19. When You Need Me

19

When You Need Me

Isobel’s eyes fluttered open, and she stared up at the ceiling, tugging herself out of a confused, drowsy haze. She was surrounded by the calm, clear scent of rain, so potent that she hugged her arms, expecting her skin to be damp. It was windy outside—she could hear the breeze whipping the leaves of a tree a few feet from the window and see the pattern the waving greenery made in shadows against the far wall.

But it wasn’t storming as she had expected.

She frowned further, the night slowly coming back to her. Her eyes widened, slipping to the side. Mikel was in bed.

With her.

More specifically, she was in his bed.

He was spread out on top of the blankets while she was cuddled warmly within them. He was wearing sweatpants again, but a different pair—this pair was more faded and had a ragged drawstring. He was lying on his back, one hand against his scarred, ridged stomach, the other stretched along the pillow above her head, his fingers tangled in her hair like he had fallen asleep stroking her head.

She carefully rolled to her side, glancing at the clock beside his bed. It was ten minutes to five. Ten minutes before they had to be up and suffer through their third meet-and-greet. This time, without Oscar.

She sighed, wiggling subtly closer to Mikel. He had hypnotised her the night before, using his powerful Alpha dominance and his uncharacteristically pretty cock to bow her into submission, and she found a small sigh slipping from her lips at the fact that even deeply asleep, he still looked harsh and intimidating.

She wondered if she should slip out before he woke up and decided to punish her again, but she didn’t think he would. He had made his point. And it had worked, because as fun as it had been, she still felt achy and unfulfilled, frustrated from not being allowed to climax.

His phone alarm went off early, and she jolted in fright. He woke quickly , almost instantly, reaching over to turn it off before settling back down, his arm bent over his face, hiding his eyes. His nostrils flared.

“Surprised you didn’t sneak out,” he commented, moving his arm up to reveal his sleep-darkened eyes.

“I thought about it,” she admitted.

They stared at each other.

“Why didn’t you have sex with me?” Oops. She hadn’t quite intended to ask that.

He groaned. “It’s not a punishment if I let you cream all over my cock, Isobel. That is a reward.”

“Is that the only reason?” she pressed.

He examined her quietly. “Do you want the truth?”

“Yes.”

“Then, no. I don’t know how to make you mine and then watch you share yourself with everyone else. I honestly don’t know how Kalen did it.”

“He took pictures.”

“What?” Mikel stilled, his dark brows inching up in surprise.

“To remind himself,” she whispered. “Pictures of him inside me. Of his … of me …” She trailed off, too nervous to articulate it properly, but then she pushed on because there was something she still needed to get off her chest.

“This whole … holding back thing … It makes me feel like we’re all dancing around a ticking time bomb. Everyone thought Theodore wouldn’t be able to handle it, but he does. Everyone thought Oscar wouldn’t be able to handle it, but he does. You guys aren’t even trying to handle it or to see if we can make it work, so it just makes me nervous. I’d rather try. I’d rather know.”

“Even if we fail?” he asked.

She nodded.

He traced her temple, her cheek, the curve of her jaw. “Tell me how you five make it look so easy.”

“Without even trying, most of the time,” she answered.

“Why isn’t Oscar ripping into the others? Why isn’t Theo going feral? Kilian might be less … angry , but he isn’t less savage. And Cian? He would never share someone he had feelings for. How are they standing it?”

“We haven’t discussed labels or anything, but we’re in a relationship of some kind. I think that helps. We all anticipate each other’s needs, not just me for them and them for me. It’s a group effort. I think Oscar secretly likes that Kilian will always be there for me when he’s too rough because he doesn’t always know the right words to say. Theodore wants to hate it, but he can’t hate anything that makes me happy no matter how hard he tries. Kilian’s the same. And I think … I think Cian knew all of this would happen right from the start. He acts like there’s no point in fighting against the inevitable. And we have a … a kind of security, with Oscar, I guess. They know he’ll protect me, but it’s not just me. Kilian soothes everyone . Theodore really does want all of us to be happy. Oscar doesn’t just protect me; he protects us , and Cian is always looking out for us, always thinking about the little things that nobody notices. We have a relationship—all of us. It might only be sexual between me and them, but it’s emotional between us all.”

