Fear the Heart (Werelock Evolution Book 2) (13 page)

“Fuuck,”
Alcaeus swore, his hazel orbs glazing over as he stared down at me. “I can’t … oh, Jesus Christ, that scent …”

Covering his nose and mouth with his hand, Alcaeus backed away from me and off the bed. Alex moved into the space he’d vacated directly overtop of me, and after he directed a not-so- subtle territorial growl at Kai, Kai abandoned his spot on the bed as well.

Alex’s concerned features dipped closer, his knuckles stroking lovingly along the sides of my face. “You okay, baby?”

“Mm-hmm.” I smiled thinly, delighting in his nearness and his scent.

“Anything still hurt?”

I shook my head minutely, fighting to keep my droopy eyelids open. “Don’t yell at Lupe,” I scolded, my voice barely carrying. “She’s my only friend here.”

His brow pinched. “Milena, I’m your friend,” he said softly, the hurt in his eyes expressing more than his words.

Was he my friend?
Alex was definitely my …
something.
But what that something was I couldn’t readily define.

“I’m much more than your friend,” he contended. “I never stop thinking about you,” he professed, his voice turning to warm silk as the meaning of his words wrapped around me. Black eyes searched my bleary blues. “Did you know that?”

I hadn’t.
And I was helpless to prevent the lazy, goofy grin that stretched my mouth in response.

He beamed back at me, his face transforming with a measure of undeniable happiness I’d never before seen him display. “Do you want me to stay?” he asked gently.

I did.

“You are
not
staying!” Alcaeus’ hard, booming voice decimated the glorious bubble of bliss that had all too briefly encapsulated us.

I watched the giddy grin falter and slide from Alex’s face. Slowly, he turned from me to his brother. “Al, you heard her. She
wants
me to stay. She needs me.”

“She’s exhausted. She doesn’t know what she wants.”

“And you do? She had to scream her head off before she finally got your attention. Seriously, how did you not know she needed help when you’re the one who has free fucking access to the inside of her head?”

Alex crossed the room to confront his brother. “Goddamnit,
I
should be the one inside her head. You have absolutely no clue what she fucking needs!”

“Oh, don’t even start this with me,” Alcaeus warned, sounding weary and exhausted. “I’ve been trying to give her some fucking space and privacy, Alex. Concepts you wouldn’t understand! She’s a big girl, perfectly capable of communicating to me when she needs something.”

“But she
didn’t!”

“Well I couldn’t have anticipated that!”

“
But I would have!
” Alex roared, rattling the window frames.

Shit.
Even drowning in Alcaeus’ calming essence I could sense Alex’s rarified rage building to its inevitable crescendo.

“Because I feel
everything
that she feels!” Alex proclaimed. “Every fucking goddamn emotion, regardless of how small and insignificant, or how profound and great.”

He did?

“Since the very first moment I laid eyes on her I’ve felt them. And it is positively fucking maddening having to feel her emotions now and not be able to know the thoughts and the circumstances surrounding them!”

“Well, it
is
a bit conventional, but you could always try asking her what she’s thinking,” Kai suggested drolly. I had almost forgotten he was still in the room.

“
Shut up!
”

“And yet she trusts me over you,” Alcaeus threw right in his face. “Her very blood didn’t trust you and blocked you out the first moment it could, Alex. What does that fucking tell you?”

“Damnit, I admit I’ve made some mistakes with her. But she needs me now, and I can help her. I feel what she feels! And I can protect her. You have to let me.
Please?”

“You’ve made more than just a few mistakes!” Alcaeus scorned. “Are you listening to yourself? You’ve felt everything that she’s felt and yet you purposely did things to upset her and to hurt her,” he charged. “You ignored her feelings, denied her things you knew she wanted. Why? Because you felt so fucking castrated and out of control being impacted by and beholden to her every little desire and emotion, didn’t you?”

“You don’t know what I felt!
”

“I know better than you know yourself half the time, Alex, and I know damn well when you feel cornered and scared.”

“I was confused!”

“You were scared shitless! You thought that somehow you could overpower or outwit the mating bond,” Alcaeus accused with a mordant chuckle. “And when that didn’t work, you decided you could overpower and outwit
her
, thinking that if she just did what you wanted you’d regain some sense of sanity in your life and semblance of control. Well, falling in love doesn’t work like that. It’s pretty much a guarantee that you will never feel sane or in control
ever
again!”

“Al,
please?
” Alex begged. “Please don’t do this to me. Don’t do this to her!”

“You did this to yourself. I’m tired and I’m out of patience, Alex. Now get out of my house before I blast you out on your head.”

“But he’ll try again. Next time he could really hurt her!”

“I’ll cast a shield. She’ll be fine. Get the fuck out!”

“Al, she’s my mate!”

“Not until she says so.”

CHAPTER NINE

“Don’t let anyone tell you who or what you are or aren’t meant to be.”

I startled in my uncomfortable plastic chair, looking up from my history book. Mom’s eyes were still closed, her face expressionless. For a second I thought I’d only imagined she’d spoken, until she continued.

“Doctors said I was born barren. Did y’know that?” She managed to peek one droopy eyelid open at me before letting it slip shut again. “Pragmatic ’ole Grams never hid it from me either. From as early as I can remember, that was always my fate. I’d never be a mother.” A weary, sardonic smile tugged her lips.

This was new. This story I’d not heard before. What was she even talking about?

I knew they’d given her something to help her rest and to ease the pain and I wondered if she was hallucinating now. Perhaps they’d given her too much? Her words were a bit slurred. I set my textbook aside and was about to call for the nurse when she abruptly chortled.

“Ironic, isn’t it? Gahd was that woman old school or what?” she snorted. “Groomed me to be smart and fend for myself in life, ’cause she feared no man would ever want me.” She shook her head. “Idiot. Ya think she knew what century we were livin’ in?”

