Alpha's Bane- Always been you

Intrigue

Blanca

CAVE: I edited this. This is a HUGELY different chapter to the one you've read, if you've already seen this a little over a month ago.

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Nine years earlier

I’ve never liked the flimsy plastic handles on the trash bags Dad buys. They feel like a part of a cheap bottle cap, and it wouldn’t be the first time that I cut my fingers on them. Being on dish and trash duty generally sucks. Well, I guess he can’t really let me behind the bar. Got to be at least 18 for that. And he has always told me I’m good at anything ‘house chore related’… whatever that means.

But today, my cussing over them earned me a minute with the guy who sent a shiver down my spine the second our eyes first met.

I quickly assess his face again. Theo. He’s a pretty boy. Too serious but pretty. Or I guess you’d say handsome in this case. I think he’ll have permanent frown lines before he’s thirty, but that jawline… Melisa. My sister’s face flashes before my inner eye. She was interested in him. And I will NOT hear … and feel the end of her wrath should I actually make a fool of myself and flirt with him.

’Too late for that.’ I ignore the little voice and focus on reminding myself of the repercussions of this crush.

If I remind myself of that two or three more times, I could stop my heart from beating so fast.

Always been a sucker for a nice cologne. And if I say I could lick him raw right now because he smells so good, I wouldn’t be lying. I would, however, sound like an absolute lunatic. So I focus on his almost pearlescent-looking grey eyes and the dark shade of brown hair against the minimal light from the lamp mounted on the wall above us. Small things to distract me. Catalog to stay afloat.

I don’t have a hard time taking a look into people's heads. For most of them, it’s evident on their faces. When you rely on facial cues for much of your communication and lip reading is a specialty, you tend to pick things up, even from people who are usually good at hiding them.

There is a fine line that could be sweat on the back of his nose, and his eyes dart to me, then his own hand, and back to me. Theo seems a little nervous. The question is why. Is he planning on… doing something? I know coming up to Melisa was part of a bet. Or something along those lines. Seen the kind of group he was with too often in the three years Dad has made me come here. But he looked like a cute lost puppy. Seriously, he could never.

The muscles in his upper arms flex while gestures a little as he’s talking. F*ck, I haven’t listened to a word he has said. Just staring again. Ugh, get a grip, B. Get. A. Grip.

Melisa likes to tell me that. A lot. Used to be her go-to when I was younger, and would still bring my best friend around the house. Mo and I would hang out in the living room, and you could set a timer for her inevitable arrival.

Five minutes after we made ourselves comfortable, she would saunter in. We thought nothing of it the first three times when she started trying to pull us into a conversation. But we saw the pattern pretty fast. These ‘Talks’ would start with her making nice and soon turn into vile little jabs toward Mo’s s*xuality, what hanging out with them meant for mine, and how being friends with the help, referring to Adriano, was NEVER a good idea.

‘SOMEONE has to teach you, B.’ Whenever Melisa talks, I swear half of it looks like it’s in caps… the way her mouth moves. The patronizing way she speaks slower when talking to me, over-enunciating like words are hard for me to comprehend. She and Dad never bothered to learn sign language. But they aren’t here right now. She isn’t here right now.

When Theo’s scent carries over to me again, and I smell what I did earlier, I can push it aside without being judged by her. He’s one of them. A quick look at my bracelet tells me I’m right. Purple. I distinctly remember the day Dad gave it to me. Melisa and Mom have the same one but don’t usually wear it. I have never used mine in the way it was intended, though. I like the fact that it allows me even more of a look behind people’s facades. I get to know about the beast inside the man... or woman, without them ever having to find out.

And you can call me crazy or stupid, but I don’t see the problem with Theo being a… you-know-what. Since I was a little girl, Dad has been going around telling stories that always sound exactly like that: Stories. Made up and over-exaggerated. And maybe, that makes me a shitty daughter, but… there has always been this strong … almost force inside me telling me that he just can’t be right. At least not completely. So, I decided a long time ago that this would be one of those things I would have to experience for myself. Like holding hands… kissing. Both a BIG ‘NO!’ in Lev Shkreli’s book. At least for me. And definitely not with ‘one of them.’ Better not tell him about earlier, then. When Adri cornered me, and a well-placed left hook answered the question of how much I liked him forcing his lips on mine. I shake my head.

If Theo is who I know he is… what I know he is…. My gaze flits over his stern features, still lost in his little monologue. Surprisingly, he hasn’t noticed that I’m yet to answer or react in any way. Then again, my face is probably moving close to uncontrollably, so…

Why isn’t he attacking? If Dad were right, that would be the first thing on his mind. Why are he and his ‘friends’ calmly having a drink? My brows furrow at the obvious discrepancy between what I’ve been told and what I’ve been seeing of ‘them’ so far. Theo’s lips twitch a little, and my expression must be the cause. Amused. Well, it’s great that my retreating into my head is amusing to you.