Mikel’s fingers traced the planes of her face as she spoke, listening intently to her interpretation of how the others felt.

“So if we have a relationship—” He paused, swallowing. “—not just a sexual agreement, they won’t fight against it?” His voice was a low grumble, his tone disbelieving or shocked—certainly, it was the opposite of what he had thought.

She was surprised that he was taking her seriously. That he was really considering what she had said. She wasn’t sure what she had expected, but a small part of her worried that he might be insulted if she tried to explain his own Alphas to him.

“That’s how I see it,” she confirmed.

“And you want a relationship with me?” He pinched her chin, a hint of the domineering Mikel peeking through his sleepy expression.

She licked her shaky lips. “I don’t know what that would look like,” she admitted. “I couldn’t be your submissive all the time. When we’re … I mean …”

“When we’re fucking?” He cocked a brow.

“Uh, yes. It’s fine then, I mean, more than fine. It’s exciting, and I love the hazy, floating feeling I get, but I can’t always do what I’m told. I know you’re used to that with the others, but if you want a relationship with me, I have to be more than your responsibility.”

He nodded, his eyes far away, mulling over her words. “Tell me what that would look like.”

She thought about it for a moment. “I defer to you for most things—you, Kalen, and Elijah. Your minds work differently from mine, and you’ve taken on the burden of organising and training us all. With training, I’ll obey you. If it’s about Eleven and our performances, I’ll do as I’m told. If it’s about my life or my relationships—even if it puts me in danger—that will be my decision.”

“What else?” he asked, showing no reaction to her words. “What does a relationship look like to you?”

“When you need me, you have me. When I need you, I have you.”

“What if you’re busy?”

“We all care about each other,” she emphasised quietly. “I might come with company—it just means they support you too.”

“That’s not a role I’m used to,” he admitted, and she realised he was right.

He cared for everyone else. He didn’t allow them to care for him.

Mikel’s head was spinning.

He hadn’t been expecting this conversation. He hadn’t been expecting her serious, multi-hued eyes to be staring into his soul at five o’clock in the morning and tempting him into a world he hadn’t even considered.

He couldn’t stop stroking her soft skin, even though his mind was in overdrive. He was glad she had taken out her contact before stumbling into the shower the night before. Those spotty, colour-warring irises had grown on him. It grounded him when they were the same colour. At first glance, the hue was chaotic and messy, but the longer he stared, the calmer he became.

Well, sometimes.

It was either calm or savagely worked up.

But her expression was so deeply serious that even though the swirl of her desperate cherry scent had woken up his cock the minute he opened his eyes, he was able to focus entirely on the world she tempted him with. The fantasy.

Him and her.

She painted a cosy dream, but he didn’t know how to believe it. He was in charge. That was his role. He organised them. He trained them. He protected them. He punished them and rewarded them and cared about them, but he didn’t know how to let them in.

Kalen was the only one who knew?—

The world around him shifted.

“Oh shit, not this again,” Isobel whimpered, fear painting her tone.

Oh shit, indeed .

He never allowed himself to think about it, and the second it popped into his head …

He called it into being.

He was standing in another memory, Isobel and the other Alphas huddled together as they stood inside a small, beaten-down house in the San Bernadino Settlement.

Mikel knew it was that particular settlement because this was his memory.

His beaten-down house.

His pounding fist on the door.

Isobel jumped, and Oscar immediately yanked her against his body, his hold tight.

“Doing all right?” Mikel asked him, because the tacit Alpha was barely answering their text messages.

Oscar gave him a nod. “This your memory?”

“Unfortunately,” Mikel muttered, stepping out of the way as the door crashed in.

“Dany?” A younger version of him—by five years—rushed into the house, hair a wild mess, eyes wide in fear.

He did his best not to remember this day, and now it was here, playing out for him like a fucking movie.

“Dany?” the younger Mikel called again, darting past their entire group. “She’s not here,” he said to himself, tugging his phone from his pocket.

