Chapter 17
Scarlett
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The room explodes,the guys talking over each other and growing louder until I’m forced to cover my ears, bending over and drawing shallow breaths so that I don’t get overwhelmed by the sweet scents surrounding m-
The stranger on the beach smelled barely better than a blood bag from the fridge. Malcolm’s tastes sweet; intoxicating, the same way Kasen’s is. Son of a bitch, I’m an idiot. It was only because he had me so worked up and desperate that I nearly attacked that stranger, not because I can’t control myself around the scent of blood. I can’t control myself aroundtheirblood.
I’m not a monster, I’m just a thirsty bitch.
“Will you all shut the hellup!?”
Immediately, everything goes so completely silent that my ears pop at the abrupt change, but I still sigh in relief. When I open my eyes, a faint shimmering distorts my vision, like looking through the heat above a fire. A brush of concern from Malcolm assures me I’m not alone beneath his shield, and I give him a small, appreciative smile before he turns back to continue his shouting match.
While I remained frozen in the doorway to my room, he rounded the couch to get in Kasen and the other guy’s faces. I can see their lips move as they argue amongst one another, but blessedly, I can’t hear a word of it, safe beneath the shield Malcolm conjured to give me a chance to catch my breath.
Their scents are muted, but still trickle through the barrier, grounding me so that I don’t feel cut off from the world completely. I take a minute to dissect them; Malcolm’s cologne, Kasen’s rain and woodsmoke, and the stranger’s sawdust and whiskey. All of them have the exact same undercurrent of sweetness from their blood, and I shut my eyes to block out everything else, processing the latest bombshell.
I’m a fucking idiot. Kasen isn’t Malcolm’s mate, he’s mine. They both damn well knew it, too, and went along with my assumption instead of correcting me.
It’d be sweet if I wasn’t ready to bang my head against the wall. After the way I reacted to Malcolm, it’s no surprise that they thought I wouldn’t handle the revelation of a second mate well. They grew up knowing things like this were a possibility, banding together and forming units as more and more humans balked at the shift in power. They evolved to take the place of the predators that humans hunted to extinction, knowing full well there could be a repeat performance and adapting for a better chance of survival this time around.
And I spent a lifetime envying them for creating their own families and being happy. Humans are bound and determined to be miserable, letting one another dictate how we live our lives and knocking each other down. Now I don’t fit into either category, an abomination to society, and there are two-three- men standing here getting bent out of shape over me.
I used to balk at the concept of fated mates, but that was before I started to come around to the idea that loving me isn’t a burden they were being forced to bear by some higher power. I’m not a punishment for something they did wrong, just like they aren’t a reward for enduring everything that I went through.
Nearing thirty with a shitty track record for relationships tends to give your self-worth a hit, but it makes sense now. No one I dated was ever going to be a good fit because something better was waiting for me on the other side of that dark, bloody alley.
I may have been dragged into their world kicking and screaming, but the only thing I miss about my old life was how much easier it was to be human. Easier; not better.
“Okay.” Nodding to myself absentmindedly, I wring the hem of Kasen’s shirt in my hands, wrangling my scattered thoughts and trying to be an adult about things rather than scream into the void. “Okay.”
The shield falls away and I blush as I realize I was babbling to myself, but I think I’ve earned a pass or two in the grand scheme of things. Pushing aside my feelings as much as I’m able to in a bid to face things as rationally as possible, I wipe my sweaty palms on my wrinkled shirt. At least one of us needs to have a clear head to push things in a productive direction, and since the three of them are still bickering, I need to get my shit together.
“Let’s back this up for a second.”
All conversation comes to a screeching halt with my words as three faces turn in my direction. Looking directly at the stranger with the shaggy mop of dark hair that matches his five o’clock shadow and a mischievous glint in his green eyes, I mentally punch my vagina to get her priorities straight.
“Who the heck are you?”
With a lazy smile that makes my heart skip a beat, he tips his head in the mockery of a partial bow. “Beckett Crawford, but you can call me whatever you like, gorgeous.”
