Cassius (The Wildflower Series Book 3)

by Rachelle Mills

  “Welcome, please come in.” The Luna of the pack is there to greet us all with a smile showing a hint of teeth.

  “I brought a small gift for you, and thank you for letting us come today on such short notice.” Rya hands the dark honey to the Luna, who is smiling wider. A very respectful smile, I think that’s what Luna Grace would say about it.

  “It’s wildflower honey. My mate has several beehives on our territory that she takes care of in her spare time.” Dallas’s voice is light when his eyes fall on Rya’s.

  “You’ve grown since the last time I saw you. How’s your mother and father doing?” The Alpha isn’t bigger than Dallas, who now is exactly the same height as his father. Luna Grace made a comment a few months ago about noticing how Dallas is coming into himself. She squeezed the Silverback’s hand while pressing a kiss to his eye that was swelled shut. It was the first time Dallas got the best of his father.

  “Good. They wanted to come, but Cash thought it best they stay home. This isn’t official.”

  “Understandable. This is my son, Tate.” A male steps forward with his hand outstretched.

  “Dallas.” His hand engulfs the other male’s hand.

  “This is my mate, Rya.” Dallas holds Rya by the hip.

  “My brothers, Cash and Carson.”

  A hand reaches behind, pulling me from my hiding spot.

  “This is our Treajure.” Dallas has a way of making me feel that I belong to everything.

  A gasp from the Luna with her hand over her mouth. Pushing my glasses back up, I keep my head raised. I feel like peeing.

  “Is she from your pack?” The words are bristled out.

  “She’s part of our pack now.” Rya’s tone is in direct contrast with the Alpha’s tone.

  “What pack did she come from?” Every pack I come into contact with wants to know where I come from. They hold hunt in their voices; they just don’t understand that the man is a hunter and nothing survives long once he catches you. They all would die, and I would be the cause of it if I open my mouth and talk.

  “We don’t know where she comes from. She doesn’t talk much.” Rya presses her chest into my back and gives me a soft hug from behind. A nudge of her cheek to mine.

  “It’s nice to have you here, Treajure. Please feel at home in our house.” The Luna steps closer; I have to concentrate not to pee when she presses her cheek to mine. Rya is holding my hand, and I squeeze hers back.

  “This is Cottom, and this is Cara.” Dallas finishes our informal introductions. Cara tries to look at the future Alpha, and he doesn’t give her any notice.

  We are directed toward a table that can’t even compare to the Valentines’ table. Nothing can compare to that table, ever.

  Dallas sits directly across at the end of the table from the Alpha. A place of honor. Rya takes his right. We all sit down after that. Cassius keeps looking around because there are no females here. Maybe she decided not to show up and I could almost sing. Almost.

  There is another male wolf that wasn’t introduced by the Luna. He’s a big wolf, just as big as Caleb, not much smaller than their future Alpha, Tate. He keeps looking at Carson.

  A hard knock on the door before it’s swung open has Cassius straightening in the chair. The ridge of my spine stiffens because two she-wolves walk in who make my shoulders sink down.

  No scars, no glasses. “I brought the wine.” No problems speaking even if she sounds nervous. I don’t understand why she’s nervous; I’d love to be what she is.

  “What a treat for us.” The Luna takes the box from her hands.

  “This is Addie and Hazel.” There is pride held in how the Luna says Addie. I thought for sure she would be Hazel. The way the Luna says Hazel is filled with distaste; she can’t even pretend to smile through the name.

  Caramel would be jealous of the color of her eyes, with a hint of mint that clings around her pupils. They remind me of Kennedy’s picture that Cassius tells his day to in the middle of the night. She’s fully female, fully on display, and fully stoned out of her mind. Lips open, then half-close. She has great hair, I think to myself while touching my own hair.

  This is what bleeding feels like, watching him look at her. He’s never looked at another female that way before except for the wall picture and on very rare occasions I thought he looked at me that way before he turned his eyes away to focus on something else.

  He is soaking in the rays of her while I can’t help feel the wilt of skin and bones.

