The Cat Spills The Tea

Iam no longer standing in my closet cleaning up the mess that we made last night.

Goddamnit. He did it again.

I'm in the middle of Taurus' room, which now has a flat screen TV and a fireplace with a big fluffy rug in front of it. Fancy comforts will not save him—he cannot simply whisk me away whenever he wants without speaking to me.

I'm not a damn djinn and he did not rub my lamp.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I glare at him as I drop onto the couch. He's pacing frenetically, and if he doesn't stop soon, he's going to make me dizzy. "What the fuck, Taurus? I was in the middle of cleaning my closet. You can't beam me up whenever you want."

At my indignant squawk, he wheels around and throws up his hands. "Listen, Sandwich. I stepped into a minefield, but I was only trying to help a friend. All I wanted to do was to make someone I cared about feel better." His demon features flash and he growl in frustration. "You know, it isn't easy being me."

I cross my arms over my chest, snarking back at him in irritation. "Didn't a frog say that once?"

Teasing probably isn't the best course of action because he's already aggravated, but I didn't expect to be here. I look like a damn train wreck and if anyone goes looking for me at home, I'll turn up MIA with no explanation of where I've gone.

He looks confounded for a moment until the reference strikes him, and he goes back to glaring. "They taste like chicken, you know." He runs a hand through his hair, breaking his own rule about mussing it, and stomps over to the bar to pour a very tall scotch. "Agreeing to give Blondie a boost might have been a tactical error."

Boy, is he the king of understatement today.

Only someone that doesn't know how long she's been holding a candle for him would make that mistake. I don't know how it came up in conversation or what he was thinking when he agreed, so I ask the only question that seems pertinent. "Why?"

His jaw drops. "You don't think me slamming two of the gnome's nearest and dearest will be a problem?"

I snort. Sari's wrath is only the tip of the iceberg, and he does not know what lurks beneath. Despite having heard Rhea's stories over and over in very public forums, I do not want to be the one to explain why letting an addict have a taste—for any reason—is the dumbest idea ever.

"Since Sari doesn't know about me, I don't think that's going to be the issue du jour. I'm guessing here, but Rhea probably backed you into this. Likely, she said it would make Sari mad, which she knew would appeal to you. The problem with that logic is that it won't accomplish what Rhea thinks. The most she'll get is a lecture, and she'll have to do something more outrageous to get the attention she's craving."

He squints. "Still no chance that one of your lot can handle this? You've got a squadron of gits that'd be up to the task, I'd wager."

I let out a full-on belly laugh. He's off his gourd—no one in my house would get more involved with those two families. Once I catch my breath, I shake my head.

"Even if they would—which they won't—it wouldn't help." He looks confused again and I sigh, knowing that I will have to explain. "First, my family is on the ‘okay' list, so they wouldn't make Sari bat a lash. Second, Rhea thinks this will make Wilde jealous. She's always trying to get him to pay more attention to her than Rafe or me. Wilde only cares about what he wants when he wants to care about it. You can't force him to switch his focus. She could have a public orgy with a pro-football team in Times Square, and it wouldn't bother him. She won't get the validation she so desperately wants unless she can find something that sets him off."

"Are you saying that it will work if I do this for her?"

"Hell if I know. Rafe gives that woman everything she wants, no matter how ridiculous it is—I don't think anyone can make her happy. As for pissing off Wilde, it might in the short term, because he and Sari are so worried about what you're doing with me. Their interest will be brief, though, and she'll be looking for more to keep it."

Rubbing his temples, he mutters, "Is it any wonder why I try to stay out of this fucking shit? It gives me a bleeding headache." Facing the empty fireplace, he clears his throat. "As I said earlier, I know that it's not only about that. Blondie clarified that this would benefit her because… Fuck. I don't know how to say it without sounding like the jackass you think I am. Her complaint about her flips not being the down and dirty variety ours were."

My temper flares and I fight like hell to keep her at bay. Hearing this in person is so much worse than through text. I can't motherfucking believe the gall of that bitch. Howdare she? She cuddles up to a clone she swears treated her like shit to complain about people who she claims to love… only to say they aren't revving her engine?

What the fuck is her goddamned problem?

