Three Times Torn

by Felisha Antonette

  Nathan’s mild-mannered tude annoys me. He refuses to let me in his head, and my life would be so much easier if he did.

  “Sparks, you don’t want to be in my head,” he responds to my thought.

  “Well, you are clearly in mine.”

  “Not now,” he warns.

  “Nathan.” I reach over, grabbing his hand, stealing the anger from him. “I love you. No one can change that or take me away from you. My heart in your chest only beats for you.” I pull him to stop. “I know right now it may appear otherwise, but believe me, I only need you. I’m sorry doesn’t justify for what has been done but if I could do anything to change this, I would.”

  He looks down at me, remorsefulness and annoyance resting in his deep brown swirl. “It’s not something you can control, Sparks,” he says, cold and composed. He speaks to me as if I’m one of his victims he’s taking it easy on, and I hate it.

  “Then help me control it and stop turning away and leaving me. I don’t know what to do in this. I don’t know what’s going on. I don’t want this!” I try to ignore the aggravation flaring in me, not wanting this to escalate into an argument.

  He shakes his head. “I’ve done what I can.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “There’s nothing you can do. Just time.”

  “Well, you do something, Nathan! Gah, you’re hurting this situation more than you’re helping it!” I say hostilely. I’m angry he has no better answer than just time. Whatever the hell that means. He breaks away from me, leaving me once again. “Nathan, stop walking away from me!”

  “I just can’t right now, Sparks,” he says from his throat, still containing that rumble in his chest and the tension in his neck. There’s more he isn’t telling me.

  “Nathan,” I jeer, enunciating his name the way he hates, leaving him no other option but to respond. A mate’s calling that can’t be ignored. I picked up on it earlier.

  He halts, shoulders high and tight. Slowly, he turns on his heels, glowering at me. “Sparks, I’m not going there with you right now.”

  “No! You tell me what it is. And tell me without all that damn breathing and stalling,” I order, pointing. He silently stares at me, not at all faltered by my attempt at intimidation. “Now, Nathan, dammit!”

  He throws his head back, scraping his nails across his beard. “Last night.” He shrugs, rubbing his hand down his neck. “You called out to him . . . strongly. Your body craved for him.” Bringing his head forward, I meet his sober eyes. “He came for you, and once he called your name, you jumped out the window to get to him. I was out right behind you. He caught you, and I yanked you from him.” Nathan stalls, knitting his brows. “You fought me,” he says the word in a whisper. “Really fought me. Blasted me and everything.” His left hand pushes over his chest. And no sooner than his distress shows, it wipes away. Shrugging, he clears his throat, and unaffected, relays, “He laughed and held me still. No one can do that. I was so damn distracted. You smiled at me, happy I was stopped, glad I could no longer take you from him. You willingly left me for him.”

  I throw up my hands, waving them in front of me. “Stop, Nathan, don’t say it. Don’t say anything else,” I cut him off. My stomach can’t take much more truth.

  “No, Sparks!” he shouts. “You wanted to know! You wanted to hear.” He hesitates for a moment, willing the words from his lips. “You kissed him. Like you kiss me, you wrapped into him. The pleasure. . .” He forces the word out as if it took all of him. “The pleasure distracted him and, again, I yanked you away. Dropped you so you wouldn’t fight me. I practically ripped his fucking head off. When I threw him, he vanished.”

  I’m stone and silent as the air around me.

  Nathan continues, “I erased it while you slept and put you back in bed. Now come on, let’s keep walking.”

  No way. I did not kiss that man. I wouldn’t.

  The thunder booms closer, reverting my attention to the oncoming storm. The clouds have swept over the deep blue firmament making the moon no longer visible. Nathan’s words grind at my mind like an annoying song. Kissing Roehl. . .? “Nate,” I choke up. “If you would’ve told me. I don’t know; I wouldn’t have—.”

  He shakes his head. “It’s not your fault, Sparks. I’m dealing with this shit. Sorry you’re getting the sour end of it all, but it’s not easy for me. Come here so that we can beat the rain.”

  I stare at him, stopped with his arms out to welcome me into them.

