Page 6 of Barely Breathing (Merely Mortal #3)

Chapter

Six

“We had a visitor to the house while you were out.” Astrid’s voice drifts from behind her book as I pass through the penthouse living room toward the kitchen.

I don’t want to hear the end of what she has to say, so I pause just outside her view. It takes me a moment to slowly reverse my steps to face her. I’ve just changed my clothes after returning from the haircut appointment she foisted on me earlier in the day. Normally, I’d be annoyed, but at least I had something to pass the time. Not that Cosette’s chatter took my mind off of meeting the Alpha.

The sun is setting outside the wall of windows behind her. The light paints the balcony in shades of amber and blood.

Blood and moonlight .

“Oh?” I prompt.

“Lorelai Weber has come from California.” Astrid doesn’t look at me. When she told me she wasn’t my birth mother several months back, so many things in my life started to make sense—most significantly, my lack of magic. “She left the address where she’s staying. I put it on your dresser.”

I wish words would come more easily when I talk to Astrid, but our relationship has never been one of easy words. She’s been my protector in many ways, raising me within the confines of the powerful Devine family, keeping me healthy, and teaching me what supernatural society expects of women. However, what little affection is shown is heavily veiled by her strictness, and I spent most of my childhood isolated and feeling like an outsider in my own family.

Sometimes, I wish Astrid would yell at me and lay voice to what has to be true on some base level. My life is the product of her husband’s affair and a constant reminder of his betrayal. How can she not resent me for that? Or my father?

I tried once to tell her I was sorry for what my existence must do to her, but she didn’t want to hear it.

“What…?” I search her expression for a hint of what she’s feeling. I’m not surprised when I don’t fi nd it. I don’t expect emotion from the woman. She’s too practical for that.

“Speak up.” Astrid turns a page with deliberate precision before finally lowering the book to meet my gaze. Her perfect posture is in stark contrast to my travel-ready attire. “Going out?”

I nod.

She glances at my hair. The curls are tamed, blown straight and styled. “Cosette did well.”

“Are you…?” I stop short of asking if she’s all right.

“She’s called here multiple times looking for you, as well,” Astrid states, as if she doesn’t know what I’m trying to ask.

I inch closer to where she sits. I see an empty martini glass near her foot. “Did she say what she wanted?”

“To speak with you, obviously.” Her diamond wedding ring catches the light behind her for the briefest of seconds, making me think of her life with my father. “The woman has become quite persistent since you fixed that amulet. You should decide what you want to do there.”

She doesn’t invite me, but I sit beside her anyway. The gesture seems to catch her off guard, and she closes the book. I can tell by the worn cover it is old and probably in a language I don’t understand .

“Thank you,” I say.

Astrid frowns. “For taking a message?”

“For raising me.” I can instantly tell that my attempt at connecting makes her uncomfortable. She much prefers her mask of emotional detachment and practicality.

“Duty is duty. There is no reason to go on about it.” She starts to open the book, but I put my hand on top of it to stop her.

“Are you all right with…?” I want to say the right things. They never seem to come out correctly. I take my hand back and place it in my lap. “Do you have an opinion on all of this?”

“You’re asking for my advice? This is new.” She keeps studying me. “Here it is. Don’t let sentiment cloud your judgment. Lorelai left for a reason.”

I nod. “I know. Goblins were attacking me in my crib, and she couldn’t protect me.”

“You can’t fault a human for failing any more than you can fault a snowflake for melting. Mortals are fragile and easily exploited.” She reaches to pat my hand. “I know you don’t always agree with how I’ve raised you, but look at who you are becoming, look at what you’ve achieved, look at your resilience as a mortal in a supernatural world.”

“But I’m human,” I say. By her logic, I’m doomed to fail. I touch the amulet. All magic I have is borrowed. “Mortal. ”

“No, Tamara, you’re a Devine. It’s not the same. Mortal attachments often bring pain and vulnerability. This is why I’ve taught you to focus on survival and your responsibilities as part of the Devine family.” If I didn’t know better, I’d say there is a grudging respect in her tone. “Appreciate Lorelai’s sacrifice but keep her at a distance. Her leaving might have been necessary, but those dangers she ran from when you were a child are just as real now. Reopening the old wounds will only invite vulnerability and distraction.”

Like always, it is practical advice.

“If you didn’t…” I take a deep breath. Part of me feels this is not a road I should go down. Still, I find myself saying, “If duty didn’t come into this, would you have agreed to…”

I’m a coward. What I want to know is if she loves me.

