by Eden Beck
“Just saying,” she mumbles.
“And I thought I was the blunt one,” Aimee says, before proceeding to try to reassure me that Rory, Marlowe, and Kaleb probably have a reasonable explanation for why they’ve suddenly stopped responding.
It doesn’t work.
I know I should be grateful for the company. I should at least feel less lonely.
But sitting with Jess and Aimee and Tom … it makes me feel the way I did when I arrived. Before Rory, Marlowe, and Kaleb.
I don’t want there to be a before, because that signifies there might be an after.
I manage to make it through the rest of the school day without paying attention to any of the lessons, but at least without bursting into tears. When I get home, Mom is still gone. I guess she’s at work, but it seems like she’s never home anymore either. The sink is full of empty wine bottles and dirty glasses. I get ready to grab a towel and a change of clothes to go take a shower and clear my head, but when my phone dings I drop everything in my arms to look at it.
It’s Rory.
I’m flooded with so much relief that I feel ashamed of myself. Ashamed for doubting them, but also ashamed for letting that doubt consume me.
So much for being an independent woman who doesn’t need a man.
I’ve gone and let these boys become my everything. All three of them.
And all I get is a short, useless one-sentence text for my trouble.
“Hope you’re okay, got caught up with visitors.”
What is this, some kind of game? If he’s really concerned about whether or not I am doing okay, then he can very easily come down here and see for himself. Or Marlowe. Or Kaleb. Any one of them could.
So even though it kills me to do it, I don’t respond.
Two can play at that game.
Or in this case, four.
It’s a game that lasts all night, well past the time my mother comes in, grabs a bottle of wine, and heads straight to bed. Not that I care.
I’m already alone.
All through the night, I hear rustling and howling in the woods. I don’t know whether to be afraid of what’s going on out there, or if I should be jealous at being left out of it. Despite my common sense, I lean toward feeling angry and jealous.
I get one text and that girl gets a night of inherent and carnal running through the woods with the three guys that are supposed to be in love with me. Me. Not her. I start to lose my grip over my emotions, my thoughts spinning wildly out of control until I feel myself shaking under the sheets.
I want to be one of them so badly.
The fact that I can’t is a painful tease.
I don’t dream at all. My sleep is just as empty as my day was without them, and I’m not sure which is worse—being tormented by the thoughts of what they could be out there doing, or being tormented by the nothingness of not being part of it.
When the boys aren’t at school again the following day, I’m literally close to the point of boiling over. I hear some of the kids that I don’t even know whisper in the hallway when they see me walk past.
Apparently Rory, Marlowe, and Kaleb haven’t entirely disappeared … because they were spotted last night.
With her.
More exactly … and this I learn from a mousy-haired girl with a skirt way too short for the size of her ass … they were seen with a gorgeous girl from out of town. A girl with long legs, dark hair, and little do my classmates know it, more shared DNA with the boys I love than anyone else here. Including me.
It hurts all the more since before now, I’ve never spoken to this short-skirted girl in my life.
This is what really happens in small towns.
I know they’re just rumors spread out of boredom, but I don’t plan on sticking around long enough to see the look of pity on Jess or Aimee’s faces. I won’t give Jess the satisfaction of being right.
Not until I know for sure whether or not she actually is.
I don’t expect anyone here to understand my relationship with Kaleb, Rory, and Marlowe. I already know it isn’t exactly normal to be in love with three guys at once, but then again, the boys themselves aren’t normal. If anyone knew what they really were, a love trifecta would probably seem like the most normal thing about all of it.
Regardless, I’ve had enough. Between the non-responsiveness to my texts, the sound of increasingly more wolves howling in the woods at night the past couple of nights, and now the rumors of this girl hanging out with them; I’m done with waiting.
I ignore the rest of the whispers in the hall as I gather my things and walk straight down the hallway and out the front doors of the school.
First period hasn’t even started yet but I couldn’t care less.
Let them call my mom. If she even bothers to answer, I’d like to see her try to talk to me about where I’ve been.
Just let her try.
I drop my bookbag on the front porch of the cabin as I pass it, but I don’t head inside. I won’t lose my nerve. I won’t convince myself to wait, to give the boys a chance to explain themselves. They’ve already had that chance.
I thought they were finished leaving me in the dark. I guess I was wrong.
I continue to storm right up the hill toward the mansion. Of course, I’m nervous about what I’ll find once I get there, but I don’t care.
I have to know what’s going on.
When I get there, I bang on the door a little too loudly. I only realize this when Lydia opens the door and I feel a sudden rush of nerves at the way she smiles at me.
Innocent. Inviting.
The rage in me wanes for a moment. Maybe I’m being rash after all.
I stand on the doorstep awkwardly, not sure what to say. It feels like the first time I came to the house, a guest on Romulus’ hundred and fourth birthday.
That was the day I was first told I could never be with the boys. And it’s that memory that gives me the courage to ask to come inside.
