Chapter 6
1813 Words
Salome’s POV
“Does it sting when I apply the pressure here?”
Healer Beatrice moved my head to the side with a light touch. The room smelled like lemon cleaner and old herbs. I sat on the hard paper of the exam table while she dabbed at the jagged red line near my hairline.
“I’m fine, Beatrice. It’s just a scratch,” I said. I didn’t want to talk about the car flipping or the way the metal groaned. I didn’t want to explain how lucky I was to be sitting here at all. “Vesper took most of the impact anyway. I just need to make sure I don’t end up with a permanent reminder on my face.”
Beatrice didn’t look convinced. She reached for a glass jar on the metal tray. She dug out a thick, green glob of ointment. “You need to be more careful. Drivers in this territory don’t watch the road like they should. Close your eyes.”
I did as she asked. The cream felt like ice against my skin, dulling the sharp throb in my skull. For a second, I actually felt like I could breathe.
The peace lasted about five seconds. The door didn’t just open, it slammed against the stopper with a crack that sounded like a gunshot. Beatrice jumped, her hand shaking so hard she almost smeared the salve into my eye.
Barnabas stood in the doorway. He looked like he had run all the way here, his hair messy and his eyes dark with something I couldn't quite name. He didn't look at the healer. He didn't look at the room. He just looked at me.
Beatrice looked back and forth between us, her face pale. She gripped her jar like a shield. I gave her a small, tired smile so she wouldn’t bolt. “It’s okay, Beatrice. He’s just my boss. He doesn't know how to use a handle.”
“Is it bad?” Barnabas asked. His voice was rough, cutting through my attempt at a joke.
Beatrice stood up a little straighter and pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “The wound is shallow. She has a mild concussion, but she will recover quickly. She just needs rest.”
Barnabas let out a long, heavy breath. He looked like a balloon losing air. Beatrice handed me the small bottle of medicine, muttered something about a follow-up, and practically ran out of the room.
I stood up to follow her, but Barnabas blocked my path. Before I could move around him, he reached out and plucked the bottle right out of my hand. He didn’t say a word. He just dropped it into his pocket and stared at me.
“I can carry my own medicine, Barnabas,” I said.
“I’ll take care of it,” he muttered. He said it like he was doing me some huge favor, like he hadn't been the reason I was out on that road in the first place.
I didn't have the energy to fight him for a plastic bottle. If he wanted to play the part of the doting husband for the hospital cameras, let him. I pulled out my phone to call a ride, but he was faster. He snatched the device from my palm before I could even unlock the screen.
“Move,” he said. He grabbed my upper arm and started walking.
“Give it back!” I tried to plant my feet, but he was too strong. He dragged me through the lobby and out into the humid air of the parking lot.
He didn't let go until we reached his black SUV. He wrenched the passenger door open and basically bundled me inside. The door slammed shut with a heavy thud that made my head ring. A second later, he was in the driver's seat, the engine roaring to life.
The drive back was heavy with a silence that felt like lead. I stared out the window, watching the trees blur into green streaks. I could see his reflection in the glass. His knuckles were white against the leather of the steering wheel. He was vibrating with a tension that usually meant a lecture was coming.
Once we pulled into the driveway and killed the engine, he finally broke.
“Was this some kind of game to punish me?” he asked. He didn't look at me. He just stared straight ahead. “First you block my calls. Then you go out and try to kill yourself in a ditch. What were you trying to prove, Salome?”
I stared at him. I waited for the punchline, but it didn't come. I started laughing. It wasn't a happy sound. It was sharp and jagged.
He whipped his head around, his eyes snapping. “You think a car wreck is funny?”
“I think you’re delusional,” I said, the laughter dying in my throat. “You honestly think I’d risk my life just to make you feel bad? You really have a high opinion of yourself, don’t you?”
He flinched. His hands shifted on the wheel, but he didn't back down.
“Give me my phone,” I said, holding out my hand.