  WE HEAR THEIR SHOUTING before we make it into the house. Nathan pulls open his front door, and they’re louder than I interpreted. Everyone, yelling at the top of their lungs. I can’t tell who the victim is and who it’s not.

  Nicholas meets us in the doorway. “What happened?” Nathan asks, touching his head. Unconcerned about our urgency for his response, Nicholas shoves Nathan’s hand away and goes back to his handheld video game. “Glen is gone. She left with some man.”

  “What?!” I blurt.

  “Wait, Nick.” Nathan stops him from walking away. “What happened? How did that happen?”

  Nicholas throws his thumb over his shoulder, pointing toward the shouting crowd in the hallway. “That’s what they’re trying to figure out.”

  “Okay. Go to your room. We’ll figure out what’s going on.” Nathan and I approach the angry mob. “What happened?” His voice booms over theirs.

  Scott shakes, shifting between unruly and normal. “She’s gone! They took her, and we need to leave right now to get her back!”

  “Who took her?”

  “Monahan! He came for Taylor. Glen lost it, as always. Taylor did nothing!” he fires off. “I wasn’t around. There was yelling, and when I came back, she was gone. Gone!” he shouts. “Right out that door you just came in.” Scott stops shaking and morphs red. “You should’ve gone, Taylor!” he growls, visually holding himself back from attacking her.

  “That’s not fair, Scott. When they come for Tracey, you don’t tell her to just go!” Justin defends, matching Scott’s anger.

  “Tracey doesn’t just let them take her either. She looks out for herself and the people around her. All of this is her.” Scott points at Taylor. “She needs to go.”

  “She doesn’t need to go anywhere. You know that.”

  “Who was around when Glen was taken?” Nathan asks, talking over Scott. He and Justin go back and forth, ignoring everything but their opinion of who should take the blame. Nathan’s turned his attention to Taylor.

  She flicks up her green eyes from her downcast gaze, a cold shame glimmers in her stare. “I was, and Justin,” Taylor answer shyly, guarded by her mate.

  “So, how was Glen taken?” No one answers. The hall’s silent until Nathan says, “Call Mom, Taylor.”

  “No!” she shouts. They bicker like young siblings, fighting over who’s going to tell on who.

  I rub Scott’s diamond hard shoulder. “We’ll get her back.”

  “I want to kill that girl right now, Tracey.” He balls and un-balls his fist as his body shakes, controlling his change.

  “Just calm down, we’re going to figure this out.”

  “What is going on in here?” Natalia yells over her children. Mrs. Waturstrom comes in, a few steps short of her.

  “Glen was taken. And your family did nothing,” Nathan scoffs with antagonism lacing his tone.

  “What do you mean Glen was taken? How could that happen with a house full of Burdened Sephlems.”

  “That’s what I’m trying to figure out?” Nathan states.

  “Where were you?” Natalia asks him.

  “Talking to Sparks.”

  “You told her?” she questions, looking from him to me and back.

  Nathan nods.

  Oh my gosh! About last night? Roehl? My face flushes, going warm with embarrassment. I can’t believe he would share that!

  “Tracey, I’m sorry,” she tells me with pity in her eyes.

  I look away from her. Overcome by shame and regret, u
nwanted tears fill my eyes. I move behind Nathan, placing my face to his back, and I quietly let them fall. Nathan brings his hand behind his back, and I take hold of it. His thumb soothingly rubs across mine as he eases my depression. I don’t understand what’s happening and why I am doing these things. Kissing Roehl. . . It makes me sick to my stomach. And worse, more than just Nathan and me know about this.

  Nathan’s back flexes against my head as he orders, “Go ahead, Taylor, tell Mom what happened.”

  “I was witness to Glen being taken,” Taylor admits. “The one who took her did come for me. I’m not sure how he got in the house, but when he entered the living room, Glen asked who he was. Immediately, his focus went to her. He was fast. Too fast. There was no time, just screams and she was gone.”

  “How do you know it was Monahan, Scott?” Nathan asks.

  “Tell him, Taylor. How do I know?”

