by DD Prince
Oh. My. God.
“Unfuckingbelievable,” I mutter.
I feel like a piece of chattel right now.
“I don’t need to be held and purred at,” I say with as much venom as I can muster, folding my arms across my chest and staring straight ahead.
I have no choice but to go because there are three giant men determined to take me and I’d rather he not hold me and make me feel things. Things that hurt just too much.
I’ll figure out how to get away from him later. I’ll find a witch myself if I have to.
“Okay, let’s go,” Greyson says, and he and Riley move away from the truck.
Tyson reaches over and I recoil as he puts my seatbelt on me.
I stare out the windshield as we leave. I refuse to look at him.
45
Tyson
After a long drive back where the cab of the truck feels like it’s filled with hatred, I park and shut the truck off.
Riley and Grey have followed me here to the cabin.
I step out and Riley hands me Ivy’s keys.
Grey says, “So, the things she said about a witch…”
“I don’t care if a witch was involved. She’s still mine,” I tell him.
“Of course. We need more information, if possible. It might be connected to Mason’s behavior.”
“I give no fucks about Mason Quinn right now, Greyson,” I inform, getting in his face.
Grey raises his hands defensively. “We’ll talk later then. What about bringing her back home. We –”
“This is her home. Not some underground place in a city!”
“Arcana Falls, bro. Bring her there. Safer within those gates and the girls can come by and help. Your mom. Bailey. If they talk to her…”
“Not tonight.” I say. “Thanks for the help.”
“Good luck, cuz,” Riley slaps my arm and glances into the truck where Ivy sits with her arms folded across her chest.
We all look in that direction and she glares in our direction and then undoes her seatbelt, leans over and pushes the lock down on the driver’s door.
Fuck. Not this again.
“Don’t you dare, Ivy. Don’t fucking dare try to leave!” I order, rage clawing through my blood, electricity arcing at the base of my spine.
“Luck. Yeah, you’re gonna need it,” Grey says.
I jump over into the bed of the pickup realizing I made the mistake of leaving the keys in the truck again.
“Shit. You want some help?” Riley offers.
“Grab me the spare set of keys from on top of the fridge? You’re gonna have to either break down my door or climb in my bedroom window around the side.”
She hasn’t started the truck. That’s something at least.
Riley smiles. “Got yourself a little spitfire, man. I envy that.”
His eyes go funny and for a split second I see his longing. I don’t feel threatened. I know it’s not about Ivy, it’s about the mate he lost. He heads to the house. Grey follows.
I don’t want my Ivy to be a spitfire. I don’t want her to be angry. I want her to forgive me.
“Riley and Grey are getting the other keys. You should just open the door now, Ivy,” I say to the back of her head from my spot perched behind her in the bed of the truck.
She says nothing. She puts her forehead to my steering wheel and her shoulders tremble.
She’s crying. I hate it when she cries. Hate isn’t a strong enough word. I want to inflict pain on whatever it is making her cry, which means I want to rip myself apart. It’s torture straddling the line between avenging her and self-preservation.
Hopelessness claws through my body. My wolf wants to wail his anguish at the sky.
***
Riley and Grey have gone, and I have the spare keys in my hand.
I unlock the door and lift her out of the driver’s seat, snatching the second set of keys from the ignition and gathering up her bags that sit on the seat beside her.
She doesn’t struggle. She doesn’t do anything.
Her eyes close and her lip and chin quiver.
I carry her inside, dropping her bags to the floor, then stride to the bedroom, kick my boots off and climb into the bed pulling her closer to me, holding the back of her head to my chest, throwing a leg over her, trying to cocoon her. I purr to her. I purr loud. Her hands are balled into fists between her breasts and my chest. Her whole body is tense and then it loosens until she melts into me and weeps loudly into my chest. Very loudly. She’s crying so hard that it’s physically crushing my will. I feel my eyes moisten and I debate ending myself so that I can end the source of her pain.
