Savage Possessed: A Reverse Harem Urban Fantasy Adventure (Twin Rivers Possession Book 2)

by September Stone

A shiver rolls through me. “I don’t understand why Mother wants me to find Elowen now. If the great mage is such a manipulative person, then why does Mother Nature need her? If Elowen really does know how to restore the Lost River, wouldn’t she have already done it?”

  Valor shrugs. “I can’t begin to understand your connection with Mother Nature. I’ve never heard anyone speak about the elemental magic source as personally as you do. If she needs Elowen to help restore the Lost River, then we must find a way to make Elowen cooperate. She’s not accustomed to that sort of thing.”

  Jonas speaks with his mouth half-full. “Then why are we doing this?”

  Carrigan doesn’t miss a beat. “Because the Lost River has been missing for a century, and this is the first lead I’ve ever heard of that might help us. Don’t you want that? Think about it, Jonas. The Lost Twin River. The Healing River isn’t nearly as powerful as it was when our parents were young. The Lost River doesn’t just heal physical problems, but magical ones, too. My problems can’t be cured by the Healing River because they’re rooted in magic gone wrong. The Lost River is the one thing that could actually cure me permanently.” There’s a determined edge to his jaw. “I want to bathe in that river. I want to be cured for good. Wouldn’t that be an amazing legacy, to be able to hand that back to our people?”

  Jonas lowers his chin and nods, taking Carrigan’s quest as if it’s now his own. It’s the one thing that makes Jonas almost redeemable—his love for Cary. Then, just when I’m about to cut the guy some slack, he glares at me in a calculating way, as if he’s only along for the ride to make sure I don’t sucker a tropical vacation and an expense account out of his bestie. “Fine. Then let’s get going. Man, this trip is sounding better and better. Can’t wait to reason with a manipulative mage who can steal a person’s conscience. What could go wrong?”

  Chapter Four

  Sophie

  Hagan helps me up and then surprises me when he extends his hand to Valor, hoisting him to his feet without a word. A muscle in his jaw tightens, but there’s a purposeful note of him making an effort. I know it’s mostly because Valor encouraged me to stay close to Hagan and Carrigan. I see the nonverbal exchange that almost looks like respect crackling in the air between them. My spirits lift that perhaps things won’t be so very tense forever.

  We hitch our backpacks over our shoulders and follow Valor, who isn’t using a map or anything else that might give a shred of serenity that we’re not completely lost. Walking steadily uphill is the worst, but I know that if this is what Mother wants, this is what needs to happen. I can feel her growing upset that we’re not moving fast enough.

  I’m not particularly chatty when the sun starts to dip lower and lower in the sky, the fading light shimmering through thick branches overhead. I can feel her upset. Now that the finish line is in sight, she’s anxious for me to move faster. I try to set a quicker pace, but my legs aren’t long enough to satisfy her. Sweat pours down my back, and the loose strands of hair that have gone rogue from the sloppy bun atop my head stick to the nape of my neck. Each time Hagan suggests stopping, I insist we continue.

  “Let’s break for the night,” Valor announces when we reach a clearing just big enough to spread out in. Before I can argue, he holds up his hand. “Tell Mother that it’s dangerous to go further without light. Too many roots and things to trip over. Not worth the risk of her vessel twisting an ankle.”

  My insides scream that this is the wrong move, but I chew on my lower lip. Valor is right. But while I agree with him, Mother does not. Mother wants what she wants, and I’ve learned that my opinions matter precious little when she has a plan she’s not willing to negotiate on. She doesn’t care about things like twisted ankles.

  Still, I sit with the guys and take off my backpack. My shoulders groan when they can finally move around freely. The air hits the back of my sweat-soaked shirt like a lover’s kiss, and I take in a deep, satisfied breath at finally letting my body take a break. The promise of sleep is so alluring that I don’t even care to get out my bag of Valor’s trail mix. I lean against the nearest tree and half-listen to the guys unpack a few items while they settle in, hoping the feeling of Mother’s nagging will fall to silence once I’m asleep.

  “You’re looking unwell,” Valor observes as he studies my scrunched face.

  “I’m alright. Mother doesn’t want us to stop here. It’s always a battle when she doesn’t get her way.”

