Both of us stared at each other.
"What the hell," he began breathlessly, "are you wearing?"
Tucker's eyes moved achingly slow from my white heels, past the thigh high stockings, stopping for a bit on the corset, before finally landing on my bloodred lips.
I shifted uncomfortably, his careful dark eyes watching my every move. His eyes dragged fire across my exposed skin and I knew my cheeks were already a dark red partially because of the alcohol and partially for something else. A hooded look crossed his face as he waited for my answer.
"I wish people would stop asking me that," I grumbled.
This time, when silence floated between us, it was charged with something other than anger. Tucker's eyes continued to brush along my skin and they darkened as I bit my lip anxiously. His eyes carefully tracking the movement of my lips.
"Don't do that," his voice was strained.
I shivered. "Well, don't look at me like that."
He stepped forward dropping the jacket in his hands and closing the distance between us in the narrow alley. A dark alleyway should have at least made me a little nervous, but from the way Tucker was looking at me, I could tell the only danger was right in front of me.
"Are you cold?"
I couldn't even notice the weather. Every step he took closer to me made me warmer. The tip of his tongue swiped across his bottom lip as he looked down on me, our chests almost touching. He leaned one arm above my head on the wall of the club. My fingertips, almost of their own accord, spread across his chest. His heartbeat thudded loudly under my fingers
"Are you going to keep me warm?"
My bold words shocked me, but I thanked the alcohol for the bravery. If it weren't for the shots, when Tucker lifted the strap of the top in between his two fingers I would've fainted. Electricity burned against the bare skin that he touched. Our eyes locked as his fingers drifted down the shirt, his thumb brushing the swell of my breast before making a tantalizing slow crawl to my hips. The sensitive skin on my stomach raised as the pads of his fingers brushed over it.
He nuzzled his face into the crook of my neck and I shivered as he found my ear with his lips.
"You look like the devil," he whispered.
"I'm supposed to be an angel."
He licked his lips and gently pushed my hips back into the wall. His next words quieted all of the voices in my head and all of the static noise that reached out to me.
"You already are."
The tiniest brush of his lips on my jugular almost caused me to let out an unladylike noise. His hands continued their dangerous exploration as one of his large palms cupped the underside of my thigh and hiked it up and around his hip, pulling us closer together.
I drew in a sharp breath as his tongue left warm stripes on my neck that he dragged his teeth against.
"What," I managed to breathe out, "did you want to talk to me about?"
He hummed into my neck, pressing his lips to the skin under my jaw.
"I don't remember," he murmured lowly, the vibration of his voice tickling my body.
One of his hands lowered itself down my back and the other angled my head to give him better access to the sensitive skin on my neck. My hands grabbed fistfuls of his shirt. His lips were slow and anguished as they moved. I whimpered slightly as his teeth grazed a sensitive area.
He pulled away, meeting my eyes. His pupils were practically black.
"That," he pulled my bottom lip down with his finger, "was an angelic sound."
I captured his finger in my mouth before biting the pad of it softly and releasing it. If he wanted to tease me, I could very well beat him at his own game. His dark eyes watched my every movement and his hand pushed my hips back harder against the wall.
"From the devil's lips?" I asked with a bold smirk on my face.
He drew in a ragged breath and summed up my exact thoughts.
"Fuck."
And his lips were on mine, quickly, passionately, and lighting my entire body on fire. His hand curved around my throat keeping my body pressed against the brick wall as his tongue explored my mouth. I gripped him tighter, pulling him towards me hungrily wanting everything he was.
I had spent so much time craving his touch, wanting it so badly, and it shattered all of my expectations. The noise in my brain was gone and there was nothing but him. The feel of him. The smell of him. The taste.
His lips dropped from mine to the top of my chest and the exposed skin that poured out of the top of the cropped shirt. His teeth grazed the sensitive skin as his hands hiked higher and higher up the silky skirt. Tucker's fingers danced along the inside of my thighs and my breathing grew shakier.