Breathe.I have to breathe, or she'll bust the cage doors. Count. Count backwards in French. Alphabet. Alphabet backwards. Alphabet backwards in Greek. It's working. Taurus has been teaching me distraction as a method to get her calm. Things that engage my left brain make it harder for the primal to wrest control of me.

Once I calm the beast, I choose my reply carefully. "What Rhea really wants is for those fools to treat her like Rafe and me. She wants to be a ‘bad girl' in their eyes. She thinks it's will make her their equal."

If the stupid bint had any idea how our mates are actually treating Rafe and me, she'd run for the hills. We're one call to a hotline from being classified as battered spouses. But I can't tell Taurus that any more than I can share it with Rhea. I don't want anyone's pity.

"I am not getting anywhere near that bullshit. I won't get in the middle of her—or their—neuroses."

The look he gives me over his shoulder is supposed to be firm, but it's unnecessary. I don't need him to agree with the truth. I'm also not the one inviting him to sift through our family's dirty laundry. "You are in the middle of it now—she put you there. If you don't want to be there, don't ask what my genuine feelings are about all of it. You won't be able to resist having an opinion if I give you the full picture."

Turning slowly, he faces me with his head tilted predatorily. "What do you mean?"

"It's not my secret to tell, but I suppose dragging you into our family drama ensured that someone would spill the beans. I don't think Rhea did that intentionally—she's not a 3D chess player. She's never understood that one move ahead isn't far enough. With Sari, you gotta look at every angle before you run off half-cocked. Instead, both Sari and Rhea do this shit that will splash back in their faces. Neither of them can see the big picture for shit."

He paces over to refill his drink, standing there with hunched shoulders as he thinks. "Fine, don't tell me. I have no idea what you're hinting about, anyway."

I grumble under my breath, "Hip hip hooray for hypocrisy." Twirling my finger in the air sarcastically, I struggle with the feeling of betrayal that is overwhelming my control. The longer he stays quiet, the more I muse, and the angrier I get at myself. I didn't want to invite Rhea to the Resistance; Sari convinced me. That bitch came into my home—with my permission—and is screwing over my family.

It's unacceptable.

Clearing his throat, Taurus looks over his shoulder. He must be waiting for me to decide. I frown, looking at my hands as if they hold the answers to my dilemma. "If I tell you, I'm the bad guy. I only know this shit third hand. You'll confront her, and she'll be furious. She might be the world's biggest hypocrite, but she'd paint me as a snitch. That would make me as bad as she is."

He walks over to where I'm sitting, scooting an ottoman over for himself. When he's even with my face, he covers my hands with his. "Consider this: when Rhea was cranking me this morning for info about you, I didn't give it to her. You know you can trust me."

The problem is that I don't know that. My gut says I can, but how many times have I gotten screwed over in the past week alone? Sari said the same thing yesterday, but I know it was all about her pumping me for info.

It's fucking exhausting trying to figure out who to trust and who I have to placate with pretty lies.

"Sometimes, I want to smack the bloody hell out of all of them. If I say this or do that, I'm on the outs with one or the other. Everything they say or do is about winning some imaginary contest between them," I whisper, still not meeting his eyes. "I'm so tired of being a pawn in their never-ending games."

His brows raise at my candor, like realizes that he, too, is pressuring me. "Sandwich, you don't have to tell me a damn thing. I'm trying to dig myself out of a hole of my making with Blondie. Your info might allow me to do that, which is why I asked. But I won't push you to do anything you're not comfortable with. If you tell me, it won't change what we have."

Rising, he moves back to the bar, pouring two scotches this time, and I grimace. I had way too much cheap bourbon last night and I'm still paying for it. Why the hell not—hair of the dog and all. Once he sits again, I take a sip of my drink. Unsurprisingly, this is the best scotch I've ever tasted. I bet it's at least twenty-one years old and ridiculously expensive.

I ponder as I sip the nectar of the brownies. Am I really violating a trust? I've heard Rhea blab this story to a room with no less than twenty people multiple times. Privacy didn't seem like her concern then. Is it really a secret anymore? Telling the other person who was involved only seems fair.