“Of course,” Lydia says, one of her famous smiles spreading across her face as she pulls the door open further. “I was surprised we didn’t see you back sooner.”
“That so?”
Nothing quite like that to make my temper flare again.
I walk in and follow her through the house to the main living room. There, in front of a blazing fireplace are all three boys, and Romulus, and her.
“Sabrina!” Kaleb pounces up off the floor and jumps over Marlowe’s outstretched legs to run toward me. When he reaches me, he picks me up and spins me around before planting a solid kiss on my mouth. I don’t even have time to react.
Out of the corner of my eye, Romulus looks like he’s going to gag. Lydia laughs and pats Kaleb on the back before going to sit down in the chair next to her husband. She’s the exact opposite of Romulus sometimes.
I look over at the others as Kaleb takes my hand and brings me down to sit with them.
They have more photographs spread out across the floor alongside glasses full of something intoxicating-looking. A deck of playing cards is left abandoned in the middle of a game to their other side.
I can’t help but feel like the intruder here. The girl looks altogether too comfortable as she leans her back against Rory’s chest and sips from her own glass while laughing over one of the pictures Marlowe has slid her way.
That nasty, thick pang of jealousy hits me squarely in the stomach as I see this glimpse of them here, together.
Not only is this girl as absolutely gorgeous and all-too friendly with the boys as I remember, but she seems to know them better than I could ever hope to. Unlike me, she’s one of them.
Something I’m supposed to have given up on.
How can I compete with someone like that?
I thought I was jealous of the wolf girl before, and all that girl ever did to me was try to kill me. Right now, I’d rather that again.
Rory looks up as I approach and smiles with me as if there isn’t another girl sitting against his lap. I don’t t
hink I’ve ever seen him so relaxed. The look on his face, his posture, the easy sprawl of his legs … it’s so unlike him. I want to both throw-up and run away at the same time.
Marlowe is also grinning from ear to ear, just as oblivious as the rest of them.
“Sabrina, we’re so happy to see you!” he says as if things couldn’t be more normal.
I sit down on the floor alongside Kaleb, uncomfortably near the strange girl.
“The rest of the pack just left to go back to the open territory across the river, and we were just getting ready to come and fetch you tonight,” Marlowe explains, much to my growing doubt. “Oh, and this is Vivian,” he adds as an afterthought.
Marlowe waves his hand toward the girl and she looks over and smiles at me—acknowledging me for the first time.
“Hi Sabrina,” she says. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
I muster a smile in return but can’t think of anything to say.
Nothing that won’t get me immediately kicked out of their house for insulting a guest, anyway.
Vivian stares at me for an unnaturally long moment before going back to looking at the photographs in front of her on the floor. She sits up and reaches for one across from her and she and Marlowe get into a conversation about where it was taken. When she sits forward off of Rory’s lap, he leans over to me and whispers in my ear.
“You shouldn’t have just come up here on your own, Sabrina. You know it could have been dangerous for you,” he says.
Kaleb hands me a glass of something sweet-smelling that Romulus has just poured. I take a sip of it before I turn to look Rory in the face, unsmiling. Our faces are so close together that our noses nearly touch.
“What do you care?” I say quietly, knowing no matter how carefully I keep my voice down everyone in the room is going to overhear, anyway.
Damn wolf ears.
“I’ve been wandering all over the woods the past few days,” I say, even though it’s a lie. I’ve barely left the house except to go to school, but I hope the thought of me alone in the woods makes him squirm. “You’ve been too preoccupied to even notice, so don’t go telling me what I can or cannot do when you don’t even really care.”
I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone look so alarmed in my life.
It’d be funny if I wasn’t so angry.
“You’re wrong,” Rory says as a look of intensity fills his eyes and his warm breath seems to fall heavier against my lips. “Just because you don’t see me watching over you, doesn’t mean I’m not.”
He lingers near my face for a moment more before turning back around and joining in on the conversation with Vivian and Marlowe.
I feel Kaleb drag his mouth against the other side of my neck and turn around to meet his eyes. He kisses me, right here in front of everyone. It’s not a deep kiss, but it’s enough to make Romulus exert a low growl which Lydia taps him on the shoulder for.
When Kaleb lifts his head away, he smiles at me and the reflection of the fireplace flames seem to dance across his face.
“Stop doubting us,” he says. “We love you. You should know that.”
He brushes a strand of hair away from my face. “Isn’t that enough?”
I feel myself warm at his words, but even as I let my guard down slowly, the truth of the matter still sits like lead in my core.
I wish it was.
6
Sabrina
The day turns into evening as we are all hanging out in the mansion together, playing games and talking while sipping on glasses of liquids that I know we’re all technically too young to drink.
But when you’re practically invincible and going to live for a minimum of four or five centuries, it kind of makes concern for that sort of thing disappear.
The last thing I’m going to do is remind them that the same doesn’t apply to me. There’s already enough constant reminders of the differences between us.
Soon, my inhibitions have melted enough to leave me with a warm feeling all over—but even that isn’t enough to cover up the equally strong feeling of being watched.
