Chapter 6 - Trina
On the way back to Owen’s place, we don’t talk, and the silence seems somehow deeper than it had been previously. The resentment I feel at Owen’s suggestion grates on me, making me angrier by the second, and his reaction to it is far worse.
When I denied that sex would ever happen between us, he seemed to think it was a joke, and then he passed straight into disbelief. As he was helping me pack the car, I got the sense he wanted to kiss me, which made me put a ton of distance between us.
And that just pissed him off even more. He’s trying to look totally chill, but those little glances he keeps throwing my way are full of suggestion.
The awkwardness hits sky-high when we pull up into his driveway. I try to get my bags, and he tries to help me. We both dive into the back seat at the same time, almost knocking heads.
“I don’t need your help!” I growl, struggling with the bag.
“Clearly, you do,” he replies, his voice maddeningly even.
“I don’t care. I don’t want your help,” I answer, knowing how stupid that sounds when I’m literally incapable of lifting the bag.
“Trina,” he says, and the even, reasonable tone sounds so fake and condescending, I can’t take another second of it.
“Stop it,” I hiss, taking a few steps back. “What’s your problem? Is this attitude because I said I didn’t want to sleep with you?”
Owen looks at me, and his lip twitches as if he’s about to make another light remark, but he shakes his head instead. “I don’t know… I just didn’t think sleeping with me would be that bad,” he says, shrugging.
I stare at him, folding my arms across my chest and feeling my whole body closing up. “Are you kidding me?”
“No, not right now,” he replies with a hint of a smile.
“Be serious just for a moment, please,” I say. “Do you realize what you’ve done to me—to my life? And now you think I’ll just sleep with you, after all of that?”
He frowns. “I understand—kind of. I had to do what I did; it’s important to save my pack.”
“You could have asked me.”
“Would you have believed me?”
“Probably not,” I admit, realizing that Owen and Sadie could have explained it to me in detail, and I still wouldn’t have believed it without seeing proof of the supernatural.
And even then, would I have come here at all?
“I felt that action was needed, immediately,” Owen says. “I’ve never felt that way before, as if something terrible would happen if I didn’t follow my instincts in that instant.”
“Owen. You fucking kidnapped me, and from what I can gather, you planned to lock me up in your spare room and never let me out.”
“Well, I had to keep you with me. At least until we figured out the catalyst for breaking the curse—and I’m pretty sure that’s got something to do with sex.”
As I look into his extremely serious, sincere face, I realize that he doesn’t actually understand what he’s done.
He’s so powerful and arrogant that this was just his right… Good God, was he really going to keep me locked up for the rest of my life?
Unconsciously, I take a step back.
“I really didn’t think sex would be a big deal,” he says, shrugging. “I’ve never heard any complaints before.”
You arrogant prick.
“You look tired,” he says. “I’ll bring your bags in and put them in your room if you want to have a shower and unwind.”
His suggestion takes me by surprise, and even though I want to argue more, I really am tired, so I grudgingly accept and head inside without saying another word.
I just want to get away from him.
I feel kind of shell-shocked, and by the time I get in the shower, my hands are shaking.
I’m stuck in this house with him, and I don’t trust him. This is hell.
I close my eyes, letting the warm water drum down onto my face and neck, relaxing me. My mind flicks back over the events of the day, an unconscious process I’m not really aware of. Whenever Owen appears in my memory, I find myself lingering.
With my eyes still closed, I run my hands over my body with the soap, feeling a rising heat inside me that has nothing to do with the warm water.
I see Owen lifting my heavy bags into the car, his arms and shoulders bulging as he tosses the suitcase, and his legs flexing against the tight jeans when he bends over.
A low moan rises in my throat, and suddenly my own hands betray me, slowly caressing my skin, running over my breasts, and teasing across my belly as I think of that moment when we were standing close together and I felt like he was going to grab me and kiss me.
The realization, when it comes, is as painful as a knife through the chest.
It’s not that he’s attractive—it’s that I find him attractive.