For the second time tonight, he doesn’t react as I thought he would. Or maybe he’s doing exactly that. Perhaps that’s how ‘they’ flirt? He is flirting with me, isn’t he? I should definitely stop calling his people ‘they’ then. Wolves… is that the way they court? So far, I haven’t been able to find out much about wolves or other kinds of shifters. Dad's constant drill of mistrust and loyalty exercises that he calls ‘team building’ didn’t really leave room to question any of the men he deems ‘safe’… except for maybe Adri. But you can only learn so much about Selkies.

Theo stares at me again for a short moment. Then I see his mouth form more words, followed by a short pause. SH*T. I’m busted. Now try to get out of this elegantly, B.

“Sorry, Bane, just tallying up the register for tonight.” I tap my temple. “Great at math.”

His lips twitch again, the furrow in his brow softening. “Thought you do that once you close.”

“Only amateurs.” The scoff burns a little in the back of my throat.

“So you say you’re guessing.”

“Estimating.”

“Guessing.”

I can’t help but smile at his persistence. “Maybe.”

“Your books must be a nightmare. How does any of that add up?”

“Well, we have gorgeous girls work the bar, so the drunk patrons won’t even know what hit them when the tap comes. All they wanted was to keep drinking with the pretty girl. Hard to do calculus with beer goggles.” I shrug. “Whatever isn’t in the register right before closing will suddenly appear on the last fool’s tap. So I’d get out of here quick if I were you. That bartender is wicked.”

“I’m starting to think her sister is worse.” His smile has my stomach drop to my knees, and my cheeks feel unreasonably hot.

“Maybe.” That can’t be more than a whisper. I have no idea if I’m even making a sound at all. But Theo is still looking at me, still smiling. And right now, I definitely don’t regret giving him my number instead of Melisa’s. It’s time to be bolt little me once more.

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Present day

I needed this. The grip of the handles under my gloves, the gust of wind moving around me, tickling my neck. My bike is the only thing apart from long walks that can save my mood on a day like this— the morning sucked. Cece was up all night with her last remaining tooth coming through and demanded to sleep in my bed. She spit out all the food we prepared for breakfast, and Noor had to take her to daycare because she refused to let me put her in her car seat. That kid is a mood barometer, and she clearly noticed mine has been off for days. Weeks even. And I don’t know what has gotten into me, which makes it even more frustrating.

The nightmares aren’t helping. Well, NIGHTMARE. Singular. Because it’s always the same one.

I’m in a dark place that reminds me of my Dad’s old warehouse, and something fluffy and coffee-colored is stretched out in front of me. Doesn’t sound so bad, right? Wouldn’t be if it wasn’t for the moment that I register the wet stuff I’m sitting in is blood… and it’s coming from the fluff. That’s when I wish I would wake up, but I never do. My heart rate exhilarates, my throat hurts like there is a sob lodged there while blue light suddenly blinds me, and my fear skyrockets. I can’t see. I’m so scared. Mommy. I feel my throat work and scratch. Feels like I’m screaming. Then my eyes zone in on a face turning toward me. Every time it does, I startle. It’s like looking in a mirror. But weirdly different at the same time. Her hair is lighter, and her eyes are that distinct hazel color that has calmed me since I was little.

And the moment she looks at me, a deep sense of warmth and safety washes over me. It’s all going to be alright. She’s got me. Everything will be fine. Until it isn’t. Her head snaps back around, and her lips move in a way that looks like she’s shouting. That light intensifies, and I feel my throat hurt with a scream again. Then she’s in front of me, her warm arms enveloping me. I feel tiny as I get tussled around every second she runs. Her panted breaths fan my neck. She trips, and I scrape my elbow, but I dare not wince when I see the frantic look in her eyes.

What feels like minutes later, she gets to her knees, mine scraping over concrete as she maneuvers me into a tight space that smells rotten and wet. Her lips move again and I see her sign along. ‘Crawl, little heart.’ And as I take a shallow breath and start doing just that, I see her stand shakily for a moment. I look back once more. That’s when the thud of her hitting the ground shakes the scrappy material under me. I watch her head loll to the side. The bullet wound between her eyes is what has me waking up gasping every single time.

As it did this morning. Out of all the things that have happened to me, this horror movie scene from something I must have watched when I was young sticks with me. I even immersed myself enough to make it feel like a whole sensory experience. Don’t get me wrong. It’s totally okay for me that some of the more sinister times of my life stay deeply buried. Where they belong. But I could definitely do without the reoccurrence of this particular nightmare. And it’s a persistent little f*cker. I remember crying to my Mom when I was 10 or 11.

