I reach for the Haven Academy shield. I seek solace in politeness, and in being the perfect hostess who doesn’t raiseher voice and would never curse. But I grapple with the mask. It slips. I wrench it back into place as a tiny sob escapes.
You have to be strong, June.
I turn around and walk out, tears sliding down my cheeks as I jog up the stairs. And it’s so stupid, but I keep waiting for Torin to call me back. To laugh and hug me and say it was just a cruel joke that he didn’t know would hurt me so badly.
But he doesn’t call me back.
And once again, my mask slips because nothing could ever hurt as much as this does.
Chapter 7
Callum
Idrop into the seat opposite the man determined to destroy my life. “What do you want?”
My dad, having taken a seat seconds earlier, folds his hands. “What I want is for you to do what I want, Callum, and life won’t be so hard. Be difficult, and I will make your life difficult.”
“Where’s Lottie?” I ask him tightly. “You promised us one meeting a week. It’s been three weeks.”
He smirks. “Are you choosing Lottie over the beautiful Juniper?”
I open my mouth, ready to say yes. That I want nothing to do with any woman he throws at me. But I can’t. That would be a lie, and I can’t risk him catching me in a lie.
Not about this.
I don’t know how it happened, whether he pointed his finger at a random woman at the Haven Academy end-of-year ball and his finger landed on our scent match, or if he saw something that night. But the odds are...
Astronomical.
But itdidhappen, and it’s left me—left all of us—in an impossible position.
He drags his finger through the pale yellow, almost translucent glaze on the cake in the center of the table. Dark purple blueberries peek through the top layer and on the sides. It looks delicious, so I’m not surprised when he licks his finger and makes an appreciative sound. I hide my disgust, but it’s a near thing.
“The girl knows how to bake,” he says, dabbing his mouth with a white napkin and tossing it back on the tablecloth. “If you ever want to throw her away, I’ll take her.”
It’s only my control and fear of what he will do to Lottie as punishment that keeps me from driving my fist into his face.
Control that I’ve been fighting to maintain since I was a boy.
Control I’ve had ever since he pushed my mother down the stairs, breaking her neck, and got away with it by claiming it was an accident.
“Why her?” I ask.
Even saying her name is agony. I can’t do it. Not now. Maybe not ever.
“She’s a sweet girl,” he says, smirking as he leans back in his white wooden garden chair.
“A pawn,” I say, putting together the pieces. “Veronica has been slacking, so you needed another set of eyes on us.”
Someone we might spill a secret or two after sex that he could use to control us.
“She seems fond of you,” he says coyly.
He hasn’t brought up scent matches yet, and I start to ask but his expression makes me swallow my words. He’s turned people that we trusted against us. Scent matches are rare. Biology and the universe coming together to create the perfect pairings.
Special.
Pure.