“I’m here,” a female voice called from the doorway, drawing all their eyes back in that direction.

Seeing her again was a direct punch to his gut.

Short, bouncy black hair. Full lips, wide smile, a cross dangling around her neck. She had flitted between the Gifted religion and the human religion before settling on the Gifted. Still, she never got rid of the cross. She was in tight black jeans, and her green eyes were manic.

“You can’t say shit like this,” the younger him declared as Dany rushed up to him and then quickly bounced back like his anger was a physical force. “If you don’t think you’re my mate, I’ll kill myself and prove it?” he seethed, reading the message from his phone.

“I don’t want you to leave,” she begged him, tears filling her eyes, turning her stare into the mossy green ocean that had haunted his dreams for years.

“I have to go,” the younger him insisted, struggling to control his anger. “We talked about this.” He softened his tone, trying to reach for her. She curled into him immediately. “I promised Kalen. Those boys need all the help they can get.”

“ I need you,” she countered weakly.

“We’ve been planning this for a long time.” He tried to soothe her, falling into the practised speech he had already given her half a dozen times. “We’ve been planning this for so long, Dany. I can’t back out now. It’s just for five years.”

“It’s different now,” she begged, her voice weak. “I’ll prove it, Mikki.” She was digging into her handbag, tears falling freely down her face. She pulled out a small silver handgun.

“Where the fuck did you get that?” The younger Mikel stared at it in shock, his eyes slowly widening with realisation.

He never really took her seriously.

“I paid Mr Breaker—” she began, but Mikel cut across her.

“Give it to me, Dany.” His hand was held out, palm displayed, forcing a calm he hadn’t felt.

“N-No, I’m going to prove it.” She stumbled a few steps away, her black curls trembling, her tears spilling over.

She was terrified, but she really believed it would work.

“I’m your mate, Mikki. I’ll show you?—”

“Give me the gun.” Mikel’s Alpha voice rolled over her, his demand halting her.

She cried harder as it forced her closer to him. She began to shake violently when she raised her arms, offering the gun.

With the barrel pointed at her chest.

When the shot rang out, Mikel glanced away from the scene, his jaw tight. He heard Isobel’s yelp and could feel the others moving between him and the body that had just thumped to the floor.

Only Kalen knew … until now.

He felt fucking exposed . Especially when the younger version of himself began to cry. Not small, shocked sounds. Guttural cries that reeked of pain and guilt and ownership.

Because this was what happened when he didn’t have control.

The people he loved got hurt.

Isobel reached out to touch him—he knew it was her even with his back turned. It was too gentle, too soft, too hesitant. That touch seemed to jerk him back to his real body, ending the vision.

“Mikel,” she breathed, sorrow in her voice.

But she didn’t move or say anything more, and he couldn’t feel her eyes searing into him. He glanced at her, seeing that she was staring at the ceiling, her eyes welling with tears, sucking on her lower lip like it could stop her from crying. She knew not to force her grief on him or comfort on him.

She always seemed to know what to do—not just with him, but with the others too.

He also turned to stare at the ceiling, waiting until his ragged breathing had eased. There was a soft knock on his door, but he ignored it, and the person eventually went away. He felt a brush against the back of his hand and then Isobel’s small fingers wrapped around his.

When you need me, you have me .

That fucking bond. Always trying to prove a point.

“You’re cursing out the bond right now, aren’t you?” Her voice was soft and quiet, but her tone was dry.

And despite it all, he felt a little smile tug at his lips. “It would have been better if they barged in here with ice cream and sad war movies.”

“Sad war movies?”

“I’m not sure how they comfort each other.”

“Face masks, backrubs, and Twinkies.”

He slitted his eyes to her. The slightest smile was on her face as she stared upwards, avoiding his gaze.

“Twinkies aren’t in their diet plan,” he growled, feeling his dick twitch at the way she squirmed like she could feel his tone all the way through her body.

He could sense her through the bond. Tingly pleasure . He liked that much better than the sorrow she had been feeling earlier.

“All I’m getting is a puny hand squeeze,” he said pointedly, still staring at her.

