Chapter 8 #2
“You can’t imagine the workload he deals with on a daily basis.
Now with his own members questioning his judgment .
. .” Unable to finish her thought, Nell bids me a good evening and twists the doorknob to exit.
Footsteps fade down the hall and once again, I’m left alone to collect my thoughts. But first, I snatch the note.
Vespera,
I know that this morning was a disaster, to say the least, and I’m sorry things got out of hand. If you do not wish to see me for the time being, I understand. However, if you’re willing to give me a chance to try and make it up to you, I’d like to take you to lunch in town tomorrow.
- Axe
Stomach rumbling at the proposition, I locate my journal and tear out a page to jot down my reply. But the pen won’t move. Not after a full hour. Not after two.
The shower is a cathartic finish to what has been the longest day of my existence.
I lose myself in the luxurious lather of apricot shampoo, humming the melody of one of my favorite melancholy ballads.
After briefly towel drying my hair, I step out of the steamy bathroom donning flannel pants and a cropped cotton t-shirt.
Shaking out my wet tresses, I cross over to the desk and scribble down my answer.
I can’t risk using the phone down the hall to call Maurleen. But perhaps if I go into town and find a moment to excuse myself . . . Yes. That will have to work.
When the door swings open, I nearly jump out of my skin. “Ves—oh,” a deep voice stammers.
Axe is holding a tray with a mouthwatering roast and steamed vegetables.
My eyes widen at the sight of what he’s wearing: dark brown pants and a fitted shirt that hugs his torso.
Fiery tattoos are mapped along his arm and collarbone, subtly peeking out of the neckline.
My mouth falls open at the smaller design inked on his right forearm.
A familiar black bird with wings spread and talons gaping.
There isn’t a doubt in my mind that he’s looking me over just as thoroughly, resisting the urge to gape at the outline of my damp breasts.
“You just about gave me a heart attack.”
The Alpha clears his throat. “I—Uh . . . I was just going to drop this off for you. Make sure you’re alright. But then I heard singing coming through the air vents in the kitchen and needed to be sure that . . . ah, fuck it.”
"I’m fine. Thanks," I retort.
“I can’t remember the last time I heard someone sing around here. Forgive me, I had to come and listen.”
“I wasn't really expecting an audience.”
“The door was unlocked.”
“So, you just invited yourself in?”
The acoustic echoes of hearty laughter and clinking dishes carry up the stairwell. Dinner is in full swing downstairs.
“This is my house.”
I point my finger at him, nearly jabbing him in the stomach. “And this is a deliberate intrusion on my privacy.”
He snorts, eyes flicking down at my hand. “Intrusion? Let’s not get ahead of ourselves now. And watch where you point the thing, will you?”
“Thanks for the dinner delivery. Now would you mind seeing yourself out? This day has been rather draining, as you can tell.”
The lycan’s mocking expression doesn’t waver. Clearly, he isn’t used to being given orders under his roof. But for now, he backs off. “Alright then. Pardon the intrusion. It wasn't meant to—”
Axe’s mouth clamps shut. Pupils dilate. A sense of danger pricks my spine only until I realize his gaze is intently fixated on the arm that’s holding the door open for him to exit. Shit.
"What is this?" he asks, indicating the mutilated flesh of my inner wrist.
My voice falters a moment, scrambling for the most convincing excuse. "They're birth marks."
Axe takes two steps closer to me, looking me dead in the eyes and latching onto my limb. When the silver cuff makes contact, his skin sizzles. He doesn’t so much as flinch.
"Don't lie to me. Who gave you these markings?"
Shaking my head, I stutter. "N-no one.”
He plasters his forearm above my head, sealing me into a gargantuan cage. "Who."
He tilts his head ever so slightly, listening to the syncopated rhythm of my panicked heart. Waiting to detect another lie.
"Remove your hand from my arm."
"Tell me where the scars came from.”
"No. Now back off.”
He kicks the door shut. Not a word is uttered as his entire face hardens. My dripping hair begins to form a cool puddle at his feet. "As much as I enjoy a challenge, you will answer me."
Raising my chin, I bare my teeth this time. “Like hell I will. Let go.”
"Answer the question truthfully and you won't be put in this position."
I scoff. “Do all of your guests receive this kind of savage hospitality?”
Axe immediately withdraws his hands, snarling. “If someone carved you up, they're going to pay. I don’t care how long ago it was."
I reach for the cardigan hanging on the desk chair, but he swipes it first. “Don’t hide it from me. We’re not done here.”
Knees bobbing, I brace for another onslaught of dizziness. Axe takes a step back, as if to devise a different approach.
“Can you just let this go? I promise, it isn’t worth it."
His stare is dismal. But he gives no voice to the thoughts I see brewing inside his head. Just an acknowledging dip in his throat.
Then he takes my arm again, this time gently. "Why don’t you sit d—”
With a whimper, my knees lock and my eyes roll back into their aching sockets. Axe has me in his arms within a fleeting second. He helps me into bed and lodges a pillow between my head and the wall.
"Easy there, Moonshine,” he says.
My brow flicks upwards. He did not just give me a nickname.
Axe guides my arms through the sleeves of the cardigan. My eyes fill up with tears as the throbbing of my head increases tenfold. Silently, he examines my wrist, running his index finger along a horizontal mark that I made years ago, in the darkest hour of my grief.
There isn’t a day that I don’t think of them: my brilliant father, my doting mother, and my dorky brother Benjamin. There isn’t a day that I don’t feel guilty for leaving my remaining family behind, letting them believe I had died along with Mom.
Though the touch lasts only for a second, I swear I feel a tingle ripple across my skin. A stubborn piece of wavy hair dangles over his forehead. Beneath it, his expression softens. His eyes gleam with remorse. "I take it that a head collision is nothing compared to what else you’ve been through.”
My lip quivers. Something about his heavy gaze tells me that I’m not the only one who has endured such debilitating grief. Of course. He lost a mother, too.
I yank the sweater sleeve down and quickly dab my tears before they hit my cheeks.
"You're right. I don't know you. You can tell me about it whenever you’re ready."
He slips his palm under mine, careful to avoid the silver. I’m stunned by the contrast in size, how just as many muscles flex along this part of him. I wonder what violence these calloused hands are capable of, how many deaths they have dealt. I almost recoil at the thought.
“I’m sorry about earlier, too. I should’ve been upfront about Shay. The last twelve hours here have been a shit storm.”
Reaching into my pocket, I give him the folded note. He looks pleased as he briefly glances down at my response. I accept.
I try not to look overly intrigued as I ogle at his long fingers. The raised blue veins that travel down his arms. “What kind of bird is that?”
“It’s a raven. They have appeared in my dreams often since I was a boy.
Being only fifteen, most of the artists in town turned me down.
But I managed to sweet talk one of the elders here.
Most of us don’t receive our first tattoo—the traditional warrior flames—until we’re eighteen.
I got the raven done on the tenth anniversary of my parents’ deaths. ”
My heart sinks. Oh gods. Parents?
He schools his expression. “Years later, the artist gave me the same Alpha crest that my father had. But I’ve always loved the raven most. Something about your first, I guess . . .”
I glance down at my unmarred wrist where my three feathers are inked. My one and only piece, chosen to honor the family members I was separated from.
Axe’s lips pull back tight. He motions to the food on the desk that, by now, has probably lost most of its warmth. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”
My eyes remain glued on his sprawling back as he struts out the door. His phone chirps in his pocket and as he pulls it out to answer, he glances over his shoulder, catching my lingering stare. The bedroom door swings shut, the jolt galvanizing me out of bed to finally appease my empty stomach.