Once Bitten (Alexa O'Brien, Huntress #1)(91)

I have altered my will to leave you everything except a small trust fund set aside for Zoey, should she ever accept it. I’m sorry, Alexa, because I know I am your worst nightmare come true.

I never deserved your loyalty.

Love Sincerely,

Raoul

It couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t be. No, not Raoul. Of all of the werewolves in the world, please God, not him!

When I collapsed against Arys, I was overwhelmed with anger, pain and shock. I sobbed but failed to identify the rage-filled shrieks as mine. My fangs and claws appeared instantly, and I scratched at the floor, pulling uselessly to break free of Arys’s strong embrace. Snarls and growls became part of my cries as I screamed in a wordless wail.

I lost all sense of reality as I reacted to everything that I’d just learned. I wanted to kill, but my victim was already dead, which fueled my agony in the worst of ways.

Raoul should have bared his throat for me. I should have torn through his hot, living flesh in search of retribution. I felt hate in a whole new way, and I knew that I’d never truly hated before.

The power between Arys and I rose in a sudden storm, fueled by my rage. He’d wanted me here to keep me from harming myself or someone else. I so badly wanted to. At home, it would have gone very horribly wrong. I wanted to become absolute destruction.

I fought against Arys, but he held tight. I lashed out with a good right hook, and we both stopped grappling and stared at one another. Blood welled up from a cut on his lip, and I felt both shame and excitement.

“Arys, I’m sorry. I don’t know how to control this.”

My words were inaudible to me, but he nodded in understanding. “Go ahead and let it out. I’m here.”

Tears rolled down my cheeks, and I took a long shuddery breath before licking the blood from his lip. The tiny drop shifted my frustration and pain into another outlet.

I tore his t-shirt using clawed fingers. I couldn’t stop there once his well muscled chest was bare before me. The urge to hunt, to kill, drove me as I took him down like prey, naked beneath me.

Our lovemaking was anything but loving. It was rough and raw. I released all of the pain that would never truly go away. I couldn’t shake the thought of Raoul taking my mother’s love and life. I shook with the need to tear him apart myself.

At some point, I sobbed again, and Arys accepted the angry energy admirably. I’d never felt so vulnerable, and yet I knew this was safer, here with my dark vampire. He readily accepted the tornado of my emotions and the physical assault that I launched. Shaz couldn’t witness this side of me. The very thought was frightening.

The energy that we created was stronger than before but was also somehow easier to control and direct back to the natural elements. Not a single thing went awry. Talk about progress.

For hours after the sun rose, we lay together in his giant, fluffy bed. The TV on the antique bureau was on low. I stalled, unwilling to go home because that meant showing the letter to Kylarai and making everything real all over again. This was something that I had to share with those close to me. Otherwise, it was going to eat me alive.

When I finally did leave Arys’s, I hit the drive-thru for coffee before heading to the little park just off the highway. I loved that park, with its full bridge over the pond and the fountain in the middle.

I walked around the large pond to the bridge. People sat near the playground or went in and out of the tourist office, but the bridge was all mine. I sat down so that my legs hung over the side with my arms crossed against the railing.

I read that damn letter over and over, feeling something different every time. I briefly toyed with the idea of letting it flutter from my hands to the water below.

I cursed aloud, a vent that had nothing to do with vampires or werewolves and everything to do with human nature. I ranted and raved my confusion and dismay to Raoul as if he could hear me because I feared that I’d lose my mind if I didn’t let it out.

In my time on the bridge, staring out over the park with my half-consumed coffee, I gave voice to the betrayal and disappointment inside, but no forgiveness. That mercy escaped me. I wept hot, salty tears that carried no trace of blood, just the pure cleansing release of my sorrow. I could not shake the insane anger I felt over the fact that Raoul was dead and, with him, the final confrontation I desired.

The conversation with Kylarai was easier than I’d anticipated. I handed her the letter and watched her grey eyes grow misty. After a long silence, she choked out, “Are you ok?”

I shook my head no, because I wasn’t, but forced a bitter smile anyway.

“Oh, honey.” Her arms went around me, and I allowed myself to soak up her sisterly affection. I didn’t realize how bad I’d been craving the comfort of pack, of family.

Kylarai and Shaz had been my family for several years, but now they felt like so much more. The knowledge of why my mother died did nothing to make me miss her less, though it did bring everything full circle by answering the question that I’d carried for years.

The fact that Veryl knew all of this wasn’t lost on me. I debated on whether or not to call him. As soon as the sun fell, I dialed his personal number. With the pain so fresh, I had to call.

“So, he told you.” Veryl didn’t sound in the least bit surprised. “He had said that he planned to.”

I bit my lip so that I wouldn’t say anything to him that I’d regret. “Veryl, I need to know more about Raoul. You’ve known he was the one that attacked me all this time. Why not tell me?”