12. Raegan

Chapter twelve

Raegan

“Is that you, beautiful? Hold up.” Kellan tosses his video game controller away and jumps up from the couch. Dane glances over at me with a frown and pauses the game. I assume it’s to wait for Kell to return and not that he’s curious about me, since he doesn’t move from his seat.

I tug my hood further down to cover my head and hurry to my room. Kellan runs by me and then slaps his hand against the hallway wall to stop me. I duck under it, ready to bolt, when he grabs my hood and pulls it back to reveal my dark brown hair. He uses the grip on my hood to yank me back and around to face him.

“What’s this?” He lifts a few locks and rubs them between his fingers, then presses them against his lips. “A wig?” His brows raise with surprise, and an amused smirk slides across his face. “What have you been up to?”

I shrug with faux innocence. “Nothing you need to worry about.”

He steps forward and leans his other arm over my head, so I’m surrounded by him. The smell of musk overwhelms my senses. All I can smell or breathe is him. He chuckles and slides the fake hair through his fingers. “It’s never nothing when you’re involved. Getting into trouble without me?”

I scoff and turn my face away. “Hardly. I’m just trying to make a couple of bucks.”

His mood tanks in an instant. “How?” he demands, grabbing my face and directing it back to his. I purse my lips and wonder if he’s going to try to stop me from going out. “Answer the question before I lose my shit, beautiful.”

I roll my eyes and huff. “I’m working at a bar, Kell. It’s nothing to get worked up over. It’s not safe for Hype if I’m seen there, but I can’t do anything to hunt down GE without some money.”

“Since when are you hunting down GE without us? Aiden told us to wait.”

“Oh, yeah? Aiden isn’t in charge of me. I got this job a few weeks ago when I got tired of waiting for you guys to do something. I can’t just sit here twiddling my thumbs because Aiden thinks he has better things to do.”

Kellan frowns and releases me, then points to my head. “And the hair?”

I pinch some of the strands to look at it and then back to him. “It’s my disguise. Do you like it?”

“I think you’re sexy in any hair color, but you know I’ll always like the original you best,” he says with a grin.

“Good to know. Now, let me go so I can get changed into something comfortable. I’m in need of a drink. Or fifty.”

I try not to think about Portia, which, of course, means that’s exactly what I do. What I wouldn’t give for her upbeat attitude and willingness to help me get sloshed when I need to black out from my troubles for a night. A twinge of loneliness stings in my chest, and I grip at it involuntarily.

Kellan grabs the back of my neck, and my attention snaps to him. He trails his nose up the side of my neck, his facial hair tickling behind it. “I can think of other ways to keep you distracted, if you want. Especially while you have the little wig on,” he drawls in his deep timbre.

My thighs clench, a resounding ache building between them at the sound of his voice alone. We already have a problem of interrupting our training sessions with sex over the last few weeks. He’s tried having me wear more clothes or baggy shirts and hoodies, but none of it has helped. So far, we haven’t found anything to deter either of us when the mood’s just right.

As much as I’d love to take him up on his offer, this isn’t a problem I want to solve with sex for once.

“Mm, let’s put a pin in that idea for another time,” I hum, because I’m definitely down for it later. “I have other plans for tonight already. You’re welcome to join me, though. Just give me a few to dress down, and I’ll see you out there.”

He chuckles and pushes himself off the wall. “I’ll see about starting your fifty drinks in the kitchen.” Kellan strolls back down the hall, and I bite my lip while watching him go. He’s in gray sweats and a black tank top, exposing the web of tattoos on his chest, shoulders, and all the way down his arms to his hands. His hair is tied up in a knot, and I can see the tattoos extending up his neck in a tribal-looking design atop tanned skin.

Kell sends me a cocky grin over his shoulder just before he turns the corner, so we both know I was checking him out.

Considering how often we’ve been fucking, he should know better by now that I’m attracted to him. Cat’s already out of the bag.