Talk about mommy issues.

She touches her wedding ring and gives it a slight wiggle back and forth on her finger. “Don’t dwell on what you can’t change. Duty is a real thing, and you belong here.”

“She knows I know about her now. I have to talk to her.”

“Of course you do.” There’s something in Astrid’s tone, a thread of genuine concern she can’t entirely hide beneath her frost. “The things you have faced recently—the labyrinth, Draakmar, your amulet. These are all challenges.”

I’m not sure what she’s getting at.

“I raised you to be strong and self-reliant. You’re ready for the big things life throws at you. You’ve proven that.” She touches my hand again, and this time, her touch lingers. “It’s not the big things that do us in. It’s the big things that take our attention. That’s when the small creeps in—a tiny little thing you’re not looking at falls on top of you like an unassuming feather. It is that last straw that breaks you. You wanted my advice. There it is. Fight the big battles, but don’t take your eyes off of the little things.”

“I understand.” I nod. At least, I hope I understand. It seems the only correct answer.

She lets go and reopens her book. “Do try not to start a war tonight. The Freemonts are causing enough trouble without adding werewolf politics to the mix.”

“You know?” The question slips out in my surprise.

She scoffs and brushes off the question with a small wave of her ringed hand.

“Oh, and your father returns next week,” she says as if reading the text from her book.

The mention of my father makes my stomach tighten. I wonder if he knows Lorelai is in town. I wonder if he cares.

My birth mother and werewolves hardly seem like little things to me. I should have suspected Lorelai would show up. This means Paul’s aren’t the only memories to return. Lorelai was present when the amulet broke. Maybe that’s the key.

Please don’t let Diana remember. Let her remain safe and innocent.

“Costin is here,” Astrid says as I stand from the couch.

Before I can respond, Costin materializes beside me, dressed entirely in black but for a peek of blood red lining the inside of his slim jacket. The contrast between his elegance and the fact I chose jeans, running shoes, and a T-shirt strikes me as absurd.

I mean, come on. Werewolves . I’m going in ready to run for my life.

“Lady Astrid.” He bows slightly.

“Constantine,” she acknowledges, smoothing invisible wrinkles from her silk blouse.

“Is that what you’re wearing?” Costin asks me, his eyes trailing down my body in a way that makes my skin warm.

Astrid chuckles.

“Yes.” I grab Costin’s arm. “We’re leaving.”

“May I mesmerize you for the trip?” he offers, reaching for my face .

“No, we’ll take the elevator.” I cross the foyer and press the call button. The memory of being under his influence for a week only makes me angry. I hate feeling like I missed something crucial during that lost time.

“But I can?—”

“No. I don’t trust you to bring me out of it. Besides, I felt like my brain was encased in fog for hours last time.” When the elevator opens, I step on. He joins me, and I push the button to the lobby.

“This way will take a long time,” he says.

I don’t care. I’m proving a point.

I take out my phone. “I’ll order us a car.”

He tries to push my hair behind my ear, but I lean to the side. “Don’t be sweet. I’m mad at you.”

“As you wish.”

The doors open, and I stride from within. I beat the doorman and push my way outside. A blast of cool air hits me. I see a familiar car pull forward and instantly get inside the back.

“Where to?” the driver asks.

I look at Costin to answer before I begin texting. Costin gives basic directions, and we start moving into traffic.

“What are you doing?” Costin asks.

“Telling Anthony I’m sorry I didn’t wait for him, but I’m not letting him put himself in danger.” I lied when my brother asked me what time we were leaving.

“How long until we’re there?” I ask, setting my phone on the seat beside me.

“An eternity by this carriage,” Costin grumbles.

“We call them cars now,” I tease.

“You’re smiling. Does that mean I can be sweet now?” His hand glides over my thigh.

I try to shake him off, but it only makes his fingers explore higher. The driver’s eyes meet mine through his rearview mirror. I place my hand on Costin’s to still his exploration.

I give a meaningful glance forward. “Not here.”

“May I mesmerize the driver?”

I push his hand off my leg.

He holds himself quiet, but I feel the weight of his presence beside me like a physical thing. I can’t tell if he’s mimicking me or feeling the effects of time. I find myself watching him more than where we’re going. Hypnotic lights dance across his handsome face, highlighting the sharp angles of his cheekbones and the curve of his mouth, bending and moving like a living thing over his features. He doesn’t need vampiric magic to mesmerize me. He’s doing a good job of it just being close. But beneath his beauty, beneath his power, I see the calculating way in which he watches the city pass .