I fumble in my pocket for the keys, and this weird shiver goes down my spine again. It's been like this since I left the house this morning, and it has only intensified since I parked my bike. Trying to shake it off, I twist the key in the lock.

Usually, we don’t lock up around midday. Noor is out for another hour, though, and I had to clear my head after the iced coffee incident. Did I already mention this morning sucked? Well, then, I’m repeating it now. It sucked balls. I should have known the group of college-aged a**heads was trouble. Especially since I know their leader. He comes in regularly, trying to hit on any girl in sight.

Lately, he has set his sights on me. And it’s not like this morning came as a surprise… just at the most inconvenient time ever. For him. Let’s just say that after the short night I had, purposefully dumping your coffee down my white shirt is not a wise idea. Neither is playing it off as a joke and offering to help me undress. I did take off my shirt. Maybe I was trying to be nice by giving him the shortest look ever at my t*ts… before wrapping the wet shirt around my fist and punching him in the face.

The already sh*tty morning got derailed even more from there on. He and his friends kept shouting; someone said they would call the cops, and Noor had to come to pick me up at the station with the biggest pumpkin pie, and her tail tugged between her legs when begging her cousin to help get the complaint dealt with. And I hated every minute of it. That man already has way too much he can hold over her head, and I still don’t know if I trust him completely. Nader hasn’t ratted us out yet, but somehow, it just feels like a matter of time.

Then again, if we are found, he has just as much to lose as we do. I doubt that his uncle, Noor‘s father, has ANY positive feelings toward him.

As I jiggle the keys in the lock, I take a deep breath before stepping into the shop. I have to push the morning out of my head. We have our third-ever order for a wedding cake, and the couple is coming in today for a tasting and consultation. I told Noor I could handle it for a bit, and she could take her time praying and dropping Cece at the sitters. And I can. I can handle this.

Cracking my neck, I pull the samples from the fridge and pick a platter from the shelf. The light over my head flashes, notifying me that someone has just entered the shop.

“I’ll be right with you.”

God, where is this strange feeling coming from? It’s like my gut is on fire, and a strange buzz is going down my spine. Almost like someone’s gaze traveling down my back. Weird, uncomfortable, and has my scalp tingling.

I turn around and put the platter down. Lucky for me. Because when I lift my gaze, I’m met with someone who has me shuddering, grabbing onto the counter hard.

His name dies on my tongue, and I’m thankful for it. What the hell is this? How is he here? Cold fear and shock tingle down my arms, and my throat feels strangely clocked. There is a burning sensation in the back of my eyes… That turns into a red film the moment my heart rate slows down again.

He left me. HE LEFT ME! Stuck with my family. I TRUSTED him. I-I… I thought-

I cut off my train of thought, meeting his gaze straight on. How dare he look at me like that?! Like I hurt HIM?!

A strangely dark shadow lies over his handsome face. The grey eyes I liked so much have turned into cold, shiny pieces of metal, like mercury droplets on water.

He has the audacity to look at ME like I’m the bane of his existence! Like me, being here is ruining his day… his life. The sharp knife of his gaze travels down my arms. And I know what he’s looking for. I ball my hands into fists and level him a hard look.

Theo. My Theo. That’s not him. Not even close. And I don’t think I would recognize him if it weren’t for the signature color of his eyes and hair. It looks like someone dropped him off at the tattoo artist with an open-ended appointment and fed him steroids for the past eight years.

Maybe I would recognize his voice… If my implants were still working. Well, he hasn’t said anything so far. So there would be nothing to work with even if I wanted to.

My eyes travel over his long-sleeved shirt and polished boots. Pictures flash in the back of my head.

‘Careful! You’ll squish them.’

‘Na, I’ll be careful.’

‘You better be. I planted those.’ A wide smile flashes my way.

‘And they’re just as pretty as you.’

The blush that creeps up my face is intense. ‘Kiss-ass.’

The light over the counter cuts my flashback short, and one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen enters. A wide smile on her face. She comes to a stop next to Theo and snuggles into his side.

“There you are.” I really have to focus on lipreading to follow, the headache intensifying.

She turns to me next and smiles again. “Hey.” A second later, she leans forward, and my gaze drops to her stretched-out hand. She wants me to… shake it, right? I should. That would be polite. But I’m so shell-shocked… I don’t even know what to feel or do. A strange buzz travels all through me, and the urge to turn around and just bolt gets stronger.

“Theo and Maude.” Her smile slips a little when I don’t take her hand. Then she chuckles uncomfortably.

“… for the… wedding cake tasting…”

And something heavy drops into the pit of my stomach.

“Oh…”