  Blood rushes in. “This is my mate, Rya.” He sounds far away introducing everyone.

  “This is Cottom, Treajure, and Cara.” I have to tear away from his eyes to look into hers that grow wide, then half-lid back down. Hazel sways with a wobble. She might be drunk too.

  “My brothers Carson and Cash.” There is a tug of a smile on Cassius’s lip; my heart bleeds for that smile. I’m bleeding out in front of everyone, and no one even knows.

  “I thought this was an unofficial visit?” There is something sharp and stabbing behind Hazel’s words. She points a slender finger at the son of the Alpha. Her face is all fire, and a vein in her forehead pulses.

  Cassius stands. “They insisted on coming. If it were up to me, I’d be alone with you right now.”

  I am bleeding…

  The words blaze a fire through me. I’m burning up—turning to ash by what he just said. I don’t want to burn, not this way. Not like this.

  “Really.” It’s sneered out, through teeth that flash, sharp and white. She’s no longer soft; she’s stone-edged. Her focus seems to come back as she sits down. Disgruntled.

  “Would anyone like some wine?” The Luna seems nervous. Hazel has a fight in her eyes when she regards Cassius.

  Hazel reaches for a bottle of wine, fills her glass to the rim, leans over, and loudly slurps from the edge. She smiles now. I look at everyone and everyone is watching her like she’s a show you can’t look away from.

  Her fingers curl around the stem of the glass, knuckles blanched white.

  Without any manners, she lifts the glass to her lips and pours the wine down her throat in one swallow. Even Crane, the pussy smasher, would be put to shame with how fast she just chugged a glass of wine back.

  She pours another.

  There is a belligerent look in her eyes toward Cassius, with a lifted lip flashing whites in disrespect. If I had a knife, I would throat cut her.

  Carson is open-mouthed, Rya shifts in her seat, and Cassius looks unbothered.

  “Addie, this is good. You made this yourself?” the male that wasn’t introduced says, loud and proud. Impressed.

  “Yes, it’s my grandmother’s recipe, but I made it.” Her face blushes, lips unloosen, a smile creeps out.

  “What kind of wine is this?” Rya is focused on the wine, not on Hazel, who is taking bigger and bigger swallows from her glass.

  “Honeydew wine. It’s made with the leftover fruit I have in my garden. I have honeydew, apple, and pear wine.” Addie’s shoulders seem to curl around themselves after she’s done speaking. All eyes are on her as she stares at her plate.

  “It’s delicious,” Hazel slurs, exaggerating the word delicious. Her second glass of wine is gone and she’s moving on to the third.

  “So, Tommie, what are you doing now?” Carson asks the male who the Luna never bothered to tell us his name. Tommie, it suits him.

  “I’m working in the investment division in the pack.” Tommie shifts in his seat. The tips of his ears are red, with hair falling into his eyes before he pushes it back.

  “Really? I thought you were being recruited hard by that firm in the city.” Carson leans into the table. I can’t stop staring at Cassius, who can’t look away from Hazel.

  “I decided not to go with them, not a good fit.” Tommie sips on his drink; he swallows loudly.

  “Did you go to the same school as Tommie?” a female asks that is sitting beside the Luna, who just asked Carson the question.

  “We went to school,
even had a few classes together. We did some training as well.” Tommie’s hand goes through his hair. His neck is red.

  Hazel gives Cassius eyes that could maim. She doesn’t like Cassius, and for a selfish moment, I want to scream thank you to the Moon.

  “You look familiar. Have we met?” Rya asks Tommie, but all I can hear is the pounding of my own heart, because I can see the pound of Cassius’s neck vein, dilated and pulsing.

  “It could have been at our house. He was there once.” Carson now shifts in his seat, and Tommie takes another sip of wine.

  “You went to their territory with him?” Tate, the alpha’s son, speaks faster than my pulse.

  “What’s that supposed to mean—with him?” Cassius’s tone claws around the table.

  “Nothing, I’m just surprised, that’s all. I never knew he had friends outside the pack,” Tate explains, and it makes it sound as if he thought Tommie was a loner.