I open my eyes and quickly turn down the heat, making the shower almost completely cold. It shocks me, but it doesn’t do anything to slow down the raging lust that has awakened between my legs.
I fantasized about him for a long time, and I tried to hook up with him or some of his friends. I can’t just pretend none of that ever happened.
By the time I get out and dry myself off, my confusion has compounded in my throat to the point I feel like I’m going to cry.
I might be overdue for a good cry. I just don’t see how I can go out there and pretend it’s all okay.
I practically tiptoe my way out of the bathroom back to my room, looking around for Owen the whole time. I can’t see or hear him, so I rush to my room to get dressed. My heart thumps so hard, a lump forms in my throat, and I can feel the heavy beat in my ears.
Great. This is what it’s going to be like, every day, now. Running from Owen. Running from myself.
By the time I get dressed, I’ve managed to calm down a little, and when I go into the kitchen, Owen has ordered some takeout for dinner, I’m able to sit down across from him and eat without completely freaking out.
It’s still an awkward silence, but it’s better than fighting.
A couple of times, I catch him watching me, and his confident grin sends the electric tingles through my body again, making me press my thighs together.
Don’t say anything, I silently implore him. Please.
He doesn’t, but the suggestion hangs in the air, and even though I pray for it to go away, it simply doesn’t fade. My decision not to fight with him only seems to make it worse, as if that was the only way to release the heat building inside me without making a horrible mistake.
I slink away from the kitchen without finishing dinner and curl up in bed, not expecting to sleep. But when horrible pain and smothering suffocation split through the darkness in my mind, I woke up screaming, with no clear idea of what I was actually dreaming about.
“That’s it,” Owen says. “Just come out of it slowly. You’re okay.”
“Owen?” I ask, my voice almost a sob.
“Yes, Trina. I heard you screaming. Are you alright?”
His presence by my bed should scare me, but he’s the one who looks scared.
Owen’s eyes are wide, the deep green of the irises visible even in the pale light from the stars outside the window. His expression is truly worried, and even though he looks like he wants to hold me, he’s at a respectful distance beside the bed.
“What was the dream about?” he asks softly.
“I don’t remember,” I answer, truthfully. “I get these nightmares sometimes.”
“You were really screaming,” he says, and I can hear the pain in his voice. “Are you sure you’re alright? Is there anything I can do?”
I shake my head. “No, thank you. I’ll just try to go back to sleep.”
“Okay,” he says, standing up and taking a reluctant step back. “I’m here if you need me.”
I nod, and Owen turns to go. Part of me wants to call him back, but I just grit my teeth and keep the words in.
I’ve dealt with this alone for years. I don’t need him.
Still, his genuine concern gets mixed up with the volatile feelings I had before bed, and I don’t get much sleep the rest of the night. Breakfast is even worse, as both of us try to avoid the subject of sex and my nightmare.
I can’t even ask about the cure for the pack, because that would mean bringing up sex again.
When Owen drives me to work, I’ve resolved on what I have to do to put distance between us.
I ask Fern for extra work, and to my relief, she readily agrees.
The museum is being prepared for some kind of event, and there’s extra cleaning to be done, displays to be made, and artifacts to be presented.
Lacey is more than happy for the help, and she starts giving me a ride home at night and picking me up in the morning.
I communicate with Owen by text, and for almost a week, I’m able to avoid him completely. The problem is, it doesn’t make my anxiety any better—in fact, it just makes it worse as I think about how high-impact it will be when I finally run into him.
I’m sitting miserably in the break room late one afternoon when Sadie comes in and I almost jump out of my chair. I’ve been avoiding her, too, and I wonder how suspicious it would look if I just got up and ran.
“Trina,” Sadie says. “I’ve been trying to pin you down for days. What’s going on?”
“It’s just not going well with Owen,” I say, not wanting to get into it. “I’m exhausted, and it’s not getting any better.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Sadie says, sitting down next to me and rubbing my shoulder. “But I have good news.”
“Oh?”