"Okay, there's a lot to unpack here, so you have to be patient with me." He nods and I take a deep breath. "For starters, she warned me not to get involved with you. The second the blog post about our meeting you went to live, I got the cautionary tale."

"Oh, bloody buggering hell. Do I have leprosy or something?"

I chuckle and shake my head. "No, not leprosy. I have strong opinions about what I was told versus why she said that she was telling me. She warned me you would hurt me. What gets me about is that despite her diatribe, she just dropped that opinion like a hot poker for a chance to piss off Sari and Wilde."

Once I dissected her warning, I realized Rhea had to tell me he'd hurt me to support her claim that Taurus mistreated her. She also had to say that screwing her would anger Sari to get him to agree. I believe it's really about her ensuring that—outside of Talia—only she can claim to have fucked Taurus. It's a big, sparkly badge on her chest that makes her special, and Rhea practically salivates over things like that.

Taurus' eyes narrow and he squeezes my hands. "You're telling me that Rhea warned you away from me? She actually told you I'd hurt you?"

"Abso-fucking-lutely she did." My expression is smug as I imagine what the hell this is going to reap. That's for lying to me through your teeth and the damage it will do to Rafe if he finds out about the ‘sex life being dull without Taurus' comment.

It's also for making me question myself when I realized that she only mated with me to complete her ‘set.' I wasn't super excited about sleeping with Rhea or anything. But they made it very clear she fucked Sari. So yeah, my ego took a hit. Between that tidbit and Sari casting me aside as soon as she put her teeth on me, I've got a festering wound about women on my soul. I didn't even realize how much that pissed me off until right now. They both made me an obligation, not a companion.

Those bitches wrecked me in a way I didn't even know about until just now.

When I pull out of my vengeful thoughts, I notice that disgust is clouding Taurus' face. His demon drops and his snarl is full of rage when he says, "I have been nothing but good to Blondie."

The quick change to his demon inadvertently hits my fear button again, so I mutter, "This is why I didn't want to tell you. I knew it would make you angry."

He gives me as sharp as his mate's blades. "I'm serious, Sandwich. I may twist the gnome to pick that scab, but I have always respected and treated Rhea right."

Okay. It's pretty clear now that he has no idea what her issue with him is. For all of her public whining, Rhea never addressed this problem with the person who caused it. There is no way that he can be this adamant about their relationship and know that she's nursing a gangrenous wound over their last rendezvous.

Time for the old ‘cards on the table' thing that Sari always preaches but doesn't practice. It can't make anything any worse, right? "Truth be told, I believe you and if you think that's shocking, Sari does, too. This topic has been rehashed a million different ways over the years. When Rhea isn't around, the conclusion is you didn't have ill intent. We don't think you did anything wrong."

"We?!! A million? What the fuck, Sandwich?"

His fury over being discussed behind his back will need to be leashed. Otherwise, I'll never get through this without a panic attack. "Calm down, please. You can rage once I tell you the complete story."

Jerking to his feet, he heads for the bar again. "Best be on with it then, because I'm not handing out guarantees right now."

"Yesterday, Sari was at my place. She was on good behavior, but we were both pissed at Rhea. We drank a lot of bourbon—cheap shit that gave me a hangover, but I digress. She was trying to get me drunk and wheedle information out of me about you. Rhea's issues with you came up as part of her ploy to get me to admit something incriminating."

That might be an unfair assessment of the situation. I wasn't coerced into drinking, nor was I coerced into a discussion about him. But that's neither here nor there. I wait until he turns to look at me, his eyes dark as he waits in silence.

"Her problem with you is a creation of her mind. There was an incorrect expectation she had that caused her to get hurt. She's held on to it for years without talking through it, so it's become a wound that she can't shut up about." I take a breath, checking to see if he's following.

"We all know that Rhea craves validation and love. Its damage from her other world past trauma. She has a hole inside her and to fill it, she places a level of importance on shit that is not equivalent to its true worth. Her expectations of people are so high that we constantly fail a test that we didn't know we were taking. She ends up making herself miserable about non-existent slights. To go super profiler—as you called it—I think it stems from her core beliefs about love, sex, and relationships."

