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Chapter Thirteen

Talia

T hey had an awful shower at the compound that I got to use whenever they deemed me obedient enough.

It was nothing like this shower that came right from the human version of heaven.

The pressure of the water coming down on me makes me never want to leave.

Next time, I’m trying the huge bathtub.

Drayton said he would pick up some bubble stuff to add to it.

I don’t know what the purpose would be, but it sounds like a lot of fun.

My stomach growls loudly, making my eyes shoot open in fear.

My instincts are already trying to shut off my hunger since most of the time, a growling stomach would only prolong the time until I was fed.

It takes me a moment, but I soothe my own fear enough that I can function.

My stomach hurts less, the pain dulled by my brain, but I focus on it still so I can actually feel it.

I’m not in that prison anymore and I don’t need to hide my normal body signals.

There’s no need for fear here.

Drayton said as soon as I was done with my shower, we would go get food.

He’s my mate and I trust him, so the fear can go away.

Shutting off the water, I step out of the glass enclosure and wrap myself in one of the fluffy blue towels that were left for me after my first shower.

Grabbing a second one, I rub it over my hair like Drayton did for me last night, drying it enough that I’m not dripping water everywhere.

There’s a basket of bathroom products on the counter in front of the large mirror.

Drayton brought it to me when I woke up since we didn’t have any of it earlier.

I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I don’t know what most of it does.

The brush, toothbrush, lotion, and soap, I understand.

Lifting up some of the bottles to read the labels, I instantly get confused and overwhelmed.

“Dry shampoo?” I whisper in disbelief, looking between the shower and the bottle.

“What’s the difference between the wet shampoo and this one?”

Dampness, probably.

Giggling to myself, I put it back and move on to some of the other stuff.

It’s all just too much for me.

I don’t know what scent to wear or what product to use.

Instead of just standing here being lost, I use the stuff I do know.

The rest I can ask about at a different time.

Wetting my toothbrush, I push some toothpaste out on it, using my vague memories of TV commercials to gauge how much.

The toothpaste starts gagging me, and the foaming, minty stuff is pouring out of my mouth.

There’s so much in my mouth I feel like I may throw up which would be counterproductive to brushing my teeth in the first place.

Spitting out as much as possible, I swish water around in my mouth and rinse my toothbrush.

I think I’d rather brush without toothpaste than have to worry about not throwing up that intense mint paste.

After I get done with that, I grab the hairbrush, feeling confident at least with this one.

My teal locks are super dark as I brush through it while still damp.

It’s always fascinated me how my hair goes from dark to light just based on how wet it is.

I’ve always wondered why that is, though no one has ever explained it to me.

Without looking back in the mirror, I head out to sort through the pile of clothes that were dropped off with the bathroom stuff.

A soft t-shirt that looks two sizes too big is the first item I pull out, followed by a pair of sweatpants.

All of it looks like it should fit someone larger than me, but it’s clean and soft so I can’t find it in me to care.

Once I deem myself decent enough, I open the bedroom door, sticking my head out and looking up and down the hallway for any sign of life.

Forrester walks out of a room just a little ways down, looking over at me.

“You ready to head down to the kitchen for some food?” he asks, rubbing his hand on his stubbled chin.

“I’m ready,” I announce, standing up straight and walking out of the bedroom with my head held high.

I walk over to him and fall a step behind when he moves towards the stairs.

It feels awkward not to talk, so I blurt out the first thing on my mind.

“I’m so excited to eat real food!”

Forrester pauses mid-step so suddenly, I crash right into the back of him and fall back onto the carpet.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Talia.” Forrester reaches down, helping me off the ground and holding on while I steady myself on my feet.

“I didn’t mean to stop like that. You just caught me off guard with your comment.”

“Did I say something wrong?” My teeth bite down on my lip in anxiety, the motion instantly making me tense up.

Biting my lip was always a one way ticket to the electroshock chamber.

Forrester looks down at me, his blue eyes narrowed at me.

“No, not wrong. Just, unexpected . Did they not feed you there?”

“They fed me,” I say, unsure how to explain the eating situation in the castle.

