Falling to Pieces (16 page)

Marc groaned huskily, still moving within my wetness, letting out a long throaty moan as he filled me completely, holding me firmly against him as if he was using me body for support as he came.

He lay back on the grass, pulling me with him. “You’re so full of surprises. I hope this never ends,” he said, his voice faraway. I couldn’t stand any more sadness.

“It must be getting close to sunrise. I’m so tired.” I brushed my lips across his. We were both muddy and soaked, I momentarily dreaded to think what I looked like as I brushed the strands of hair clinging to my wet face.

“Yes,” he sighed, “and you still have to find your clothes.” He flashed me a cheeky grin.

“I’ll race you back,” I said, shooting up to a standing position, laughing at his figure still on the ground, his arms held out as if I were still in them.

“One of these days, Teagan Lewis—”

I’d understood his words as I whipped back through the trees flowing along with the wind and rain.

I got back to the house, knowing full well he was far behind me. I passed a heap of his clothing at the top of the dirt pathway leading to the sidewalk. I grinned at them, arguing with myself whether to take them or not and laughing at the thought of him arriving home in the nude. But, I thought of the hassle of him being arrested, so I left them alone.

Luckily, he’d left in such a hurry he hadn’t locked the door. I went upstairs to clean up. He really had done a good job with all of the rooms, especially the one I guessed was his. It was all dark wood, deep reds and vibrant oranges, like autumn. The en-suite bathroom followed the same theme. A round basin sat on top of dark wood, while red and orange towels were neatly folded on a matching wood rack. The entire room was tiled in rich matte brown. The floor at the other end of the bathroom sloped down above a huge uncontained rainforest showerhead. I stood beneath the hot water and soaped away the dirt, raking my fingers through my orange locks to get rid of the grass, which had become tangled between the strands. I was happy, safe and warm wrapped in my self-made illusion, that all seemed well, that Marc and I could continue like this forever, having fun and making love in the woods in the rain.

My mind flickered over the reality and back to the dream as I wrapped a scarlet towel around my body and a burnt orange one around my long clean hair. I perched on the edge of the bed, wringing the water out with the towel.

I heard to door close downstairs, the sound of a heart beat pounding and ragged breaths. Heavy footfalls landed on the stairs. Marc steadied himself on the doorframe, his enormous chest rising and falling erratically.

“Man, you wanna’ get yourself to the gym,” I joked, combing the long strands through with my fingertips. He tipped his head towards me narrowing his eyes, just about managing a smile. His teeth gleamed as white as snow due to the mud pebble-dashed across his face.

“You gonna’ take a shower?” I laughed, throwing the wet towel I used for my hair with precision at his chest.

“No,” he rasped. “I wanna’ show you something first.” Between each word he sucked oxygen deep into his lungs.

“Ok.” I jumped up off the bed. “Come on then, raggedy ole’ man,” I chided as I walked towards him.

His breathing evened out as we walked across the upper level of the house. He opened the closet door to reveal a staircase. The wood was still unvarnished. I cocked my head, frowning. As though someone had injected a new lease of life into him, he grabbed my hand and tried to hide his immense childlike grin.

The stairs led into the attic, where we had slept the first night we came here, only it looked totally different now. Flat against the slope of roof were pale blue panels, the same colour as the sky on a clear day. The beams forming the roof were painted white to match the carpeted floor. Beautiful natural lights boxes were placed in the four corners of the room.

“It’s like daytime in here,” I breathed.

“I know, that was the point.” He moved beside me, placing his arms around my shoulders, smiling at my stunned face. The bed sat in the middle of the room with a strong high head and footboard, painted in the same pale blue but with fluffy white cloud-like images painted skilfully over the top.

I gasped, recalling the image I’d had when I’d drank his blood in this room. My hand flew up to my mouth as I turned to stare at his face.
'
Can he read my mind
? I wondered.

He had one hand on his hip swishing his glance around with the same awe as I had been. I didn’t think he could see my thoughts. This was merely an uncanny coincidence.