“Will you look at that.” She checked her watch. “It’s time to get to work.”

He caught her as she tried to sit up, dragging her out of the blankets and draping her over his body. She laid her arms casually over his chest, propping her chin on top of her stacked wrists and kicking her legs behind her like this was what she wanted right from the start.

It probably was.

“If you’re late to work, who punishes you?” she mused.

He slapped her ass. “Not you.”

She yelped and then pouted. “I could be a good Sir. Ma’am? Madam? Mistress?”

“Pet,” he growled, a little distracted by the fact that his spank had pushed up the T-shirt she had worn to bed, revealing the pale, perfect side swell of her ass.

“Hmm …” She pretended to think about it, before ultimately shaking her head and dismissing it like he was giving her options and she had a choice. “What if I don’t call you Sir but you still call me pet?”

“What would you call me?”

“Mikki.”

For being so bold, he gave her another spank. Her attempts to distract him and draw a smile from him prompted a confusing array of reactions from his body. He grew hard, and his heartbeat quickened. And he hurt . His chest hurt. His soul hurt.

He wanted her so badly it was painful.

She was a perfect little angel, and he was the fucked-up, damaged monster who should have existed only to protect her. But he was selfish, and he wanted more.

He wanted that dream she dared to paint for him.

When you need me, you have me .

He wasn’t sure if he could be anything other than a Sir .

Could it really be that simple? There was no way.

He quickly flipped their positions, forcing himself between her thighs, his hand slipping around her neck. He loved her neck. He knew the others were obsessed with it too. He caught them always holding it, always looking at it. It was long and slender, with those hearts stepping up either side, marking her as theirs.

His.

Shit .

“What if I try?” he whispered, staring into her shocked eyes.

She knew what he was talking about. She nodded, and his lips fell over hers with a heavy groan.

Holy shit .

Maybe it could be that simple.

He drew back before he got carried away, enjoying the dazed look on her face.

“Contacts,” he ordered, pointing to her eyes. “And get dressed. I want you downstairs in ten minutes.”

He was an asshole to test her, but she jumped up, giving him a mock salute. “Yes, Sir .” She bounded out of the room before he could retaliate.

“I’m Sao-Yeong,” the woman before Isobel whispered like it was a cheeky secret. She had round apple cheeks and kind, shimmering eyes, her greying hair pulled into a messy bun, paint streaked over her arms.

She pushed a little square toward Isobel.

It was a small canvas the size of Isobel’s hand in a thin, delicately carved wooden frame. Isobel knew what it was immediately and could barely tear her eyes from it to shoot an astounded look at the woman.

“This is a Baek painting,” she whispered, stroking the delicate frame.

Her mother had collected them. Each one depicted a miniature nature scene or an animal, the brushstrokes so small and delicate they were almost invisible. They were always charming and highly detailed, and they were worth thousands .

The little Baek in her hands was of a deer in the forest, sunlight dappling its coat, lush green foliage hinting beyond a warm, glowing clearing. The soft yellows and gold were beautiful, the gentle expression of the deer making her throat tighten. The traditional Baek frame wrapped the painting—hand-carved with the most intricate little patterns, polished to a soft sheen so that the natural grain still shone through.

She eagerly turned it over, looking for the title of the painting—they all had one stamped in delicate gold lettering on the back of the frame, like a secret.

To be protected.

She lifted her eyes to the woman, who could never have known how much these paintings had meant to her mother. The woman was staring back at her in shock. And … pride?

“You know my paintings?” she asked.

“W-what?” Isobel almost dropped the little treasure. “You’re Baek?”

“Baek Sao-Yeong.” The woman bobbed her head, looking overjoyed. “Well, Sao-Yeong Gray, now. I’m married. My husband, Frederik, makes the frames.” She pointed to the back wall, where a man was standing with a camera, taking pictures of them.

He glanced up, surprised, and gave them a large smile and a wave.

Isobel waved back, in total shock.

“My mother loved these paintings,” she said, tracing the frame. “She was obsessed. She went to every art auction, always trying to find them. They’re so rare—I mean—” Isobel laughed awkwardly, a little starstruck. “—obviously you know that.”

