Chapter 20 - Trina
The moment I curl up in Owen’s arms, memories of Aunt Dana rage through my mind again. My blood prickles painfully as if it’s somehow full of needles, and my chest burns like my heart is full of red-hot coals.
Sweat starts to pour down my face, and I cling to Owen as the memories rush through me, completely taking me over.
“Trina, what’s wrong?” Owen asks, holding me.
“Get me… out of here,” I gasp. “Take me home.”
“Are you sick? Should I call a doctor?”
“No,” I moan. “Just take me home, please.”
I feel him arrange my dress neatly, then wrap his own dinner jacket around me before picking me up. I catch a glimpse of lights, dark shadows, and glass cases on the way out, but it feels like Owen is using superhuman speed, and before I know it, we’re out on the street.
He didn’t just tear through there using his powers, did he?
My head aches too much to even contemplate that, and I just gulp in big breaths of fresh air. To my dismay, it feels thick, damp, and humid as if a storm is brewing. It does nothing to ease the pain in my temples.
The drive home passes in a blur, but by the time we arrive back at the house, the pounding in my head has eased, even if my stomach still hasn’t settled. Owen carefully carries me inside and puts me on my bed, bringing me some water and helping me sit up to take a sip.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” he asks. “I feel like you should see a doctor.”
“No, no,” I protest, managing to sit up without my head splitting in two. “It’s not something a doctor can fix.”
“Oh?”
The sweat has cooled my skin so much that now, I’m shivering, and I reach for the blanket with trembling hands. Owen wraps me up in it, getting on the bed to pull me into his lap.
“If you want to talk, I’m right here,” he says, cradling my head with one hand. I snuggle against him, loving the soothing feel of his fingers stroking my hair.
“It was more memories,” I say. “From my childhood.”
“Oh,” he says. “Your aunt.”
“Yes,” I reply. “But far clearer, this time.”
I take a deep breath, feeling my insides tremble as I try to gather the courage to say the words out loud. As much pressure as there is to speak them—to be heard, seen, and comforted—it also feels like there is a block in my throat that these memories can’t pass through.
“When I said she was abusive,” I begin, my voice thick with tears, “I really sugarcoated it.”
“Oh, wow,” Owen mutters as he continues to stroke my hair.
“Yeah. I… didn’t tell you everything.”
“It’s okay,” Owen says. “You can tell me anything.”
Even though the words in my throat don’t get easier to say, something about his tone and the soothing touch of his hand makes me feel so safe that I know if I’m ever going to get these words out, now is the time.
I might not get another chance. If I don’t take this one, I could carry this ugliness inside me forever, until it poisons me.
“Okay,” I say, wrapping my arms even more tightly around him to press my cheek against his chest. “My aunt began with small types of abuse. Emotional control, psychological stuff. That was bad enough, but it didn’t take long for it to escalate into something physical.”
Owen’s hand pauses on my hair, but he doesn’t interrupt me, just resumes his slow stroking.
“She tied me up. Locked me in the basement without food. Aunt Dana covered my injuries, or lied to people and said I was hurting myself and that she was doing her best to help me.”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Owen mutters.
“I don’t think she cared for my mom at all. Once Mom became bedridden and beyond speech, I’m pretty sure Aunt Dana just left her to suffer.”
“This is insane,” Owen says. I nod sadly.
“She was a special kind of crazy. I got the impression her powers came on chaotically as a child, and it cracked her up a bit. My mother just accepted that she had an extra sensitivity and didn’t worry about it, but Aunt Dana wanted power.
That’s how she ended up finding the coven in Europe, I think—she was looking for other witches, and couldn’t find any around here. ”
“That makes sense,” Owen replies. “The wolves worked hard to eradicate them. I’m surprised there are any left, especially if they were practicing their craft.”
“She hid it well,” I say. “And I’m sure the reason she didn’t care for Mom is to make sure she’d die as soon as possible. Then Dana could finally leave, just as she always planned to.”
Through all my grief, I feel a faint hint of triumph, and I cling to it.
“She never got mom’s magic, though. She had to leave without it. If she stuck around much longer, her lies would start to unravel, so she really had no choice. Leaving me was easy, because she thought I didn’t have any power worth taking.”
“She really just left your mom lying in bed without tending her? She must have been a monster.”
“She was. Whenever she let me out to clean the house, I’d do everything I could for Mom before I was locked up again, but it wasn’t enough to keep her alive. Mom was dying, there was no question of that, but her last days were spent in agony because of her sister’s cruel treatment.”
“How did she get away with this?” Owen asks.
“I told you, she was respected. Important, powerful. She was using her magic on people. They actually felt sorry for her, that she had to deal with me.”
“Fuck,” he says, tightening his arms on me a little. “I’m so sorry, Trina. I can’t believe I manhandled you… tied you with Dead Silk and forced you to come here. Can you ever forgive me?”
“Yes,” I say softly, hugging him even tighter. “Because you have also taken care of me better than anyone else ever has—and being with you has shown me the truth of my past.”