Once he’s no longer distracting me, I escape to my tiny room to change. I’ve spent most of today in tight, form-fitting clothes, and I’m ready to breathe. I slip on the pajamas I’ve been wearing since staying with the guys—some pajama shorts and one of Aiden’s shirts. I’m a bit of a fan of how I’d knocked the words off his tongue when he’d seen me in it before. Anything that makes him speechless is a win for me.

It also doesn’t hurt that they are supremely soft and cozy.

I won’t mention the small lingering scent of cinnamon on them that I do not breathe in at night when no one can see me.

Reapplying some ointment and a bandage to a piece of ink I got earlier, I ditch the wig and opt for a messy bun to keep my hair out of my way tonight. I’m ready to go, but take a minute to open my window and look up. “Jack?” I call out tentatively.

I haven’t seen him in weeks. Not since the night we’d been together, and he’d been gone before I woke up. I didn’t worry at first. He’s always gone out to do his own thing. And he is the monster living in the shadows at night. I’m also convinced that he’s been sneaking into my room at night to sleep with me.

Sometimes, the bed is still warm next to me when I wake up. Or the creases in the sheets look like someone had been lying beside me. Or a faint memory of someone’s hand gently stroking my arms or my thigh.

I can’t actually confirm any of those are true signs he’s been here. I even tried to stay awake one night to catch him, but he never came.

Either I’m going crazy and imagining him because I miss him, or he’s trying to keep his distance for some reason.

I don’t know which of those options is worse.

I hate that he and Kell have been able to work their way under my skin and into my heart again so easily. I thought I’d locked that shit down, blocking it from ever being hurt again, but they walked right through my barriers. It sets off warning bells in my head that I need to get out now before it’s too late. For them or for me.

I’m a curse that hurts those who get too close to me.

I slam the window shut and swear at myself for my mood. This is why I need drinks. And dancing. A lot of fucking dancing. I’ll dance so hard and drink so long that I’ll sleep like a baby tonight. There’s no other way I’ll get there with the direction my mind keeps going.

Kellan has a line of forties on the kitchen counter for me to choose from, along with mixers and add-ins if I need them. I don’t. I’d rather not waste any room on extras if I can fill it with straight alcohol tonight.

I grab the first bottle of whiskey and twist it open with a snap. I chug it for a full thirty seconds and then gasp for oxygen.

“What the fuck is your problem?” Dane snaps out from where he’s staring at me on the couch. He’s in a simple forest green shirt and black sweatpants. His arms are crossed over his chest, one foot up on the couch, as he leans against the arm so he has a clear view through the dining area to me in the kitchen. The game controller is sitting on the table next to Kellan’s, and the game is still paused on the screen.

“Life. What’s yours?” I counter back, but with far less aggression than him.

Kellan snatches the bottle from my hand and takes a long swig. I watch his throat work the liquid down and find I’m already thirsty for more. He hands it back to me with a grin. “How drunk are we going for? A happy buzz, puking our brains out, or a complete blackout?”

“Whatever puts me to sleep the fastest,” I answer before drinking again.

“Alcohol isn’t going to fix your fucked up life,” Dane responds instead, and I can’t help but laugh at what almost sounds like attempted advice, even if it is in an irritated tone.

“Thanks, Dr. Phil, but I’m not trying to fix it right now. I’m trying to make sure I still have some fun now and then. You should try it sometime.” I stalk over to the living room and grab the TV remote, flipping over to a music channel and cranking the volume up to full blast.

Whether he had anything else he wanted to say or not doesn’t matter anymore. I wouldn’t hear a thing.

My body moves to the music like we’re back in the club with sweaty bodies closed in around us. It doesn’t matter that I’m the only one dancing here. I close my eyes and throw my head back, gyrating my hips and running my hand up my body into my hair. I let the music overwhelm my senses so all I can hear, think, and feel is the beat. There’s no room for stress or worries when I give in to the music.

I drink from my bottle while dancing, sucking it down until I feel the warm tingle of a buzz humming under my skin. My eyes open to check in with the room, and Kellan’s convincing Dane to do shots with him on the couch.

“Have some fun for a change, Rapunzel. It’s just one night, and we could all use it.”