Sao-Yeong was beaming, her apple cheeks stained with a blush. “I had no idea they were so popular.”

“You …” Isobel blinked at her, and then it dawned on her.

Gifted weren’t allowed to run businesses that serviced the world outside the settlements. Sao-Yeong was selling her paintings illegally. That might explain why she didn’t seem to realise they were selling for thousands. The officials must have been pocketing most of the money and allowing her to continue.

“You haven’t tried googling yourself?” Isobel whispered, leaning forward.

Sao-Yeong also leaned forward, eyes wide. “My paintings are on the Google?”

Isobel hated that they were taking advantage of this beautiful, sweet, insanely talented woman. She nodded quickly. “You should look it up when you get home, search Baek paintings?—”

“Kilian wanted to request that you kindly stop monopolising his mother,” Moses whispered, ducking his head beside hers.

She glanced down the table in surprise. All the seats past Sao-Yeong were empty, and they were all waiting on her. Kilian’s lips were curved into a soft grin.

“Eomma,” he complained, though he did it in an indulgent voice. “What are you doing?”

Sao-Yeong flushed brighter, quickly standing. “My son asked me not to come. He thought I’d tell you about his little crush, but I would never. Kili!” She skipped the other seats, sitting in front of Kilian and reaching over the table to cup his cheeks. “Have you been eating?”

Isobel refused to release the painting for the rest of the meet-and-greet, though Cooper kept sweeping past to collect all the gifts the fans had given them. She kept it in her lap, sneaking glances down at it often, unable to believe what had just happened.

“I protected Kilian from bullies for three years,” Moses ranted as they packed up for the afternoon, “But did I get a painting? Or even a thank-you?”

“Nobody has ever tried to bully me,” Kilian stated dryly, tugging his jacket over his arm and striding for the door.

“I’m literally your best friend,” Theodore complained. “I didn’t get a painting either.”

Kilian chuckled, looking at his phone. “All the photos Dad took are of Isobel and me. Damn, baby, the parents love you.”

“Enjoy it while it lasts,” Elijah mumbled. “We’re headed to the Redwood Settlement next.”

Niko’s settlement .

She mulled over that statement as the others continued to complain about not receiving a painting from Kilian’s mother and all the ways in which they were deserving of one.

Isobel checked in with Oscar while they were getting ready to do their live video and somehow made it through the afterparty without stabbing Cooper as he made yet another speech about how the whole tour was his own personal triumph.

She was marginally less on edge about the possibility of them going off the rails and trying to deal with Cooper on their own now that Oscar wasn’t anywhere near him, but Niko and Moses still concerned her. The Niko of seven months ago would have already done it, and without apology.

She knew she would have to decide how to deal with Cooper very soon—especially now that Oscar was preoccupied with more important things—but the only thing she knew for certain was that they couldn’t sabotage him while he was on tour with them. It would be too obvious. She needed to wait until they were back at Ironside, and then they could find a way to ruin him without it pointing back to them. She tried to soothe her anxiety over the situation by telling herself that she still had plenty of time.

Isobel was exhausted when they arrived back at the lodge. Teak had passed out in the van during the afterparty, and Braun carried her into her room as Isobel and Theodore slumped onto couches in the small lounge, pretending to watch the TV above the fireplace when, in reality, they were waiting for Braun to come out of Teak’s room.

“There’s no way they’re having sex,” Theodore muttered under his breath, his expression quizzical as he stared at the door.

“And they’re not staying up late talking,” Isobel added, checking her watch. “He’s been in there half an hour. She’s unconscious . What the hell is he doing?”

“Surrogating?” Theodore sounded confused. “This is okay, right? Should we be stopping it?”

“I have no idea.” Isobel checked her watch again. “Teak follows him around like a drunk puppy. So I guess she doesn’t mind? Have you noticed? She tried to follow him into the bathroom the other day.”

“Did you ask Sophia about it?” he questioned lowly as Moses strolled past the kitchen, giving them an odd look.

Isobel replied, “All she could suggest was a surrogate, which is exactly what everyone else has been saying anyway. Did you know Sophia and Bellamy are together?”