“Ma, you should be resting—”

“Kamella
 
…
now Kamella was purrrfect,” she drawled, her eyes fluttering open. “We may have looked identical to most on the outside,” she professed to the ceiling, “but we were sooo different.”

A sad smile settled upon her lips and her eyes misted over. “I wish you could have known her. She was
 
…
lit from within. Special.” Her smile broadened. “So light and fun and
 
…
hauntingly beautiful. Sweet and idealistic. Captivating.”

She twisted her bandaged head on the pillow, angling her face and bright blue eyes in my direction. “Everyone adored her. Your grandpop worshipped her.” She giggled in remembrance. “Such a shameless daddy’s girl she was. She was just
 
…
radiant. The life of every party. You couldn’t help but want to be around her.”

I smiled serenely, willing my face not to look as annoyed as I was starting to feel. I needed to study for a history test tomorrow. And I’d heard all this stupid crap about my aunt Kamella a thousand times before. She was beautiful. She was angelic. She would always be the preferred twin in my mom’s and everyone else’s eyes.

It was positively nauseating. Not to mention absurd, because they looked identical in every photo I’d ever seen of them. And it pissed me off that my mom had always somehow viewed herself as the lesser twin. I wondered how long I could humor this conversation before my patience snapped.

I’d barely slept in the last week. I was falling behind at school. And I’d wasted all of first and second period arguing with some stupid son of a bitch at the insurance company. I took a deep breath and tried to calm down, to stave off the giant tidal wave of anger, frustration and bitterness looming above, threatening to crash down and swallow all that was left of me as I dangled over the cliffside, my grip slipping as I tried in vain to hold onto some foolish semblance of teenage normalcy
 
…
some small shred of my evaporating sanity.

It was at these times I grew so tired and distraught I became irrationally jealous of my mom. Jealous! I knew it was sick, but there were days I just wanted to trade places and be the one hopped up on painkillers lying in a bed all day long. I was a horrible person for thinking it, and I would never tell a soul, but there it was. Further evidencing my eroding sanity.

And then there was Raul. Or more to the point, there still wasn’t. Sometimes I got so angry I couldn’t even let myself think about his absence. For most of my life he’d been perpetually out of reach, but now he seemed to have fallen clear off the face of the earth.

“Lord-y, Milena,” my mom beamed her sappy nostalgic grin at me, her eyes shining with unshed tears, “the world was Kamella’s oyster, I tell you, meant to embrace her and be good to her always. You would have loved her!” she gushed.

Hmm. I offered her a tight smile, contemplating the quickest, most civil way I might put an end to this conversation.

Her brow furrowed slightly. “I know people thought I envied her all the attention she got, but I didn’t.” She shook her head. “I really didn’t. I knew she needed it. Saw how she thrived on it. But not me. No. I never wanted that. I was always content to let her take center stage, where she belonged.”

It took effort to suppress an eye roll.

“No
 
…
what I always secretly envied,” she revealed with an exaggerated sigh, “was her uterus,” she cackled. “And those perfectly perfect ovaries!” She squealed it like it was the most hilarious joke ever. “Can you imagine being so selfish and stupid as that?”

I frowned. What was with all this infertility talk? Where had this come from? She’d gotten pregnant with me from a random two-night stand while on a reckless vacation with her girlfriends—and while on the pill! I would never know who my father was because the jerk had given her a false name and a bad phone number. Douchebag had probably been married. She might have been a terrible judge of male character, but she was the antithesis of sterile. What idiot doctor would imply otherwise?

I had to remind myself she’d just been through another surgery three days ago. This was cancer brain mom talking. She was obviously remembering things that weren’t real again.

“Ma, you’ve never been barren,” I corrected her, trying my best not to sound harsh. “You dreamt that up
 
…
or fell asleep earlier watching a Discovery Health channel show on infertility or something.”

She looked increasingly perplexed, squinting her eyes at me and scratching absently at the white bandage covering her head.

There went the eye roll. I couldn’t help it. I was too tired.

And I was so angry.

Angry at that look of confusion in her eyes. Outraged it would only get worse as time and treatments progressed. And I was angry at that stupid-looking bandage covering her head, with the doctors and the insurance company, the hospital staff, the endless sea of bills that never ceased pouring in.

I was resentful of my classmates for getting to goof off and enjoy their senior years without a care in the world. I’d begun to begrudge my friends for having all the things I now lacked. Things I’d always taken for granted—like having someone who magically did my laundry and stocked the fridge, juggled all the bills I’d never had to even know about before. They could party and coast through their last semester, knowing there would be someone there in the audience to see them graduate, someone there to help them figure out their future.

But most days I was angriest with myself for not holding it together better. For feeling unsophisticated and useless amidst this whole process that I was helpless to change. And illogical and wrong as it was, I knew I was angry with my mom for getting cancer in the first place. Horrified by how it had already changed her. Furious over how I knew this could only ultimately end.

Part of me wanted to let the anger go. It was so heavy, and it hurt. But I needed it. It kept me going. Some days the anger was all I had to get me out of bed in the morning, to keep me pushing one foot in front of the other. If I let it go, I would fall apart. Still, I didn’t know how much longer I could do this. And the mad paradox of it all was that everything we were enduring was simply to buy us more precious time to endure it!

“Mmm
 
…
right
 
…
’Course I’m not barren,” she assented with a shake of her head and a wry grin. “You and Raul are proof of that.”

“You should rest now.”

“I’m making a point here, Milena.”

“All right, all right
 
…
” I allayed, even as I cringed internally at the thought of another cancer brain ‘point.’

“You know, I idolized Kamella as much as anyone
 
…
maybe more so,” she confessed—as if it were some great secret I hadn’t always known.