Chapter 12 #2
I remember seeing myself in a floor-to-ceiling mirror at the club right before I left, so I know what I look like coming back to Silvercrest right now.
The hem of my dress sits at mid-thigh, the top still fitted but with a button that has come undone during the night.
My hair is loose and a little wild from a man’s hand in it at some point.
My eyeliner has softened into a smoky look I could never achieve deliberately.
There’s a stain of red at the corner of my mouth where the lipstick hasn’t worn off and a smear of somebody’s cologne at the side of my throat where a man leaned in too close to say something stupid.
I smell like a bar and a long night and a woman who was not alone.
As I reach the main house, the wind shifts direction, and I catch a familiar scent in the air. My head lifts, and I see him.
Lucas is standing on the top step with his hands in his pockets and his shoulders set, watching me. My stomach flips for one terrible, vicious second.
My hand tightens around my purse, but my feet don’t stop. I keep walking.
He watches me come up the path. His jaw is tense; I can see it from thirty feet away. His eyes track from my bare feet to the hem of the skirt to the open button at my chest to the smudged lipstick on my mouth.
Didn’t think your fated mate could do something so wild, did you, Alpha Steele? I sneer inwardly. Did you expect me to be curled into a ball in my room, sobbing?
I walk past him without so much as a greeting.
“Where have you been?”
His voice is harsh from behind me, tight as a bowstring, and I pause on the steps. I stop humming.
I look over my shoulder and shrug. “Out.”
His jaw clenches. “Out where?”
I face him fully without replying.
He takes a step closer, but I don’t move back. His nostrils flare and his eyes change from brown to almost gold, his wolf rising behind them.
“You smell like alcohol.” His voice drops an octave. “And men.”
I raise a brow. “And?”
His eyes narrow. “And?”
I smile softly. “Did I break a rule, Alpha Steele? Since when do I have a curfew?”
“Sienna.”
“I was not aware that my social life fell under the jurisdiction of this pack, Alpha Steele.”
“Who were you with?”
“Why is that your business?” I ask calmly.
“Sienna.”
“Alpha Steele.” My head tilts, and my voice comes out sweet and cold. “I have worked very hard these past weeks. I decided to blow off some steam. I went into town. I danced. I enjoyed myself.” My mouth curls into a small, vicious smile. “I had such a great time. Human men are so…friendly.”
His face goes white.
“And,” I murmur, half to myself, “so incredibly creative.”
That does it.
He moves so fast, I don’t even see him coming.
My back hits one of the columns flanking the front entrance hard enough to knock the wind out of me.
His forearm lands above my head, his other hand at my hip, his chest pressed into mine.
Heat pours off him in waves that make my skin prickle. His eyes are pure gold now.
“Don’t push me, Sienna.”
For one treacherous fraction of a second, my body wants to press against his. My wolf whines; she has not stopped whining since the hotel room. She smells him. She smells Lydia on him.
I catch myself before my body takes over. But suddenly, my right palm itches. I want to slap him—so badly that my fingers dig into my leg.
I don’t.
His gaze holds mine. My heart is hammering so loudly, I am sure he can hear it. My body is a traitor. I spent last night crying over this man; I will not spend this morning doing it again.
My voice comes out cool. “Get your hands off me, Alpha Steele. Or I will file a formal complaint with my alpha.”
I don’t so much as blink. For one terrible heartbeat, I am afraid I have pushed too far. Then, he releases me. Slowly. He moves back. One step. Another.
My hands come up to my blouse and straighten it. My fingers are trembling; I hope he doesn’t notice.
“Do not touch me ever again.” My words are a low warning, and his eyes tighten around the corners.
Behind him, there is the sound of heels on marble. We both look in that direction.
Lydia is coming down the steps of the attached administration building, her hair tied back in a blue ribbon. She looks like a painting of a queen. She looks like the future.
She stops halfway down.
Her eyes move from me to Lucas. And back again.
“Is everything okay?” she asks slowly. “Sienna, are you alright? You look like hell.”
Lucas does not answer, but I beam at her. The smile feels wrong on my face, fake, but I don’t think she can tell.
“I had a night out. Alpha Steele has never seen my wild side, I’m afraid, and he got a little worried.”
My hand goes to the pocket of my jacket and draws out the small, wrapped parcel I picked up in the human town last night: candied violets from a shop near the hotel, wrapped in pale green paper with a narrow ribbon. I hold it out to her.
“Congratulations on your engagement. I picked this up for you two. I’m sure my alpha will provide a more worthy gift, but I couldn’t congratulate you empty-handed.”
Lydia studies my face before accepting the box and giving me a warm smile. “Thank you, Sienna.” Her fingers play with the ribbon for a few seconds.
“I hope you will be very happy.”
I make myself look at her fully. She lifts her gaze to mine, and my eyes hold hers. Whatever she sees in them makes her mouth open slightly.
“Thank you,” she murmurs.
I turn around and walk into the estate house, resuming the humming. The sound, the vibration in my throat—it’s what’s keeping me together. Each step feels like a blade under my foot, but I don’t flinch.
I head toward my room. The entry hall passes in a blur, but my head is up and my shoulders square. I reach the staircase. Up a flight. Down the corridor to my room. The easy, relaxed smile remains on my face until the door clicks closed behind me.
My hand stays on the knob for one second.
And then, the strength leaves my body. I collapse to the floor, my back against the door, gasping for breath. My skin feels dirty, the human scents clinging to me. My wolf is clawing at my insides, disgusted, confused, and hurt.
She doesn’t understand. But then, how can she? She’s a creature of instinct. She understands humiliation, though. She understands that our mate prefers another female over us. She understands that our mate finds us lacking.
Even as my human side vehemently disagrees, my beast blames herself. It’s our fault. We are lacking.
“It’s not me.” I strain under the pressure in my head as I crawl to the bathroom. “It’s not us. Stop it!”
I don’t bother taking my clothes off. I turn on the hot water and sit on the tiled shower floor, my knees pulled to my chest. The scalding water pours over me. It burns my skin, but I like the pain. I can feel the pain.
I rest my forehead on my folded arms. The tears want to come. They are nearly there, but I shove them back with a desperation that I have never experienced before.
No. Not for him. Not for anyone.
I sit under the water and let it run over me, trying to wash away what won’t wash away. The stranger’s cologne comes off my throat. The red lipstick comes off my mouth. The smoke comes out of my hair. The evidence of the night goes down the drain where it belongs.
But the pain stays. The pain is under my skin. The water cannot reach it.
No matter how long I sit there.