Chapter 8 - Mark

The shower cut off, and a moment later, Lorelei walked out of the shower, toweling off her hair. She paused when she saw me, her cheeks growing pink.

She didn’t have a towel wrapped around her, so I once again got to admire her body. I looked her up and down, trying not to ogle too much and probably failing. I couldn’t help it. Her pale skin and gentle curves suited the rest of her. Her breasts were just the right size. She was my exact type, and part of me kicked myself for not noticing it when we were kids.

But something looked off. Her eyes seemed distant, and she couldn’t meet my eyes for more than a second.

“You all right?” I asked.

She gave a half-smile. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she muttered. “I’m going to go get changed, though.”

She dipped out of the room without looking at me again.

I frowned, staring after where she had gone, knowing she hadn’t been telling the truth, but not sure what was really bothering her. My wolf, content and satiated after days of longing, now grew agitated, his claws flexing as he grew restless, wanting to know what was upsetting Lorelei, the person he was determined to protect and keep safe.

Part of me, perhaps the more rational side, told me it was better to leave it be, to let her come to me. But my wolf and my stubborn streak both refused to let it lie. I had brought her here to protect her. If she was unhappy, I wanted to see if there was something I could do about it.

I found her down in the basement, sitting on the couch, biting her thumbnail as she stared at the TV, which was on mute. She glanced up when she heard me enter but turned her attention back to the screen.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Nothing,” she muttered, still not looking at me. When she finally glanced over and saw the incredulous expression I was giving her, she snorted and gave a tentative but genuine smile.

“It’s just I worry that this whole thing was a mistake,” she finally admitted, glancing away. “I think having sex was a bad idea. It was a moment of weakness, and it shouldn’t happen again.” She gave me a guilty but resolute expression. “I’m sorry.”

I tried to hide my surprise, but I didn’t know how well I did. Out of everything she could have said, that was pretty low on the list, considering how good the sex had been. At least, it had been from my perspective.

She must have misread my expression because she looked away again. “Please don’t be mad.”

The words stung just as much. Had I really been such a jerk to her at school that she would think I would be mad about that? Surprised, sure. Maybe even a little disappointed. But not mad.

“Of course, I’m not mad. More just surprised. Are you saying you didn’t enjoy it?” I asked, raising my eyebrow. Her screams of pleasure suggested otherwise, but I couldn’t figure out another reason she wouldn’t want to keep having sex.

“No, no, it was fine,” she said. “Great, really. But I think it should be a one-time thing.”

“Why?” The question sounded stupid and childish as I asked, but I couldn’t think of what else to say.

She sighed, leaning back as she drew her knees into her chest. She didn’t look at me as she spoke. “Like I said, it was great. Except, for me, sex is one of those things that goes hand-in-hand with emotional attraction.” She looked over at me, green eyes glinting. “If we keep having sex, there’s a strong chance I’ll eventually fall for you. And I don’t know if I’m ready for something like that. Not with you.”

The blows kept coming, apparently. I mulled over her words, letting them tumble in my head. I didn’t think it was possible that some pranks and bullying could really impact anyone to this extent, especially when it was so long ago. I still had a hard time believing it. Except, looking into Lorelei’s face, I could see the truth there, the real hurt and distrust. It made my stomach churn, even though I didn’t understand it.

“I’m a different person than when I was a kid,” I argued. “I feel like that’s pretty obvious.”

She shook her head. “I appreciate it, Mark, but I don’t think you’ll understand how formative those memories were. Do you remember all the things you called me?”

I frowned. “Honestly? No.”

She snorted, shaking her head. “I guess it would stick more with me. Let’s see. You called me ‘stringy-haired,’ ‘gawky,’ a ‘weirdo,’ a ‘freak,’ a ‘creepazoid witch’—that one was from when we were really young. Those are just off the top of my head. You chased me home on more than one occasion. I was terrified to go into the woods for years because I thought you’d be there.”

I listened to all of this with a straight face. I tried to see it from her perspective, I really did. But we were kids. That stuff should have been all behind us by now. I didn’t see any point in dwelling on it. Still, I knew if I said any of that, it wouldn’t do me any good.

“I’m sorry,” I finally said.