  “Did you ever have your head shaved?” Rya still pursues the fact she’s seen Tommie before.

  “Yes, I shaved it all off once.” Tommie’s shoulders straighten out; it makes his shirt tighten across his chest.

  “Why did you shave your head?” Hazel’s tongue seems thick in her mouth. The words are mashed together.

  “It tells their pack females I was available to them. The males shave their heads, and it says they are available, but when they find their mate, then they let their hair grow out. Not available. The females wear red showing that they are willing to entertain a male.” Tommie tries to explain this to Hazel, who gives a cold stare toward Cassius.

  “You shave your heads if you’re available?” Hazel speaks directly into Cassius’s hair.

  “We do.” Cassius gives a stern voice back.

  “Then why isn’t your head shaved?” Her voice is saturated in the wine she’s just consumed.

  “Because I’m not available yet.”

  “Then why all of this if you aren’t available?” Hazel looks at everyone in the most disrespectful way. Why isn’t the Luna taking her to the backyard?

  “I’m here because of your eyes,” Cassius speaks—I cringe. Hazel finishes the glass of wine.

  “So my eyes brought you here, not me?”

  “Yes.” Cassius’s honesty makes me feel as if today won’t have me burning up into ash.

  “What a waste of my time.” Hazel’s eyes molest into his.

  “This was a mistake. I apologize for taking up your time and my family’s time. Obviously, you aren’t who I thought you could be.” Cassius stands and walks out of the house.

  My bleeding has stopped.

  “That’s all right, I’ll send you my bill in the mail, because unlike you, my time means something.” She sways in her seat.

  Tommie stands. His hand digs deep into his pocket.

  “Here, I’ll cover his bill. I expect change back, because your time really doesn’t have much value now, does it? Look at you. You really have no respect for yourself.”

  Everyone pauses.

  Mouths come back together after a few seconds.

  “He’s just mad I stole his stuff. Don’t pay him any attention. His thong is riding up his ass.” Hazel reaches for the five-dollar bill, shoves it down her pocket.

  “I won’t be giving him any change because I’m worth the whole five.” She stands, gives a few sideways steps, takes a bottle of wine for each hand, bows to us with a smile as sharp as a scalpel’s edge, and leaves.

  I jump toward the big window to watch that wolf. She is drinking right out of the bottle, and when she passes by Cassius, she gives him the middle finger to his face, and a big fuck you.

  “Treajure, it’s time to go.” A hand to my shoulder and Rya ushers me toward the door.

  The engine idles even after all the other cars have pulled away.

  We sit together quietly before he pulls out of the driveway.

  Hazel is on the side of the road with a crooked walk. Bottle to lips.

  “I want to take another look at her.”

  The truck rolls by her slow. A muted, slurring taunt from her mouth that has this smile on Cassius’s mouth.

  The window rolls down. “Fuck you,” Hazel says before placing the bottle back to her mouth.

  Cassius has to feel that; I felt it. It’s full of pain, rage. It’s biting down to the bone. Her words don’t hide behind a wall of teeth.

  She speaks to leave bruises.

  I feel that fire rise again with the way his bottom lip forces the curl of his top lip up. My lips are forced own, hard. The flame is too much; the scorch is too great. I’m burning—bleeding.

  I don’t want to burn—I’ve bled enough.

  Letter 4

  Cash,

  With Clayton, the beginning was easy; he was always there. We slept together early, too early for some. Our parents knew what we were doing and didn’t care. They were so sure we were mates, that when I moved into his room, no one questioned it.

  When our parents found out we weren’t mates, they demanded I go to my own room. Clayton fought them on that. He fought and fought and fought for me, for us. He promised me that he would love me forever, and I promised him I’d love him forever.

  I have to apologize for what I said to you about my tattoo when you fucked me that day. Clayton doesn’t own my pussy, but neither do you. I put his name there so he understood how much I loved him and wanted to be with him. I knew that when I met my mate, I would reject him, just like Clayton rejected Rya. I wanted to show him that I was serious about us, just like he was serious about us when he got my name tattooed across his back.

  You really stood no chance, Cash. None.