My breath catches when his hand finds mine on the seat. His thumb traces circles on my palm, each touch sending shivers up my arm.

“Your heart is racing,” he whispers, too low for the driver to hear. “Are you afraid?”

“Not of you.” The lie comes easily, like flirting.

His smile is treacherous. I know the power he holds. He leans closer, his cool breath ghosting across my neck where he’s bitten me before. “You should be.”

I’m not scared of him. I feel the tender seduction that contradicts his words. The pull between us is more potent than any supernatural power, and that’s what terrifies me most.

It’s not fair. I want to be mad at him. Logic tells me to, but I find myself wanting to forget the transgressions.

Fucking vampires. It’s how they’re made. They draw humans in. He probably can’t help it any more than I can help breathing.

I gently push his face away and rub at my neck as if that will erase the memory for both of us.

My cellphone dings, pulling my attention to a text from Anthony that simply reads, “ Asshole. ” Seconds later, another comes, “ Be safe. ” Then, the third, “ I can’t believe you ditched me. ”

“Stop,” Costin commands the driver. I see his finger lift and move to the side like he’s casting a spell.

The car pulls over.

We get out in a sketchy neighborhood. Streetlights flicker over abandoned buildings in an industrial district. The muffled sound of heavy metal music pounds beneath the sidewalk, leaking up from grates and cracks. Each breath is filled with the taste of dust, stirred by a breeze sweeping over us. Energy hums in the air, but I don’t know if it’s real or my fear.

I’ve heard stories of werewolves. They’re much worse than Hollywood movies.

We turn a corner, and I see smoke lifting from a metal grate. The scent of cooking meat and burning wood is enhanced as the primal music becomes louder. Someone howls, and the sound is followed by gruff laughter.

“Remember,” Costin says as we approach a padlocked gate, “werewolves aren’t like us. They’re?—”

“Don’t say dangerous,” I scold. “I’m not stupid. Everything in this world is dangerous. You’re dangerous.”

“I was going to say unpredictable.” His hand finds the small of my back. “They live for the moment, for sensation. They don’t always think. It makes them dangerous in ways vampires aren’t. ”

As if to prove his point, another howl pierces the night. It’s answered by others, creating a savage harmony that creates goosebumps on my skin. Through a gap in the fence slats, I see fires burning in old oil drums. Violent figures move around them, some human, some wolf. Several fights break out but are short-lived as they end in laughter.

I don’t know what I was expecting, but seeing so many of them, knowing any one of them could tear me apart, makes me want to run.

And here I thought running shoes were going to make a difference.

“Welcome to the Pack,” Costin says softly. Before he opens the gate, he turns to me, pressing me against the fence. His body shields me from the street view, and for a moment, the howls and music fade away. “Remember who you belong to in there.”

“I don’t belong to anyone,” I whisper, but my body betrays me, leaning slightly toward his in invitation. The air is charged between us, and I’m achingly aware of every point our bodies touch. Even through my anger, I can’t deny the primal pull.

He cups my face, thumb brushing my lower lip. “Don’t you?”

The kiss that follows is fierce, a claim that leaves me breathless. My legs spread as he lifts me off the ground, anchoring my hips in his strong hands. The wall is cold against my back, but his body burns against mine despite his vampiric nature. Our clothes force a chastity I don’t feel, becoming an exquisite torture as his hands grip me possessively. The press of his arousal against me only hints at what we both want to happen. Desire moves like hot lava through me, pulsing and all-consuming. I should push him away. We’re outside a werewolf den, for goodness’ sake! Instead, I find myself pulling him closer, craving more of that dangerous passion.

A fang nicks my tender lip, filling my mouth with blood. When he pulls away, his eyes have a crimson shine. My thumping heart wants to come out of my chest. I see my blood staining his bottom lip as he licks slowly.

“Mm.” His pleasure moan sounds like sex.

A series of howls echo from the courtyard beyond, jolting me back to awareness. My heart hammers violently at the idea of where we’re at, of the danger just beyond this flimsy barrier. I don’t want to stop. Not just yet.

“Say the word and I’ll take you far away from here,” he offers.

It’s tempting. Oh, so tempting.

“Costin, I can’t,” I refuse.

He lets my legs fall back to the ground. This is not the place. I’m grateful the gate supports my back and keeps me upright .

“Ready?” He doesn’t wait for my nod before he pushes the gate open as if the lock doesn’t matter. “Try not to stare. Wolves hate that.”