Chapter 133

Kadeem’s arms envelop me while I sob into him. "I'm sorry," he says, more than once.

His voice is full of pain - my pain.

Because that’s how this works. With this stupid marking, he’s trapped us together as mates. Before, he read me like a book.

Now, that connection we shared has been dialed up to a screeching, supernatural high. He can feel my emotions and he’ll be able to sense my presence when we’re miles apart.

I break loose out of his embrace, trying to keep myself composed, but I’m wrestling with so much all at once.

To top it off, I have another big problem: Jack. And how on earth will I keep Kadeem from discovering that?

Shit, shit, shit!

Kadeem gives me an apprehensive look. The wheels in his head are turning, trying to figure me out as I throw off waves of panicked guilt like echo-location, right to my secret.

I bite down on my lip and cast a longing gaze towards the door. I want to run away from all of this. Instead, I hesitate, putting my palm against my forehead to push back my bangs as I let out a deep breath.

“Ardal?”

Kadeem puts his hand on my shoulder and spins me back to face him. Worry is creased across his brow, registering the hurricane inside of me. His care, somehow, just piles on more resentment towards him.

"Wasn't having five children together enough of a tether?" I spit out bitterly. "Growing up together? Being ex-lovers? And maybe current ones?"

"Maybe?" Kadeem interrupts, incredulous. "I don't know what planet you live on sometimes!"

"You said we'd take it slow," I yell.

"Did it feel slow?" he shouts back. "Honestly? I try to apply the brakes where I can, but -"

"Oh, bullshit. You and your, 'I love yous' and 'I know yous.'" I flutter my eyelashes and flip my hair coquettishly to mock his obvious come-hither cling.

'Brakes,' my ass.

Kadeem’s voice drops an octave lower. "News flash," he hisses, "You and I are a thing. Always have been!"

I say nothing for a moment, fuming. His possessiveness over me - his surety in us, despite all the rockiness of our relationship, sets a blazing fire of rage within me. I struggle to contain it, but I want to have the upper hand.

I smile and plant a hand on my hip, my tone, venomous. "Except for that really nice, seven-year break.”

He stares at me. He’s still shirtless, and the light seeping from the phone charger next to him is throwing a blue-ish glow on his chest. His face is in shadows, but I don’t have to see him at all to know he’s boiling over.

I fumble with the switch on the floor lamp next to the wall, a small way to distract myself from crying again, which doesn’t work. Angry tears start splashing down my face as I click it on. The lamp illuminates the flash of his indignation, like lightning.

“Since it was so nice,” Kadeem says, smoothing his face into an emotionless expression, “And since you’re so horrified by any connection to me, let’s just agree to stay away from each other.”

“Well, thanks to you, that’s not so easy now, is it?!“

“Why not,” he shrugs, “We'll figure out how to manage the kids. I can’t cut off my feelings for you, but I'm pro-level with misery at this point.” A wry smile comes over his face, but there’s not a shred of humor behind it, just sadness. “And ‘tortured’ really only adds to my Alpha street cred. So there’s that.”

My heart throbs painfully in my chest and my throat feels thick as I say, “This is a break-up then, huh?"

He goes over to the side of the bed and snaps up his shirt off the floor. He furrows his brow, feigning befuddlement. "Were we - together? Hmmm..."

I laugh, despite myself, and wipe away the tears from my face.

Kadeem exhales deeply. "I do love you," he says. "And I can put up with a lot of shit, but damn it, I don't know that anyone's ever dolled it out quite so much as you." He shakes his head slightly.

"Well, I second the break-up idea." I walk over to scoop up my jeans where Kadeem tossed them. "I can handle pain just fine, too," I say airily. I pause, trying to look smart and contemplative before I recite something that popped up on my social media feed that morning: "'What is to give light must endure burning.'”

He blinks at me.

“That's Viktor Frankl," I add haughtily.

He scrutinizes me, then casts me a wry look, before sitting down to put on his shirt. He mumble-sings something as he does.

I arch an eyebrow. "Did you just sing U2 to me?"

He nods sheepishly. "It seemed fitting.” He stands and crosses over to me.

“My quote was a lot deeper,” I counter.

We would normally laugh, but I've been tossed into a pit of hell of my own making - having doubled down on breaking up, even though I can barely able to stand the idea of it. There's a panicked torture rising in Kadeem, too.

I drop my eyes from him and shimmy into my jeans, my chest tight.

I peep back at him. We speak in unison.

