Page 15 of Ruthless Alpha (Nightfire Islands Alphas #3)

I was going to hell. I was going straight to hell: do not pass Go, do not collect two hundred dollars.

I had pinned Rosie to the wall of the basement, put my hands on her body, and held her in place while I stuck my tongue down her throat like an animal.

I’d always prided myself on being better than the males of my Pack, but I was just as much of a slave to my instincts.

My wolf had insisted on having her, and I’d let him call the shots.

I paced in front of the porch as the sun came up over the ragged mountains.

I had fled the house entirely after escaping the basement, stopping only to tell Jace that I wouldn’t be back until morning and to look after Rosie in my absence.

I knew he would follow my orders—he was a good friend, steadfast and reliable—but I still felt awful about leaving Rosie alone.

Better alone than with me, I reminded myself.

I was relieved when a light clicked on in the kitchen—she was there, close to me, safe and going about her morning routine as normal.

It took another half hour for me to convince myself to open the door, to follow the smell of pancakes and bacon into the kitchen.

Jace was sitting at the table pouring syrup over his full plate, and I had to tamp down a nonsensical growl.

I had no right to feel possessive of Rosie, who was standing stock still by the oven, staring at me.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hey. You didn’t come home last night.” Something in my stomach fizzed pleasantly at the casual way she called my house home. But now was not the time for that.

“No,” I admitted. “I thought you might want some—you know, some privacy.”

“Jace was still here,” Rosie said, pointing unnecessarily at Jace himself, who was staring at his breakfast like it contained all the secrets of the universe, and he simply had to figure them out.

“Well, yeah. I wasn’t going to leave you by yourself, in case something—I just didn’t think you’d want me around.”

“Oh. That’s, uh—that’s considerate of you.”

Considerate? If I’d proved anything in the last twenty-four hours, it was how inconsiderate I really was. I’d all but forced myself on her during training, and here she was calling me considerate. Was she truly that afraid of me, or was she just an angel? I feared it might be both.

“You know what—” Rosie and I both jumped as Jace stood up abruptly “—Jace doesn’t still need to be here now that Xander’s back. I’m just going to go… somewhere else. Thanks for breakfast, Rosie!”

Neither of us spared him a glance as he fled from the room, too busy stewing in the silence that I was too cowardly to break.

Apologizing for what happened would mean acknowledging that it had happened; it would mean having to watch Rosie tell me again that I was her owner and I could do whatever I wanted with her.

The thought made my stomach churn, but I had to do it. I had to get it over with.

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” I blurted. I should be looking her in the eye, but I wasn’t brave enough for that.

Instead, I let the words tumble out of me, disjointed and insufficient.

“I shouldn’t have—I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you like that.

I wasn’t thinking, but that’s not an excuse, and I promise that it won’t happen again because I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable here—”

“Xander.”

“—and I know I promised that I didn’t want anything like that from you—”

“Xander.”

“—and I didn’t mean to lie, but you’re so—”

“Xander. Breathe. You don’t have to apologize.”

“No, I do—” I tried to insist, but Rosie’s voice hardened as she said,

“Will you let me finish?”

It was kind of adorable, being chastised by the sweet-faced girl in my kitchen, still covered in flour from making pancakes.

“Sure,” I agreed. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize because I think it was, uh—I think I made it pretty clear that was what I wanted.

You didn’t take advantage of me.” A pink blush was growing over her cheeks, and it was so pretty, and my heart soared for a moment before she continued, “But I think it shouldn’t—it shouldn’t happen again. ”

“Right.” It wouldn’t be fair of me to tell her that I desperately wanted it to happen again, now that I knew she wanted it too.

Things might have become a little easier between us over the past weeks, but I knew she still viewed me as her owner.

If she agreed to it, I would never know if it was because she felt the same insistent pull that I did, or if she was simply keeping me sweet.

“And maybe I should train with a different weapon,” she added.

“Huh?” It had been a long night of little sleep, and I really wasn’t certain I’d heard that right. Were we still having the same conversation?

“A different weapon,” Rosie repeated. “I think I should train with something… else.”

Okay. So I had heard her right. I still couldn’t make sense of the statement.

“But that sword is perfect for you,” I said, and it was Rosie’s turn to look sheepish.

“It’s maybe—it’s maybe too perfect,” she murmured.

“What do you mean?”

Rosie sighed, wrapping her arms around her middle.

“I feel like—this is going to sound so stupid—I feel like it knows me? Or it’s encouraging me, somehow?

And that’s great for sparring, because honestly, I’m not good at it, I’m just doing what it suggests, but it also—I think it wants us to…

” She trailed off, giving me a significant look, and all the pieces dropped into place.

“It wants us to—” I echoed, too shocked to think of anything else.

“I told you it was going to sound stupid,” Rosie whimpered, collapsing into a chair and hiding her face in her hands.

“No. No, it doesn’t sound stupid at all,” I rushed to console her. “I just—I should probably tell you something about that sword.”

Rosie lifted her head just enough to look up at me through her blonde lashes, and I braced myself for my second apology of the morning. This one, I feared, wouldn’t be so easily accepted.

“I wasn’t entirely honest with you when I said I didn’t know who the collaborators were,” I confessed, taking a tentative seat beside her.

“I might not know exactly, but I do know they were witches. High witches, I think. That weapon was designed for their use, not ours, which is why it’s too light for an Ensign fighter.

I swear I didn’t think that it would have any effect on you,” I rushed to clarify.

“I thought the witches who helped make it were the only ones who could tap into its magic. No one else who’s held it has reported any kind of sentience, I guess?