She studied my face, then shook her head. “You’re not,” she said. “Because you still don’t get it. And that’s fine. I wouldn’t expect you to. But it’s also why I don’t think this should happen again.”

Again, something about her somewhat blunt criticisms stung in a way I wouldn’t have expected. Not only because I wanted to have sex with her again but because knowing this was how she saw me made something close to guilt or hurt squirm in my stomach.

“I’ll respect whatever you want to do, Lorelei. But are you sure you won’t reconsider?” I asked, already thinking of the way her body had felt pressed against mine and the way she had writhed at my touch. “I’m a different person now. It’s been years. You can’t accept that I’ve changed?”

She raised an eyebrow. “In the time since you wandered back into my life, you kidnapped me, locked me in your house, and dragged me back when I tried to get away. It’s not like I’ve been around you enough to know that you’ve changed.”

She had a point. All I had done since seeing her again was bring her here to keep her safe, but she didn’t see it that way; she saw it as controlling. If I wanted to show her I had changed at all, I would have to take action.

“I want to do something nice for you,” I said.

Her head shot up, hope sparking in her eyes. “You’re going to let me go?” she asked, but I shook my head.

“It’s still not safe,” I said, not bothering to mention the part where Declan was still pushing for her help. “I’m going to feel more comfortable if you stay here.”

“Your comfort isn’t the one in question right now,” she retorted archly.

“I’m protecting you,” I said.

She looked like she wanted to argue, but she just exhaled loudly, shaking her head in annoyance.

“But I get that you’re feeling cooped up,” I continued. “And you might need someone to talk to who isn’t me.”

She turned to look at me, something like uneasy caution in her eyes. “Meaning?”

“I was going to invite some of the Silver Wolves’ mates over,” I explained.

It was something I had been thinking about since the argument with Declan. It wasn’t as though Lorelei’s staying here was a secret any longer, and if it helped her feel more comfortable having someone else to talk to, I might as well give it a try. On another, more selfish note, I was hoping that she might not get so antsy and even forget about Inara if she had something to distract herself with.

She straightened at the suggestion, studying my face as though trying to figure out whether I was lying. “Really?”

I nodded. “They’re nice. I think you’ll get along with them.”

She hesitated, chewing her bottom lip in a way that made my wolf run wild and think about the position I had her in not long ago. If it hadn’t been for her request to keep things to a one-night stand, I might have taken her again right then and there. As it was, I forced myself to keep my hands away from her, even as my wolf protested in annoyance.

“It might be nice,” she admitted. “Though, I don’t know.”

“You miss your old friends?”

She stared at me like I’d sprouted a second head, then burst into laughter.

“I don’t get it,” I said with a frown, earning me another spout of giggles.

“You wouldn’t,” she said, shaking her head. “But for context, I don’t have any friends.”

My brow furrowed again. “You don’t?”

She shrugged. “Never have, really.” She glanced over at me, snorting at my bewildered expression. “Really, Mark, when did I have the chance to make friends? You know how I grew up. Growing up, I went to school, but most people avoided me, so it wasn’t like I was going to invite any of them to come play. I lived in that cottage my entire life. The only people I talked to were the ones who came to buy potions and when I went to get my groceries. Besides that, I was alone.”

I didn’t respond as the words sank in. God, what a lonely existence.

“Well, I’m sure the girls would love to hang out with you here,” I said.

She hesitated. “I don’t know,” she muttered.

“Are you saying you don’t want friends at all?” I asked. “That seems like a pretty lonely existence, to be completely honest.”

“Being on my own is easier. I don’t have to worry about anyone else. I don’t have to worry about accidentally hurting someone—physically or emotionally—and I don’t have to worry about them doing the same to me.”

I didn’t know what to think about it. I also wasn’t sure I wanted to. Because how much had I contributed to her being so solitary in the first place?

“Do you wish it had been different?” I asked.

She shrugged. “I don’t think it matters what I wished,” she mused. “It’s what happened, for better or worse. I never knew anything different, so it wasn’t like I thought I was missing out on anything.” She paused, head tilted as she considered something, then giggled. “Honestly, I think it’s a wonder I’m as well-adjusted as I am, considering all the isolation.”