He sits on the ottoman again, looking both puzzled and irritated. "I know she's never told Talia that she was miffed at us. Those two have known each other since before this place even existed. They grew up together. Why wouldn't she tell her?"

I chuckle and sip my scotch. "Rhea never tells the person she's upset with directly. Her self-esteem is too fragile. She gets stuck in a loop of being hurt by someone, unable to tell them, and then angry at them for not guessing that she's hurt so they can fix it. It's a never-ending cycle. It's what feeds her unhealthy relationship with Sari and Wilde."

This cycle has come up many times between all our families, but Rhea can't have adult discussions about problems. The only way to resolve shit with her is through Alistair. The three-way family mating was scrapped because of Rhea's constant bellyaching about someone getting left out. I was angry then, but now? I could kiss her for being such a pain in the ass.

I couldn't handle being hog-tied to these loonies more than I am now.

"Sandwich, you're being awfully clinical. There has to be more to it, but I'll cut to the chase. Are you telling me that Blondie has had her knickers in a twist for years because I stopped shagging her senseless?"

"Sort of?" I shrug, and he looks incredulous. Only a male could be so clueless about this situation. He didn't know that cutting her loose destroyed her self-esteem and her rank in the old community.

Being the only one with access to him made her important, and he took that away.

"It's an insecure woman thing. I think it was less about the shagging specifically as something you said. Maybe it's why you stopped? I've heard this tale so many times, but that's never been very clear."

"What did I do that was so great a transgression that it warranted a public warning about me? I'll be buggered if I know."

My lips twist. This is where it's going to get hairy. When he hears the real reason that she's been decrying his name, he'll either laugh his ass off or fly into a rage. I wouldn't blame him for either. Rhea's wound is hers to nurse, but if you ask me, the situation is ridiculous.

"I'm perfectly aware of how stupid this sounds. I also realize that you've been living your life unaffected by this small thing, that she's made an internal torment. You're going to think that I'm shitting you, but I assure you, I am not." Peering over the rim of my glass, I sigh when I feel like a terrible friend. "Okay, that was mean. Her feelings are valid to her, even if I disagree with them. I shouldn't be so judgmental."

"I have feelings, too, though I rarely go off on them. Every time I pop my head out, someone tells people I'm no good. Not that I sodding care," he snorts, puffing his chest up. He's upset and doesn't want me to know. It makes me wonder if anyone other than Talia has seen this level of emotion from him.

"Have I given you any sign that I think you're no good?" His brow arches and I grin. "Okay, outside of ruffling your feathers, have I acted like I think you're a bad egg?" I tilt my head, waiting for him to admit that the answer is no. Trouble usually finds me; I don't need to hunt it down, but that's exactly what I did with him.

"It hurts to know that someone I value doesn't share that opinion." He pushes to his feet, padding over to the enormous window to look out. His posture slumps, and I know I have to tell him the rest of the story so that he stops punishing himself.

I walk up behind him, carefully wrapping my arms around his waist. Laying my cheek on his shoulder blade, I murmur, "I've been in your place—hell, I might be in your place. Who the hell knows with those two?"

"The good news is that you've extricated me from that mess I was moaning about when you first got here. I would sooner shag the gnome than Blondie right now."

I smile against his skin, but I'm not sure if it's because he was knocking on Sari or because he will not bed Rhea. Realizing that makes me feel guilty, so I reply, "I didn't mean to get into the middle. I didn't understand why she would ask you to do that. And her words hurt me, but they would hurt Rafe more. He's been through enough, so I will not tell him."

Taurus reaches into the pocket of his duster before he shakes me off. I frown as I step back, watching him pull out a switchblade. He looks down with a pained expression on his face as he slices a gash across his palm. Blood wells and he stares at it silently as it drips on the floor. When he looks back at me, his expression is cold.

"It's done now. It doesn't matter."

He disappears without a word, and though I'm getting used to his dramatic entrances and exits; I don't know if I should stay.

After a short internal debate, I decide that since none of my family knows I'm here, I should go home to wait for him to work off his anger. I walk over to the couch to pick up my phone, but I can't force myself to do it. Something about this feels wrong and I can't shake it.

Irritable and concerned, I curl up in the mammoth cushions of the couch and close my eyes, waiting for his return.