Run (Caged Trilogy Book 1)

by H G Lynch

  He froze. In a tight voice, he asked, “What are you doing, Tilly?”I smiled against his skin. He smelled like green leaves and oranges. “Thanking you,” I said, placing another kiss on his neck. I heard his breath catch, the steady rise and fall of his chest against mine pausing. I kissed him again, just under his ear, his curls brushing my face. He shuddered, arms tightening around me.“Tilly, I don’t think—” his voice was rough, and his hands were balled into fists against my spine.

  I pulled back, glancing at his face. His eyes were closed, his mouth thin. Fighting for control—fighting to do the decent thing and push me away. I didn’t want him to push me away, didn’t want him to do the decent thing the way I’d thought Spencer had done. I wanted Dominic to kiss me.

  I brushed his ear with my lips, feeling his heart pounding through his shirt. “Good,” I breathed. “Don’t think.”

  I unlinked my arms from around his waist and moved my hands up his back, over his shoulder blades. I nuzzled at his neck, feeling his pulse flutter against my lips. He shuddered again, and then he tilted his head down. I skimmed my mouth across his cheek to the corner of his mouth, pausing there, teasing. Lightly, I brushed my mouth across his. His fingers touched a slice of bare skin on my back between the waistband of my jeans and the hem of my t-shirt. My daisy chains were getting crushed between us, and my daisy crown fell off. I barely noticed, didn’t care. Dominic held me tighter, and done with the teasing, he covered my mouth with his. It wasn’t like the light, chaste kisses we’d shared before. I was glad. I let him pry my lips apart gently, let him slide his tongue into my mouth. He tasted like apples and sunshine, and he groaned against my lips. His hands didn’t wander the way Spencer’s had, and his lips were softer, less demanding.

  When I finally pulled away, we were both breathing hard. Dominic’s pupils were dilated, the green iris so dark, it was almost black, flecked with gold. His mouth was darkened too, and his cheeks were pink. I knew I probably looked even more telling.

  Stepping away, I reached up to fix my hair, smiling. Dominic blinked a couple of times, his eyes flickering gold, and then blew out a long breath.

  “Holy…” he muttered, shaking his head as if to clear images from it.

  My smile widened, and I bit down on it, blushing. I looked down at my daisy chain necklaces, and saw they were all but flattened. I ripped them off and dropped them to the ground carelessly, kicking dirt over them.

  Then I looked back up at Dominic, who was watching me with a dazed sort of fascination. I beamed. “I think we should get back to the group, don’t you? Wouldn’t want to miss lunch.” I winked.

  Dominic broke into a grin and laughed. We made our way back to the crowd, and took seats at one of the tables. I sat next to Dominic, and Desmond settled on my other side. He cut me a look sideways, one eyebrow subtly raised. I made a face and shook my head slightly. He seemed to understand. He turned to his other side, and I saw he was sitting next to the boy he’d been talking to earlier—his boyfriend.

  The guy was cute, I supposed. Shoulder length brown hair tied back in a loose ponytail on the nape of his neck, sharp features that made him look somewhat dangerous, and gorgeous dark brown eyes framed by thick lashes. He wasn’t quite handsome, not quite pretty, but somewhere in between. I had yet to see an ugly werewolf. I wondered if they were all naturally beautiful, because wolves were naturally beautiful creatures.

  At one point, while Dominic was talking to the red-haired girl I’d dragged him away from before, Desmond leaned over to me. “You know Spencer’s staring at you, right?” he muttered, so low I barely heard him.

  Startled, I looked up and saw Des was right. Sitting two tables away, almost as far away from me as he could get, Spencer was watching me with an intensity that made me want to shiver even at that distance. I clamped down on the feeling and glared at him for a second before turning back to Desmond. I could still feel his gaze on me like a laser. Not so quietly, I said, “He can stare all he wants. As long as he stays the hell away from me.”

  Des blinked, looking half-surprised and half-confused. But I felt the laser glare drop, and I knew Spencer had heard me. I smiled victoriously, but all I really wanted to do was cry.

