4. Harper
CHAPTER FOUR
harper
When I stepped out of the bathroom a few minutes later, Rhone was leaving my bedroom with all of my things loaded into rolling suitcases that weren't mine. He’d even picked up my hiking backpack from my observation room at some point.
"You can just get rid of that stuff. I'll never fit into it again, and since I can't leave the tower, I have no use for the shoes or makeup," I called after him.
He ignored me.
I followed him into the living room, wrapped in my towel, and stopped when I saw Maverick and Bloom waiting on the couch.
Rhone ignored them, walking straight to the door and only pausing long enough to throw something at me.
A bundle of clothes hit my chest.
I glanced down at the fabric, half expecting lingerie. It looked like a t-shirt and a pair of shorts that weren't old or holey.
They weren't mine.
I didn't own anything similar.
Who had he gotten them from? There was no way he'd gone to a store, and I was technically his secretary even though I refused to do anything for him. He’d been running the investment company for a week or so, but they’d replaced him quickly.
"Are those fangs on a necklace?" Bloom asked.
I picked them up, looking at them closer.
Someone (probably Rhone) had literally yanked them out, roots and all, then ground down the rough edges and filled the gap between the roots with gold to prevent them from catching on anything.
The sharp edges on the points of the fangs had been dulled slightly, too, so they wouldn't easily tear cloth or skin.
"They're Velour's," I said.
"That's disgusting. And you hate how gold looks on you. You've ranted about it so many times."
"When I cared what I looked like and wasn't locked in a tower. I think the fangs were actually a gift." I glanced in the direction of Rhone's back as the door closed behind him. "Or a shackle."
"A gift." There was no question in Maverick's voice. "I'll tell him about the gold."
"I'll pick out a chain, if she insists on wearing the teeth," Bloom said, her voice adding a silent, "Please don't actually wear that gruesome present."
"You can't do that, Sugar. Rhone is..." He cleared his throat. "I'll tell him. He'll find something else."
"Your best friend is an asshole," I said flatly to the Alpha, walking back into the bathroom to get dressed in whoever’s clothes he had thrown at me.
After that last conversation, I wasn't risking anything by changing in the bedroom. Rhone might throw me back into the shower.
I just wanted to lay on my uncomfortable bed and zone out while I was safely locked away.
Bloom caught up to me before I closed the door, and she slipped inside with me.
She’d been clingy since I fully turned. I understood, but I was going to have to tell Maverick to distract her more or something. I loved her, but I was getting worse. Not better.
I didn't have my shit together enough to act mostly normal for her at the moment. She didn't hate me when I didn't seem normal, but she felt guilty. I could tell.
I'd tried to explain to her that I would never be normal again, but I didn't have the heart to finish the conversation.
"What happened when he brought you in here?" she asked.
"It started with Rhone literally scrubbing Ryker's cum out of me. Ended with him demanding to know what position Ryker had fucked me in. That was followed quickly by Rhone letting me know that I am his possession, and he is not mine."
Bloom gaped at me. "You're kidding."
"I wish." There were no panties in the pile of clothes Rhone had tossed me, so I just pulled the shorts on and eyed them in the mirror.
Definitely not mine.
They looked like short leggings. Tight, athletic spandex. Comfortable, and high-waisted.
They actually fit me, too.
There was a sports bra that I didn't really need, but the t-shirt looked short, so I reluctantly pulled the bra on.
It fit too.
My shirt followed. It was cropped to a little above the point where my shorts hit my waist, putting my body on display in a way I was no longer fully comfortable with.
I stared at myself in the mirror.
I looked so... haunted.
"Did you order the hair dye?" I asked Bloom.
"Yeah." She eyed me. "Are those clothes yours? They fit you."
"I think Rhone bought them for me."
She blinked. "They’re not really your style."
"I'm not really the same person anymore."
The silence that stretched between us was a little painful.
"Maybe pink hair and short leggings will be my new style," I said. "But I'm not growing out my hair. I hate it. Can you get scissors, too?"
"I think they’re called bike shorts."
"Why?"
"I don’t know. Your hair is going to look horrible if we try to cut it ourselves, though."
"The internet can teach us the basics."
"We'll figure it out, unless you want to let a werewolf do it for you. Someone in the tower would probably know how. I think Carmen was a hairdresser at one point."
"I don't trust Rhone not to kill a straight woman for having her hands in my hair at this point." And I didn't trust myself not to attack her, either.
"We've got this." She let out a quiet breath. "I know you're different now, Harper. You don't need to be self-conscious about it. We'll figure out your new style. We'll deal with Rhone's weird possessiveness. We'll even come up with something to do about the fang necklace."
