by Wendi Wilson
“Honey, we’re home!”
I hear the front door slam closed just before Silas and Slade Madsen stroll into the living room. One of them, I can’t tell which, grinds to a halt, causing the other to yelp as he plows into his back. Grumbling, the second twin steps around his brother, only to freeze as he catches sight of us.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
“Who’s that?” his brother adds, pointing at me.
Savanna sniffs as she brushes the back of her hand across her eyes. “This is Lizzie Williams,” she says, clearing her throat.
“The bitch who set you up?” one of them asks with a growl.
“Silas!” Savanna exclaims. “We told you she helped us. She told us what was going on.”
“That doesn’t excuse what she did,” he grumbles.
“Her parents—” Savanna starts to defend me, but I cut her off.
“No, he’s right, Savanna. I was a bitch. I lied to you, drugged you, filmed you, and ratted you out to the press. I am a terrible person.”
“Were,” Jett says, standing up. “You were a terrible person.” He looks at the Madsen brothers. “She ran away from her parents, the only home she’s ever known, to come here and warn us.”
“Warn you about what?” the other one, Slade, asks, stepping further into the room.
“I heard my parents talking about Savanna’s mom and dad. I think they’re planning something. Something for Brother Earl,” I offer.
He stares at me for a moment, and I’m practically mesmerized by his gorgeous face. Blonde hair that flops to one side, the shadow of dimples that are probably a mile deep when he smiles, and those eyes. The silver-rimmed gray eyes that all Alts share. Well, except for Savanna, hers are blue rimmed with gray, thanks to Brother Earl’s crazy experiments.
I notice a small scar over one eyebrow and my eyes flick to Silas. I don’t see any distinguishing marks on his face. I guess I’ll have to look for that scar to be able to tell them apart.
“What are you going to do?” Slade asks, pulling me from my thoughts as he looks away from me, toward Savanna.
“I don’t know,” she says. “I talked to my mom earlier. They’re fine, for now.”
“What happened to your neck?” Silas asks.
Savanna’s hand flies to the neck of her shirt, pulling the material up to hide the marks from Beckett’s teeth. “Nothing,” she says, her face resembling a ripe tomato.
“Beckett bit her,” Jett says, like it’s no big deal.
“Jett!”
“Sorry, Savanna,” he replies to her outburst, “but they should know, in case Beckett accidentally…”
“Accidentally what?” Slade asks.
“And why did he bite you?” Silas adds.
“It was one hundred percent consensual,” Savanna answers, despite her embarrassment. She waits a few beats until realization dawns on their faces, then continues, “My blood gave Beck my power. He accidentally persuaded his brothers. We’re not sure how long he’ll retain it. When I drank his blood,” she gives them each a death stare when they both open their mouths, causing them to snap them shut, “my hearing elevated for a day or so before going back to normal.”
Their gazes leave Savanna to train on Beckett. He is blushing almost as brightly as she is, which I find a little endearing. Most boys would be peacock proud to have their sexual exploits lauded to their friends. But not him.
“Persuade me to do something,” Slade says to Beckett. “I have to see this for myself.”
“Come on, man,” Beckett utters. “I don’t want to.”
“I wonder,” Slade says, looking over at Savanna, “what it would be like. Maybe I could drink her blood so I can control Silas.”
“Slap yourself in the face,” Beckett demands, his voice deep and forceful.
“Ow!” Slade howls after the loud crack of his own palm against his cheek echoes throughout the room. “What’d you do that for? I was just joking around.”
Silas smirks, holding up a fist until Beckett bumps his own against it. “Good one, man.”
“Sorry, Slade,” Wyatt says, grinning from ear to ear, “but that’s our girl you were talking about biting. Go get one of your own.”
“I didn’t mean I wanted to actually bite her,” Slade mumbles, rubbing his cheek.
“So,” Savanna says, drawing everyone’s attention away from her blood and how to get it, “do you think your parents will let Lizzie stay here, too?”
