by Mason Sabre
“You feel our connection.”
“You did something to me today?” She gave him an icy stare, which he had realised was her way of self-preservation. This was her defence. He just had to breach it.
“Come to me, dearling,” he said, whispering words that he hadn't uttered for so long. He used to say them unto his Mary, and she would slide up to him and rest her head against his chest.
“You have gone—” She stopped what she was going to say, her eyes widening as her mouth said words she didn’t know, and brought hope to Henry’s heart.
“Stark raving mad?”
Gemma nodded slowly.
“Let me help you.”
“You can't kill anyone,” she said, quite serious.
“Nay,” he said. “Come to me.” When she didn’t move, he closed the gap between them and sank to his knees in front of her. He opened himself up to the pain that lacerated her heart, unable to stand watching her suffer like this anymore.
When he reached out to her, Gemma flinched, pulling back out of his reach. “What—”
Henry paused, his hand mid-air. “I will not hurt you. I only wish to help.” He extended his hand again and, inexplicably, this time she let him. He cupped her cheek, his cool fingers grazing hot skin. It brought a soft murmur from her lips, and she sighed in contentment. His own breath caught low in his throat, the sheer pleasure of the contact between them overwhelming. It had been too long since he had held Mary this way—since he had comforted her like this. She always loved it when he had held her face thus. Some nights, she would lay next to him, her face in his hands just like this. She would press her hand along the back of his just to keep him there.
“Close your eyes.”
With only a moment’s hesitation, she did, her body tense, not trusting him entirely, but testing him, perhaps. He watched her, the way her lips parted on a shuddering breath making his body tighten in response. Her tiger roamed just under the surface, ready, like a dull presence pressing in on him. He wanted to reach out and hold her face in both hands, but he feared he might scare her away.
“This is exactly how it feels,” he said hoarsely after a moment as she started to relax, her face turned into his hand.
There was a short pause before he spoke again.
“Whoever has my soul brought this to you.”
He felt her swallow and her shoulders tense before she opened her eyes again.
“Tell me where it is.”
“I don’t know,” she whispered. Rich green eyes stared up at him, betraying the lie she uttered. He cursed inwardly, wishing he had the ability to read minds. Then all of this foolishness could end.
“You do. There is only one who can exist and do this to you. You feel it. He is the piece of your heart that only silences when he is close.” He paused. “It is why I can calm you.”
She said nothing, and with each moment that passed, he could feel the shift in her. She was finding her strength, drawing it from him and filling her soul with it. She could deny everything if she wanted, but later, when she thought about this moment, she would remember what she had felt. Henry knew he would. Even now, this touch, it wasn’t enough. It could never be enough. They needed to be melded together, the way they had been when Mary walked the earth.
Gemma cleared her throat and let out a sigh as she got back up to her feet, the break of contact leaving a vast void inside him.
“You suffer unnecessarily. Tell me where my soul is so I may put right my wrongdoings.”
Gemma’s eyes darkened. “By fix it, you mean kill the host?”
His jaw tightened. “I wish only to release my soul.”
For a long heart-stopping moment, Gemma said and did nothing. The evening was drawing in faster, darkness falling around them. “I need to shift,” she said finally. “Maybe you should leave.”
Shift.
The word brought anger to the surface, and a tick started to work along his jaw.
His very own Mary … turning into one of those monsters.
“How do you stand it?” he grated.
She frowned at his sudden enraged tone. “Stand what?”
“To be one of those … things.” The thought of his sweet Mary giving her body over to the very thing that took her life ...
“A shifter?”
“After what they did—” He pushed to his feet and stalked away from her, fearing that he would take it too far.
Fate had decided a cruel, vicious payback for him. Had they not stolen enough?
He whirled around to face her again. “You do not remember?”
Her brow knitted together in a totally bewildered expression. “What?”
“They killed you. They slaughtered you and our young.” His mind raged just at the memory of it.
“Mary was killed by shifters?” she whispered, shocked.
His confirmation was the growl that left his throat. “The … boys,” he said, unable to voice the names without them leaving a bitter taste in his mouth, “came when you were alone. I had been at the markets and … and left you all alone.” That was all he could see in his mind. His beautiful Mary, alone.
“Mary, not me,” she corrected softly, but he wasn’t listening.
“They took … their sick pleasure from you.” The sight had plagued him for the years he had been confined. It had been his nightmare over and over until he thought he would go mad from it. “When I returned, you were on the floor, our young was gone, ripped from your womb.” He paused. “We had known there was a group of people who turned to creatures, but we did not believe they would e’er harm us. What fools we were.” His eyes met hers in a ruthless stare. “I killed them ... all of them. I tore them apart the way they had done to you.”
She stifled a gasp. “Henry—” Her tone was gentle, compassionate.
He moved out of her reach, although she was not trying to comfort him, he was sure of that. She just wanted to placate him with the lies she had been taught. But it was not her fault. None of this was. When he thought he could speak in a more rational tone, he said, “You are loyal to them?”
“I have loyalties to my own kind. Yes.”