“It was just mostly stale or mouldy foods like stale crackers and apples that were half rotten. They fed me better when I was young, but as I got older, food became another punishment. They didn’t like when I showed any perceived weaknesses, so if I showed signs of hunger, they would withhold even the rotten food until I could hide the weakness from them.”

Forrester closes his eyes, his fists clenching at his sides.

He’s radiating anger, most likely at the situation, but I can’t help feeling like some of it is at me as well.

After the longest minute of my life, he opens his eyes again and places a hand under my chin.

“I am so sorry you had to live through that,” he whispers, lifting my chin until our eyes meet.

“You deserve better than that. Fuck, you even deserve better than here.”

“What do you mean?” Pulling back in confusion, I hug my arms over my upper body.

“Is this place bad?”

Forrester looks shocked for a moment before he shakes his head back and forth repeatedly.

“No. At least, not in the way the Croisés had you living. It’s— It’s complicated. There’s a lot going on within the pack right now, and it’s not the best place to be after escaping a literal torture house. I don’t want to be here, and if it weren’t for you, I’d be gone.”

“I’m not understanding,” I whisper, stepping back from Forrester and looking around.

“I thought this was your home? Why would you leave?”

“Fuck, I’m screwing this up. Look, the other four won’t go out of their way to harm you or anything like that. The mate bond wouldn’t let them even if they wanted to,” Forrester explains, leaning back against the beige wall about ten feet away from the stairs.

“It’s just that there’s a lot of unease in the pack right now. It’s divided and I don’t blame them. Drayton only recently became the pack alpha. Our father was the alpha before him.”

Ah, so that’s why they look alike.

I wonder why there’s so much animosity in his voice when he talks about him?

“Some of the pack don’t like Drayton?” My mind is whirring with all of this, none of it easily clicking together for me.

“No, they don’t. He murdered our father to take his place, and the ones that know the truth about that don’t look kindly on him. Myself, included.”

Forrester glares down at his feet, refusing to make eye contact with me.

The subject must be hard for him, losing his father by his brother’s hand.

Part of me wants to comfort him, to ease the pain that this memory obviously provokes in him.

The other part of me is wary of his story, though.

The problem is that I can’t see Drayton being so cruel and cunning.

It doesn’t fit the man I’ve met, the one who took care of me so gently and with so much kindness.

I’ve met my fair share of murderers with the Croisés, the kinds that do it for power and bloodlust, and he doesn’t fit them at all.

“You left the pack because Drayton killed your father for his position as alpha?” I ask slowly, making sure I’m getting the details right.

His story isn’t easing my confusion or unease at all, if anything, it’s making it worse.

Forrester laughs once, the sound hollow and angry.

“You don’t believe me, do you? He’s got you tricked already. Drayton isn’t the man he convinces everyone he is. The sooner everyone wakes up to who he really is, the better.”

“That’s not fair,” I say, dropping my arms to my side and getting defensive over my other mate.

“Maybe it’s you that’s been tricked. Drayton has shown me who he is in the moments we’ve spent together. You’ve shown me nothing of who you are. You haven’t even attempted to gain an ounce of understanding or trust from me. All I see in front of me is a bitter man who’s angry at the world and shuts everyone out. I’d sooner believe you murdered someone over Drayton.”

“What did you just say?” Forrester steps closer to me, his voice so cold I’m surprised it doesn’t freeze me where I stand.

“ I am not a murderer. You don’t have a single fucking idea who I am, so don’t make accusations you can’t corroborate.”

Laughing, I take a step forward, refusing to back down from him now.

“You clearly didn’t listen to me very well. I said I would sooner believe that you were a murderer, not that you are a murderer.”

I shake my head at his furious expression.

“You seem to already forget where I escaped from. I’ve seen cold-blooded killers up close and in the flesh. I’ve seen passionate murderers as well. The former gets a thrill from the kill, their eyes send a shiver of fear down your spine. The latter has an angry heart and an even angrier disposition. They don’t necessarily look for the kill, but their rage outweighs their sense.”

Forrester glares down at me, his breathing shallow and quick as he fights to contain his rage.

This right here, the utter intensity of these negative emotions, is why I could never believe him over Drayton.

His anger outweighs everything else in him.

It’s there, ready to explode at any moment.