“But Marc, you thought I’d died. Why would you do this?” I waved my hand around the magnificent cloud room.

“Because, with you, my head was always in the clouds. Is always in the clouds,” he corrected himself, rolling his eyes. “This room is the top of the house, and most of all, I’ve slept here with you, made love to you. I wanted somewhere where I could come to think of you.”

I literally almost swooned. I grabbed the back of his neck and brought his face down immediately forcing my mouth on his as my tongue licked at his.

I drew back from his face and gazed around the beautiful space as I walked across the room. “This is amazing. I love it. If you weren’t so filthy and I wasn’t so tired you’d be in trouble, Marc Romano.” I shrugged as I flopped down on the cloud bed. “Always tomorrow, though.” I grinned, running my hand over the white high-count Egyptian cotton cover.

His breath hitched as I dropped the towel, displaying my nakedness, and climbed in between the sheets. “Go shower,” I mumbled as my eyes closed against my will.

I sensed that the sun had long set when I awoke. The light boxes remained on, casting natural-looking daylight.

I can’t say that I’d ever been so happy and satisfied. I can’t recall a time when I woke up already smiling like I did that evening.

Marc wasn’t beside me in bed so I honed my hearing and listened to him moving around on the storey beneath.

I lay still, just going through everything in my head. Maybe he’d agree to skip the country with me? I think I was just too scared to ask, fearing the possibility of rejection. What else could I do? I wasn’t ready to die but I didn’t want to spend another minute away from Marc. He’d been my only source of happiness. The only way I’d ever be content.

Looking around the lovely room I spied my clothes, laundered and folded beside the bed. ‘
Mm mm, washes your clothes and makes love like an animal
’ I smiled as I dragged myself out of the ‘sky bed’ and pulled on the jeans and a t-shirt.

I jolted at the sound of loud bang and the unmistakeable sound of glass shattering. I held my breath, frozen to the spot beside the bed for a moment before starting towards the stairs.

“Where is she?” Thomas’ voice boomed on the lower floor of the house.

“Fuck,” I breathed.

“Get the hell out of my house,” Marc bellowed. Footsteps fell on the stairs, my heart thundered in my chest.

I made out a woman’s voice, a soothing tone in an Italian accent. Marc’s mom?

Another Italian, gruff and high pitched with anger and disbelief. Marc’s Dad.

My jaw hung slack as I sat on the stairs and waited for Thomas to sniff me out. My gaze flitted around the room as if a miraculous exit would appear from nowhere. It didn’t. There was only one way out.

I went and slumped back down on the unmade bed waiting for the inevitable to happen.

I scrunched my face up as I heard the door at the bottom of the stairs slam open before the erratic speedy tapping of shoes on the untreated wood of the staircase.

I opened my eyes to find Thomas standing before me, his cheeks flushed and his nostrils flared.

“Sorry,” I said, not knowing quite what else to say. I thought that seemed like a good start. Thomas didn’t. His lips pulled back to reveal his sharp gritted teeth.

“I can’t believe you did this to me, Teagan.” He turned his back to me and raised one hand to his forehead, his other rested on his hip. At least he’d seemed to calm down.

More commotion became apparent at the bottom of the stairs, growling and snarling. Marc’s panicked voice screaming “Teagan. Teagan. Run. Run.”

My vision swished around the room, I had nowhere to run to. There was no way out. “Please, please, Dad. No,” Marc cried out, his voice strangled. Sharp nails scratched on the staircase.

“I’m fucking dead,” I breathed. My heart felt as though it was about to jump up through my throat.

Thomas’ back shrouded my vision, his intention to use himself as a shield seemed obvious. I knocked him out of the way, having caught him off guard, and he fell onto the bed, immediately bouncing back to a standing position.

“No fucking way,” I spat. “I’m not letting you die right in front of me. I’m probably going to die no matter what, but there’s no reason for you to.”

Our conversation was cut short by the snarling coming from the top of the stairs. Buttercup eyes surveyed us. We were now standing side by side mirroring each other’s stance, fists balled ready for the attack that was sure to come.