His handsome face hardened. “You are loyal to those who would lead you with lies and twisted secrets,” he hissed. “You do not belong with them.”
“You think I belong with you? I am shifter, Henry. You can't fix that part.”
His fangs pierced his bottom lip–his mind was swimming with images of Mary.…
“Do you know Humans killed my brother? He didn’t deserve that, but they did. Killed him so bad that there was nothing left. Yet, here you are, looking at me like I am a piece of shit suddenly.”
“You believe the lies they tell you.”
Gemma frowned. “What does that mean?”
“Your brother. You believe him to be dead.”
Her expression grew cold. “He is dead. He’s been dead for two years. Humans did that to him … to us.”
Poor Mary, Henry thought. She believed these things. She believed all the lies they had ever told her. Perhaps it was time to show her the truth. “The next time you speak with your father, ask him where your brother is.”
“I told you—”
“You told me what they have you believing,” he cut in coolly. “That does not make it the truth. There is much in this world you do not comprehend. ‘Tis not your fault.”
Chapter 19
Natalie
It didn’t matter what outfit Natalie chose, there was no set of clothes she could find suitable enough to go to the estate to help Cade. The pile of discarded clothes on her bed mocked her with delight, and she was about two seconds away from throwing the lot in the trash. Her anxiety spiked with each passing moment. This was her chance, and she was screwing it up big time—what woman couldn’t get her clothes right? How hard was it?
She glared at herself in the bedroom’s full-length mirror and screwed her face up, angling her head and squinting until her reflection blurred itself into an
even more deformed creature than the one she normally saw. It didn’t matter what she did, she still looked like an idiot.
“God,” she ground out, yanking the sundress she had tried on over her head and throwing it back with the rest of the rejects. Everything was either too fat, too thin, too formal or too casual. Cade would pick her up, see her, then wonder what the hell he was doing with her. She covered her face with her hands and groaned. By dinner time, Cade would be at his father’s house asking him to cancel the deal.
Why had he wanted her in the first place…?
That small voice in her head—the one that loved to feed on her insecurities—echoed loudly in her ears: the real answer was that if his father wasn’t making him, he wouldn’t be with her at all, would he? And that was the real problem here. Not that her clothes made her look terrible. It was that they showed her off as the fraud she was in Cade’s life. She didn’t belong.
There should have been a manual for the future wife of a DSA law official. Maybe she could write one and help any future unfortunate souls finding themselves as lost as she felt right now. How do you know what to wear to a crime scene if you have never been to one? Did she put her hair up, or leave it down? Earrings? Did she have to remove everything?
With an exasperated sigh, she plonked herself down on her bed, taking a moment to let the defeat have its chance with her emotions. But even then, looking in the mirror as she sat in her underwear, her usually flat stomach rippled, mocking her, too. She sat upright and grabbed hold of the skin at her midsection, pinching it angrily. “You're just a failure,” she said to herself. “Look at you.” She let go of her flesh, wrapped her arms around herself and rocked back and forth.
This was no use.
Five minutes passed of Natalie letting herself wallow in the depths of her self-pity. She ground her teeth until her jaw ached, biting back the frustrated tears that threatened to spill. No. This would not happen.
Twisting herself around and reaching across the big pile, she grabbed a previously rejected camisole and blouse. They would have to do. She pulled on a pair of jeans and then slid easy shoes on her feet. She grabbed one of the discarded dresses and tossed it over the mirror. If she couldn’t see herself, she wouldn’t feel tempted to change again.
The crunch of tyres on gravel outside made her race across her bedroom to the window, her heart somersaulting in her chest.
Cade was home …
She knelt on the ottoman and pressed her face to the glass. She couldn’t help the small bubble of delight that popped in her stomach at the sight of his car. She couldn’t see him, but she could track movement in the driver’s seat. “Please don’t let me mess this up.”
He sat in the car for a minute, hands gripping the wheel as he stared straight ahead. Even without being able to see his face, she could tell that his mood was dark. She could feel it all the way to here. Just the way he held himself as he got out of his car was enough to make her stomach twist.
He slammed the car door and stalked down path at the side of the house.
Natalie sprinted out of her room, down the stairs and into the kitchen before Cade could make it into the house. She put on some water to make coffee, trying to look cool and composed.
“Good morning?” she asked him as he came in and dropped his files and jacket onto the table.
He pulled his tie from his pocket and threw that onto the jacket. “Maybe,” he muttered. “I’m just going to grab a shower and then we can head out.”
He walked out as fast as he had come in, heading up the stairs. Natalie flicked the water off, trying to bite back her disappointment. The bathroom door slammed shut, and seconds later, she heard the pipes as he cranked the taps.
Maybe it was just a bad day at work. They happened.
She stood at the foot of the stairs, caught in the realm of the unknown. His scent lingered thick in the air. Maybe she could add to the good wife guide, how to deal with bad days in the office. Was it really supposed to be this way?
Back behind the closed door of her room, she could be herself again. Here, she did not need to worry she would put a foot wrong, and Cade would send her packing. Perhaps it wouldn’t matter if it were only her happiness riding on all of this, but it was Beth … mostly Beth. What would happen to her if they became part of the stray lands? What would it do to her mother?