“She wants to stay here?” Silas asks, a frown on his face.
“It’s okay,” I offer. “I can find somewhere else to go.”
“No,” Savanna asserts, her face twisting in anger as she widens her stance and plants her fists on her hips. “Lizzie left everything behind to come here to warn us about what she’d heard. She gave up everything for us.” She jabs a finger in my direction. “She wants to make up for what she did, and I have forgiven her.”
Silas and Slade’s faces go slack as they look first at each other, then at the Patton brothers.
“Dude,” Slade says, his eyes falling on Jett, “I know you said she had a temper, but I didn’t really believe it.”
Jett arches a brow, giving him a nod. “It’s true.”
“That was nothing,” Wyatt adds with a chuckle, the arm he had slung around Savanna tightening. “You should see her when she really loses it. It is glorious to behold.”
His face goes all dreamy with those last words. Then he grunts as Savanna’s elbow meets his ribs.
“If you’re all done talking about me like I’m not here, can we please get back to the matter at hand?”
“I really don’t want to impose,” I murmur, trying to get the conversation back under control. I don’t want Savanna to be mad, especially after she blatantly stated that she’s forgiven me for everything.
“Our parents will insist you stay,” Silas says, his expression hard. “But if you’re lying, if this is a trick of some kind…”
“It’s not,” Savanna insists, defending me yet again.
I swallow against the lump of emotion forming in my throat. Savanna is my champion, fully supporting me and full of faith that I’ve changed for the better. I’ll never take her for granted.
Silas nods, taking her at her word. “We’ll talk to them when they get home.”
Everyone seems to relax after that. We spend the afternoon just hanging out in the living room, watching television and talking. By tacit agreement, no one mentions my past actions, Savanna’s parents, or what happened with her and Beckett at the mall.
Little by little, Slade relaxes, chatting with me and making an attempt to get to know me. Silas remains standoffish, but I do catch his lips twitch when I make a joke. I can’t stop staring at them. First Slade, then Silas, then back again, flitting my eyes away any time one of them meets my stare. They are just so… hot.
Blonde hair that’s longish on the top, enough to flop to one side makes me want to touch it. The silver-rimmed gray eyes that have always given me the heebie jeebies—the color identifies people as Alts on sight—now give me another reaction. A swirling in my gut that has nothing to do with fear or disgust. Quite the opposite, actually. And those dimples…
Mr. and Mrs. Madsen get home within a half hour of each other and, after introducing them to me, their sons take them into the kitchen to talk to them privately. When they emerge ten minutes later, they graciously extend an invitation for me to stay as long as I need. I accept with misty eyes, grateful for their hospitality.
Beckett insists that Savanna and I take their room, and Jett and Wyatt agree. They assure us they would be comfortable camping out in the living room. I grab my duffel bag from where I’d tossed it in the corner and Slade shows me up to our new room.
“Sorry, it’s a little small,” he says as I set my bag down on one of the beds. “My brother and I are used to sharing.”
“It’s perfect,” I say, showing my teeth in a bright smile.
Being alone with Slade Madsen
in a bedroom is doing things to my equilibrium. I feel a little queasy, like there’s a dozen hummingbirds in my stomach. He returns my smile, making those hummingbirds take flight.
“So, I wanted to apologize,” he says, pulling me out of my own head.
“Apologize?”
“Yeah,” he says, scrubbing a palm against the back of his neck. “My brother called you a bitch when we hadn’t even met you.”
“So, you’re apologizing for Silas?”
“Oh, hell, no. He can ask for his own forgiveness. I’m sorry I didn’t stand up for you when he said it.”
“Are you for real?” I ask, completely dumbfounded. “I don’t blame you guys for thinking that about me after everything I did. I deserve it.”
I look down at the carpet, shame burning through me once again. Slade reaches out, his fingertips coming to rest under my chin and applying pressure until I lift my face and meet his bright silver-rimmed eyes.
His touch surprises me, but I can’t pull away. I don’t think I would even if I could. It feels… nice.
