9. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

Daisy

W e settled Lace into the second-floor apartment. The furniture was delivered shortly after we arrived, and we watched several delivery men assemble it quickly. I left Lace with a million questions in her eyes but promised to check on her tonight.

To avoid the upcoming conversation I need to have with Micah and the men bringing in a couch and chair, I locked myself in the bathroom and took a shower. Now, I stand in front of the mirror after drying my hair, deciding the best way to explain. I could show him. Show him the scars, tattoos, and coin, and lay it out for him. Hope for the best. I don’t know if I can.

I feel the bond getting stronger. I don’t like being away from him, even though he’s not far. I know it’s going to grow and continue to expand. We’ve known each other for barely two days, yet it feels like weeks. He’s still a mystery. I know nothing about his life, but I do know how he makes me feel, the heat in his eyes when he looks at me, and the care he has shown me and the only one left who I consider family.

Biting my fingernail, I text Lace.

I’m going to tell him everything. I think.

I put the phone next to the sink and lean over it.

Good. I saw how he looked at you. And how you looked at him.

How can I not? You’ve seen him.

I’m afraid to respond to that.

Good call. My emotions are going wild.

I drop to my elbows.

I’m nervous.

He’s your mate. He will never judge you.

Thanks, Lace. I needed to hear that.”

Go talk to your mate. I’m going to make popcorn that your mate supplied and veg out in front of the massive entertainment system he bought. Give me the dirty details when you come up for air.

I pop up.

I’ll check in later.

I drop my phone and step back.

I slip on loose sweats. If I’m brave enough, I can pull them up my legs to show him. My hand hovers over the tank I brought in, but my gaze strays to the shirt he left on the counter. It’s blue and worn. I snatch it up and shove it over my head. I pull it up to my nose and breathe in his comforting scent. Shaking my head when I lose track of how long I stand smelling the fabric, I drop it and move to the door.

I leave the bathroom and freeze. When I walked through Micah’s room to get to the bathroom, his bedroom was empty. Now, the bed is in the center of the room, a chair is under the window, and a large dresser takes up the space. The surprising sight is my mate leaning over, making the bed.

“Feel better?” he asks, putting the pillows against the headboard.

“Yes,” I say faintly, my hands tangling in his shirt.

“You like my shirt?” His lips tip up, and he straightens.

“I hope it’s alright?”

“You can wear anything of mine you want.” He smooths his hand over the comforter while he walks closer. I track his hand, incredibly jealous of the blanket.

“It smells like you,” I say honestly.

“I wore it yesterday,” he says.

“They already put everything together?”

“No, I did. I don’t like others touching my things.”

“You did? That was fast.”

“I am fast,” he smiles. “Not where it counts, though,” he says dryly.

I laugh. “Good to know.”

“I have neglected to feed you. I apologize.” He steps close. “I’m not used to eating food regularly. Are you hungry?” I shiver when he runs his knuckles over my cheek.

“I’m starving.” I swallow hard. “But I need to tell you some things first.”

He tilts his head, his hand pausing. “You ready to?”

“I don’t think I will ever be ready,” I say. He drops his hand and starts to move back. I tuck my fingers in the front pocket of his jeans, pulling. “I want this to work. I want you for a mate.” His body stops all motion. “I feel guilty as fuck because I’ve hardly thought about my brother since I met you. I wanted to forget for a while, to have something for myself. I like you. I like how you make me feel. I like how feeding you makes me feel. I want to tell you about my life.” He stares at me, and I force myself to hold his gaze.

“Good,” he whispers. He pulls my hand from his pocket but tucks it in his and pulls me to the chair. He sits, and I find myself perched sideways on his lap again. I watch his hand cup my thigh. “Tell me,” he says, his other hand cupping my hip.

“My earliest memory, at age seven, was of Turner beating up a woman. I remember standing in front of a door, hearing weird noises from his office. It sounded like someone was in pain. I don’t know why I thought I could do anything, but I opened the door anyway. He had a woman on the floor. Her clothing was torn and she was bleeding. He was punching her over and over. I must have made a pained noise because he turned his furious eyes my way. The sequence of events is blurry and I have never been able to put it in the correct order. He stomped over and slammed the door. I ran back to my room. I was confused and scared. I didn’t want him to hurt me.” I lean against Micah’s chest.