She sat at her desk and opened her laptop—something to do to pass the time while he showered and to stop her mind from going crazy. She clicked open her emails. Two were junk … one offering her 25% off at some store she had never heard of, and the other informing her of another lottery win. She deleted both, then stared at the last one.
Thank you for your email.
That was all she could see, but … shit. She had emailed the clinic. She had known they would take a while, but she didn’t want to keep having to ask Cade. “Did they come yet? Did they say yes?” it made her feel needy.
She exhaled and clicked open.
Dear Miss Castle. Please find attached a copy of the email sent to Mr MacDonald.…
She gave the touch pad a nervous tap. Everything hinged on these results. If she couldn’t produce children for Cade, the deal was off. It wouldn’t be surprising for her body to betray her in this way.
She scrolled down….
These two are a match. Procreation compatible.
“Oh, God …” Her heart fluttered at the words. Procreation compatible …. She clasped her hands together and pressed her knuckles to her lips. She had to push back her chair and let herself sit and just stare at the words. This might as well have been a true lottery win for all it meant to her. This was really happening.
Clicking forward on the email, she started to type in Kara’s email address … but then stopped. Maybe she should wait until Cade told her officially. The date of the email copy said it had only been sent to him yesterday.
But he hadn't mentioned it.…
Maybe he hadn't opened it yet. Yes. She nodded to herself. Someone he knew had just died. Of course he hadn't opened his emails yet. She clicked ‘close’ and discarded the draft of the email. She would wait. This was for Cade to deal with, not her. You don’t mate with the potential alpha and then undermine him. Rule #75 of the good wife manual.
“Are you ready?” She jumped when Cade knocked on her door. She hadn't heard him finish in the bathroom. Quickly, she slid her chair back and went to open the door.
Cade’s towering form stood in the doorway, and her heart did a little somersault at the sight of him. He was dressed in black jeans and a shirt this time, his dark hair still damp from his shower. It stuck up at the front where he had dried it with a towel and left the air to do the rest.
“I’m ready,” she said breathlessly, trying to ignore the delicious scents of Cade and shower gel.
“I wasn’t sure what to wear. Is this—”
“It’s fine,” he said, hardly sparing her a glance. “I just need to grab some things and then I’ll meet you downstairs.” He was walking away before she could utter another word.
He was quiet on the drive to the estate, but his mood had seemed to brighten. Kind of. Perhaps brighten was the wrong word. He had simply gone into work mode, but whatever it was, the darkness in his eyes had lifted, and that was enough for Natalie. She could relax a little next to him. The tension when he had first got into the car beside her was so overwhelming that she nearly offered to take her own car and meet him there.
The estate was big … huge. Natalie had never been so close to it before. The road leading to it was long and windy and unless you had business there, there was no point approaching. She had driven past it enough times, but that was from the main road. The chimney always stood out like a landmark for her, signalling that she was close to home. Up close, though, it was much bigger than she realised. Old, the edges having rotted away, leaving rusted tears streaking down its sides.
“She was found here? I thought this place was closed down.” It had shut years ago when the
Humans had found their staff to have increases in rates of cancers and birth defects. Eventually it would be sold as development land for Others. Who cared if they got cancer or had babies with three heads?
“Inside,” he said. “Upstairs.” He leant over her to open the glove box, his hand brushing her leg and sending electric jolts through her body. She tensed, her pulse quickening. “Sorry,” he said, then pulled out a box of latex gloves. “Here, you need to put these on. Take a couple of spare sets.”
Gloves … Of course. Silly girl.
“How do you want to do this?” Cade asked, his eyes on her.
“We’ll just walk in?”
“Pretty much.”
“Do that then.”
The building loomed ahead of them, an eerie shadow spread around it. But it was calming—peaceful, perhaps. But there were no sounds. Not the normal quiet. There were no chirpings from crickets, no birds, no cats … just silence, as if everything knew this ground was toxic. A chill ran up her spine.
“Maybe you can walk me through this? I will tell you when to stop … if I see anything, I mean.”
Entering the building itself meant Natalie would have to clear the lower doors of her mind and let it in. This was why Beth was so sick. She couldn’t get her doors closed, let alone locked. Her mind was constantly inundated with images and visions. The three Castle daughters were like a puzzle that went together. Natalie often wondered what would have happened if her mother had birthed only two children. Their gifts were a compliment to each other. Natalie had the power of past sight, Kara had the future, and Beth held the present. Three of them together meant they could read time like it was a book inside their minds. They just had to grab hold of it.
Cade led the way into the building, the file tucked under his arm. Natalie kept behind him as they entered the darkness, her eyes widening at the sight of the place. What would it be like to be here alone with only the echoes of one’s own mind? She let one of her mental locks slip, slowly. It wasn’t fun when a rush of images blasted her mind. But not all places had shadows. It depended on what had happened there. In a place like this, though, it was probably rife with them.… But it was only Jessica she was looking for.