Maybe it’s because they didn’t use it for long? ”

Rosie only stared at me, and I braced myself for her hatred, her vitriol, desperately trying to think of something to say that might placate her. When she finally spoke, though, she didn’t seem angry. Her gaze was distant, as if she were looking right through me.

“It was made by witches?” she said, flat and affectless. “Made for witches?”

“Yes. I should have told you. I know we don’t agree on that subject, but I should have made sure you were alright with a magic-made weapon, even if I didn’t think it would affect you.”

“But it did affect me,” she said, still unnervingly motionless and quiet.

“I know.”

“Because I’m a witch.”

Now that I must have misheard.

“I’m sorry?” I said. Rosie was still looking past me, but her eyes had filled with fear. It took her a few long seconds to reply, and when she did, her voice was breathy and trembling.

“I’m—I think I told you that my mother’s side of the family was kind of ostracized on Arbor? That my father’s family didn’t like their mating?”

“Yeah.” She’d told me that on her first morning here, the same morning we’d fought about witches. If she feared her own abilities, it made sense that she’d be so steadfast in her apparent hatred of magic.

“That was because we had witch blood,” Rosie continued. Every word sounded like it took immense effort, and I wanted to reach out to take her hand, but I didn’t know if she’d want that from me. “No one since my great-grandmother had any—any real powers, but it was enough to make us unpopular.”

Arbor really was a shithole. The thought that a family could be ostracized for having one undesirable ancestor was ridiculous—but I doubted Rosie would appreciate hearing my opinion on that right now.

“So you think that your blood—” I started instead, but Rosie cut me off.

“I’m not finished. No one had any real power until I came along.

I was a child when they manifested. I was just—just playing in the garden and I saw a pretty butterfly.

” She was so determined to get the words out, but her bottom lip was starting to tremble.

“I wanted it to come closer, so I reached out for it and—and I can’t believe I’m telling you this. Why am I telling you this?”

Two fat tears rolled down her cheeks, and she drew in a deep, shuddering breath, covering her face with her hands again as sobs began to wrack her little body.

I could only look on in horrified sympathy.

What must life be like for an Arbor-born witch?

Had she learned to hate herself before she even knew how to read? How to walk?

“You’re telling me because you know I’m not going to hurt you for it,” I assured her. “I won’t think any less of you. It’s safe to be who you are here.”

Rosie didn’t acknowledge my words, only continued taking ragged gulps of air, trying to wipe away her tears as they fell.

Tentatively, I held out my hand, waiting for her to take it if she wanted to.

After a few more shuddering breaths, she reached out to touch the tips of my fingers with her own, the skin of them damp with her tears.

“When I—when I reached for the butterfly,” she managed, “I created this—this gold orb that trapped the butterfly inside. I showed Mama what I’d done, and I—I’d never seen her so afraid. She made me promise never to tell anyone.” Her eyes widened, stricken. “Oh—I promised I would never tell—”

She dissolved into tears again, and this time I couldn’t stay in my seat. I dropped to my knees in front of her, placing my hands gently on her thighs as I tried to soothe her.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s okay,” I promised. “You know she was just trying to protect you. She didn’t want you to be hurt, but no one’s going to hurt you here, I promise.”

That got me a wet, hiccupping laugh. It sounded hollow, and her voice was wry when she said,

“You mean they’re not going to hurt me for being a witch?”

Did she really fear this island more than she feared her home, where they would have killed her for nothing more than being who she was? Now wasn’t the time to agonize over that.

“No,” I said. “All my people have respect for witches—we used to have one living here on the island, actually. She was the only female who could walk through town alone; no one dared to mess with her, and no one wanted to, because she helped us with so many things.”

There was a pause before Rosie wiped her eyes again—fruitlessly, the tears were still sliding down her cheeks—and looked at me like a child who wants to know more about a subject they’ve been forbidden to ask about.

“Really?” she whispered.

“Yeah. The females would go to her when they were pregnant, and she was always there for births—I know she saved the lives of a few of our females and their newborns. Our island owes her a lot.”

“She sounds—she sounds nice.” If the moment wasn’t so dire, I might have laughed at the effort it clearly took for Rosie to say that.

“You know,” I ventured, “I bet if I asked her to come back and talk with you, she would. I don’t know why I never asked her about the sword before, actually.

She might be able to help you get more…in tune with it, or whatever.

I don’t really understand how any of that magic stuff works, but she truly helped Julia when she was here. ”

“I met Julia,” Rosie said quietly.

“Yeah.” Neither of us wanted to acknowledge what she’d accused Julia of the last time we’d mentioned her. Knowing what I knew now, it was easy to forgive.

“Did she—did she have her baby?” Rosie asked, tentatively. It was an olive branch, and I sure as hell was going to take it. I smiled, wide and warm.

“She sure did. His name is Adam. He’s three now, and he’s gonna be a big brother.”

Rosie tried to smile back. It didn’t quite work, but I appreciated the effort.

“That’s nice,” she said. “I’m glad for her.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

This time, the silence that filled the kitchen was comfortable and easy. I didn’t move from my position on the floor, nor did I remove my hands from her knees. She didn’t seem to mind, absently stroking the backs of my knuckles with her thumb.

“So, do you want me to radio around, see if I can find Eve?” I asked eventually. It was a risky question, and I was ready for her no. Just because she’d admitted the truth of her magic to me didn’t mean she was ready to truly acknowledge it, and I wasn’t going to push her.

“Can I think about it?” she asked. It was more than I’d expected, and I gave her a reassuring smile.

“Of course you can, sweetheart.”

It was hard to tell beneath the tear tracks, but I thought she blushed a little at the endearment. Reaching forward, she placed a little hand on one of mine. Her smile was watery and weak, but it lit up the whole room.

“Thank you.”