  There’s shuffling before Justin says, “Because, he stopped long enough for us to see him.”

  “Stop!” Natalia shouts. Everyone shouts over a crash that sounds as if people went tumbling to the floor.

  Nathan attempts to move, but stops, backing back to me. Letting him go so that he can help, I turn away to wipe my face before facing the tussle.

  Scott’s tossed Justin aside trying to make it to Taylor. With the help of Nathan holding him back and Natalia being a guard for Taylor, he can’t make it to her. Olar keeps Justin back, whose hair has grown longer, and skin’s gone pale. They shout and yell for each other to calm down and shuffle with getting Scott and Justin under control.

  Mrs. Waturstrom takes my side and hands me a handkerchief. I appreciate her silence and the small notion of sympathy―her wrapping her arm around mine. But I’d prefer she didn’t. At least it would make me think she didn’t know about my problems.

  “Move, Nathan!” Scott growls.

  “Scott, you need to calm down,” Natalia bemoans in a motherly tone.

  Scott shoves his hands over his head, breaking the elastic holding up his ponytail. “Aunt Nati, she let him take her! We’re all standing around here talking while. . .” His words fall flat as his face contorts and eyes gloss over. They swirl black, and a pool of tears crowd them. They fall. Large drops of tears, one from each eye, splashes against his cheek and rolls to his chin. “W-we,” he stutters. “We. . . We’re too late.” His voice cracks as he tries to force out each word. He crumples, but Nathan catches him before he can smack the floor.

  What happened. . .? Glen can’t be dead because he’s alive. She can’t be hurt because he doesn’t show any pain other than distress.

  Nathan moves Scott to sit against the wall with him being unable to do so for himself. Once he gets Scott settled, he glances at his sister, scoffing, “You never cease to amaze me, Taylor.”

  Natalia moves from Taylor, allowing Justin to take his spot at her side. He rubs her shoulders, comforting, “Baby, don’t stress about it.”

  “Don’t stress about it?” Mrs. Waturstrom blurts in revulsion. “Did you tell her not to worry about this?” She stands in the middle of everyone. Standing at my height and age peeking out behind her tired eyes, I’d swear this situation has worn on her in this split fifteen minutes. She’s never looked so befuddled or old. “Do none of you see the seriousness in this? Not once now, but twice, Taylor has let this family down. Twice, she has brought danger upon two of our new additions.”

  Scott slides over, and Olar pushes him up so he can lean against his leg and not hit the floor. Though Scott’s eyes are unfocused, he seems aware of his surroundings, or maybe Glen’s.

  “We need to find Glen,” Nathan tells me. “We’ll have to talk about Taylor later. I’d suggest Tracey stay here, but knowing she’s in more danger in our home than she is out there with me, she’ll be joining us.”

  Olar lifts Scott from the floor and relays we’re leaving to find Glen. Scott nods, seeming not to care one way or another. “Scott,” Olar loudly calls, grabbing everyone’s attention. “You need to focus so we can find Glen. Where is she?” Scott stares out at nothing, blindly looking around unfocused. “Scott.” Olar slaps his cheek. “Where is she?” he asks louder.

  “Far. . .” is all Scott says. It takes him a minute. “I can’t think straight,” Scott utters.

  “Scott, take three minutes to pull yourself together. If you want to save Glen, we need to go now,” Nathan tells him. “We’ve already lost too much time. You know if we wait any longer she’ll really be too far gone, and we’ll have to work even harder to get her back.” He doesn’t wait for Scott to respond, pulling me with him to the kitchen.

  I stand by the table, watching him grab a couple bottles of water from the fridge. “Okay, Nate. Can you sum up what just happened in these three minutes? And I know things aren’t right with us right now, but can you hold me while you do?”

  His dimple dents his cheek when he smirks. And I breathe, finding rest in his reassuring expression. “Come here, Sparks.”

  We sit on the floor in the corner of the kitchen with the wall to his back. I lay my head against his shoulder, indulging in the relieving feeling I get being wrapped in his arms.

  “Monahan took Glen. After she spoke and attracted him, he used what he learned from her, to attract her and she pursued. I can only guess what he’s doing with this attraction.”