“I did some research, and your family history follows a similar pattern to mine. That might mean you’re a witch, Trina!”
“I don’t think so,” I chuckle.
“I think it’s worth checking out. If your powers are completely dormant, it would explain why I can’t detect them. How much do you remember of your childhood?”
A sharp pain lances through me, as if a big iron door in my mind threatened to open and was forcefully slammed shut again.
“I… don’t want to talk about that.”
“Okay,” Sadie says, rubbing my arm again. “I understand. I just think we should definitely give this a try.”
“I’d rather not.”
“But this could be it, Trina. The solution to helping the pack.”
It dawns on me that if the solution is found, I can get away from Owen for good.
“I’m not sure I agree that I have magic or anything like that,” I reply. “But we should probably try. I’ll talk to Owen tonight.”
“Great. I’m sorry it’s not working out well, Trina, but if we can trigger your powers, then everything will work out. I promise you that.”
A tangle of questions rises in my mind, and I want to ask Sadie about the situation between her and Rhys—if sex really was the catalyst, and how it came about after he literally kidnapped her.
I can’t straighten out my thoughts well enough to ask the question, and she leaves the room with a light wave and a promise to catch up soon with ideas on what to do next.
***
After so long avoiding Owen, I’m completely wrung out with anxiety by the time I get home. Instead of dodging around the house, I go straight into the kitchen. Owen turns away from the bench to look at me in surprise.
“Trina,” he says. “I’m making dinner. Would you like some? I’m making tacos.”
“Sure,” I answer, knowing I won’t be able to eat. “I need to talk to you, though.”
“Oh?” He turns around, and his face is wearing that tender look I saw the night of my bad dream, and his big green eyes are glowing with the colors of the forest in spring.
Stop it.
“Sadie thinks she found something that proves I’m actually a witch, like her, and I might have latent powers.”
“Okay,” he says, his eyes darkening as he frowns. “That’s not exactly ideal.”
“What do you mean?”
“The packs don’t like humans, but witches are our enemies. Even since Sadie came and helped Silver Valley pack, there are a lot of pack members who don’t like it.”
“Well, none of that is my concern,” I almost snap, plowing forward. “I don’t really like the idea myself. I’ve only agreed to it because I want to find the cure and get back to my life.”
“Trina, we talked about this—”
“Yes, we did!” I snap, my voice finally rising. “And I told you I wasn’t going to stay with you.”
Owen comes around the counter, waving the spatula as I stride towards him, getting up on my toes and balling my hands into fists.
“We’re married,” he says angrily. “By ancient law. You are an essential element to curing the pack, and I can’t just—”
“You can’t just what?” I ask mockingly.
“I can’t just let you go.”
“You will have absolutely no choice,” I say, my tone turning icy instead of heated. “If this works and your pack is cured, you have no need of me anymore.”
“I don’t think it works like that,” he says, his voice rising. “We can’t continue like this, I realize that, but—”
“Oh, good. So, you agree.”
“Stop interrupting me!” he roars. “I haven’t spoken to you all week, and now you come in here and throw this on me and expect me to be okay with it?”
I stare at him in complete disbelief, a weird, prickly feeling crawling over my skin.
He really is a selfish fucking man-child. He doesn’t understand how this is wrong.
“It doesn’t matter,” I reply, relieved that my voice sounds calm. “I told Sadie the only way I’d comply is if I was allowed to return to my old life once this was done and your people were safe.”
Actually, we made no such promise, but it should have been implied. And if it wasn’t, Sadie will understand.
“Trina,” Owen says, his green eyes turning cold. “You can’t just make decisions without me—”
“Oh, really? That is so rich, coming from the guy who kidnapped me. Sorry, Owen, but this is how it’s going to be. I’ll try this spooky witch stuff, we’ll find your cure, but then I’m gone and don’t even think about trying to stop me.”
I turn and hurry away, wanting to put as much distance between the two of us as possible.
While we were fighting, we were inching closer together… and it felt like he was going to kiss me.
Even worse, I think I wanted him to.