  Chapter Twenty Three

  ** Spencer **

  Desperate to be alone, Spencer escaped the gathering as soon as he possibly could. He’d spent the whole afternoon talking to Lilac—the girl he was destined and doomed to be with—even though every word, every smile, every breath of her scent made his gut twist and his heart ache. She was a nice enough girl, pretty he supposed, smart enough, but she didn’t fascinate him. She was bubbly, uncomplicated, and seemed to enjoy his company, while he was putting on a show, playing his part. If he showed her how he really was—distant, as Tilly had described him—there was no doubt she would lose interest in him. It was only fair, he supposed, since he had no interest in her to begin with.

  The gathering was coming to an end, just as it was starting to get dark. As much as he wanted to lose himself in the sweet oblivion of his wolf and sink into the freedom of running under the sunset and through the trees, he refused himself the pleasure, the escape. He was disgusted with himself, sick with himself. After the way Tilly had looked at him earlier, he knew he deserved it. Inside him, his wolf whined at the thought of Tilly, and he mentally snapped for it to shut up. He was stomping his way viciously through the trees toward the stream, needing to hear the soothing babble of the water, as if it would help ease the hurting in his chest. He reached the bank, looking around frantically, half-hoping and half-dreading that she was there. She wasn’t. Of course she wasn’t. She was probably with Dominic, playing some stupid board game.

  And that’s where she should be, he thought to himself. Still, the thought made his lips curl back from his teeth, a growl threatening in the back of his throat. He shook his head violently. He stalked across the grass, the joints in his fingers popping as he worked his hands in fists, pacing. His feet crushed a patch of torn daisies, and he paused, looking down at the broken chain of little white flowers. He remembered the daisy chains around Tilly’s neck and circling her head when he’d stood in front of her and told her he didn’t want her, didn’t love her. When he coldly lied to her face, he’d seen how it made it her crumble, seen tears rise to her pretty grey eyes. It was such a mess, like the mess of trampled, broken daisies under his feet.

  Carefully, he knelt, picking up the chain of ruined flowers. It fell apart in his fingers. Such an innocent and beautiful thing, a daisy chain. Innocent and beautiful like her, and as he had the chain, he’d crushed her.

  Tossing the daisies into the water, Spencer thumped to the ground, cradling his head in his hands, his fingers tugging at his hair. He leaned his elbows on his raised knees, head bowed, breathing hard around the sick feeling crawling up his throat. Over and over, his mind replayed the image of Tilly’s face as she’d thrown her Charm to the dirt at his feet. She hadn’t just been throwing away her protection, he knew. She’d been throwing away his protection, the thing he’d given her all along. She’d been tossing him and everything he’d said to her, done for her, to the dirt. The pebble was just a symbol.

  His nails turned to claws as the animal inside him roared, angry and confused, unable to comprehend the complex swirl of emotions making the human boy gasp like a wounded doe. Spencer was stunned and scared by the strength of feeling within him, something crippling, something he didn’t have a name for any more than his wolf did. It was almost as if despair, rage, guilt, jealousy, and sorrow had all been bundled up in one poison and had been injected into his veins to tear him apart. His knuckles cracked, and his toes popped inside his trainers. Savagely, he yanked them off without unlacing them, chucking them across the stream. One of them landed in the water, and he didn’t bother to fish it out. He didn’t care—he wanted out of his clothes, out of this skin.

  He was already pulling off his t-shirt when the breeze blew the scent to him from behind, and his arms seized up. Slowly, he lo
wered his t-shirt back down, and glared into the water at his rippling reflection, hands in clawed fists at his sides. His face in the darkened water was pale, his black hair mussed, and his eyes dark and wild, burning blue and flashing gold as he fought the Change. He looked feral, half-mad. As the cooling breeze whipped around him, he caught the scent again and saw his eyes flare pure gold.

  Tilly. He waited, tense, for her to come closer, to yell at him, hit him, or slam him with that bright power of hers. Part of him longed to turn around and go to her, explain to her why he’d acted like he had, tell her he truly did love her, and apologise with all the words he knew. Part of him trembled to do it, and his wolf whined eagerly. The other, less selfish part warned him he should leave before his will broke and he gave in to the temptation to try to fix things. Maybe he couldn’t save her this time, not from himself. Maybe he was selfish enough not to want to. Maybe, like his mother before him, he was willing to betray the pack for what he really wanted.