“Ivy, please tell me how to fix this?” I plead. “I didn’t think. I just reacted. I can’t undo it. I don’t know what to do.”
She continues crying.
I purr some more, and she falls asleep against the wet spot on my shirt from her tears.
Her fists don’t loosen.
I don’t sleep. I simply, with all my might, try to absorb her pain, try to take it all away through sheer will. I want her to give it all to me so that I can feel it instead of her. I don’t want her to hurt anymore because of me. I’d take all the hurt instead if I could.
“I’m so sorry, my only,” I tell her.
46
Amelia Brennan
I pull into the gas station and turn my car off. A woman somewhere in her early thirties, I think, with clear blue eyes and great skin steps outside, eyes on me, filled with suspicion.
I smile in the hopes of putting her at ease. “Hi,” I greet.
“Need directions?” she asks.
It’s probably obvious that I don’t need gas since I haven’t stopped at the pump. It’s strange that she greets me outside though, as if assuming I don’t want to come in and buy something from the store or use their restroom or something like that. Very strange.
“Actually, I’m looking for Savage Construction. I’m told it’s somewhere around these parts.”
Her head tilts sideways and she wrinkles her nose. Like she’s sniffing the air. She’s a suspicious one. Her eyes move from my face to my feet and back up.
“You related to Ivy Savage?”
“Ivy what?” I gasp.
***
I’m here because my sister is gone. Again.
She wasn’t answering her phone and she told me in a phone call right after her snake bite incident that the guy she met up here was named Tyson Savage. After what I found at her place last night, I stayed the night with Mom and at dawn, snuck out to drive to Drowsy Hollow.
Someone in a little diner, where I dropped the Tyson Savage name mentioned there was a company not far away called Savage Construction. A bunch of big, strong men who built homes and commercial buildings. No one knew where it was. I was directed to a website. I called the phone number.
“Is Tyson there please?”
“Tyson?” The man’s voice went strange. “Did you say Tyson?”
“I’m looking for Tyson Savage,” I said. “Is he there?”
“Who are you?” the husky male voice asked.
Something didn’t feel right. Something felt very not right.
“Is Tyson Savage affiliated with this company? I’m trying to find my sister and have reason to believe she’s with him.”
“Your sister?”
“Do you know a Tyson Savage or don’t you?” I demanded.
“What’s your name?”
“Amelia,” I answered.
“Amelia.” His voice was strange. Or stranger.
Way weird. I hung up, feeling odd. Feeling panic, I think. A minute later, the phone was ringing with ‘private caller’.
I rejected the call for some reason.
And then I regretted it. I don’t know why all the hairs on my body were standing on end from that phone call. I should’ve answered the phone, I was sure it was that same guy. I should’ve answered and demanded more information.
I searched the phone number I dialed wit
h a map search and it came up with Savage Construction listing with a PO Box address. I went to the map to pinpoint the zip code and it brought me to this corner, to the Arcana Falls General Store and gas bar, which has a post office kiosk.
Ivy was a mess yesterday and I hated letting her go back to her place. I got home after dinner and my fiancé was just like sandpaper on my nerves for some reason, so I packed an overnight bag and told him I was going to stay with Ivy until Tamara got back from Jamaica next week. He wasn’t happy about it, but I told him I’d call him later, that I was too worried about my sister to not be there for her. I loaded up my car and went to Ivy’s. But Ivy wasn’t there. Neither was her car. Her upstairs neighbor came down and started spouting off to me about the commotion a while earlier, about three giant men being there and making all sorts of racket and pissing him off. This guy went on about complaining to the landlord and not so that he could alert me that my sister might be in trouble, because he didn’t like that my lights shined in his window when I pulled in.
“My sister was here in an altercation with three men and you complain and threaten to call the landlord and don’t offer to help or at least call the police in case my sister is in trouble?” I was flabbergasted.
“I mind my own business,” the guy said, putting his hands up in the air.
What. An. Asshole.