“Who was she?” he asks.

“I assume she was a coyote in another pack.”

“You assume?”

“That night was the first and last time I saw her. I think he killed her.”

“There aren’t any other women in the pack?” he asks.

“No. I don’t know why I am the only one. He must have a reason for keeping me around.” I wrap my arm around his stomach. “I don’t have any memories before that night.”“Nothing?”

“No. I don’t remember my parents, nor do I know what happened to them. I realized that night I shouldn’t ask questions. I thought for sure the next morning he would say something, but he didn’t. He acted like it didn’t happen. My training started soon after. I was taught to steal, fight, and cheat. I had daily lessons for years that ended with me chained to the bed when I didn’t learn fast enough. I was a disappointment.” Micah growls from deep in his chest. “I didn’t know anything different, at least not for years. Of course, it was painful.”

“I’m going to kill him,” he says.

“I’ll let you after we get the information we need.” I press closer. “I wasn’t shown love. Liam was the only one who loved me, and then he was taken away.”

“He's five years younger than you.”

“Yes, I don’t remember Liam’s birth. After the night I saw the woman, a few days later, Turner walked into the kitchen when I was getting breakfast with Liam in his arms. He acted normal and asked why I hadn’t taken him out of his crib.”

“What did you do?”

“I apologized and took him from his arms. I could smell him; he was my brother. I pretended I knew him. Something was wrong with me, and I took my cues from Turner.” I rub my cheek against his shirt. “I was so confused, but I knew for certain he was related to me, and I had to protect him. I went to my room. Micah, there was a crib beside my bed. When I left it that morning, there wasn’t. I looked around to find toys on the floor, diapers on the dresser, and a rocking chair in the corner. I didn’t know how it happened or why I couldn’t remember. I saw his name stitched on a blanket; that’s how I knew his name. I’ve tried for years to remember anything, but I can’t. I didn’t want to reveal my lack of memory to Turner.”

“Shit.” He pulls me closer. “I’m sorry, love.”

“That’s how we lived. Always looking over our shoulders. Always afraid of what the next day would bring. It was Liam and me against the pack. I made a deal with Turner. If I became the best at stealing, he would leave Liam alone. Then, the biting began. I was so fucking young and scared. The only thing I could count on was my coyote, and it was devastating when they wouldn’t let me shift to heal. The first handful of times they chained me to the bed, I fought and tried to get loose. Turner would threaten Liam if I continued to fight him. After that, I let Turner chain me to the bed when I messed up so it would motivate me to be better. I hated it. It hurt so bad, but I didn’t fight him so he would leave my brother alone.” I hear the rattle of chains in my dreams.

“How did your brother feel about your sacrifice?”

“He was so young during the worst years, which was a blessing. That was my goal; I didn’t want him to remember. I didn’t have a mother or father to protect him, so I had to. As time passed, I got better. I practiced every day to steal better things, more expensive things.” I reach into the pocket of my pants and hold out his watch. “Sorry, it was more to prove a point.” I peek up at him, and he shakes his head.

“You are good, love.”

I shrug. “I had to be.” I look away. “I had no choice. Liam is mine. The only family I know. I kept him away from the guys in the pack as much as possible. I didn’t want him to become like them, and I tried my best for me, too. Liam is a sensitive guy. He is special and saw the best in everyone. He wasn’t jaded like me, and I had to protect that.”

“What happened the night he disappeared?” he asks, laying his watch in my lap.

“I saved thousands of dollars, planning for the day we would run away together. It was hard since Turner always sent at least one of the guys with me when I left the house. Liam trusted me, so when I told him we had to leave, he agreed. He watched everyone; he knew how unhappy I was and how cruel the pack could be. I decided to go during the night. I packed our bags and hid them. I kept the money in a safe place. The plan was set, but Turner asked me to do a job at the last minute. I didn’t think it was an odd request because he never gave me a lot of notice. I told Liam to keep the door locked and the dresser against the door. I told him to run if someone tried to get in. I even told him where to run and I would find him.