He holds me for a little while, still stroking my hair, and I realize that the horrible, heavy weight in my chest is gone. The anxiety has finally been released. Now that I’ve been able to share it, I can finally begin to heal.
“Thank you,” I say, leaning back to look into his face. “Thank you for taking care of me and being kind to me—and staying by my side, defending me, even when you think so little of my kind, and even less of witches.”
For a moment, Owen is so still, I wonder if I’ve said something wrong, but then he wraps his arms around me, squeezing me tight.
“Don’t you dare!” he mutters harshly. “After what I did to you, don’t you dare thank me!
I don’t deserve your forgiveness, and all you deserve is love.
The only thing that matters to me is you—that you feel safe and loved.
I’m in awe of your strength, Trina, and how you’ve held yourself together after everything you’ve suffered. ”
His words affect me deeply, and I reach up to touch his cheek. Owen smiles and leans over as I reach up to receive his kiss.
My hands slowly slip around his neck as he lays me down on the bed, and our bodies press together, tangling in the sheets. Owen pulls back to look into my eyes again, and I smile up at him, pulling his face down for another kiss.
Even though we wind around each other, kissing each other deeply, it isn’t erotic, and I feel warmth instead of passion.
When Owen settles beside me and gently holds me against his chest, I snuggle close, loving the feel of his fingers running through my hair.
Our bodies relax, and both of us breathe deeper and slower as sleep creeps up.
Even though Owen drifts off and slips into a deep slumber, his arms still loosely wrapped around me, sleep evades me. I want nothing more than to stay curled up with Owen—until the end of time, if circumstances would allow it—but I begin to get so restless, I know I can’t just stay in bed.
Carefully, I slip out of his arms, making sure I don’t wake him. For a moment, I look down at his sleeping face. I feel a slow surge of emotion in me, a sense of comfort and safety I’ve truly never known.
All I wanted was to be completely self-sufficient, so I never had to lean on anyone ever again, but I didn’t know how wonderful it could be to have someone take care of me.
Smiling softly, I step away from the bed and hurry down to the bathroom. I peel off my poor dress, still damp in places where I sweated during the anxiety attack.
Hopefully, I’m past all that now. There should be no more secrets left buried in my mind, and I can take on my future with new strength.
I take off my bra and open up the small pocket between the outer edge and the cup, finding the folded page I stashed in there earlier. I open it up, reading the words and hoping that this is the spell I need to heal the pack.
After dressing in loose, comfortable clothes, I go back to my room to find the original book that I smuggled out of the library. Sitting on the floor, I go back to the page about unlocking my powers and match it with the new piece I stole tonight.
This spell needs both my mate and me. It will affect us both.
I look over at Owen, sleeping peacefully in bed. His face looks innocent and somewhat lost, almost like a child as he wanders through his dreams. My heart falters, and I realize I have to accept that he is the one for me if I’m going to do this spell.
I always knew my plan to leave once all this was done was nothing but bravado, but it still gave me some comfort. Now I’ll have to truly commit.
Closing my eyes, I lean back against the wall and think about the distress of Owen’s people. It breaks my heart every moment that it goes on, and it’s even more frustrating that I managed to manifest some power that helped, only to be utterly useless after that.
I read over the spell again, a new sense of determination setting in.
If the only way forward is to bind us, then so be it. The marriage ritual affected me straight through to my heart, even if I didn’t want to admit it. But now, it’s time to join our souls, too.
My mouth is dry. I try to swallow, but it gets caught in my throat. I shuffle over to the bed and reach over to pull a hair from Owen’s head. He stirs a little, but doesn’t wake. I pull out one of mine, too, and twist them together.
I read through the words of the spell, not understanding all of it, but trying to repeat the words with as much feeling as possible. The air around me feels heavy, getting worse as I chant. It scares me, but I keep going, my soft whispers filling the room as the pressure rises.
The air gets so thick, my ears start to ring, and it’s hard to draw a breath.
Just when I think I’ll have to stop, there is a strange snap, like an electric charge, and the twisted hairs between my fingers flare as if they’ve been singed.
I jump, expecting to be burned, but there’s no flame, just a faint hint of smoke.
Is that it?
I look around the room, wondering if there would be a change I can actually see. Everything looks normal, and Owen is sleeping as peacefully as before.
I don’t feel any different. Maybe it needs time to work?
Owen mutters in his sleep and rolls over, his hand reaching for me. I pack up the book and torn pages, putting them underneath the dresser so Owen won’t see them when he wakes up.
I really don’t know how he’d feel about this. I could have waited for him to wake up, but I just felt like it was too important to wait another moment. If it helps the pack, he’ll be fine with it.
But what if it doesn’t?
I push that thought away, slipping into bed beside him and letting him fold his arms around me. I’m tired from the spell, and it’s easy to let the steady beat of his heart and slow rush of his breath soothe me into sleep.
I do feel more connected to him. Maybe we’ll wake up tomorrow morning, and everything will be fine…