Chapter 18
Lucian
The days pass by in a blur of teaching, spending time with Cara as myself, and then spending my nights with her as Cooper.
We’re playing it safe by sticking to seeing each other at my apartment—or at least trying to.
When she shows up during office hours in a short skirt with no panties on, I can’t exactly refuse, nor do I want to.
We almost got caught last week, and she had to hide under my desk until my colleague left.
I was worried it would freak her out, but it only turned her on.
Reagan started getting suspicious last week when she confronted Cara about her overly chipper mood of late and demanded to know what drugs she was on so she could have some, too. That conversation made Cara so nervous about us getting caught that we had to tame down our interactions.
On the days we can’t see each other, she pleasures herself in the privacy of her room.
Since that first day when my hound took control and stole her toy, she keeps the door shut tight, but we can still hear her soft cries through the walls.
It takes everything in us not to shift, barge in, and give her what she’s begging for.
It should be us making her feel good, not some silicone appendage.
I’ve been keeping my distance from the pack too.
Mostly because it’s hard enough juggling this double life with Cara, but I’m not ready to tell them the news that I’m mated to a nephilim.
There are some who wouldn’t have issues with it, especially since I already ruled out any bad intentions on her part, but I know a few who wouldn’t take the news well.
Mate bonds might be sacred, but there are lines that some hounds just won’t cross.
True to his word, Coop hasn’t said anything to the others about my mating a student. I suspect he wouldn’t care if he knew she was a nephilim, so at least I have one ally.
The few times I’ve talked to my mom, I’ve casually tried to bring up the topic of mate bonds. Even though my pack talks about them being less intense in this realm, I don’t even want to consider how strong it would have been otherwise because now that I’ve had Cara, I see everything more clearly.
I can’t deny myself anymore. Still, I refuse to claim her officially as my mate, which only pisses off my hound, but I can’t.
Not until she knows everything. The timing hasn’t been right, not while she’s swamped with classes and dealing with the pressure from her mother to go home for spring break next week.
I know we’re partly why she doesn’t want to go—she couldn’t take Cooper—but even if that changed, it would be far too messy for us given the current circumstances.
This whole not telling her thing has gotten increasingly more difficult the more time we spend together. She keeps inviting me to her apartment, and I keep having to refuse. If I’m there as the man, then I can’t be there as her pet. What a fucking mess.
Even I know my excuses are lame, and I think she’s starting to see through them.
As much as her knowing the truth would make my life easier, I can’t risk how it might affect her final semester. I refuse to be the reason she can’t graduate or gets snubbed by her mother more than she already does.
If I really think about it, deep down, my biggest fear is that we’ll lose her.
I replay our earlier conversation in my mind. She’d stopped by during office hours to invite me over for supper and to meet her dog. Let’s just say it didn’t go well. I panicked and told her I had to grade papers and that I’d message her tomorrow.
Now she’s spiraling, venting to Cooper—me—about the guy who’s acting hot and cold and how she isn’t sure what to make of it.
I hate this.
“I just don’t get it, Cooper,” Cara says as she pets me. “Why wouldn’t he want to come over?”
Internally I’m screaming, because if we come over, we’ll have to explain everything! I wish I could reassure her somehow so she’ll stop doubting herself, but every option I think of only leads to our discovery.
My hound huffs as if to say, would it really be so bad?
Cara takes it as our shared annoyance with the guy who’s clearly hurting her. “Right? Who wouldn’t want to meet you, anyway? You’re perfect.” She kisses the top of our head, squeezing tightly. The movie she started plays long forgotten on the television, her bowl of popcorn untouched.
What the hell should I do?
“Fuck this,” she says, then stands to pause the movie. “I’m not going to sit here and wallow any longer, not when there’s a perfectly viable alternative.”
We follow her to the door where she throws on a pair of flip-flops, grabs her keys, and opens the door. “If he doesn’t want to come here, then we’ll just have to go to him. Come on, Cooper.”
Oh, shit.
Cara is on a warpath, clearly fed up with Lucian. In this form, with our secrets, we can’t do anything but follow her down to the fourth floor where she knocks on his door.
My door.
She knocks again, then calls out, “Lucian, are you in there?”
But he’s not, because I’m right fucking here.
Ugh, this is bad.