"I like it," I said.
"Are your nightmares about him?"
We both knew she was talking about Velour. Not Rhone.
And that she was aware of my consistent nightmares, even though I'd never technically told her.
Like I said, she was clingy.
Plus, I lived in an observation room.
"Some of them."
"If it makes you feel better to have the reminder that he's dead, you should wear them. Just ignore it when I cringe. I'll pester Rhone about a different chain. Something small, and shorter?"
I looked in the mirror. "Rose gold. It'll look bad, but with the different hair..."
"Might as well embrace the new you. Maybe you need a nickname to go with it."
"If you call me Harp, I'll bite you."
"My blood is too disgusting."
"It's unfortunate, but true." Vampires never smelled good to each other. Unless they were mated, I guess. I'd never asked about that, but it seemed like a safe assumption.
"We could go with... Har. Or Perry. Both great options," Bloom said with a grin. "There’s always Trouble, too."
I managed a small smile. "Get out of here. Harper is fine, even with my new look."
"Fine, I’ll go. I've got a Beta to annoy anyway." She slipped out of the bathroom, calling over her shoulder, "You look hot in the new clothes. Maybe his taste isn't completely horrendous."
I studied myself in the mirror.
Maybe it wasn't.
Other than the haunted look I sported, the way the clothes fit actually kind of looked good. Not in the way I had before, but that didn’t matter.
Maybe I'd like to be attractive again. Even if it was a different kind of attractive than I'd been before.
Of course, not being able to keep food down would make that difficult.
Maverick and Bloom were gone when I left. I headed back to the observation room alone, but I did that most nights.
I was a little nervous about getting called out for the fight earlier. I didn't want to spiral any more than I already had, and spiraling felt inevitable.
The elevator was empty when I got on it, but a pair of women joined me when it stopped on the next floor.
Instead of sneering at me, their eyes brightened when they saw me.
"Girl, you are my idol," one of the werewolves said.
She had a healthy glow to her light skin and dark eyes that I couldn’t achieve with any amount of effort, thanks to my permanent illness. Her blonde hair was up in two buns on top of her head, and it made her look cheerful in a way I couldn’t even really dream about anymore.
"Screwing Ryder, stripping in the hallway to stop the Beta from killing him, and getting hauled into your apartment over Rhone's shoulder? Seriously, you’re a legend," the second woman said, legitimately looking impressed.
She had golden skin, and brown hair hanging in loose curls, with red lips and bright eyes.
I wasn't skilled with female friendships outside of Bloom. But, working as the personal assistant to the CEO of an investment firm for multiple years had taught me how to make decent snap judgments.
Mostly through trial and error. Poor snap judgments had shitty consequences.
The women didn't set off any red flags for me, but I was a walking red flag at the moment, so it would’ve been hard to find something worse than me.
"What did he do after he hauled you inside?" the first woman asked.
"You don't want to know," I said.
They both leaned in.
"If I tell you, you have to make sure it gets back to Rhone. I want him pissed off," I warned.
Grins took over their beautiful faces.
Their grins turned to dropped jaws as I detailed Rhone cleaning Ryker's cum out of me—and replacing it with his own.
If the man wanted to play games by declaring me his and saying he wasn't mine, I'd fucking play.
I texted Oren for a bit after I got back to my observation room.
Me
How did you make yourself start eating food without vomiting? And how long did it take?
Oren
I never struggled to eat human food
Me
What?
How?
Oren
I assume your issue with food has more to do with your mental state than physical
I stared down at the device.
He'd definitely just insulted me.
Like I needed help realizing that I was a mess.
Shutting off my phone, I curled up under the scratchy blankets on my uncomfortable bed and eventually managed to get a little sleep despite the bloodlust making my throat feel like fire and the nightmares waking me in a pool of sweat repeatedly.
I had no idea what time it was when a pair of thick arms carried me out of bed and down a hallway. I grumbled something at the marshmallowy smell that was obviously Rhone.
He ignored the sound.
"Welcome to your new apartment, Trouble." Rhone set me down on a large bed that was far more comfortable than the one in my observation room. I tried not to bury myself in the luxurious sheets and blankets immediately, but failed.
Maybe some part of my old self was still in there. I'd always preferred to sleep wrapped up like a burrito.
"I live across the hall. I'll be checking every morning and night to make sure you're in here. If you aren't, we're going to have a problem."
"What are you going to do, lock me out of my observation room?" I mumbled into the blankets. "Risk everyone in the tower?"
"You're not a risk. And I will if I have to."
I sighed into the blankets.
The apartment's door shut hard, and I heard a lock sliding into place.
Fantastic.