Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty-Two

Kicks drove the bike off the road, stopping in the middle of nowhere. We both got off, neither of us speaking as he unpacked his bag from the back and tossed it on the ground.

Were we stopping here for the night? It looked that way, but I was too raw, the feeling of darkness nagging at me, to ask him with the way his energy felt. I was afraid I'd be the spark to his bomb, or maybe vice versa. I wasn't sure who would blow first.

Kicks walked over to the edge of the woods and then stopped, his back to me. "Don't ever get in between me and the enemy," he said, his voice low.

"I was trying to help." I was too raw to have this argument, but it was unavoidable.

He turned to face me, his eyes burning. "I know exactly what you were doing, but they could've hurt you."

"I was trying to stop it from escalating. I was trying to salvage the situation before it went exactly as it did," I shot back, all the tension I'd had bottled up set to explode.

"There was no salvaging that situation." He spoke like it was an absolute, his jaw set.

"We don't know that."

"I know you shouldn't have put yourself in between me and them. That's not the world we live in anymore. You can't be that reckless," he said, his voice rising and the distance closing between us.

"I'm not some helpless little girl. I can kill with a touch. They. Weren't. Taking. Me," I said.

"You have no control over what you're doing. What if it didn't work?" he said.

He was so close I had to arch my neck back. "I was fine . Their hurting me wasn't a problem, but you wouldn't even listen."

"If you want a man that's going to sit back when you're threatened, that's not me. You knew who I was when you mated me," he said.

"And you know who I am. Not exactly helpless," I replied. I wouldn't even talk about how I'd been waiting to jump into the fray if he needed me.

Our gazes burned into each other's, the tension between us thick and palpable. My eyes slipped downward, to his mouth. I forced them back up, but it was too late. He could feel the attraction, see it in my eyes.

Before I could step back, his arms wrapped around me. His lips found mine. Instead of wanting to push away, I wanted to sink into him even more. His kiss obliterated my consciousness, overwhelming me with the raw emotions neither of us could put into words. It was as if all the tension, the fear, the anger collided in this one moment. I wanted to stay this way, to forget what had just happened and let the moment sweep me away.

His hands moved to my waist, pulling me closer as I tangled my fingers in his hair, grabbing on to him. Every brush of his lips, the feel of his tongue over mine, made me grab on tighter, arch into him.

And then I could feel the darkness pulsing to life within me. It wanted this. It liked this.

"I can't." I pushed at his chest until he dropped his arms.

"Why? You want this." His voice was ragged.

"You know why." Or mostly.

"I'm willing to take the risk."

"I'm not." It was as much as I could explain, because I couldn't tell him that I was corrupted, that there was something unclean in me, this darkness growing that was too much to bear. I'd rather have him think I was overreacting, which, given the circumstances, no one in their right mind would say. The reminder of how it throbbed at the connection with him pushed all desire from me.

He walked off into the woods. He didn't come back right away either, and the minutes piled up into hours. If he hadn't left the bike, I'd wonder if he was coming back at all.

I followed the sounds to the nearest stream, cleaned myself off, and then started a fire. I didn't care if the smoke signaled my location to others. The way I was feeling right now, I'd welcome someone coming to find me.

I didn't care anymore. The darkness felt like it was growing inside me, trying to encroach further.

I sat as close to the fire as I could, letting the heat seep into my bones. I focused only on good memories, on playing games with Charlie, talking with Widow Herbert, going to the park with my mother when I was little. I pulled up every good thought until the cold feeling was pushed away, more manageable. Until I felt more of myself again.

I looked up into the darkening sky.

"Widow Herbert?" I waited a few seconds and repeated her name.

I put my head in my hands, closing my eyes.

A chill filled the air and the darkness inside me thrummed to life again, trying to expand.

When I lifted my head, Death was standing there, looking at me.

It wasn't a coincidence that Jaysa and Widow Herbert had disappeared as Death had decided she had a use for me. It was her fault. I could feel it in my bones, in the coldness that was seeping into my core. This darkness in me was driving them away, or she was blocking them somehow.

"You got rid of them." I didn't soften the accusation. I was beyond caring right now.

" We don't need them."

We. She was calling us a we now.

" I need them." It helped somehow, especially Widow Herbert's comforting presence. Sometimes I felt like she was all I had to cling to these days when everything seemed to be falling apart. It felt like life had been black and white before Death Day, and now I was living a kaleidoscope that wouldn't stop shifting and changing.