“Regardless, it doesn’t give us the right to be rude and judgmental. I’m sorry, Lizzie.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, unable to look away from his magnetic gaze.
We stand there for what feels like an hour, but is probably only five seconds, our bodies frozen as we stare at each other in silence. Slade shakes himself, the first to break eye contact as he removes his fingers from my chin and backs away.
“We should probably head back down,” he says, shooting me a grin, “or Silas will stomp up here demanding to know what you’ve done to me.”
“What could I possibly have done to you?” I ask, cringing a little at the unintentionally flirtatious tone of my voice.
“Girl, if only you knew,” Slade calls over his shoulder as he jogs down the stairs.
“We’re taking our girl out for a surprise.”
I hear the statement, made by one of the Patton brothers, as I start down the stairs. Though I can now tell them apart, mostly, by sight, I can’t differentiate between their voices yet.
“At least, that was the plan before Lizzie showed up. I guess we could postpone,” another one adds. I’m pretty sure that’s Beckett. His voice is a little deeper than the other two.
“Nonsense,” I say, picking up the pace as I jog down the stairs. “I can find something to do while you’re out. I won’t let you ruin Savanna’s birthday on my account.”
“Lizzie can eat dinner with us,” Silas offers.
The Pattons and Savanna look surprised. I get the feeling the overture, especially directed at me, is a little out of character for him.
“Yeah, it’ll give us a chance to get to know her better,” Slade adds from behind me.
“Of course,” Mrs. Madsen says. “Do you like fried chicken?”
“Yes, ma’am. That sounds delicious. Thank you,” I say, nodding.
“Oh, such a polite girl,” Mrs. Madsen gushes, letting my southern charm work its magic.
“I should go change if we’re going out,” Savanna says, careful to keep the bite on her neck out of view.
“I’ll help you,” I offer, heading back up the staircase.
Once we’re inside the room, I close the door behind us and turn, planting my hands on my hips.
“Okay, show me what you’ve got and I’ll help you pick out an outfit.”
“It’s not much,” she admits. “We kind of left in a hurry.”
She wanders over to the closet, sorting through a meager selection of clothes hung there with a bunch of boys’ stuff. I pull out a black skirt and flowy red top, holding it up for her inspection.
“These will work,” I say. “As long as you’re not going bowling or anything lame like that.”
“It’s funny you picked these,” she says, rubbing the silky material of the shirt between her fingers. “My mom bought me two outfits to choose from to wear to your party that night. This was one of them.”
Regret fills me up again, but I don’t speak. I know she wasn’t trying to make me feel bad by bringing that night up.
“But, anyway, I think you’re right,” she says, making her voice sound chipper. “The boys haven’t seen me in this outfit yet. I think today is a perfect day to debut it.”
She heads into the bathroom to change and I take a seat on one of the beds. I only have to wait a minute or two before she comes back in, looking forlorn.
Closing the door, she says, “This isn’t going to work.”
“Why not?” I ask, eyeing her up and down. “I think you look hot as hell.”
She points at her neck, fully exposed by the off-the-shoulder cut of the neckline. The spot where Beckett bit her is on display, the skin around the wound purple with bruising.
“Wow. That looks like it hurt.”
“I guess it did,” she replies, “but in that moment, I wanted to feel it. Pleasure and pain were basically the same thing. I loved it.” Her voice trails off as her face turns red.
I quickly throw out a joke to break the tension. “Oh, you’re kinky,” I tease, waggling my eyebrows and shaking my hips.
“Shut up,” she says with a laugh, picking up a pillow and swinging it at my head.
I duck without a second to spare and hold up both hands, palms out. “I surrender. Please don’t mess up my hair.”
She drops the pillow with a flourish. “How do you get all the curls so perfect?” she asks.
“It’s a lot of work, trust me,” I say, smoothing a hand over them. “Come sit down and give me your makeup. I bet I can cover the mark so you won’t even see it.”