Marc and his mother followed at a fast pace and stood at the powerful beast’s flank, their eyes wide, trained solely on the back of the animal.

I narrowed my eyes, trying to look unafraid, which is quite difficult when you’re petrified.

I watched in slow motion as the wolf leapt in my direction in one fluid motion. The front that I’d put up moments ago dissipated. My eyes mirrored the terror that I actually experienced.

I was paralysed, standing there with my mouth hanging open as the deadly figure grew closer, flying gracefully through the distance between us. Hiss front paws were extended forward while his back legs stretched backwards, his sharp toxic teeth bared and prepared for the kill.

At the last millisecond instinct kicked in. I threw myself down on the floor, my face buried in the thick white carpet, wrapping my forearms in a defensive gesture over the back of my head.

It was no use. The beast flipped me over using his solid paws and taking advantage of my blindness. I’d been fully exposed lying on my back with my hands behind my head. He didn’t waste any time, planting his meaty paws on my armpits, pinning me to the ground. Ragged breaths and pounding hearts filled my ears from the onlookers as teeth snapped in my face, hot frothy drool dripped from his jaws onto my nose.

“Come on then,” I screamed. “Come on, fucking kill me.” One last shot at defiance. His teeth parted opening his jaws wide while rearing his head back.

“Now, now. Lets not be too hasty,” said a voice as smooth as glass. Confusion amidst the disarray stopped everyone dead in their tracks.

If it’s possible to read confusion or not in a werewolf’s face is beyond me, but I’m convinced that’s what I saw. His muzzle slipped back over his teeth as his head turned to trace the source of the voice. I craned my neck to follow the wolf’s gaze.

Now, as much as I thought, ok
knew
, that Bartholomew was a complete and utter sleezeball, I don’t think I’ve ever been so elated to lay eyes on someone, with the exception of Marc, of course.

He’d positioned himself at centre stage a metre away from the foot of the bed. I gasped. He inspected his nails as if he were bored with the situation.

“I, sir, as you did,” he nodded towards Marc’s father who still held me to the ground in wolf form, “have come to collect my prisoner.”

The wolf cocked his furry head.

“She has not yet been tried for her crimes,” Bartholomew stated meeting the Wolf’s eyes.

“What?” Marc said, his voice sliced the air.

I closed my eyes.

“Oh, didn’t she tell you?” Bartholomew asked, his voice carrying amusement. “Teagan was under house arrest. She escaped. The Assembly is awaiting our arrival for her trial to begin. So, err, Mr. Romano, if you don’t mind.” He nodded his head at the wolf. “I mean, if you would be so kind as to release the prisoner to me.” He held his stance well but he still exercised caution when it came to the powerful Were. Of course, he knew a  bite from this formidable foe would mean his demise.

Marc’s father stepped off me slowly. He kept his glowing yellow eyes on Bartholomew as he morphed upwards into his human form.

“And what kind of trial would this be then?” Mr. Romano asked, narrowing his eyes and placing his hands on his hips, entirely as if he wasn’t completely naked in a room full of people.

Bartholomew’s expression betrayed nothing, his expression remained faultlessly flat, as though he somehow believed he was under less threat with the beast changed back to human form. “Perhaps, the trial will be the same sort you had.” He nodded his head towards Marc, only glancing at him briefly before wrinkling his nose and looking back at Mr. Romano with a raised blond eyebrow.

“The loss to the pack would have been too great. He is the only one who can father wolves. It was for the good of our kind,” he spat. His cheeks glowed with a rosy flush.

Bartholomew nodded with pursed lips. “You’ve had your reasons and decision making, will you let our people make ours?”

He made it sound as though there was going to be a choice. My eyebrows knitted together as I lay on the floor. I searched Thomas’ face for an answer but his gaze flitted between Mr. Romano and Bartholomew. Would they really let me live?

“I can assure you, her crimes will not be taken lightly. The person whom was meant to be guarding her when she escaped is currently being held and questioned by us. We take law breaking
very
seriously.” He placed his hands behind his back and rocked back and forth on them as he spoke.