"You don't," Death said.

I wanted to argue with her, but what was the point? She would do as she wanted. She could kill in a second with no remorse. She could steal every loved one I had left. She was the power behind Death Day, and that could never be forgotten.

She walked closer. "I need you, and you need me. No one else matters."

I didn't respond, staring into the fire and trying to ignore her.

She came closer. "Why didn't you let us have him? I liked that."

"You can feel what I feel?" I asked, stunned.

"I liked it." Her body seemed like it was vibrating. It didn't last long, but it was enough to sour my stomach.

The thought of her there, with us in some way, was nauseating. Somehow a part of our connection. Nothing was sacred anymore. I couldn't have a moment to myself or a moment with him. It was as if she owned a part of me I couldn't lose.

"You'll never have him," I said, not caring what the repercussions were.

"We shall see," she replied. She smiled, as if making me a promise, before disappearing.

I was still in the same spot when Kicks finally came back. I doubted he'd gone far. He wouldn't have been out of earshot, or at least I didn't think.

His flesh was clean, his hair wet. The stream had to have been freezing, but the cold never did bother him, not like me.

The other difference in him was immediately obvious. All the sharp edges were smoothed out.

"Are you okay?" he asked, sounding calmer than he had been.

"I'm fine. You?"

"When I shift, my emotions run closer to the surface, but I'm better now."

"Makes sense," I said. It didn't matter. Most important was he wasn't revved up to a ten anymore, and neither was I. We'd both seemed to reset in the last few hours.

He took a branch and poked at the fire. "Are you hungry? I can go get us something to eat."

"I'm okay. I ate some protein bars."

He then moved about the camp, and I tried not to haunt his every step with my stare. He finally settled down, making it easier to keep track of him.

He stared into the fire. "Is Blondie dead? I heard her body drop."

Wrong or right, I hadn't planned on telling anyone what had happened to Blondie, especially not him. It felt like adding another brick in the wall that was going up between us, partially by my doing. I wasn't in the mood for wall building tonight, or seeing the look of distrust that was going to come with it.

"She's dead. Not intentionally, but yes."

He nodded.

This wouldn't be the end. I waited, knowing it was coming.

"How did she die? Do you know?" he asked, proving me right.

"No," I said, hating the lie I couldn't stop myself from saying.

He turned my way, looking as distrustful as I feared. At some point I might feel bad enough to divulge my secret, but not yet, not when I still couldn't wrap my head around what I was becoming.

"You're lying. I know you're lying. Even if I didn't see it in your eyes, I can smell the lie on you. You know something about what's happening and you won't tell me."

He was staring at me so intensely that I almost caved and told him everything. I wanted to tell him until I imagined the shock, aversion, and disgust he'd feel. He'd run away from me as fast as he could because it was the only sane thing to do.

He could've trusted the old Piper, the one who would've told him what was going on. Not the thing I was becoming.

"I can feel the change in you," he said. "I'm not just talking about picking up on your moods. I can physically sense it."

He waited, as if he thought this would make me talk. It didn't. He thought he wanted to know what was wrong. He didn't. I knew, given the choice, I'd have no part of this.

"I didn't imagine our relationship would ever be like this," he said, sounding as if he were giving up on me.

The words felt like someone taking a sledgehammer to whatever hope I had left in me. I stayed silent because I couldn't bear to speak at this point.

He continued to stare at me, but I wouldn't look at him. It was too hard. I didn't know what to say, how to tell him what I was becoming. I didn't want to see the revulsion in his eyes. I'd rather he think I was too screwed up to trust him than know the truth. Somehow even that seemed better than telling him.

"I won't come back to the pack with you. I just need to figure out where I'm going," I said a few minutes later.

"You can't leave. You'll be dead," he said.

"I won't, and it's not your problem anyway." I'd make it work. One way or another, I'd have to.

"I don't walk away from my obligations."

Now I was an obligation? An o bligation . I wasn't anyone's problem or burden.

"You don't have to. It's my choice," I said.

"I didn't—"

"You want to talk about secrets?" I said. "What about the bullets that bounced off you? What was that? I know shifters are tough, but that was definitely not normal. And why is it you're the only one who's not afraid to touch me? I'm starting to think you might be withholding as well." I locked eyes with him and didn't waver. I'd been so busy feeling guilty about not telling him everything that it had never occurred to me that I might not be the only one hiding things.

"I guess we'll both be keeping our secrets," he said.

"I guess so."