  I’m sorry for laughing in your face. I didn’t know that was your first time doing anything with a female. What I did was cruel to you. You’re not defective, you’re not disgusting, you’re not repulsive. You’re perfect, and I should have told you that instead of writing it now in this letter.

  Everything is right about you, from your hands to your lips to your cock. I’m sorry I was cruel. My love for Clayton brought out the cruelty in me that I never thought I had inside me.

  I was lying when I told you that you couldn’t satisfy me the way Clayton could. I lied to you when I said I couldn’t even feel it inside me. I lied. I could feel every thrust, every pump, and it makes me wet just thinking about how good your cock felt inside me. I lied to you that I was faking it when you called me a liar that I couldn’t get off from you. Not once did I have to fake anything with you.

  Also, you’re not a shit kisser. I lied about that too. Sometimes I want to kiss you so bad, but it was never the right time. I thought you would kiss me again. You never tried again after I laughed in your face and told you everything there was wrong with your mouth, your tongue. Your mouth is perfect, and your tongue is something that I have dreamt about at night. I wake up wet from those dreams. I haven’t had a dream about Clayton in a long time. I’ve been dreaming, fantasizing about you and what could have been if I wasn’t such a bitch to you and you weren’t such an asshole to me.

  Clayton was always kind to me. He put me first. He was gentle and caring; he included me in every aspect of his life.

  With you, I wasn’t treated kindly. You weren’t gentle or caring, but neither was I, right? You didn’t include me in anything.

  You took everything away from me, and I made sure you understood that you were nothing to me. I’m sorry, Cash.

  Kennedy

  Chapter 5

  Scarlet in the Color of Blood

  Tension is held into the deep muscles of Cassius’s back. No matter how much he tries to roll his shoulders out, it remains dug in.

  He’s not smiling.

  I’m trying to figure out how to tell him that Hazel’s not the one.

  His face seems marbled. Difficult to read, but not feel.

  He’s a deep bruise in the color of an overripe peach. Fading soft tones that are replacing the darker ones. There is a want at times to shout out, “Bruises
are good, you can heal from bruise—they are only a discoloration of flesh, not mutilated skin. You’ll heal, Cassius. You will heal.” The words get stuck behind the armor of teeth that leave no space for anything to slip out of the cracks.

  “Do you think that was a mistake, Specs?” He’s watching the road, not me.

  I say nothing.

  Cassius clenches the steering wheel with a tight jaw. Molars pressed.

  He swallows.

  “I saw her, and she reminded me of Kennedy.” A barely heard voice over the crunch of tires on asphalt. In the cab of the truck, it’s a shelter, away from his family, away from the twins. I can see him through the lenses of my glasses. He’s perfectly seen in the shifting streetlights that we pass by. A shudder runs between the blades of my shoulders, perfectly straight down, honestly felt.

  We drive. He turns on the radio, and low music fills the space inside here.

  The leather cushions the back of my spine as I get comfortable to listen to him. He talks more to himself, if I am honest. I wish it was to me, not some confession out loud to be heard by no one. Sometimes I wonder if he thinks I’m no one?

  “She’s mouthy…violent.” The edges of his eyes get smaller, reminding me when he’s about to smile. He does. I want to add, “She wouldn’t be a good fit with the twins. Mouthy and violent don’t mix with precious and vulnerable.” My mouth remains shut, but my mind is screaming, loud and clear.

  Torment eats away that newly formed smile; he frowns instead. “What am I doing, Specs?” His hand drops to the side. The edge of his baby finger could touch my thigh. So close—it’s unnerving.

  “I should apologize to her. It was a mistake to go there. She’s not Kennedy. I was lying to myself. I saw her eyes and thought she could be Kennedy. I was wrong. Really wrong.” He grips the wheel. Tight.

  “Do you think I was a dick?” Now he looks at me, and I nod yes. I want to shake my head no, but I’m no liar.

  “I’ve got to do something.” The streetlights brush his shadow away momentarily before casting his side profile back into the early night. Hidden and dark, until the neon light comes again, flashing his profile in brilliance and awe.