“You’re a fucking tool,” I told him. “Maybe you should get some blackout shades instead of putting sheer curtains on a window overlooking a driveway.”
“Fuck you, bitch,” he replied and slammed his door.
Moron.
I have a spare key for Ivy’s, so I went inside, and the kitchen was a mess. There was a plant and table toppled, a pile of mail scattered, too, and a really unusual cologne-like scent in the air.
My body broke out in goosebumps and I immediately dialed Ivy’s number. No answer.
I text-messaged my mother.
“Did Ivy come to your place?”
My mom phoned me instead of replying. “She’s not here. Why? Why?” Mom sounded panicked.
“I just got to her place and she’s not here. There’s a mess and her upstairs neighbor said something about three big guys being here and there being some sort of commotion.”
“Oh God. Oh God. Did you call her?”
“No answer.”
“Oh Jesus! I’m coming over. Wait there.”
Mom came over and while we cleaned up the mess in Ivy’s and Tamara’s place, Mom told me what she said she’d told my sister that morning while I was at the supermarket. That she thinks Aunt Nelle set some strange supernatural shit in motion and she doesn’t know what sort of crap is going on but thinks my sister got stolen by either a vampire or maybe a shapeshifter who wants to keep her.
Shapeshifters? Vampires?
My mom is not crazy and despite how batshit crazy that sounded, she seemed like she was totally serious. Like she believes every word she’s said to me. I’m not sure what the fuck is happening but all I know is that I need to find my sister.
Mom made me go home with her and spend the night. I called the cops from her place and they were no help. I couldn’t rest. I was just freaking out. At dawn, I snuck out, deciding to drive to Drowsy Hollow to see what I can find out. Ivy still isn’t answering her phone. I left before Mom got up because she was just hysterical until the wee hours when she finally conked out on the couch telling me that Aunt Nelle had plans for all of us, Mom included, and how crazy it is that this all happened right after she and Dad split up.
I know how nuts people think Aunt Nelle was. I also know she wasn’t nuts. Not at all. She saw things in her life. Wild things. We had our secret chats and she told me stuff I’ve never repeated to a soul. She never told me, though, that she’d done some crazy thing with a fortune teller.
“I pulled my sister’s letter and all the cryptic stuff she said lines up with your dad and I splitting up too.”
“God, Mom, you think you’re about to be whisked away by a were bear?” I laughed.
My mom’s face went stone serious. “You didn’t grow up where I did, Amie, hearing the stories, talking to people who said they saw things. Did you see how purple your sister’s eyes were?”
The eye thing was definitely very freaky.
She gave me Aunt Nelle’s letter and I read it.
And then I made Mom crack open the bottle of vodka in the freezer and read it a second time.
I tried to call the cops but after calling off the search last time when they’d begun putting resources into looking for Ivy they suggested, grouchily I might add, that we wait until Ivy’s been gone 24 hours to see if she isn’t just off on another adventure.
No, I didn’t mention anything about supernatural stuff or witches or my aunt who’s been dead a year. I tried to reason with them that my sister was keeping something from us about why she went missing last time and that I thought maybe they should go interview her upstairs neighbor about what he told me.
They told me they still wanted me to wait 24 hours.
I was pissed and went up the food chain two levels and got nowhere.
So, since I don’t want to wait until tonight to make another report and it’s been six hours since I had a drink and I definitely didn’t get drunk, I’ve thrown my overnight bag into my SUV, armed myself with bear mace from the garage (Dad hasn’t cleaned his stuff out yet), and headed the three hour drive to Drowsy Hollow to find Tyson Savage and see what the fuck is going on.
***
“Come in and sit down. I’ll call somebody to talk to you,” the lady at the gas station says.
“I’ll be right in,” I tell her.
I go back into my car to grab my purse and put it on cross body. I have my hand inside it, gripping the can of bear mace inside because something is definitely weird about all this, her attitude included.
