My satisfaction is brief, of course, because I know he’ll retaliate.
Taurus grabs me by the throat and pins me against the wall with a snarl of anger. The pain is immediate and incandescent, but I don’t struggle. His grip doesn’t loosen as he leans in, face inches from mine, and I see his eyes flicker and change.
For a moment, I swear they’re full of pity.
Then he lets go, and I collapse to the mat, gasping, hands around my neck, coughing. My primary just stands there, bleeding, watching me with an intensity that makes my skin crawl.
“Why do you do this to us?” he asks, voice oddly soft. “We would get away with taking them out. His death had already been mourned once. Sheep always follow in the end, and if the coyote and her mate were gone, this place would eventually go back to our mate. You know that, yet you obsess over keeping things calm so another war doesn’t break out. You seem ignorant of the fact that one already has.”
I want to scream that I know it has. That Sari and her minions have launched the rain of violence and pain that will consume the community soon enough. But my words of agreement won’t come because I can’t say it out loud. I grab my blade again, ignoring the tears threatening to fall when I take another swing.
He blocks it, grabbing my wrist, but this time he doesn’t twist. My primary just holds it, gentle but unyielding, and says, “It’s okay if you can’t admit that you’re not ready to take him out because you brought him in. But you can’t keep allowing disrespect like today, nor can you tie my hands. It’s too much, especially with the cat being so fragile right now.”
Something in me buckles at that.
I try to wrench free, but he holds on. The fight drains out of me as if someone pulled a plug. Taurus is bleeding from the nose and the scalp, but he doesn’t seem to care. All my righteous anger is gone, replaced by something else—something worse.
I think it’s the understanding that Sari’s ability to continue hurting people is partially my fault and has been for a long time.
Taurus lets go and I slump, breathing in ragged sobs, unsure if I’m more humiliated by the truth or the tears. He sits down heavily on the mat next to me, wipes the blood from his face, and touches my shoulder. The gesture is so alien that for a moment I freeze.
“You’re not responsible for all of it. Don’t take that on,” he says. “Lots of people have allowed her to continue being a blight, including our mates, and they have done nothing either.”
I shake my head, but the words settle somewhere deep inside me. No one in this place would have the skills or the fortitudeto take out enemies. He knows that as well as I do. The only casualties in the previous war were friendships and some early droids. Neither side fought to kill, only to take over the Rift and decide the rules. Deli being this vicious is new, and Rafe left the Company so he didn’t have to kill.
Even if Taurus’ statement is true, there isn’t anyone else, and we both know it.
He leans back, breathing hard, and closes his eyes. “You can give in to me anytime, you know. I’ll handle it and take the blame.”
I laugh, bitter and broken. “No, I can’t, and neither can you.”
He opens one bloodshot eye and looks at me. “Then hit me again and let’s get this shit out of our systems.”
His offer is sincere, and for a moment I consider it. But I’m too tired, too empty. My wrist is swelling, throbbing with every heartbeat. My lungs are raw from screaming, my face sticky with blood and snot and tears.
All I want is to lie down and stop fighting for one goddamn minute.
So I flop onto my back, staring up at the ceiling, the lights blinking above us. I’m shocked as fuck when he yanks me towards him, bares his fangs at me and tears in, drawing blood from my neck in a painful bite.
It’s not a love bite or even a sexy one; it’s punishment, and it’s what I was looking for when I came in here.
When I’m subdued, he roots around inside of me and I can’t stop him. Taurus sees the gaping wounds and the craving for pain. His head lifts, and he sees the tears flowing down my cheeks. I feel him turn on himself, angry for letting me provoke him intothis. His expression breaks me, and I sob with my fucked-up wrist hanging at my side. He keeps looking at me for a long time as I continue crying.
“I’m sorry, love. I didn’t know how deep the pain was. You kept that from me pretty damn well.” Taurus picks me up, cradling me close as he rises to his feet. “You wanted me to fight like we usually do, but not know that it wasn’t about those assholes at all. I’m going to have it out with you about that later, but for now, we’re done with this.”
That’s the last thing I hear before he does something that he knows I hate more than anything—he finds our connection and knocks me out.
The Artist Holds His Own
RAFE
For the record, I have no idea what the hell is going on. Unsurprising, since the more dramatic folks in my family often go off half-cocked and leave me in the dark.
Okay, I did it once, but usually, it’s not me. Give me a break.
However, I know that both my wife and my other mate have arrived home in foul-ass moods. That much, I knew when they got here one by one, but since then? No one has come to the guest house to see me, and they’ve all dropped off the mate radar. It pisses me off, but I know it could be because of people in this stupid community, each other, or entirely fucking separate reasons.
That’s why I just poured myself a damn scotch and waited it out. Then I felt the fight and a lot of shared physical pain, but I stayed put. Charging in like a damn superhero wouldn’t fix anything, especially if none of them are speaking to each other. The minute the pounding rain started outside, I knew the cat was pissed at someone at the very least. Otherwise, I’ve been left in the dark by choice, and I’m not feeling charitable enough to search them out to beg for crumbs of context.