  “Did she not understand the path is too dangerous to take at night?”

  “Oh, she understands. She just doesn’t care.”

  “About you? She doesn’t care about you? Her vessel?”

  I blink up at him, perplexed that this is a point of concern for him. “It’s okay, Valor. It’s not like she’s my birth mother. She cares about results only.”

  Valor fixes me with a hard stare that says far too many things he won’t voice aloud. I’m glad he doesn’t comment further.

  Hagan stretches his shirt over his head, drawing my eyes like a beacon. His chest is massive, sprinkled with dark tufts of hair. My fingers twitch to feel the bristly texture, to savor the warmth of his skin, but I refrain from groping him in public, for which I think there should be some sort of prize.

  Hagan catches my obvious lust and smirks at me. I love the smack of cockiness on the man; he was so agitated and locked up tight just a couple weeks ago. Now his shoulders are rolled back and his chin raised, as if life might not always be so very cruel.

  “I’m going to hunt us up something for dinner,” he announces. “Cary, Valor, you’ve got Sophie?” The fact that he includes Valor in the small group of people he trusts with my safety is a shock to me. Judging by Valor’s raised eyebrows, it’s a surprise to him as well.

  “Of course,” Valor replies, facing Hagan with his chest barreling at the blatant display of being invited into the fold.

  It dawns on me that Hagan’s preparing to shift. Though I know it’s completely natural and fine, I still have to do my best to talk myself down from worrying. I wasn’t like this before I met them. I was concerned about my students, sure, but not in a way that made me anxious whenever they were out of my sight. I realize how much I’ve started to draw comfort from Hagan’s constant presence, to the point of sorely missing it if it’s gone for even half an hour.

  Valor holds up his hand. “I can track down some food. You stay here, Hagan. It appears she’s getting anxious at the prospect of you leaving.”

  I wave off Valor’s offer with too much bravado. “Am not. Go on, honeybear.”

  Hagan strolls over to me in a strut that tells me he knows exactly how much his body toys with my libido. He’s so massive that I feel instantly safe around him, even as Mother warns me this isn’t the time to stop. She’s angry when I lean up on my toes to kiss him, which does nothing to set the mood. “I’ll be right back,” he promises between slow, breathy caresses of his lips against mine. He doesn’t wrap his arms around me, which is a good thing. Otherwise I’d be done for, not caring who watched me strip his jeans off.

  “I know. I’m not worried,” I lie. Everything in me is all jumbled. I want to sleep. I want to eat. I want to keep going toward Elowen. I also want to stay right here and roll around on the grass with Hagan and Cary. Maybe I want too many things.

  My stomach churns and instantly I know Mother has gone from displeased to pissed. When Carrigan’s ability is out of control, he gets migraines, but when Mother is angry, my stomach roils until she gets her way. I should’ve known she wouldn’t let up just because I’m here in Twin Rivers. I pull away from Hagan, dreading throwing up all over his gorgeous chest. I fake a smile that I hope is believable enough, and he exits the clearing after locking eyes with Carrigan and giving him a nod.

  Valor and Carrigan collect branches and twigs to start a fire to cook whatever Hagan hunts down. I busy myself with my backpack, refolding my clothes as if that’s what needs to be done. Every motion is a risk. This was how it was the week before Mother set f
ire to my entire home. I’d been living on saltines and ginger ale, stuck in my stubbornness.

  But this isn’t me being stubborn. Mother sometimes forgets that humans have daily needs like food and sleep. Walking through the woods all day takes a certain amount of oomph out of a person, but as I cover my mouth to stifle the urge to vomit, I know Mother isn’t thinking rationally.

  It’s our constant battle—my plain logic versus her master plans.

  Carrigan sits beside me, his hand on my back. I want to enjoy his touch, but the smallest movement makes me seasick. I keep my chin low so he doesn’t see me turn green.

  “Give her some space, Cary. She’s about to blow chunks.”

  I glance up in utter confusion, baffled that Jonas was watching close enough to notice the thing I hadn’t voiced. Then, as if worried he’s been caught paying attention to me, he looks away quickly, as if trying to convince us that he doesn’t care at all that I’m moments from vomiting. Seconds later, his eyes dart back to me, then away as I teeter toward the edge of full-blown sick.

