Bound to the Billionaire

Chapter Fourteen: Melted

 I set my eyes on Nico, because I didn't want to look anywhere else in the penthouse. Though there wasn't much color in there to begin with, it all seemed to fade away and there was nothing but the black black black void of his eyes. His face stayed the same, but something about him shifted in the sense that you feel rather than see. Maybe it was him suddenly running his hands through his lush hair, maybe it was the way he leaned back just a little, like he'd been punched. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you know how that pack is, Nico." Micah looked up slowly. I saw the fidget of his fingers; the first sign of apprehension I'd seen from the cowboy. His drawl was even slower than I'd heard it from earlier, as if he was  dragging the words out so he wouldn't have to force the words into a sentence.

"What does that mean." Nico said it coolly, but it was unmistakably not a question. A statement, no question mark to be heard and the tension clung to the room like a storm cloud. I'd never been afraid of Nico, not really, he seemed like the kind of man who could be intimidating if he wanted to be, and the way he could make his face, his eyes: sheesh. But I'd never been scared of him, I'd slung him before I'd ever be scared of him.

But this was the closest I'd come. 

"Oh, come off it!" Micah stood up and slapped his hat hard against the couch. The yellow fabric landed softly on the marble floor like a flower petal. "You know exactly what I'm talking about, and I'd suggest you quit acting like you don't." But his eyes darted, desperate, to the window. He too probably wanted to be anywhere but here.

Nico's draw of air was slow and audible. With a roll of his shoulders, he crossed his arms over a well-muscled chest. My back was pressed tightly to the couch, I realized. I'd shrunken back and hadn't even noticed. "Don't talk to me like that." And the draw back of the corners of his mouth made even me wince just a little bit. 

Micah turned to look at me, those pale eyes suddenly piercing. "Do you know about Seth?" 

"Aside from being an alpha of a s**t-eating pack, is there something I'm supposed to 'know?" It snapped out of me, no thought just a frantic tumble of words. I didn't have time for this, but there I was. I didn't want to be in the middle of everyone's hell-fest, but that was the the person I was. The person I am.  

I spun to face Nico--to do what, who knows, but my fists had already clenched and my chest heaved as if I were ready to fly into a fight. Because f**k it, maybe I was. Maybe the flood of new distractions, new information, had done me in. Maybe, at last, I was ready to pop him one and make a run for it. 

"No," said Nico, and as if he sensed the roar of blood to my face, as if he sensed that I was ready to fight, ready to run, he pressed a hand on my shoulder. The wolf turned and turned, whined and whimpered at the touch. Went soft. He was pliant and ready to be spoiled by the big, handsome alpha, while I stood there shaking, my teeth gnashed and my face red. 

Stop it. He's your mate. Why do you insist on making like so complicated, you foolish, foolish thing.

My mouth trembled open. The sound that came out wasn't a word or a cry, it was a squeak. Of shock or angry, I couldn't tell you. Like whiplash, I was eight again, crying because my wolf had growled at me. My wolf, the supposed extension of my soul, hated me. I'd been so sure of it then, as a kid, and I was made painfully aware of it standing there in front of the man the Moon Goddess had chosen for me. 

A rush ran through my head, this lumpy thing rising in my throat, quickly rising, like a fist full of wet dough. 

"No, no," Nico said, softer now. His eyes shone deep and dark into my own, and something, me or my wolf or maybe both of them, compelled me to lean just a little closer forward. Like my wolf, I felt pliant; I wanted to be pliant, God how I wanted it. No longer did I want to fight. No longer did I want to suffer or struggle. How I wanted that silver spoon shoved down my gullet. How I wanted Nico Asim in that moment, with that soothing, rich voice. "No, I promise you, it's no concern. I'll keep you safe. Sit down, you're tired. Have a drink."

"No," I said, but it eeked out. Something in me was still fighting, something I didn't understand, and possibly could never understand. What compelled me onward when the world beat me up. "What is it? What are you talking about?"

Micah scratched his cheek, his head c****d and his voice gentled. "Maybe you should bed down soon, I'm sure you've had a long day."

A long day. A long day didn't even describe it. A long day was a shift at school and a shift at night. A long day was having Jenna chase me through the backyard or having to fix the downstairs toilet because Cole had busted it again and hell if he'd fix it. This was years compacted into a day. This was heaven and hell stuffed down in a grinder splattering me in ugly, gross chunks, and God I could feel it. 

"Okay," I said. "f**k it." The last of my resolve, oozing out in three simple words. My wolf sighed, a happy, sweet sound. Sickeningly sweet. "Show me a bed, talk about it behind my back, it's fine." I rubbed my face with both hands, while Nico pressed circles into my shoulders. I was embarrassing myself, but I was too tired, too angry, too resigned to care. "I'm tired of fighting."