“By the time I got done with the job, he was gone. I searched everywhere. I went to the place I told him to wait. I stayed there for hours, but he didn’t show up. I walked around the whole town. He was gone with not one clue. I gave up and returned to the house, hoping he would come back or hide somewhere I didn’t look. Turner met me at the door. He knew. He knew what we planned and set me up. He told me he sold Liam, and I should fall in line if I ever hoped to see him again. I would continue to steal for them, and he would reward me someday by telling me where he sent Liam.” I blink several times to clear the tears.

“He didn’t, though.”

“No,” I snarl. “He held it over my head for years. I decided to even the score. Turner likes his treasures. For months, I watched him hold a coin like it was gold. I was curious and asked him about it. He got defensive and said it was none of my business. I knew it meant something to him, something big. It was my most important job: steal the coin. The problem was, he always had it on him or close by. I had to be the best to take it.” I fiddle with the watch. “I did some research first. I remembered what it looked like and went to the library to look it up. I didn’t want to use my phone in case Turner was monitoring it in some way.” I bend my legs and turn toward him. “Micah, the coin is worth millions. I don’t know where he stole it from, but I understand why he wants it back so badly.”

“You stole it,” he says.

“I did.”

“Love,” he whispers, and his lips twitch. “How?”

“I don’t want to say,” I mumble, his eyes narrowing, and I look down.

“Pet,” he says softly.

I sigh, and lift my head. “I pretended to like him.”

“You flirted with him,” he assumes.

“He’d been drinking. When he drinks too much, he lets his guard down.” It is one of the lowest moments of my life. “I don’t like being in the same house with him, so getting close to him turns my stomach.”

“But you did it for your brother.”

“Yes.”

“He knows you took it.”

“Yes, but he didn’t at first. He tore the house apart, looking for it. I finally admitted I had it. He beat the shit out of me after my confession.” His hand tightens on my leg. “I told him I would return the coin if he told me where Liam is; he has refused.”

“Where is the coin?” Micah asks.

“I have it…” I trail off, not sure if I should show him.

“Do you trust me?” he asks, hurt in his voice.

“Yes, but I have to say something else before I show you.” He nods. “Lace does tattoos. My legs are covered.”

“If you think that's going to turn me off, you're wrong.”

“One reason why was to cover the scars,” I whisper.

“They left scars when they bit you,” he snarls.

“I wanted to cover them and try to forget they were there.” I rub my leg. “They hurt,” I confess softly.

“I’ve noticed your pain,” he says, surprising me. “You move differently, as if trying to relieve the pressure.”

“I feel it every day.” I ease off of his lap and stand. I press my palms to my waist, nervous.

“Daisy?” Micah watches me curiously.

“I have always felt different.” I look at my bare feet. “Not only because I am a coyote, hated and feared by most shifters, but because of the scars. We heal so quickly; it’s odd to have scars on our bodies. I never wear shorts or skirts. I keep my legs covered at all times, especially when I’m around the pack. I hide the pain. I don’t show weakness; I can’t, or they will exploit it. When I was running in the woods, my legs were in agony. They must know what their bites did, but they don’t care. I learned to shove those feelings deep inside because I wasn’t allowed to feel those emotions. The only time I give in to them is when I am alone in my room, but I still slept in my clothes every night.”

“Fuck, love,” he whispers.

“I always had to be prepared to defend myself.”

“I will kill them all,” he promises. “No one else knows how much pain you are in,” he guesses.

“Lace knows and tried to make something to ease the sharp pains, but it didn’t help much. It is the worst feeling because it’s invisible. No one can see it. It lives inside me, and I hate it. It makes me feel invisible, less than, and damaged.” I tug at the waistband of my pants and shove them down, using my feet to push the fabric away. “The tattoos are my way to decorate a horrible memory and make something beautiful from the pain. Even though I don’t show anyone, I know they are there, and it makes me feel a little better.” I dig my toes into the floor. “I live every step with the uncertainty and fear that the torment will consume me. Can you accept such a mate?”