“I don’t think you’re a bad person or a murderer.” I sigh, pulling some of my hair into my hand and twisting it back and forth.

“What I’m saying is, I can tell you’re angry and I can feel your bitterness towards Drayton and the pack. I don’t know what happened, or really any of the story except the few things you tried to use to scare me. It sounds like you don’t know as much of the story as you think you do, though.”

Forrester scoffs, rubbing a hand down his jaw in annoyance.

“I know enough,” he growls after a moment.

“I know that I looked up to my brother. I thought he walked on water and could do no wrong. I also know I saw him standing over our father, drenched in his blood with a look on his face that still turns my stomach when I think about it. That’s more than enough of the story to know.”

Reaching out, I place a hand over his heart, feeling it race under my palm.

Behind all that anger, there’s anguish and grief.

Not only did he lose his father, he feels like he lost his brother as well.

The anger is a shield he’s using to valiantly protect himself, only I don’t think he has it facing the right way.

“You’re in pain. That’s a feeling I know all too well,” I whisper, stepping closer to Forrester and pressing my palm harder against his chest.

A warmth fills my palm, the telltale chords of teal magic encasing my hand and dancing along his black t-shirt.

Forrester looks down, intently watching my magic dance around on him.

The warmth sinks into his chest, easing the pain around his heart.

Healing a physical wound is only one way to heal someone.

The mental and emotional wounds need tending as much as a physical wound does.

They’re deeper and more intricate, like a poison hiding in your blood.

“It’s time to heal some of that pain, Forrester. Holding on to so much of it is poisoning you,” I explain as my magic weaves around his body, drawing the darkness out.

“Healing these wounds won’t take away your grief. It won’t take away your memories or your feelings. It will, however, leave you with a clearer mind so that when you look at things in front of you, like the brother you knew and the one you think he became, you’ll be able to see the cracks that the anger let you look past.”

The warmth fades from my hand, my magic snapping back into place once it’s done its part.

The rest will be up to him.

He can renew the pain and the anger, letting it control him and his life.

Only he can choose how his story continues and ends.

Forrester stares at me, his mouth slightly agape as if he can’t quite figure out what he wants to say to me.

He lands on shaking his head and walking away without a word.

Quietly, I follow behind him, reaching inside of me for my special sight.

This house was so beautiful to me just hours ago, and now I see why I’ve been brought to my mates at this time.

The threads of magic and life are strained here, their colours faded and frayed.

My mates are the brightest of the threads, but even still, I can now see why they’re transparent compared to my own.

There’s a lot of healing that needs to be done, not just with Forrester, but with the pack as a whole.

There’s something deeper going on and it’s hurting my head to try and think about it.

The voice from the meadow implied that more of my magic would awaken as a champion of Adessa.

This insight into the deeper, invisible bonds seems to be a part of that.

When I opened my sense, I didn’t imagine I would see so much of the pack and its inner workings around me.

The kitchen opens in front of us and Forrester heads to the counter, still silent as ever.

Penn grabs me from behind in a bear hug, his frame wrapping around me like a heavy blanket.

I jump and freeze, then slowly relax as the comfort of my mate seeps into me.

The other three are sitting at a large table, eating and staring at me intently.

“Hi,” I say, waving awkwardly as Penn’s weight holds me in place.

“I think we all need to talk.”

Alaric’s gaze swings to Forrester, his eyes glowing instantly.

“You motherfucker! I’m going to kill you.”

“Fuck you, asshole!” Forrester flips Alaric off, starting a string of chaos that has Penn whisking me out of the kitchen as fast as possible.

There’s food flying everywhere as two large wolves now take up the space, torn fabric floating down.

“Come on, baby girl. They all have some shit to work out,” Penn mumbles, looking over his shoulder with an annoyed look.

“I’ll take you on that tour, starting with my mom’s house. She always has tons of food ready to go.”

“Oh, okay.” Looking back over my shoulder, I sigh when I can’t see what’s happening in the kitchen anymore.

“Why are they fighting? What did I do?”

“You didn’t do anything, baby. Forrester has been a massive dick for a while now. His rejection of the bond has nothing to do with you, it’s all him and Drayton.” Penn kisses my head, pulling me close to his body.

“Rejection? What rejection?”