My hound whines, and Cara crouches low to comfort us. “It’s okay,” she coos. “We don’t need him anyway, do we?” but her words only make my hound even sadder.
Inside, he gives up his control and nearly forces a shift on us, but I stave it off. Becoming human right now in this hallway would be pretty fucking bad. Seeing our mate in pain almost makes it worth it, though—and to my hound, it’s more than worth it—but the risks are too high.
Cara finally gives up, and we walk back to her apartment. She’s quiet. We smell her dejection, and my hound licks her hand.
“Let’s finish the movie,” she says, wiping away a stray tear that cracks our resolve.
Are we doing the right thing?
She pulls out her phone, and my hound and I watch as she types the words we need to talk before grabbing the popcorn and cozying up with us on the couch.
I hate that I won’t be able to answer her until the morning, but we can’t leave her side. Not when she’s in pain like this. If we can’t be there for her as Lucian, then we sure as shit will be here as Cooper.
When Cara finally falls into a restless sleep on the couch, I can’t stop thinking about the fact that we may need to reveal ourselves to her after all.
Tomorrow we’ll talk.
Tomorrow, we’ll tell her everything.
I just hope we don’t wind up losing her anyway.
After a long night of very little sleep, the morning isn’t shaping up to be any better.
The first thing Cara did when she woke up was check her phone. Luckily, I’d been able to sneak into the spare room in the wee hours of the morning when she was finally in a deep sleep and schedule a reply. It was risky, but given how upset she was last night, I figured it was worth it.
And it was.
Besides, she’ll learn everything later today.
I had hoped we could meet up before now, but Reagan invited Cara to join her and her boyfriend at the local carnival. She thinks Cara will cave to her mother’s demand of going home for the break and wants at least one good memory for their last ever spring break.
It means our enlightening conversation will happen later than I’d hoped, but that’s fine. More time to prepare.
“I’m sorry I can’t bring you with me,” Cara tells us as we stand in the doorway. She’s wearing a pleated skirt that has built-in shorts underneath—which I know because my hound stuck his head in her crotch—and a cute pastel top with short flowing sleeves. Fuck, she’s perfect.
She takes my mooning over her as sadness that we’re not going. “Oh, Cooper.” She squeezes me in a hug, then promises, “I’ll bring you back something. Does that sound good?”
My hound wags his tail and licks a kiss up her neck, making her giggle.
When she leaves, I feel my hound’s ire. Somehow, he blames me for our current predicament, like if I’d just told her the truth and claimed her, she wouldn’t have left us behind, and we sure as fuck wouldn’t be making her sad either.
But there’s no way of knowing if that’s true. For all I know, telling her will only scare her more and make her leave us altogether.
I don’t think I could handle that, and I know for a fact that my hound couldn’t.
We watch from the window as she gets into her friend’s car. As soon as it disappears from sight, I shift. My clothes and phone are hidden in the spare room—almost like I have a drawer here but without her knowing—so I get dressed and power on my phone to reply to her.
This double life is exhausting.
In my response, I tell her a later time works, then text Coop.
Lucian: Thought about going to the carnival. Want to join?
I rush to my apartment to change and grab my car keys, and by the time I’m ready to go there are a few notifications on my phone.
Coop: Who is this and what have you done with my best friend?
Coop: You want to go to the carnival?
Coop: Who cares? I’m in. A few of the pack are there already. See you in ten.
I roll my eyes at his reply and head out. At least I’ll be with other people, so if Cara spots me, I can use that as an excuse, because how would I know she’d be there otherwise? What a coincidence.
Despite the GPS saying it would take twelve minutes, I made it in eight. Parking is a bitch, but I manage to snag a spot semi-close to the entrance. The place is crowded with people, making my hound recoil. There are too many scents. Humans and hellhounds alike, but no mix of angel blood yet.
I wait for Coop, who shows up wearing shorts and a tank with the words Rescue. Love. Repeat. written over cute cartoon animals.
“Luca! I never took you as the carnival type,” he says, slapping his hand on my shoulder. “Did you buy tickets yet?”
“Oh, no. Not yet. Let’s walk around first. See what the rides are.”
“Riiiight. Well, luckily for you, I bought some already. Here. You can have half.” He tears off some tickets and hands them to me. I feel him staring as I stuff them in my pocket, but I ignore him and search for Cara.