She hands me a small cosmetic bag that can’t hold more than a couple of items. I dig through it for before plunking it down on the bed with a sigh.
“Is this all you have?” I ask.
“I don’t wear much makeup,” she admits.
“Well you can’t borrow mine, obviously,” I say. Then a thought occurs to me. “I’ll be right back.”
I head back downstairs and find Mrs. Madsen still in the living room with the five boys. Slade gives me a small smile, but Silas’s look is more questioning, like he can’t figure out who I am or what I’m doing here in the first place. It’s a little unsettling.
“Mrs. Madsen,” I say, gaining her full attention, “I’d like to do Savanna’s makeup for her big date, but she’s sorely lacking in product. My stuff is too dark for her, so I was hoping we could borrow some concealer? If that’s okay?”
“Of course, Lizzie. You girls can just use the vanity in my bathroom upstairs. All my makeup is there in the drawers.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” I say.
Beckett shoots me a grateful look as I pass him. He must realize I’m helping Savanna cover his bite mark. She doesn’t really need makeup for her face. It’s pretty flawless.
I run back up the stairs and poke my head through the doorway. “She said— “
“I heard,” Savanna says, cutting me off. “Let’s go check it out.”
When we walk into the Madsen’s private bathroom, my jaw drops. I glance over to see the same expression on Savanna’s face. Along one wall is a large vanity made of dark wood with bronze metal accents. A large silver tray sits on one end, holding a dozen different bottles of perfume. Bottles and tubes of makeup are scattered across the surface next to a wicker basket filled with brushes and combs. A rack attached to the side holds a curling iron, a hair straightener, and a blow dryer. Mrs. Madsen has anything and everything we could possibly need.
Pulling myself together, I hold out the chair next to the vanity and motion for her to sit. Pulling open the drawer, I sort through various tubes and bottles, setting some aside and pushing the rest out of the way.
“Her skin tone is pretty close to yours, so this should work,” I say. “I’ll have to do your face, too, because that was the excuse I gave Mrs. Madsen.”
“Okay,” she agrees, her voice a little unsure. “Just nothing too dark or fancy.”
“Trust me.
Makeup, I know.”
I apply liquid from a tube of concealer on her neck before smudging it with a triangular sponge. Then I spread liquid foundation to the entire column before patting on some powder. When I finish, I can barely see a mark, and that’s just because I know it’s there.
Savanna checks it out on the mirror, her eyes wide. “Amazing.”
“Now,” I say, “I’m going to turn you around so you can’t watch in the mirror.”
“What? Why?”
“An artist never shows her work before it’s finished,” I state, motioning for her to stand so I can turn the chair around.
She groans but follows my instructions. I apply a very light layer of foundation with a large makeup brush before dusting a little powder on her nose and forehead.
I pull her own eyeliner and mascara from my pocket where I’d stashed it earlier. “Using someone else’s eye makeup is gross,” I mumble as I draw on the perfect cat-eye liner. Not too thick, just enough to make her eyes pop. A light dusting of gray eyeshadow and a coat of mascara complete the look.
“And, we’re done,” I say. “You can look now.”
She stands up, turning to look into the mirror. A small gasp escapes her as she stares at her reflection. It’s pretty obvious, she thought I would do her up with a full smoky eye and bright blush, and she had dreaded it. She looks over at me in awe, and I smirk at her.
“I told you. I know makeup.”
“You’re a master,” she proclaims, pulling her eyes off her reflection and looking back at me. “Thank you.”
“No problem,” I say, waving her off. “At least you have someone, or someones to look good for.”
I cringe at the sadness I hear in my own voice. I am not one of those girls who needs a boyfriend to feel complete. But still, it would be nice…
“I think Slade might be interested,” Savanna whispers, so low I know I must have misheard her.
“What?”
“Shush,” she says, pointing toward the door and then at her ear. She leans in close, whispering directly into my ear. “I caught him checking you out earlier and when he saw me watching him, he winked.”
