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“Cevon—” Atticus starts, but I snap my head around to glare at him.
“You, brother, can go fuck yourself,” I say before storming away from him. I don’t have it in me to talk to him right now.
It won’t be a productive conversation, and I listened to my little darkling the other night when she broke down.
She needs us to get along better for her heat.
I care very little about mending my relationship with my brother.
Liar, my lion whispers.
I am not a fucking liar.
Liar, my brain adds in.
Fuck them both.
I don’t care about mending my relationship with my brother, but I do care about causing her pain. I read up on how a fractured mating circle can completely fuck a she-wolf in heat, and I refuse to let Nora suffer the effects of that after everything else she’s gone through.
So instead of fighting with him, I knock on the door to the one man who will be able to give me some insight into her mind.
Micah.
“Hey,” I say, pausing at his bedroom door. He looks up from his laptop where he’s laid on his bed and raises an eyebrow.
“Cevon,” he says, sounding surprised that I’m here. I’m not shocked by that to be honest, I’ve not really made an effort with the younger tiger brother.
But it seems he’s surprised for a bigger reason then that. I sniff deeply, my nose wrinkling at the sour smell of guilt. Why do I smell his guilt in the air?
He quickly closes his computer and sits up to give me his full attention. His shirt is dirty, his hair a mess, and, honestly, he could use a shower.
But with my own hygiene not being top tier, I can’t really call him on it.
Someone should probably help him, though. I know the bear will get off on that.
Since I’ve been back here, I’ve not really made an effort to try and rekindle my old friendships. Malachi and I were once very close, but I’m a different person now. I don’t really have the time for him in my life.
He’s not changed that much. The jaded relationship he has with my brother still as prevalent as ever. He and I were close friends, but he always wanted what Atticus and Orson had, It was embarrassing then, and it’s embarrassing now. Honestly, I guarantee Mal would put his dick up Atticus’s ass if it meant he could be second to this pride.
Despite his claims otherwise the other night.
“I wanted to talk to you,” I say, and Micah raises an eyebrow. “Do you have any clean clothes?” He looks down in shame, nods, and goes to get up. Shit. That’s not what I meant to achieve.
“Oh, forget it,” I say, feeling guilty and then hating myself for feeling guilty.
The golden retriever energy that Micah has makes it hard to hurt him. He nods and gets comfortable on the bed as I close the door behind me. I don’t want any of the others overhearing this conversation, and with Micah as the only witness, I can deny it if he brings it up to anybody. “I want help with Nora.”
“Is she okay?” he asks, the confusion fading from him as a seriousness overtakes him. “I know she’s been very focused on you lately,” he says, giving me an apologetic look, maybe for acknowledging my mental health issues. The problem is I don’t think I have mental health issues. I think everybody else is just stupid.
“She’s fine,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Or at least as far as I’ve noticed. I’m here to talk about something that’s just happened.” He nods and waits for me to elaborate. “I was telling her about the fact that I’m not a good person.”
“Oh, lovely,” Micah says, rolling his eyes.
“She was poking and prodding, and I just… I’m not a good person,” I say. “I’ve killed so many people.”
“Okay,” Micah says, not seeing the issue. “Join the club.”
“You’ve murdered people?” I ask, and I’m extremely surprised because that doesn’t fit his personality type. But, also, I’m surprised Mal has ever let him get in that situation.