  “Are you serious? Sophie Mae, what’s wrong? Did you eat something bad?” Carrigan’s concern is precious but he won’t stop rubbing my back, which is compounding the unrest in my gut.

  Valor stiffens, affronted that he might be suspect in something as common as food poisoning. “The rest of you aren’t sick, and you had the same sandwiches.”

  I shake my head, shooting Cary an apologetic look as I shirk away from him. “Nothing like that. It’s Mother,” I explain without really explaining.

  Carrigan’s eyebrows shoot up into his hairline. “Mother Nature is making you sick? Why? How?”

  It’s an effort to stand, but I know I don’t have much time before I puke. I really, really don’t want to be sick in front of Carrigan. “She’s throwing a fit. Doesn’t want us to set up camp. The urgency’s ramped up for some reason I don’t understand. She won’t be happy until we’re face-to-face with Elowen.” I wave off his concern as he stands beside me. “It’s fine. She does this all the time. I just need to… I’ll be right back.”

  Chapter Five

  Sophie

  I stumble away from him, his questions bouncing off my back as I crash through bramble in my quest to move further into the woods. As soon as the trees shroud me enough for comfort, I keel over on all fours, gagging on air before the bile decides it doesn’t want to live inside of me anymore. Vomit rockets out of me with such force that my eyes water. It pours and pours for too many seconds, and suddenly I’m struggling for an ounce of reprieve just so I can suck down a breath. My eyes bulge, pricking with moisture. I can’t tell if the tears are from anxiety or just a byproduct of such forceful puking.

  I’m granted a breath before everything I’ve eaten that day lines up to make its grand exit.

  “Oh, Sophie Mae! Let me help you.”

  Dread runs over my spine at the sound of Carrigan’s voice. He stands behind me to avoid the splatter and gathers my messy bun in his fist to keep the ends from getting sullied. It’s a sweet gesture that endears me to him, but also unlocks a dark part of my psyche I usually keep tucked away. I don’t want those memories to breathe in fresh air. I want them suffocating in the nooks and cobwebby crannies of my insides so no one ever has to know they were real.

  But they were, and still are.

  “Go, Cary!” I work out in gulps. “You don’t want to be here for this.”

  Too many emotions surface, as they always do when Mother pulls this shit. I let out a sob that announces my broken heart to the woods, begging the trees to do something about it all. Suddenly, my memories take over. The grass feels like polished linoleum under my knees. I can smell the sting of cleaning chemicals, the fumes from the morning scrub burning my nose while I vomit into the toilet.

  “Tell me what she’s saying!” Dad yells, his face distraught while he holds my hair back.

  Now the tears can’t be blamed on the vomit as they stream down my face. My daddy’s short, crazy brown curls that I would never dream of taming whip about as he tries to figure out how best to help me. He was good like that, never believing I was beyond hope.

  My tears are nothing to all those my father cried. As horrid as I feel, I know it was worse for him—watching his baby go through incurable sickness for weeks on end. His tears wet my shirt that’s sweaty from the flu-like symptoms no amount of medicine can cure.

  It’s when I’m on the edge of passing out with my head in the toilet that Dad really starts wailing. “Fine!” I hear him shout, rousing me for another bout of sickness. He calls to the ceiling with anger that’s born from a heart mid-rupture. “I’ll go if it saves her. Leave her alone, and I’ll go!”

  “No!” I rasp. It’s meant to be a scream, but my throat is so very burned from too much acid that even talking comes out as a croak. “Daddy, don’t leave me!”

  I know my words break him, but he remains firm, his voice leveling. “Show me that Sophie will be okay, and I’ll leave. I’ll do as you ask.”

  The very next second, I’m able to suck in a full breath. My stomach calms like there was never a storm to begin with. It’s eerily quiet, and I’m so drained and turned around that I allow a swell of relief to fill me before I realize what Dad has done. He leans down to kiss my sweaty cheek. “I love you, my Sophie-girl. Never forget that.”

  “Daddy?” I scrape out. It’s not until he leaves the bathroom that I realize what he’s done.