He ran his hand along the curve of my top.
"I like this," he murmured against my neck as his lips brushed the skin.
My hands reached for his hair and pulled his face back up to meet mine for a hot, heady kiss that left my head spinning. Our lips moved together-
Then the door swung open and a young kid emerged with a cigarette in hand, tearing us apart. Tucker whirled on him, blocking me from his view.
"Get the fuck out of here," he growled.
The kid jumped, dropped his cigarettes, and immediately went back inside. I didn't blame him. Tucker looked murderous.
While I slumped breathless against the wall he began pacing and brushed his hand through his hair. He always did that when he was nervous.
"That was a bad idea," he began, crushing whatever hope that had blossomed in my chest. "We're both drunk."
I watched the dark-haired boy as he paced back and forth in front of me. I'd never felt soberer in my entire life. All of my senses were singing and alert.
"Are you drunk?" I asked.
He finally looked at me. "No...are you?"
"Not anymore."
We let our answers sit between us for a moment. Both of us knew exactly what we were doing. While the alcohol had made me brave, his touch had cleared my thoughts- I was only addicted to one of them. We both wanted it, but he was holding back. I pushed myself off the wall, not sure if my legs could still support me, but I walked toward him anyway. I put my hands on both of his cheeks and looked into his tormented eyes.
"Talk to me," I whispered.
My fingertips sang with the contact and I was grateful that, for once, I didn't feel an encroaching vision come on in the middle of making out. Tucker's gold-flecked eyes found mine and softened slightly.
"I- I can't."
My heart squeezed. "Why not?"
He put his hands over mine and pulled them away from his face.
"Because it's wrong. Us. You and me."
I stepped away from him, stung by his words. We were wrong? I remember thinking that what we felt toward each other wasn't real, but wrong? Nothing in my life had ever made sense until I met him, and that absolutely wasn't wrong.
Instead of breaking down in front of him as I'd felt like doing for weeks, I steeled myself against him.
"Then what are you still doing out here with me? Go back inside," I demanded, scowling.
He sighed, seeming exasperated. I was angered by his patronizing look in my direction.
"I'm serious! Get away from me."
It was the exact opposite of what I wanted to stay. He looked as if he wanted to reach back out to me but he couldn't distract me with his touch anymore. I wanted answers.
Tucker sighed and picked up the leather jacket he had dropped. He looked at it before looking back up at me.
He began to speak but I cut him off.
"If you're going to give me more bullshit excuses about why you can make out with me in an alleyway but not talk to me like a real, functioning human then save it. I don't want to hear any more excuses."
He closed his mouth and I shook my head.
"You're better than that," I told him, "I'm better than that."
My brain thought up millions of things for him to respond back with. Maybe he would explain, maybe he would yell, apologize, kiss me again. None of the things I imagined hurt more than what he said next.
"Whatever, Lou."
With that, he picked up his discarded jacket and left me in the alley, cold and alone.
My eyes followed him, stunned by his stoic response. Part of me wanted to be angry but the other part of me knew why he was so cold.
When I'd first woken up after the full moon almost a full day later, Harry was the one leaning over me. I was laying in my own bed and he had slept in the armchair in the corner of my room. As soon as I'd opened my eyes, he ran to my side and, at first, I'd almost forgotten what happened.
My brother had watched the realization of what I'd done dawn on my face. In that moment, he'd taken both of my hands in his, clinging to them even when I'd resisted and repeated something over and over. The words he whispered still rang loudly in my ears every day.
"You have to forgive yourself," he'd said, "in order to survive, you have to forgive yourself."
As I sank lower onto the alley wall until I was sitting on the pavement, I knew that was impossible. If Tucker couldn't forgive me, then I'd never be able to forgive myself. After all, it was his life that I'd ruined. The wind blew harder, the alley trapped it in with me and I let it chill me to my core.
It was now, when I was most alone, that I let those deep feelings bubble up. The words I had pushed down and the thoughts I refused to entertain threatened to take hold. The darkness, I knew, waited for moments like these- moments where I pitied myself- to embrace me. The power I had inherited from that night knew to comfort me, wrapping its heat around my shoulders like a blanket.