“Do you want to meet them, then?”

“Why not?” She sighed, glancing around the room with undisguised frustration. Her eyes lingered on the door wistfully. “It’s not like there’s anything else for me to do.”

I tried to pull her into me, but she stiffened. “It won’t be forever,” I said reassuringly.

After a moment, she relaxed, leaning into me more. “You know, I think that’s the first time I’ve really admitted any of that,” she said.

“Probably good to get off your chest.”

My wolf growled in satisfaction at having her this close to me. I inhaled her scent, and that need, that want to always have her near me flared up again. Even as I thought this, her words stuck in my head, the fact that she couldn’t see that I had changed all that much. Unless I made some sort of change, when all of this was over and we had finally taken care of Inara, Lorelei would go back to her cottage and out of my life forever. The only way to keep her here was to show her who I was now.

I couldn’t let her go, not with Inara still out there. But maybe I could make her life a little easier.

“Wait here,” I said.

She opened her mouth, and I expected some sort of smart retort. Instead, she clamped her mouth shut again and shrugged.

I hurried upstairs to find my pack. It took only a quick rummage to find what I was looking for. I pulled out the hammer Jameson had used in Inara’s den and hurried back downstairs.

Lorelei looked up when I returned. Her eyes locked on the hammer, and she straightened.

“If I take those off, do you promise not to use magic to try and run away?” I asked.

She chewed on her lip as if genuinely considering the trade-off and whether it was worth it. Finally, she nodded, holding out her wrists.

With a gentle strike from the hammer, the iron bands fell to the ground. Lorelei sighed, rubbing her wrists.

“God, it feels like taking off a too-tight shirt, or a breath of fresh air after being inside for a month,” she said. She shook out her hands, looking down at them. She muttered something under her breath, and a small, flickering flame appeared in her palm. She gave a wide grin. “Never thought being able to cast a simple spell would feel this good. I may not be great at magic, but finally being able to use it after so long…”

She bounced the flame from hand to hand, its light glittering in her eyes as she watched. After a moment, she closed her fingers around the flame, and it vanished into nothingness.

“That seems like you’re pretty good at magic,” I remarked.

She shrugged. “I have no idea how good I am, to be honest,” she said. “Learning from books isn’t the same as having another witch train you. Sort of like trying to teach yourself to read on your own with no instruction or way of knowing if you’re right. Maybe if my parents hadn’t died and they’d gotten the chance to teach me, I would be conjuring up complex illusions as easy as taking a breath.”

“How did they die?” I asked.

The slight smile flickered away. “Bad luck,” she said. “They’d been working on a new potion recipe and weren’t careful enough. I found them when I got home from school.” She paused, then shot me a look. “It was the same day you and your buddies tried to dump all the contents of a trashcan over me, remember?”

“I do remember, actually.” It had been one of the few times she had fought back. I cracked a grin despite myself. “You used magic to reflect it back on us or something. I had to pick out eggshells from my hair.” I frowned. “Wait, that was when we were fourteen.”

She nodded. “Witches’ powers usually manifest when they’re thirteen. You have no idea how excited I was to finally be able to do something about the bullying.”

I shook my head. “That’s not what I mean. Your parents died when we were fourteen. I never knew.”

“No one did,” she said. “I didn’t want someone taking me away. I stayed in school long enough to avoid anyone sniffing around, then left.”

It took a bit for those words to really hit home. We hadn’t stopped tormenting Lorelei until she left school. All that time bullying her, and she’d been alone.

For the first time, I felt a twinge of disgust at the way I had treated her when I was a kid. Through the disgust, though, another feeling sparked through me. Admiration. This woman had been through so much and had taken care of herself for years, even as a teenager. She had overcome who knew how many obstacles. She could have rolled over at any moment and just given up. But she had kept fighting, even when she was up against Inara. All this time, I had seen her as someone who needed saving and rescuing. It had never occurred to me that she had essentially rescued herself for over a decade now.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

She studied me, head tilted as if she was trying to determine how genuine I was being.

“Show me you’re sorry,” she said. “Don’t just say it.”

I took a deep breath and looked her in the eye. “I’ll do my best,” I promised.