Vivian hangs out with the boys as if she’s always been one of them. If it weren’t for the perfect slope of her nose, the exotic cut of her cheekbones, or the way her full lips seem to part with laughter at every word my boys speak, I’d think she’s practically a fourth brother. I’m as jealous of her ease with them as I am the way the way the boys seem as intimately comfortable with her.
I can’t quite put my finger on what kind of relationship they all have, but there seems to be no boundaries between them. She’s equally as comfortable sitting in their laps and putting her hands against their chests as she is trying to beat them in arm wrestling matches and slapping them on the backs with the gusto of a testosterone-fueled football player.
Somehow the most unsettling part is that as much as I’m keeping an eye on her, she’s doing the same to me.
We’re testing each other, watching to understand how each other fits into this puzzle that is the Gray family, and I don’t like it.
Every time I glance at her she’s already staring at me. Even when our eyes meet, she doesn’t avert her gaze. She just keeps on staring with that unsettling gaze of hers.
It’s a gaze that sees right through me, challenges me. She’s testing me.
This is the extent of her invasion until, all of a sudden in the middle of a game of Jenga, she catches Rory reaching over to squeeze my thigh and she can’t seem to keep her questions inside anymore.
“So, you guys are all in some sort of love triangle then?” she asks, looking directly at me as the boys all stare on.
“I just can’t do this right now,” Romulus says, suddenly getting up from his seat and walking out of the room. “I’ll be back after a trip down to the wine cellars.”
Lydia laughs and gets up to go join him. “Don’t mind him,” she says to us, gently. “He’ll come around, eventually.”
At this point, I highly doubt that.
After Lydia has left the room, Vivian picks up with her questioning again. “So how does this work then,” she asks. “I mean, humans and shifters and all.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” I answer, feeling the sweet liquid I’ve been drinking all day make me more brazen than I normally would be. “I’m certainly not the one to ask about any of this stuff. You should ask them.” I wave my hand toward the boys, who all look as though they’re being put on the spot.
Good. They deserve to squirm.
Besides, I’m far more interested in hearing what they have to say than Vivian could ever be.
“So, they’re going to turn you?” Vivian persists. “That’s the only option. I mean, it would be for me.”
She lets out that bark-like laugh that marks her kind. “I can’t imagine trying to be with a human.”
Romulus steps back into the room just as she’s asking that question.
“You shouldn’t be talking about things like that,” he says to Vivian. “You know the rules.” He shoots her a look that’s meant to be scathing, but I don’t miss the hint of softness that plays on the outer corner of his lips.
Great. Even Romulus likes her.
I feel that pang of jealousy resurface, but this time it’s for an entirely different reason.
Vivian just waves her hand in the air dismissively. “Please,” she says. “I’ll talk about what I feel like talking about.”
Romulus looks as if he’s getting ready to say something else, something that’s likely going to come across a lot harsher, but he apparently thinks better of it and turns around to leave instead. This time, Lydia follows him. Something’s on her mind. Something, I’m sure, that’ll be whispered well out of earshot of the rest of us.
In their absence, the silence feels less stifling.
To be honest, I’m kind of impressed by Vivian’s boldness. She sits there staring at me, still waiting for me to answer her. I look around at the boys and none of them seem to want to stop me from talking about
it this time, not even Rory.
“Well, if we’re being honest here,” I start.
“We are,” Vivian interjects.
“Okay, then honestly, I do want to be turned, but these three seem determined not to do it.”
Somehow, saying it out loud to a near stranger is exhilarating.
“That’s fascinating,” she says with a genuine sense of awe in her voice. “And you’re not scared about it at all? Turning, I mean.”
“No.” I hadn’t really thought about whether or not to be scared about it yet, mostly since it seemed like it was never going to happen. No point in worrying about a fantasy.
“You’re lying.”
She stares me down intently, her eyes narrowing as if she’s suddenly struggling to read me.
“Excuse me?” I snap, my temper flaring again.
Who does this girl think she is?
“Everyone is scared about their first shift, even the toughest of us. You’re scared too,” she says. “It’s only natural.”
I get ready to disagree, knowing full well I’ll sound like a frustrated child, but I don’t get the chance.
“You’re scared to be turned, but you’re more scared of something else. That’s what’s making you think otherwise. What is it you’re really scared of?”
This time, her question shocks me into silence. Her eyes, the deep color of coffee without cream, seem to look right through me as though she’s peeling off the layers that I keep hidden away.
I’m not sure why I keep talking. I’m honestly not sure why I’m telling her anything at all. But something makes me answer her; maybe it’s the flowing cups of early-day aperitifs, or maybe it’s something else.
I’ve gotten a taste of how it feels to be open, to be honest, and I’m drunk on it.
“I’m scared of being without them,” I blurt out. I clamp one hand over my mouth to hide the way I’m gaping at her as if she’s somehow solicited the words from me against my will.
“Ahh, there it is,” she says. “There’s the truth.”