"Kadeem-"

"Don't go-"

I expel a breath, my lungs suddenly functioning again. “I love you, too,” I burst out. I’d been aching to say it.

He smiles softly, and it’s all I need to throw myself at him, setting an explosion of desire. Instantly, I'm embraced in his arms and our lips lock together. My relief is magnified by our shared bliss, and the result is a dizzying high.

Something in me fights it all the same.

In between kisses, I mutter against his mouth, "Mmm, wait."

Reluctantly, he pauses, but his fingers are still tangled in my tresses and his forehead's still pressed gently to mine.

"We haven't resolved anything," I say. "And more sex isn't going to fix that."

He swallows, letting his hand fall from my hair, but it goes to my waist. The corners of his mouth pull into a smirk. "I mean, it never hurt anything, either."

My cheeks flush with anger and I shove his hand off. "Except for ten minutes ago! When you bit me!"

"Ardal," he says, moderating his voice, trying - and failing - to soothe me, "I am sorry. It wasn't a conscious choice. I know that doesn't excuse it, but believe me or not, we were built for this-"

I cut him off mid-sentence. "You know I don't believe in that 'fated mates' crap," I yell.

I scowl and wave my hand dismissively, adding, "And you somehow stopped yourself the first time we had sex again. I could tell you wanted to, but you didn't go through with it." I cross my arms and raise my eyebrows waiting to see how he'll try to get out of that.

He takes a breath, searching for patience, before he nods in agreement. "Of course, but I was able to control it at that point," he says cautiously. "Tonight, no. But I didn't want to just for the hell of it-"

"Ensnare us," I interrupt.

His nostrils flare and his anger pours into me. "If you want to view a bond between us as a form of ensnarement, go right ahead," he snarls.

"What good did it do me before?" I shout. "It would have hurt no matter what, losing you - without the psychic link and the werewolf pull towards you. And it sure didn't stop you from believing Susan and leaving me!"

Kadeem pauses, pursing his lips and regret in his eyes. "I know my promise means nothing,” he says, “But doubting you or choosing anyone over you, is not a mistake I'll make again."

And he’s earnest, I know. It's flowing out of him... but it just feels like salt rubbed into my reopened wounds.

He runs his hand through his hair. "I've searched myself again, and again," he says. "I don't know how I ever got so lost, except..." He takes a breath. "After that first accident, my brain felt so scrambled. I think my instincts were distorted, and -"

"Kadeem," I say, cutting him off again. "You're right… Your promise means nothing."

We stare at each other, our individual aches flowering together into an almost overwhelming bouquet of woundedness.

"I really need that second drink," I say, trying hard not to cry again.

He opens his mouth like he's going to argue with me, but stops himself. I must look a mess - tear-streaked and pink-faced, so glamorously wiping my nose into my sleeve right now. And I also know my hurt is seeping into him.

“I get it,” he says.

He grabs his sweatpants off the floor. I wipe a continual leaking of tears from my eyes I can’t seem to turn off, while I trudge into the kitchen. I hit the light and find the open beer perched atop the counter, now warm, but I don’t care.

Kadeem comes in, hastily dressed. He watches me cautiously while I drain the beer as fast as I can, wishing it would hit me immediately in the same way pushing a button might.

It would be a big, red button that would say: "IDGAF anymore." With a single push, all the painful emotions of reality would be washed away. No hangover, no burn of the alcohol down my throat.

“You must have more than this,” I declare, tossing away the empty longneck in frustration.

Kadeem frowns at me and shakes his head. “If I did, I wouldn’t tell you,” he says, arching an eyebrow. “But nope, that's all she wrote.”

My bullshit meter is going off. I can feel him trying to put a guard up so I won’t detect the lie.

I laugh. “You’ll have to work more on blocking me,” I say. “Because I can tell you’re trying to hide the truth from me.“ I pull open his pantry door and begin rifling through.

“I think it’s a bad idea," he cautions, "Which you’ll see tomorrow, when you’re hung over and five children are screaming through this house.”

I spot a dusty bottle of champagne next to a glass canister of bowtie pasta and hold it up triumphantly.

"Considering your history with alcohol," I state sternly. "I'm surprised you still drink at all."

Kadeem scoffs. “Yeah, well,” he mutters, “We all have our issues.” He slumps against the counter, a picture of weariness. “At least I know my limits now - unlike some people.” He raises a suggestive eyebrow at me as I scoff.

U2 plays in my head.