‘
Fuck, Alex
.’ Guilt and shame all rolled into a giant ball of negativity washed over me.

“Oh, take her,” Mr. Romano snapped, waving at me dismissively. “Just get her out of my sight.” He stalked immediately from the room, hopefully to find some clothes.

Mrs. Romano put her head down, reaching up to stroke her son’s arm as a sign of affection before rushing off after her husband loyally.

I jumped to my feet. “Take me, kill me, just let Alex go. He’s not to blame.” My voice was strangled, my hands were clutched together in the sort of way you’d hold them during prayer.

“I can’t let you take her,” Marc said, his voice not really conveying the sort of strength his words held. He pushed his shoulders back and glared straight into Bartholomew’s icy blue eyes.

Bartholomew smirked. I wondered if he didn’t know Marc could turn without the full moon or whether he just had no respect for him.

“Listen, pup. You know as well as I do, if we don’t take her your father will kill her. Do you want to watch her die?” He cocked his head with a raised eyebrow.

Marc physically slumped. “Can I at least say goodbye,” he asked in a small, defeated voice. It stung that he’d let me go so easily, but my head battled against my heart that he was doing the right thing. There was no need for us both to die.

Bartholomew started for the door. “Thomas, you make sure she doesn’t leave without us or you know you’re for it.” He circled a hand over his shoulder, his back to us as he uttered the words.

I glanced from Thomas’ tight expression to Marc’s wounded one.

“Did you bring him here?” I started with Thomas.

“Who?” he asked dumbfounded.

“Bartholomew,” I snapped.

“How dare you,” he bellowed, his eyes wide with fury. “How dare you question me when all you’ve done is cause trouble for me, and not to mention poor Alex.”

My gaze dropped to my feet. “I know,” I said, shame rippling through me. “I’m sorry.”

“No, I didn’t bring him here. He must have followed me. I came with Geno and Diana.”

I figured they were Marc’s parents because no one else was here. I wanted to make a sarcastic comment about how he seemed to be getting awfully pally, but given the circumstances I refrained.

I turned to Marc, awkwardly surveying our exchange.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His eyes were filled with hurt.

“I didn’t want to spoil it,” I offered mournfully.

“We could have left the country. I could have made you safe.”

“But would you have left with me, though, really? I mean, your brother—” My voice trailed off. “All of that doesn’t matter now, Marc,” I whispered before trying to form a smile with my lips.

He rushed over to me encircling his arms around my neck. “I’m sorry, so sorry.” His voice broke as he let out a sob with his warm cheek pressed against my cold one. “I’m sorry you didn’t trust me enough to say anything and to think I’d just let you die. I love you,” he whispered, pressing his tear soaked lips against my cheekbone. His throat released an awful whining moan as the man in my arms fell away. The ripping of fabric and the shift of the atmosphere made my heart stop. I held my breath as his face turned into a furry muzzle.

“Fuck, Thomas, do something,” I gasped. He’d turned away to respect our privacy, but he spun round to see what the fuss was about.

“You’re gonna get us all killed,” I said to Marc, now fully transformed into wolf form.

He disregarded my words and bounded towards the stairwell. I flashed past him, my back against the closed door at the bottom.

“Please. Don’t.” My useless arms and legs splayed out across the door blocking his path.

He yelped and whined a little as he backed up. My head fell back against the wood with relief. I’d mistakenly taken it as a sign that he’d listened to me. The wood splintered between my legs as Marc crashed through it. Thomas stood on the bottom step, his eyes wide with terror.

I pushed what remained of the door open and sped to the front entrance. Marc was busy taking chunks out of the black paint of Bartholomew’s limo with his powerful claws.

Diana Romano brushed past me towards her son, grabbing a fist full of the fur around his neck, and started to drag him back towards the house, a steely resolve evident in her eyes and her teeth gritted with the labour of dragging him.

“Get out of here now,” she shouted to Thomas, “while I can still keep a hold of him.”

Within a second, we’d thrown ourselves into the limo and were listening to Bartholomew’s triumphant tinkling laughter as it sped away.