I groan, pulling off his lips and resting my forehead against his. “I’m going to say something now and I need you to remember who holds the power here. And that I will beat your ass if you try and say I told you so.”
Sterling goes still, rolling his lips between his teeth as if to control his response.
I sigh, the sound turning into a breathy laugh as I shake my head against him. “You win. Let’s go get our girl.”
Iwatch Zeke storm out the front door, rage rippling off him as he goes. I crumple on the sofa, a silent sob racking my lungs. I’ve wrecked this. Made an absolute mess of things. As I always do. I hear Sterling yelling after him, hear their shouts grow distant as they disappear under the cover of the treeline just beyond the cabin.
I can’t make out what they're saying, but I don’t need to. Zeke is beyond angry. I’ve made a grave miscalculation offering him a bloodbond. The safety I felt with the others when we bonded was unlike anything else, a true haven of understanding I’ve never experienced before. With Sterling in the red rooms, Quinn at the clubhouse. And of course, Aamon, when he saved my life
Aamon.
The thought of him brings another round of torment to my soul. The world around me slips away as I retreat to the far recesses of my mind. A steady ringing starts up in my ears, drowning out the voices beyond the cabin. My vision blurs, disrupted by the tears welling behind my eyelids.
I blink and I’m in the bedroom, having clumsily pushed myself out of the open, exposing vastness of the living room. I find the darkest corner, pushing myself into the shadows and sinking against the wall. I bring my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around them, trying to bury myself within my own body.
Dark, doubtful thoughts rush me, circling and threatening to devour me whole. Another failure, another rejection, another mess I can’t fix. It’s all I know—the destruction that is my life. There’s no undoing it. My parents, Tamiel, Dina, Aamon. Zeke. It’s one ache after another. A lifetime of pain and torment. Everything I touch festers, decays, revolts against me. And in all of these things, only one thing remains constant: Me.
Which means I must be the problem.
The daughter of the Alpha, born with Arcane magic in her veins. Neither a Watcher nor an Arcane-touched. Rejected by both kinds. Useless, burdensome. So corrupt, neither a parent nor a bloodbound could love.
I jump at the feel of something against the top of my knee. Flashes of Tamiel’s cold, possessive hands grabbing at me as I fought to break free from more needles, more experimentsand tests, overtake me. “No!” I scream, pulling back to get away.
“Evangeline." The soft voice breaks through my visions. Sterling, not Tamiel, but I can’t force myself to open my eyes and look at him. I don’t deserve his goodness and kindness. If he hasn’t seen how unlovable I am yet, he will soon. And I can’t take the heartbreak that will come when evenheleaves me.
His palm brushes against my cheek, urging me to meet his eyes. I lift my head, reluctantly opening my eyes and staring up at him through a watery haze. My whole body is shaking and I can’t seem to get myself to talk. He looks back at me, pain laced through every inch of his body, before turning and looking pleadingly up at Zeke.
“I know,” is all Zeke says.
I hadn’t noticed Zeke behind him at first, and I flinch when I follow Sterling’s line of sight to find him standing tall, looming over us. His arms are folded over his chest, his shirt and fingers bloody. My panic only grows at the sight. He only left because of me. If he got hurt, it'smyfault. Like everything is.
I shake my head aggressively, jaw quivering as I shrink in on myself.
“Get her on the bed,” Zeke orders, before turning and disappearing into the bathroom.
Sterling obeys without question and next thing I know he’s lifting me off the ground, cradling me across his body,and setting me down gingerly against the patchwork quilt on top of the bed.
“It’s alright, Angel. Just breathe. Zeke is going to help you.”
I try to do as he says, but it’s like there’s a slab of stone on my chest. I can’t seem to focus on him, my mind continuing to pull me back into the worst moments of my life. Dina’s bloated grey face, Aamon’s utter disinterest as he threw me out, the last look in my father’s eyes before tossing me to the ghouls. The nightmarish memories rush over me, like a house of cards collapsing inside my mind—no longer able to hold up behind the wall I’ve kept them behind. Each one causes me to twitch and shake and pinch my eyes closed in an effort to get rid of them.
“Ezekiel,” Sterling calls out, a sense of urgency in his voice.
I open my eyes again, suddenly terrified of not being able to see what’s around me. Like perhaps the visions will come to life and close in on me if I remain in the dark. When I turn to look towards the bathroom, Zeke's already stepping out. He’s shirtless now, a towel in his grip as he dries his freshly washed hands. He steps forward, his broad, inked chest flexing.
“Evangeline,” he says. And something about the way he says my name calms me slightly. Like I could surrender to whatever is happening to me, let him take over, and he’d make it all go away. I want that desperately, but I don’t wantto cause any more damage. So I shake my head, pinching my eyes closed again.
He steps up to me. I can’t see him with my eyes closed, but I canfeelhim. His presence. His aura. His blood. Because he and I are tied together now, the loop complete.
He nudges my knees apart from where my feet are perched on the edge of the bedframe. I allow it, but with the amount of strength radiating off of him, I’m not sure I’d be able to keep him from me, even if I tried.
He looms over me once again and I bury my face in my hands, another layer of protection from him. He told me he didn’t want this, made it more than clear that I'm nothing but a nuisance, a mistake. I can’t keep facing him and making a fool of myself. I can’t show him I’m even more broken and pathetic than he already suspects.
He lifts his hands to mine, guiding them away from my face. The gesture is surprisingly gentle, and he doesn't drop them when they land in my lap. Instead, he drags his thumbs across my palms, stroking slow, steady circles there.
“Do you feel this?” he asks, leaning down over me and lowering his voice.
I nod, trying to concentrate on the feel of his fingers on me.