He ignored me. He leaned back in his seat and let out a frustrated huff. “Callume. Maybe I wasn't honest about where I was. But that doesn't give you the right to attack Portia. She spent the afternoon in tears because of the way you treated her. Do you even care that you hurt her?”
“Hurt her? Are you serious right now?”
“She’s the daughter of an Alpha, Salome. She’s sensitive. She grew up protected,” he said. His voice actually got soft when he said her name. It made my stomach turn. “She isn’t used to people being cruel. Why can’t you just be the bigger person for once?”
I looked at him, really looked at him. He was defending the woman he was cheating with while his wife sat three feet away with a hole in her head. The protectiveness in his eyes was like a physical weight in the car. Inside me, I felt Vesper growl, a low, dangerous sound in the back of my mind.
“Callume,” I said. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. “I won’t touch her. But you better keep her on a short leash. If she gets in my way again, I won't be responsible for what happens.”
Barnabas’s jaw dropped. “She’s like a sister to me. You are making this into something it isn't.”
I felt a bitter smile pull at my lips. I didn't tell him I knew the truth. I didn't tell him I had the proof. I just looked at him with all the pity I could muster. “Is that so? Well, congrats on the new sibling, Barnabas. You two must be very close.”
He didn't answer. His face went dark, and he turned away.
The car was cold, so I pulled the grey blazer tighter around my chest. The scent of the man from the road was still there. It was deep, like cedar and rain. It felt more like a hug than anything Barnabas had given me in a year.
I saw Barnabas’s eyes shift. He was looking at the jacket. He finally realized it wasn't mine. He realized it was a man’s coat, expensive and tailored, the kind of thing you don’t just find in the back of a cab.
“Whose is that?” he snapped. The air in the car turned freezing.
I looked out the side window and watched a raindrop trail down the glass. “It belongs to my new brother.”
The silence that followed was thick. Then, without a word of warning, Barnabas reached over. He didn't unbutton it. He just yanked the fabric off my shoulders with a force that made me gasp. Before I could even reach for it, he rolled down his window and threw the jacket out into the mud of the driveway.
“What is wrong with you?” I yelled. I lunged for the door handle, thinking of the butler and the promise I made to return it.
Barnabas’s hand clamped around my wrist like a shackle. He pulled me back toward him until our faces were inches apart. I could smell the anger on him.
“Don’t push me, Salome,” he hissed. His voice was low, vibrating with a threat. “Don’t try to provoke me with other men. I am still the Alpha of this house. You would do well to remember who you belong to.”
I tried to twist away, but he was a wall of muscle. He leaned in and crushed his mouth against mine. It wasn't a kiss. It was a claim. It tasted like salt and fury. I kept my teeth clenched, refusing to give him anything, but he didn't care. He forced the kiss until I felt like I couldn't breathe, using his weight to pin me against the seat.
When he finally pulled away, his eyes were blown wide. My heart was hammered against my ribs, but I didn't say a word. I just wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and stared at the dashboard.
We walked into the house like strangers. I didn't look back at him. I went straight to the master bath and locked the door. I stripped off my ruined clothes and stepped into the shower. I turned the water up until it was almost scalding, scrubbing my skin until it was raw. I wanted the smell of him off me. I wanted the memory of that kiss gone.
By the time I crawled into bed, the room was dark. I stayed on the very edge of the mattress, my back turned to the center. I heard him walk in a few minutes later. The bed dipped as he sat down. I felt his lips touch my forehead, a soft, lingering kiss that felt like a lie. Then he rolled over and turned his back to me.
I lay there for hours, staring at the wall, trying to make my mind go blank. I tried to forget the way he looked at Portia. I tried to forget the jacket lying in the mud outside.
Then, the nightstand vibrated.
The light from the phone screen cut through the dark. I glanced over my shoulder. It was 1:35 in the morning.
The notification on the screen was short. It was just three letters.
Cho.
My chest felt like it was being squeezed by a vice. They weren't even trying to hide it anymore.
“Are you going to answer that, or should I?”
- Writer