  Mother wanted my dad out of the picture because she didn’t approve of him interfering with her lessons, slowing things down when Mother was too rough. So Dad left to save my life. We talked on the phone every day, but it wasn’t the same. Six years later, he died all alone. No matter what wrongs Mother uses me to right, I will never forgive her for that.

  Every time I throw up, I remember his panic. I feel his hand in my hair, or the lack thereof. I feel his absence most of all, and I hate Mother for ruling that a necessary evil. It hadn’t wounded her at all. Mother Nature is the consummate general, making heartless commands with a stoic expression, never caring that I needed my daddy. I think we’d both thought he would be able to come back after Mother got what she wanted, but mission after mission was completed, and he never returned. We talked on the phone every day, until two years ago the phone calls stopped abruptly.

  I would’ve liked to have been there to hold my dad’s hand in his last moments after his car veered into oncoming traffic. There are a lot of things I will never forgive Mother for stealing away time with my dad before time itself took him away from this world.

  “It’ll be alright,” Carrigan assures me. I can tell by the tremble in his voice that he doesn’t really believe what he’s saying. “Deep breaths, Sophie Mae.”

  I feel Mother twitch inside of me, realizing that I’m far more stubborn than she gave me credit for.

  It’s when Carrigan begins moaning that I’m struck with fresh horror. “Oh. Oh, no. Oh, I think I’ve got whatever bug you have. I’m sorry.”

  I go from upset to stricken with dread when Carrigan moves a few feet from me and keels over onto all fours, dry heaving with wide eyes.

  My head turns in slow motion to watch the beginning stages of Mother in action.

  Mother knows. She knows that I care about him enough that I’ll dance for her if she goes after the sweet man who holds my hair back when I’m sick.

  “We have to go,” I work out, and as soon as I admit that I’ll obey, Mother eases her foot off the gas, and my stomach begins to settle. Carrigan’s face is painted with relief. He sits back as the whole bout of sickness leaves his system in a breath. “We can’t camp here tonight. She won’t let me.”

  “Won’t let you? How’s that?”

  “She’ll have me on all fours all night long until I pass out in my own puke. I don’t want you to see me like that.” I close my eyes, pained at the unfairness of it all. “I don’t want you to see me like this.” When Carrigan starts to protest, I shake my head. “You don’t understand. That fl
u you just felt coming on? It was from Mother. She knows if she goes after you, I’ll obey. We have to go, otherwise she’ll hurt you.” I touch my forehead, wishing I could keep emotion from controlling my voice. “I won’t let that happen.”

  Carrigan helps turn me away from the puddle, dragging me back a few inches. My butt is on the grass, and he supports my torso in a loose hug as he wipes down my face with a tissue. He lets me focus on the gift that is breathing. His touch is so loving. So gentle. So pure that I can’t stop the tears from falling.

  “Hey, it’s okay, Sophie Mae. It seems the worst may’ve passed.” He combs the fly-aways from my face, smoothing my hair back as if it matters I’ll be bothered by the ticklish, sweat-soaked strands when the harsher injustices clear. “Sweetheart, I need you to tell me the absolute truth.” His eyes bore into mine with fresh worry. “I know you say it’s Mother who made you throw up, but that was… Are you sick? Like, hospital sick?”

  I manage to shake my head. Carrigan’s such a kind soul that he gusts out a breath of relief. I didn’t mean to worry him. I feel awful causing such an unselfish person stress like that.

  “That’s good. Are you pregnant? It’s okay if you are. Just be honest. I can’t help you if I don’t have all the facts.”

  I cast him as much of an eye-roll as I can manage. “No. I haven’t had sex since college. I told you; it’s Mother. This is what she does if I don’t obey. We have to break camp and go. It’s not going to get any better if we stick around here.”

  “Alright, then. We’ll keep moving. Are we close? Can she tell you that?”

  I shrug. “Mother’s rarely helpful with details. She’s a toddler. Wants what she wants and throws a tantrum when she doesn’t get it fast enough.” It feels good to air my frustrations. Carrigan has a softness to the edges of his eyes that makes me feel like it’s okay to be upset every now and then when the world breaks unfairly. I don’t want to put on a brave face just yet. I want to wallow in the wrongness while I enjoy the crisp woodland air flowing in and out of my lungs.