Dane eyes the dark liquid in his shot glass. He glances up at me, and I can’t help the grin that stretches across my face while I continue to dance and observe them both. His gaze is hot and intense, watching me with a look that makes me feel like it may cause my alcohol-warmed blood to combust. He tosses the shot back, and Kellan follows a second later with his own. He tops both of their glasses off again for another round.

I don’t know why I’m cheesing so hard at this, but I laugh to release the pent-up energy that produced my grin.

Time blurs after that.

Until the front door opens, and everything comes into focus for a single moment of clarity. Aiden’s staring at me as I’m dancing on the dining room table. I grin at him and keep dancing. Dane and Kellan are laughing and watching me from the couch.

“What is this?” Aiden demands. He strides over to the table and looks up at me. “Get down.”

“Just some fun,” Kellan drunkenly drawls when he gets up to meet him.

“Fun? What were you planning to do if GE attacked right now?” Aiden asks him sternly .

I giggle and take a step in his direction. Except my foot drops without a table there, and my body follows it. Kellan and Aiden both jump toward me. Everything spins and whirls around me, and I squeeze my eyes shut. I land against something warm with a grunt. I take a deep breath, and cinnamon flavors the oxygen I take in. I burrow deeper against the warmth because the smell is comforting and settles the stirring alcohol in my gut.

“I would’ve had her,” Kellan gripes beside me.

“Both of you, sober up,” Aiden’s voice rumbles against my ear. Then we’re moving, and my hands roam over his chest until they find his silken tie to hold on to.

“You’re muscly,” I mumble my observation into his chest. I never could tell from the suits he always wears about how lean he is, but I can feel the pure strength of his arms and the firmness of his chest. I guess he has to heft all those metal weapons somehow.

“Do you hit on anyone when you’re drunk or just me?” His smooth tone glides over me like melted chocolate, and I shiver against him.

He places me down and tucks me in under the blankets. His movements are slow and almost gentle as he gets me settled in. I smile and mumble something incoherent while getting comfortable. Sleep drags me under just as Aiden whispers something to me. I struggle to grab and hold on to it, but I’m out before I can remember what it was.

My body slams back on the mat, and I groan. “Uuuugh. I’m going to be sick. You did that on purpose, you prick.” I roll onto my side and hold my stomach as it roils from being flipped in the air. Bile creeps up my throat, and I slap my hand over my mouth and will it back down.

It’s not that I care about throwing up in front of him. He can fucking clean it for making me do this first thing in the morning instead of after dinner. I just hate throwing up. And seeing or smelling it will make me hurl all over again once I’ve started. Ugh, I feel so gross. This is why I always sleep off my hangovers and wake up in the afternoon.

Kellan’s an absolute dick for waking me up and then making me train with him while I’m still hungover.

“This was Aiden’s punishment for you, not mine. Take it up with him,” he says with a grin. Oh, he’s definitely doing it a bit for him, too. His blue-green eyes are sparkling with his enjoyment of working me like this.

I groan and push up to my hands and feet. “And why am I being punished, exactly?”

He offers his hand to me, and I glare at it before sighing heavily and taking it. He lifts me up with ease, and I sway into his chest. “For letting your guard down.” I can feel the rumble of his deep voice where my hands are pressed against him. His hands steady me at my shoulders, and then he steps back, forcing me to stand on my own two feet.

I swipe the hair that’s framing my face out of my eyes. “So, I’m not allowed to drink or have fun if I’m with you guys? Are you trying to make me leave? Because all you have to do is say so.”

This week’s training has focused on fighting with weapons in close combat. Today, in particular, is working with knives. Before we reset to go again, Kellan hands me the knife back by its hilt. It’s small and fits easily in my hand. I have to be close to my opponent to use it, but that’s the point of him training me. I need to be able to fight when the element of surprise is no longer an option for me.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he growls at me. I raise an eyebrow at him while taking the knife, but he grips the blade and doesn’t let go. “Drink all you want. But you have to still be able to fight while intoxicated. Or”—he looks down my body and back up to my face—“while hungover.”