  ** Tilly **

  I don’t know how I ended up at the stream. I’d only been walking back from Dominic’s cabin to my own and, somehow, had gotten sidetracked. My feet had brought me there, while my mind was elsewhere, lingering on the make-out session Dominic and I had just had on the sofa in his cabin. It had been pleasant, exciting, interesting, until Desmond had walked in the door and let out a long whistle of surprise, his eyebrows rising into his wavy dark hair.

  Dominic and I had sprung apart like scalded cats, both blushing, and Des had just chuckled. While Dominic bowed his head in embarrassment, Desmond shot me a bright glance with a question in his eyes. His lips turned down at the corners. I read the question easily enough. What are you doing?

  I shook my head in response, an apology in my eyes and on my lips. I don’t know.

  Desmond had scowled, a silent warning, and I looked away, announcing that it was time for me to leave. Dominic had kissed me lightly on the cheek at the door and watched me walk away into the trees.

  Then I was standing twelve feet away from his cruel bastard of a half-brother with my heart in my throat and tears in my eyes. Shame and guilt warred with anger inside me. After how he’d treated me earlier, I should have hated Spencer. I didn’t. When I saw him sitting by the stream, I should have wanted to go over and scream in his face. I didn’t. Seeing him there, curled up with his head in his hands, clutching his hair as if he was in pain, I just couldn’t hold on to my fury and hurt. I’d never seen him so discomposed, so rattled. It shook me, and I wondered what had him so upset. Was it me? Was it because of me? Or was it egotistical, maybe even stupid, of me to think that? To hope for it? Abruptly, he started pulling off his shoes and threw them carelessly, one landing in the stream. He shot to his feet, tugging off his t-shirt, and I bit my lip gingerly. The breeze swept a few strands of hair into my face, and I brushed them back absently, but I saw Spencer freeze, tensing. He lowered his t-shirt back into place and stood, strung tight as a bow, staring into the water. I waited for him to do something else, to turn and walk away, or to Change and vanish into the trees to prowl the night. He just stood there. Waiting. He knew I was there. He was waiting for me to make a choice. I could walk over there, or I could turn and leave. I started to turn, my feet muffled on the dirt and moss, and then I paused, thinking of the way he’d been clutching his hair, growling, and muttering to himself. I hesitated, uncertain.

  Words fought in my head You understand me, Tilly…I said I love you…I don’t say things I don’t mean…I lied. I lied. He lied.

  He’d lied to me, but I was starting to wonder, watching him then, which time he’d really lied. I needed to know. I stepped out of the trees. Spencer didn’t turn, though I noticed his head tilted ever so slightly in my direction, listening. For a moment, I just stood and stared at his back, the tight set of his shoulders, the curled weights of his fists at his sides. And then he spoke.“What are you doing out here?” he asked, his voice flat.

  I recalled he’d asked the same thing in the exact same tone the first night I’d found him by the stream, chucking pebbles into the water. It felt like an eternity ago, though I knew it had only been a few weeks. Hell, the day before felt like an eternity ago. Everything in my head was blurred, confused, and jumbled. I rubbed my forehead, trying to focus, but all I could think of was Spencer’s eyes when he’d promised on the night of the full moon, after the attack, that he wouldn’t let anyone hurt me for any reason. He’d said so many things like that, been my saviour so many times. How could one day and a handful of cruel words negate that?

  “I could ask you the same thing,” I said coolly, moving past him to the rock he usually sat on. I slid onto it, my eyes on the grass. My torn daisy bracelet from that morning was gone, only a couple of crushed daisies were left lying in the dark blades like fallen stars.

  Spencer grunted. “How long have you been standing there?”

  I shrugged, knowing he sensed it even though he was refusing to look at me. His eyes were riveted on the water.

  “Long enough to be curious as to what you’re doing here,” I replied casually. He wanted to play at indifference and mystery? Two could play that game.

  “What does it look like I’m doing?” he snapped, exasperated and irritated.