I step into the store and she’s on the phone with a strange look in her eyes as she tracks me coming inside.
“Almost her double. Brunette though,” she mutters into the phone.
I meet her eyes with challenge.
“Who’s that? And where’s my fucking sister?”
47
Ivy
I wake up to Tyson letting go of me. He’s getting up and leaving the room. We’re both still dressed in what we were wearing yesterday.
He got me in his cabin, dropped my bags on the floor, carried me to bed and wouldn’t let go, wouldn’t stop purring until I guess I passed out.
I feel wrung out right now. Completely, absolutely wrung dry.
He’s leaving the room, so I haven’t had to look at his face yet but even the sight of his back hurts.
I close my eyes. He’s outside and I hear voices.
I stare off into space for a few minutes until there’s a knock on the door that’s not even closed. I look over and see Bailey and Cat standing there together. Both of them have doleful expressions. Cat has a travel mug in her hand.
“I brought your favorite coffee,” she says.
“Thank you,” I mouth. I clear my throat and sit up. “I have to use the bathroom. Excuse me.”
They both move away from the doorway and I slip out. Pain hits me square in the chest as I spot him, in the kitchen, emptying a cooler of food containers into the fridge. There are also two boxes on the floor that I’m guessing are also filled with supplies. Cat is so maternal, even if she only got to be a mom to him for a short time when he was a baby.
When I’m back out, I reach for my purse and take it back into the bathroom, ignoring that his eyes are on me. I feel them, like the gaze contains heat.
I quickly wash my face, brush my teeth, and take my birth control pill.
I breeze back, ignoring him, and find Cat and Bailey in the bedroom. The bed is made. Cat is sitting on the end of it. Bailey is sitting in the chair.
“Thank you,” I say and reach for the coffee and take a sip.
It’s still hot and it’s French vanilla. Cat is so thoughtful.
&nbs
p; She’s looking at me with agony on her face. “You’re still not okay,” she says.
I shake my head. “How can I be? After everything he did, he kidnaps me and brings me back here?” My chin trembles.
I try hard to stop the tears from coming again. I’ve cried so much in the past two days, I’m just sick of it. I feel like all my energy got used up to go to the bathroom and come back so I plop onto the bed beside her.
“I appreciate that you both came over to check on things,” I muster up all I can to get loud so I’m certain he hears, “but things aren’t okay and they’re not gonna be. I don’t want to be here, but he decided to take my choices away. Again. And I really don’t feel like talking. I’m sorry, but if you can just---”
“What happened was awful, Ivy. Just awful,” Cat says. She’s fingering the quilt on the bed.
Bailey is staring at her feet. Her face says it all; she still agrees with my decision to go.
I want them to leave. I can’t take their kindness right now.
“I think I know that. I was there. It happened to me.”
Cat’s face falls.
“I don’t wanna hurt your feelings, guys, but nothing you can say right now will erase what he did to me. In front of everyone. You said yourself that your husband, a man in the same position never did that to you. I can tell by Bailey’s reaction that she never saw something like that. And she’s the self-proclaimed walking werewolf encyclopedia.”
“I never claimed to know everything,” Bailey says. “But I do know that he didn’t do that intentionally. He’s a wreck. I’m pissed, too, Ivy, on your behalf, but your mate is shredded over what happened.”
I swallow. That doesn’t bring me joy. That doesn’t feel like sweet justice. All of this just hurts.
“Something is just very wrong with Mason,” Bailey says, “And this was a chain reaction. Add to that, Tyson doesn’t function like a typical alpha or a typical man for that matter. He’s, for lack of a better term, a super alpha and super dysfunctional because he a) grew up outside the pack with a mental case for a guardian and his only company and b) he spent six years in the forest in wolf form. If he’d spent one more season as a wolf, he’d never have come back to us. Six years is sketchy enough. Seven is the absolute limit and he got awful close to that limit. I’m not saying those are valid excuses, but they’re reasons that should be taken into account.”