He releases the blade, and I frown at the drops of blood that fall from his hand. I know he’s confident in his gift healing him, but I can’t say that I enjoy how easily he hurts himself for no good reason. Especially when he told me he's made no progress with his own training and testing of his gift.

I adjust the knife in my grip; the blade directed out the back of my hand as I angle it to point at Kellan, and my other hand is up and at the ready. My feet shift into the stance he taught me to keep my balance and reduce the target areas of my body by angling to the side.

He smirks at me, taking in my pose, and makes slight adjustments until he’s satisfied. Then he crouches into his own stance to show he’s ready, and I attack.

I swing out to stab him in the ribs, but he catches my wrist and spins me around. I drop the knife to my other hand and try again, this time in a slicing motion, but he releases my other wrist and backhands my attacking hand so hard that the knife flies out of my grip.

Kellan grabs and flips me onto my back, his forearm pressing into my throat and his body pinning mine into the mat. His face draws close, until whatever air I can still taste is all him. Musk and sweat that’s delicious on my tongue and causes a low throb between my thighs in response.

“Tell me what you did wrong, beautiful.”

I squirm beneath him, but we both know it’s futile. I’m well and truly trapped by him. But I also won’t complain about rubbing against him if it means I might make a weak point in his hold on me.

He smirks, like he knows exactly what I’m trying to do, and leans closer so his breath can tickle my ear. “What have I been telling you about your non-dominant hand?”

“It’s weak,” I mutter.

Kell nods. “As soon as you switched your knife to that hand, I knew I could knock it free easily. Because it’s not used to fighting. It doesn’t pull the trigger. It’s not the hand you’ve used to kill or fight with in the past. And that’s a big weakness that’s easy to exploit.” His other hand reaches for my left and brings it to his chest. “You can’t rely on just your right hand when you’re fighting for your life. You’re cutting your potential in half by picking sides. You need to use both equally , so it doesn’t matter which hand has the weapon or which hand has been incapacitated. You have to be able to fight with every part of your body.” He folds my hand into a fist and reenacts using that hand to stab into his chest. “Make it second nature, just like you have with your right hand.”

“You say that like it’s easy. As if it doesn’t take people years as kids to establish which hand is dominant.”

He shrugs. “Start with using your left hand for everything you normally do with your right. Writing. Eating. Washing your hair…” Kellan trails off as he drags my hand down his chest to the waistline of his pants. His smirk intensifies into a wolfish grin. “I’ll let you practice on me, too.”

I yank my hand back and shove at his chest. He howls with laughter and rolls off me and back to his feet in such a smooth move that I’m instantly jealous. How can a guy who is so big move that well? “Get fucked, Kell,” I snark back at him, even though my lips are twitching with the desire to smile.

He grins at me and starts unraveling the tape on his hands, signaling the end to our session for today. I stalk over to my water and drink until I feel slightly hydrated again. Then get to work on unwrapping my hands as well.

“Do you agree with what I’m saying, beautiful?” he prompts suddenly.

I look up at him with some confusion. “Of course. It makes a lot of sense.”

Kellan nods, and minutes later, he says, “The same is true for using your gift.”

I freeze.

“You’re not using every available weapon at your disposal if you choose not to use it.”

Not this again. I don’t understand why he’s so hung up over me using my gift. Everyone else would probably be relieved if I never used it again. But Kellan has been trying to bring this up with me multiple times since the fight with Thorne. “I do use it,” I snap, turning away from him to roll up my wraps for next time. “You’ve seen me use it.”

“Only as a last resort. And even you admit that you don’t think you have control over it. That’s exactly like your left hand. You can use it, but there’s no strength, no control there, and it becomes more of a liability than a strength. You have to train it too, so it can be something that you can depend on rather than be afraid of.”

My heart beats erratically in my chest at the topic of conversation, and I fight to slow my breaths and regain control over my body. I close my eyes and take a long, drawn out breath before answering. “Maybe you should be grateful I don’t use my gift more, Kellan. You have no idea what I’m truly capable of if I were to use it to its fullest.”

I don’t look at him when I leave the room. I don’t want to see whether or not he believes what I’m saying.

I can’t let myself become comfortable using my gift again.