“Does Sophia know that?” Theodore asked, smirking.

Moses flopped down into one of the free armchairs, glancing over at the door to Teak’s bedroom, which they were still staring at. “What are we doing?”

Elijah entered the room, answering before they could as he dropped down on Isobel’s other side. “Wondering what Braun is doing in there.”

“I bet he’s just bragging about us,” Theodore said. “To the only person who isn’t sick of hearing it.”

“An unconscious person,” Elijah agreed. “That’s a likely scenario. If he calls us ‘his boys’ one more time, I’m changing my gender and giving up my Alpha designation.”

“It’s too late for you,” Isobel told him. “You’re his second favourite after Theo. He’s never letting you go. You’re too calculated and devious.”

“What odd qualities to value,” Elijah noted dully. “What does he see in Theo?”

“What doesn’t he see?” Theodore shrugged. “I’m the full package.”

“Wow.” Moses stared at him. “You really believe that, don’t you?”

Theodore grinned at him. “Hard not to.”

Mikel strode into view and stopped in the hallway, right outside Teak’s door, which they were all openly facing, having given up all pretences of watching TV. He looked behind him, and then back at them, and then cocked a brow.

“Why are you all still in formal clothes?”

Shit . They were late for training.

“Isn’t the workout cancelled tonight?” Moses looked confused.

“That’s what I heard?” Theodore agreed, stroking his chin. “Elijah?”

“I heard it too.” Elijah relaxed back into the couch, his arm lightly draped over Isobel’s thighs. “Carter?”

Isobel gulped as Mikel stared at her, waiting for her to pick a side. “Yep, cancelled,” she squeaked out.

Mikel rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, but instead of snapping an order at them and promising to work them twice as hard, he expelled a sigh and nodded.

“Movie night it is.”

“Really?” Isobel perked up.

He stalked into the kitchen, pulling out his phone. “You all need a break. I’ll text the others.”

They dragged all the cushions from the couches and all the pillows from the beds, piling them into the tiny movie room tucked into the back of the lodge. It only had four recliners, which were quickly claimed by Kalen, Mikel, Cian, and Niko. Theodore, Moses, Elijah, and Gabriel spread out on the couch cushions on the floor, dividing up the blankets between everyone. When Isobel tried to step over Moses to join Theodore, he tugged her down between his legs instead.

“They get you all the time,” he defended as she glanced at him in question.

She was entirely relying on them to communicate with her when they were feeling the need to soothe their bonds, so she was grateful when they asked—wordlessly or otherwise—for attention. She didn’t want to give it if they didn’t want it.

She relaxed back against him, and Mikel began to flick through the available movies, settling on … a sad war movie.

She chuckled under her breath.

“What’s funny?” Moses asked, his arms slipping around her waist and pulling her back flush with his chest, his lips brushing against the top of her head.

She stretched out her arms over his muscled thighs, absently picking at the fabric of the lounge pants he had changed into.

“This is Mikel’s idea of a bonding session,” she said. “Sad war movies.”

“Why sad war movies?” Theodore asked, tilting his head back to catch sight of Mikel.

“How the fuck do I know?” Mikel grumbled. “Do you have a better idea?”

“No, no.” Theodore chuckled. “Sad war movies are perfect. Proceed with the bonding.”

She snuggled back against Moses, enjoying his sweet, crushed-petal scent as it slowly unfurled around her. She turned her head to the side, brushing her nose against his shirt, and his arms tightened around her.

There was a pulse between her legs and a heightened tension in the room, as if everyone could suddenly smell the spike in her arousal. She couldn’t help it. Moses turned her on. He always had … and that was the problem. He turned her on too much. It scared her, always making her back away. She rubbed her cheek against his shirt, trying to soothe her thoughts.

I’m not going anywhere . His voice whispered into her mind through the bond. Just relax, Illy .

She turned a little, just enough to hug one of her arms around his middle as she curled up. Just like the others, he knew exactly what to say. Using her nickname was like a secret code word that everything between them was good, and she could relax.

She had nothing to worry about.