6
1633 Words
CHAPTER 6
I'M COOKED
Why is he looking at me like that? His stares would make me soak my panties. And it did, I could swear he smelt it because the smirk that stained his lips next was a knowing one.
“You can at least try to hide the fact that you want to kiss me that bad. Not that I would mind,” he said, the darkness gone from his eyes as he focused his gaze on the road again.
“Ignore what I said and just ask what you wanted to ask,” I said quickly, trying to hide my embarrassment. He chuckled, the kind that racked through his chest.
That was definitely a sound I wanted to hear again.
“So,” he said finally, glancing at me from the corner of his eye, “you wanna tell me why you bolted out of there like your ass was legit lit on fire?”
I stared out the window, watching the buildings blur by. “I didn’t bolt.”
“You ran,” he corrected. “Fast.”
His tone wasn’t accusing, if anything, he sounded…. curious and concerned. I shrugged, saying nothing. It was better to be quiet than to say anything. He just wouldn't understand.
Marco exhaled loudly, turning his gaze to me for a brief second. “Callie… talk to me.”
There was something about the way he said my name that always loosened something in my chest. Just warm and steady. For the first time, aside from my best friend, someone genuinely cares about how I feel.
Still, I didn’t answer.
He waited, like he knew something in me would open mouth. The silence felt too heavy, almost like it was pressing on my throat.
So I finally spoke in a quiet voice, “The girl. The one who screamed…”
“Stella?” Marco nodded. “Yeah. Hard not to recognize a scream like that.” Then he paused. “Who is she to you?”
I swallowed hard. “She's my stepsister.”
Marco blinked in surprise. “Wait…seriously? Are you for real?”
I nodded my head, letting out a soft breath.
He scoffed humourlessly under his breath. “Okay, that explains the way she looked at you. Like she wanted to skin you alive.”
“Exactly why I ran,” I said, rubbing my temples. “I don’t want to be in a situation where I'd end up on her bad side.”
He frowned. “Why? What’s she gonna do? Gossip? Throw glitter at you? Scream again?”
I almost smiled at his suggestions. Almost.
Marco kept his eyes on the road, but his jaw tightened. I could tell his curiosity was not satisfied and something about it brought warmth to my chest.
“So what’s her deal? Why does she think she owns the air everyone breathes?”
I shook my head, pushing back the urge to say more. He might feel safe and I really want to unburden my chest, but it doesn't change the fact that I only met him a few hours ago.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Callie.”
“Marco, drop it,” I snapped not due to anger but tiredness. “Just… forget about it. Please.”
He didn’t speak for a long moment, and guilt curled in my stomach. But then he said quietly, “I’m not asking to judge you. I’m asking because I want to understand you. And also because I want to ease that pain– sitting right here–” he poked my chest with his index finger and that simple touch sent enough signal to shut my brain for five seconds.
The sincerity in his voice almost broke me, but it was hard to say. All the years, the cruelty, the way Stella seemed to absorb all the light in a room and leave me in the shadows like it was her job.
So I decided to keep it simple.
“I’ve lived in her shadow my entire life,” I whispered. “She’s… she’s the golden girl. Everyone just seems to love her, everyone thinks she’s perfect. But she’s not… at least not to me.”
Marco didn’t interrupt as he listened attentively, listening as I poured out my heart.
“When my mom remarried, I was four,” I continued. “And from the moment Stella realized she didn’t have the house, her father or the attention to herself anymore, she made sure I knew I didn’t belong.”
I let out a shaky breath. “She made me the black sheep every chance she got.”
Marco’s grip on the steering wheel tightened enough I heard the leather creak.
“She sounds like a nightmare.”
“She’s… complicated,” I said, though actually she wasn’t complicated, she was hell in lip gloss. “But she’s very good at pretending to be an angel, that's why people worship her.” I laughed bitterly. “She could slap someone and they’d thank her. And it seems she has you all on her hook.”
When I said the last part, I was referring to Santiago, Matteo and Marco, but thankfully, he didn't catch it.
Marco snorted. “Well, I don’t worship her.”
“You don’t even know her.”
“Exactly.”
I smiled despite everything, feeling a bit light from my little crashout session.
“Callie,” he said after a moment, his voice softening even more, “if she’s hurt you–”
“She hasn’t,” I lied quickly. “Just—just forget it, Marco. It doesn’t matter anymore. She's my step sister and we're family, I'll deal with her.”
He didn’t believe me, I saw it in the way a muscle in his jaw ticked, but thank the moons he respected what I asked. He didn’t push again.
The rest of the drive was quiet, but not awkward. More like the calm before a storm I didn’t know was coming. His gaze fixing back in the position he had me in before the question about Stella.
I'm cooked.
By the time we pulled into the parking lot of my dorm building, the moon had dipped lower, casting everything in a hazy silver-dark glow. Marco turned off the engine but didn’t move, didn’t even reach for the door.
He looked at me instead… really looked at me. “Are you okay?” he asked.
I nodded, even though I wasn’t sure what ‘okay’ even meant anymore. “Just tired… and maybe a bit tipsy.”
He nodded back. “I’ll walk you up.”
“You don’t have to—” I began to protest but he was not having it.
“I want to,” he said simply, already getting out.
Marco walked beside me, his presence steady enough to anchor an entire pack. And somehow, it anchored me too. When we reached my door, I turned to him with a small smile.
“Good night, Marco. And… thanks. For the ride.”
I don't know, but I could suddenly feel how close he was and how much intoxicated I was getting on his scent and presence.
He leaned against the doorframe, hands in his pockets, eyes softer than I’d ever seen them. “I meant what I said in the car. I want to understand you, Callie. All of you.”
My chest tightened. “Marco…”
“I’m not asking for it now,” he said, shaking his head. “We'll take it slow, however slow you want it.”
I swallowed, the connection between us sparking so suddenly, so intensely, I felt it like a physical tug, like something invisible had hooked one of its ends into my rib cage and the other end into him and was pulling me toward him.
I didn’t even know who moved first. One second I was breathing, the next, I was kissing him. The frantic and hungry type like he was air and I’d been suffocating all my life.
Marco’s hands flew to my waist, pulling me flush against him as he kissed me back with just as much need. His lips were softer and gentler than Santiago’s, but the desperation behind them was just as fierce.
“Callie,” he breathed between kisses, like my name was a prayer.
I didn’t want to stop… hell! I couldn’t stop.
My fingers slid into his hair, tugging him closer, terrified he’d disappear, terrified I’d wake up and find out all of these was a dream. His wolf rumbled against my chest, low and reverent, like he’d been waiting for this moment longer than I’d known him.
It was messy and intense, too much and not enough all at once.
And when we finally broke apart, both of us gasping, his forehead rested against mine.
“You can run from everyone else,” he whispered, “but you definitely won't be running from me. I'll f*****g make you mine, and do it over and over again, no matter the amount of times I have to make it clear to you.”
I don't know what his words held, I should push him away– I mean, it's wrong to feel this kind of pull towards three different men– but instead, I wanted him in my skin.
“Can I hold you to that promise?” I asked, rubbing the tip of my nose against his cheek, following every lead of my restless wolf.
“Hold me to anything… as long as it concerns you,” he replied in a low voice, his tone carrying every bit of desire it could.
I squeezed my legs tight.
“Good. I want you fulfilling that promise now.”
- Writer
