probably the most complicated relationship for a werewolf, while also being the simplest, most sacred bond between two wolves.
Nicholas Bartalow emerging as my fated mate was beyond my wildest expectations, and his rejection was the most heart-wrenching thing I’ve ever had to deal with.
But that only attests to my strength. I’ve faced it alone all this time, and I can continue doing that.
I just need to cling tighter to my hatred for Nicholas….
Scrubbing at my cheeks with the heels of my palms, I try to breathe through the storm inside me, my eyes drifting closed when suddenly, a sound cuts through the stillness of the night, snapping my eyes open again.
A low, drawn-out howl rings out from somewhere in the distance, but close enough for me to notice. It trembles with something wild and broken, and every muscle in my body freezes.
It can’t be…
The sound ripples through the trees, brushing against my soul like an old scar reopening—and I’ve had a few of those tonight. My heartbeat stammers, then begins to race. I know that sound. I’ve heard it before.
The night I left Wells, the night I swore I’d never look back. The night I swore that I’d never look in his eyes again.
Nicholas.
But that’s impossible. Dominic made it clear to his friends that there would be no shifting tonight. None of them would risk exposing themselves to Tobias.
So why does that howl sound like him?
I kick the blankets aside and stumble to my feet, snatching my robe from the chair.
My heart is pounding so hard, it hurts as I unlatch the chain on the wooden door and step into the moonlight.
The resort is quiet, every lamp dimmed except for the faint glow of overhead lights spilling from the communal path.
“Toby?” I whisper, looking toward his tent, my gut filling with suspicion. Silence greets me, and I frown.
A flicker of unease crawls over my spine as I step closer, pushing the door in and discovering the emptiness of Tobias’s tent. The bed is untouched, his shoes are gone from where he’d left them when I bid him goodnight earlier.
Panic coils in my stomach.
Did Nicholas drive my friend away? Is that why he’s howling out there?
I wouldn’t put it past the arrogant son-of-a-bitch who broke my heart. Fuming and seeing red, I march toward the woods. I hate that I can still recognize his scent after all this time. I hate that I can pick it out in a crowd like I could earlier tonight at the party.
I hate that Nicholas Bartalow exists at all.
And I’m going to kill him if he’s the reason Tobias isn’t in his tent.