  I tilted my head, pursing my lips. I stated, “It looks like you’re avoiding my questions.”

  He shot me a glare, then turned his eyes back to the water. “Go away, Tilly,” he said in a hard tone.

  “No,” I said, just as stubborn.

  “No?” he repeated, as if he were surprised I’d refused him.

  I snorted. “Yes.”

  He turned his head toward me and blinked, confusion shadowing his eyes. “What?”

  With an internal smile, I asked, “Are you done?”

  “Done with what?” He scowled, looking more confused than before, and more annoyed.

  “Being an ass.”

  “What do—” he started to ask, and I held up a hand, silencing him. His eyes narrowed in response, his mouth thinning. I ignored the glare.

  “Stop asking questions and answer one of mine for once, Spencer. It’s the least you can do.” I saw a flicker of something in his eyes, and he turned away sharply.

  His jaw was clenched, and he hissed through his teeth, “Which question would you like me to answer?”

  “That’s another question. And the first one. What are you doing here?”

  He shrugged. I was so sick of that motion.

  “Nothing,” he said, sounding bored.

  I glared at him. “Funny. It looked a lot like you were stressing out about something.”

  “Yes,” he spat, “I was wondering why you keep showing up when I’ve made it clear I don’t want to see you.”

  I felt the sting of the sarcasm and pushed it aside. “Maybe I just like annoying you,” I said with a smirk.

  Spencer scoffed. “Maybe you’re just obsessed with me.”

  I snorted. “Get over yourself.”

  “You’re the one who seems to think I’m in love with you, even though I told you I was lying

  when I said that.”

  Ouch. “I think a lot of things,” I muttered.

  He looked at me sideways, hands in his pockets. His brow furrowed under his sleek black hair. His face was mostly in shadow, since the sun had gone down and the moon had yet to rise. His eyes seemed to gleam from the darkness.

  “What is that supposed to mean?” he asked, disgruntled.

  I just smiled blandly at him, enjoying his bafflement. It was his turn to be confused, and my turn to be mysterious. Maybe he’d finally get just how frustrating it was, how annoying his cryptic answers and unfathomable expressions could be.

  He scowled at me. “I don’t understand you,” he grumbled in a tone of utter frustration, shaking his head again.

  He stared at me, as if trying to read my thoughts on my face. I kept my expression carefully blank. He made a noise of irritation.

  With a shrug, I said more quietly, “I gu
ess I don’t understand you either.”

  His jaw tightened, a muscle flickering in his cheek. But all he said was, “I guess not.”

  “And yet...” I tilted my head, looking at him thoughtfully.

  “Yet what?” he barked, his patience fraying.

  I was getting to him. That was exactly what I wanted. I wanted him to react. I wanted him to get pissed off. Because if he got pissed off, he wasn’t indifferent. If he wasn’t indifferent, the chances he’d lied to me earlier, not the night before, were much greater. If he was truly indifferent to me, really didn’t care what I thought of him, didn’t care what I felt, he wouldn’t look so damned twitchy. Like I was coming dangerously close to saying something he didn’t want to hear.

  So I just shrugged, agitating him further. He twitched again. A growl escaped his lips, rolling up his throat and over his tongue.

  “What? What are you thinking?” he snarled.

  I smiled, this one more genuine. I answered honestly, “I’m thinking that you’re a bad liar.”

  He blinked. “I’m not—”

  I shook my head, cutting him off. “I might have believed you...if it weren’t for the fact that you’ve got my Charm in your pocket.” I motioned toward his left jeans pocket. I knew he had it, because I could sense the buzz of its power. Jasmine had put a strong Spell on it. Somehow, I knew it was what had drawn me there, led my feet there before my mind knew that was where I needed to be. Maybe it was that second Enchantment she’d put on it at work.

  Help the passion of new love bloom, and aid the moon's child in keeping his loyalty strong.

  Looking stunned, Spencer reached into his pocket and pulled out the Charm. With the chain looped around his fingers, the pebble swung free, flashing white, gold, and blue. “How did you know?”

  “I can feel the magic,” I said, wiggling my fingers at him playfully.