I knew- every part of me knew- that it was wrong to embrace it. It was wrong to let it take hold of me and comfort me. But if the dark power silenced the noise in my head, who cared?
The darkness forgave the power, but the power refused it.
What does it- what do you have to be forgiven for, kid?
The voice was not my own, but it had drifted into my head as if it were one of my very own thoughts. Alarms went off in my head, telling me my thoughts were no longer safe. Someone was there and I recognized the voice.
"Johnathan," I whispered into the air like a crazy person. "Where are you? How are you doing this?"
The voice seemed to click its tongue in disappointment.
All that power waiting to be used, a shame. It seems you still have a lot to learn, Eloise.
I swallowed thickly. The voice of my father appearing in my head while I was alone in an alley was not exactly comforting. His voice, however, was soft and almost welcoming.
"Why wouldn't you come to talk to me in person?"
If someone had walked by, I would've looked insane talking to a blank wall before me.
I'm not dumb, kid. Your little bodyguard would hardly let me get close, even though I mean you no harm. I know you've got that Joy boy wrapped around your finger. He protects you, and I'm grateful for it.
"Not anymore," I murmured.
It took a moment for his voice to respond and when it did, Johnathan sounded genuine.
I'm sorry, Eloise. Werewolves can't understand someone like you. They don't understand the sacrifice you've made or the gift you've been given.
I scoffed but my voice was unsure. "And you do?"
You're having nightmares, yes? Noises and voices in your head? Whispers that sound like tv static on the wrong station?
I swallowed. He knew. My father knew and could tell me the things I'd been experiencing. I pulled my knees into my chest, feeling weak and vulnerable, and hating it. My arms hugged my knees closer to me.
"They're...loud." And they don't go away, I wanted to add but held myself back. Tucker made them go away, but I would hardly admit that to my father.
Why I was admitting any of this to my father was a mystery to me. I still remembered what Anna Denver had told me. He still had the Codex and, with it, the knowledge to become more powerful at a horrifying cost. If what she suspected was true, my father was a monster. But if it wasn't true...what would that mean?
I can help you if you'll let me.
"How?"
I know what you're going through. It's all of this new power you've been gifted with. There's no place for you to manifest it, so of course, it's going to overwhelm you. I can teach you to control it. To use it.
"How can I trust you?" I spoke my thoughts aloud, "you threw me in a cage. You flooded my brain with horrors. You helped Owein murder people."
I made mistakes when I met you, ones I won't make again. I thought you were too far gone, too far deep in with the wolves you couldn't be saved. I was wrong. As for Mr. Heigl, I did no such thing. He made his own choices- ones that I was powerless to stop.
His words didn't surprise me. What surprised me was how much I wanted to believe them.
"How will you help me?"
The voice was quiet for a moment and I held my breath.
I'll be in touch.
Like turning off a faucet and stopping the water, my father's voice faded away. I knew my thoughts were my own again. Only I had access to my head.
Pulling myself up off the ground, I found myself feeling strange. Something new had taken root in my chest where the pain of Tucker's rejection had planted itself. As I opened the doors back to the club, I knew what it was.
Comfort.
—————
HI! None of you know this, but a month and a half ago I donated my stem cells (bone marrow) to my brother whose Leukemia has recently relapsed. This will be the first time my family has seen him as he wasn't allowed any visitors due to COVID. He's healing and the stuff I donated is working overtime to help save his life (HOW COOL IS THAT?)! My family hasn't seen him as he wasn't allowed any visitors due to COVID. After 31 days of being quarantined with his fiancé in the hospital undergoing a very painful bone marrow transplant, he comes home today!
Today is a good day.
Anyways....back to the story!
Wow. That was a long one!
What do we think about Johnathan's offer? Also, wtf is Tucker's problem?
Thanks for reading!
Have empathy and stay safe.