  “Like with Roehl and me?” I hate to bring this back up, but. . .

  “Yes, but you fight it. Or try to. Glen went too quickly. No, I can’t say that because I don’t know how long Glen’s been gone or the level of effort Monahan’s putting toward overcoming her bond to Scott. That’s why Scott looks like he does.”

  “What happened to him?”

  He finishes his water before answering, “God, right?” There’s a pause. “God took out the time to make one person specifically for each of us. The heart thing—my taking on your heart after we mated, seals us. But when someone tells you what you want to hear, shows you what you want to see. . . An inception of love with the influence of your mate’s perception. They make it appear like they know you, and you become engrossed because they attract you with your wants, with what you believe you need. They use fragments of information they obtain from you and slowly reel you in until they hook you for good. Think of it like a Siren, playing with your mind. The reason it’s essential we find Glen soon is because providing Monahan the extended time with her allows him the opportunity to reel her in, making her choose him over Scott. And if she takes the bait, it can mentally break their bond. But it’s not real, and the confusion can kill her. It’ll become too much for her to handle.” He pulls me closer, tightening his hold.

  I turn my head and kiss his jawline. The expanding bubble in my chest eases. Why it expanded, I know it’s because of my embarrassment. But I have too much pride to admit it.

  Nathan kisses my forehead and mumbles, “I love you, Sparks, and I’ll take care of it.”

  “I hate that it even happened. I feel so bad about it, and I hate the calm distance in you when you feel as if I’ve betrayed you.”

  “I’m ready.” Scott comes in the kitchen, more aware and focused than moments ago. “I know where she is.”

  “Good. We’re right behind you.” We rise and lock eyes. “You ready?”

  “Yeah.” We need to find Glen before she gets herself and Scott killed.

  “Sparks, I don’t know what’s going to happen when we go out here. We’ve never dealt with anything like this before, and we’ll pretty much be improvising. When we get to where Scott’s going to lead us, don’t talk and stay near me. If I walk away from you, even for a moment, stay put. Please?”

  “You’re nervous?”

  “As hell.”

  I see it in his eyes. Not fear, not disturbance, not uncertainty, but pure nervousness.

  SCOTT LEADS US TO a mountain. We’re under the impression Glen’s being held against her will, and we’re anticipating the worst, which I hope doesn’t include death. It would’ve been nice of Scott
to tell us this is where we were going so I could’ve grabbed a jacket. It’s freezing out here! And to mention, on our way over, the rain clouds burst, pouring down its rage.

  We make it to a plateau of the alp and Scott stops, observing the area. I take the elastic from Nathan’s wrist to pull up my drench hair. Because of the heavy wind and massive downpour, it’s been smacking me in the face and the cold strands, striking my skin, stings. And it’s hard to see battling my hair and the rain. I wish my ears could give their enhanced senses to my eyes and help me see clearer.

  None of us are prepared for the cold weather, but I’m the only one dying from the raining ice. We tread along the rocky ledge about a mile from the top and way too far from the bottom for me to look down. I trail behind Olar with Nathan at my back. He keeps his free hand on my waist, and I keep mine on the wall of the rock as we creep along the edge. With the rain pushing me down, I frequently slip. Like, how great would it be if I just slipped and fell, rolling down this rocky beast of a mountain? On the brighter side, if I died, I wouldn’t have to worry about Roehl anymore.

  Nathan’s grip on my side tightens, and I watch Scott jump from this edge down to one wider. Olar follows, and before I can think it, we’re jumping. The rush is immediate. My heart’s hammering in my chest from the mix of adrenaline and panic. My legs are jelly as I try to calm down, but I don’t have time to as Nathan’s hurrying me to follow. At least, down here, the rain isn’t as bad with the high cliff above us serving as an umbrella. That’s until the wind blows and smacks me with waves of freezing water.

  Nathan wraps his arms around my shoulders. The warmth is minimal, but almost enough. “Thanks,” I say, teeth chattering. The heat is short lived when Scott stops, attention drawn to something out of my view.