True Born

Chapter Nine

"Thank you, Alma," Storm says, setting down his NewsFeed to look me over. He seems larger today, if that's possible. His black turtleneck sets off the wintry steel of his eyes. The crackling, interlocked energy framing his head is becoming flesh and bone. "Good morning, Lucy. I hope you slept well."

The wooden table gleams, nearly as big as ours back home. Jared comes around behind me as I sit down. I color. "Eventually."

"Good. We have a few things to discuss after breakfast."

I reckon my father might be one of them, Margot too. Jared graces Alma with an all-but blinding smile. She tutts and fusses over him before coming around to me.

"Come on, eat up," she says warmly. "You'll need your strength."

I eye a heaped plate of French toast, another beside it stacked with bacon and sausage. I wasn't hungry before, but suddenly I'm ravenous.

I'm halfway through my plate when my hunger leaks away. I feel the familiar pull, now laced with pain and something so dark I don't have a name for it. Wild, maybe. My fork clatters to the plate, and I stare into space for a moment, adjusting to Margot's weight inside me.

Storm scans my face. "Lucy."

"Margot's up." The words are filled with the false optimism of a Protocols nurse. I don't know if they believe me or care. I only care that they don't see it when, scrambling to get to my sister, disoriented by her chaotic state, I stumble against the wall. I should know better by now.

A hand clamps over my arm and pulls me upright. "How did you manage to survive so long without me, Princess?" a familiar voice grouches.

There must be something in my face. Jared stops cold, swears under his breath. His fingers prod me softly until I'm leaning against the wall. "Dammit, Lucy." His eyes bore into mine, taking on that faint green sheen I now realize means he's getting upset. I bat at the arms he's clamped over my shoulders, but I'm distracted by the closeness of his mouth, the look of total concentration stamped over his handsome features.

He doesn't say anything more. Not what I expect. "What?"

"You can't keep doing this to yourself."

"Do what?"

"This. You're letting her torture you."

"Don't say that," I yell, genuinely shocked. "Don't you ever say that." Jared doesn't understand. Even if Margot weren't my twin, my other half, it's my responsibility to make sure she's okay.

Tears burn behind my eyes, leak onto my face. And maybe I'm as surprised as Jared when he pulls my head onto his shoulder and just holds me. He pulls me tight against his body until the tight knot in my throat starts to dissolve and all I'm left with is the hard lines of his muscles beneath my hands. The smell of him. The tingling heat that seems to fill my body whenever he's around.

His hands trace down through my hair, capturing my full attention. Time slows to a crawl. Margot's tug inside me, I realize blankly, has subsided to a small ball of ache, something I can manage. My hands run down his back. I hear a small hiss in my ear. I pull back an inch and instantly regret it. Some part of me feels untethered without his heat pressing into me.

"Why are you doing this?" I croak. He tilts his head in confusion, and I wonder if it's because I've left my hands on his chest.

"Doing what?"

"Being nice to me."

His hands frame my face. He studies my hair, my earlobes, my lips like he's reading something fascinating before answering. "I like pains in the ass," he says with a hint of a smile. "They remind me of me."