Page 48 of Secrets in Salem: Part One

I give Bishop a smartass grin, and he blushes. "In my defense, it really did look like she was asleep."

"I'm not that good of an actress. My eyes were moving under my eyelids, and my breathing was a little too fast. Not to mention even I could hear my heartbeat thundering in my chest," I inform him with a shrug.

"It was dark!" he justifies, huffing and falling into his seat with rosy cheeks that almost make me smile.Not the time, Low. Not the fucking time.

"Moving on swiftly. I'm transitioning. Into something other. But I don't know what. All I know is that the scary guy is involved and you guys have been sent here to protect me. Again, don't know why other than I'm an out-of-control, over-powerful being of fucking destruction and death. So... what am I missing?" I ask them, blurting it all out and ending with a sweet smile that feels a little too sour for my liking.

Bishop gapes at me, Micah bites down on his lip to stop himself from grinning, and Aleric rubs his hands over his face like he can't believe I just word vomited this shit like I'm talking about the weather. If only he knew how crazy my insides were going right now, how hard my heart is hammering beneath my ribs, and how close to losing my ever-loving mind I am. Nothing about this is okay. I so wish we were talking about the weather right now.

There's a long pause, so long that I'm pretty sure they're all waiting on the other to explain or give me some kind of answer. I yawn, slouching harder in my seat, and say, "Don't all speak at once. Take your time. It's not like I've been through a traumatic ordeal or anything. Not like I deserve those answers you're all keeping from me. Please, don't rush."

"Such a smartass," Aleric murmurs with a huff that almost sounds like a laugh. There go those stupid butterflies again, always fluttering up a storm at the most inopportune moments in my life.

Nodding, I start leaning into Micah, happy he doesn't shove me away. I can't get comfy despite having a belly full of carbs, sitting on a cloud-like couch, and wearing sweats and a baggy shirt. I should be the epitome of fucking comfortable right now, but it's like I'm all antsy and on edge. As though I can't even get comfortable in my own skin because there's an itch under my skin I can't quite get to. It's maddening, and it's making my grumpy ass a whole lot grumpier.

"Look," I start, yawning once more, "if you're not going to answer anything, what are we even doing here? You promised answers. I'm trying to be patient. I've been lenient enough. Either start answering, or rest assured I'll go about finding answers on my own, and I'll make a lot of noise about it. I'll be so annoying and obnoxious that you'll wish you turned down the babysitting gig."

That earns me some fierce frowns and a sad look off Micah. Tough shit. I've just realized I'm at the end of my tether. Whatever is happening is a pretty big deal, and it's happening to me. I need to know what it is, why it's happening, and how to control it. Once I have at least that much, then I can freak out and move on with my new normal. They just need to loosen their lips a little so I can get started.

When they don't answer again, despite Micah looking over at them and frowning, I decide enough is enough. "Fine. If that's how you're going to play it, consider yourselves free of whatever job you're on. I'll work it out on my own. Thanks for nothing, I suppose."

Without another word, I heave myself off the couch, already missing Micah's heat against me. Keeping my steps steady, I walk away from them, heading to Micah's room so I can get some sleep before sneaking away a second time. That reminds me... I need to find a different hiding place since they know about my studio now. Not many people know about it, and that's how I like it. It's in a part of Salem the townsfolk don't particularly care for. Mainly because so many of their ancestors killed innocent women there and they don't like to remember it. Shame does that to a person. Not this bitch, though. I bought the warehouse when it was at its cheapest, renovated the whole thing, and created a studio no one will dare venture to. It's heaven.

Just before I reach the door to the bedroom I've accidentally commandeered, I hear a slap, a grunt, and a really long sigh before Aleric groans, "Willow, wait."

Without turning around, I pitifully reply, "I have been waiting, but the three of you are content to leave me in the dark without even a single thought to what that's doing to me. I'm done waiting. I'm done not having a clue about what's going on around or to me anymore. I'm just... done."

No reply comes, so I step into the bedroom, closing the door softly behind me. My heart feels kind of hollow the moment the door closes, like there's a vital part of me missing, but I stand by my decision. No one should have to go through something life-changing without some sort of explanation. They could have given me the shittiest one ever, and I'd have been grateful that they provided that much. But nope. I got lumped with a trio of turds who like to keep secrets. At least I didn't cry, right? I guess that could be considered a win, at least.

Hidden away in Micah's room, I fold my arms over my chest and scan the scarce space, rocking back and forth on my heels now that my legs can take the weight. I spy the stack of books that haven't moved since the last time I was here, so I tiptoe toward them and crouch. Scanning the titles, I trail a finger down the spines, stopping on a newish-looking book.

Despite feeling tired and ready to have the power nap of a lifetime, I decide to indulge in a little reading. It's been one of my favorite pastimes since I was a kid, always providing relaxation when I need it most. Well, I really fucking need it right now.

Curling into my chair, I tuck my feet beneath me and settle in, starting a story about a princess with a harem of caring and devoted men. Man, ain't that the dream. I'm halfway through the book, the early afternoon sun streaming through the small gap in the curtains, when there's a soft knock at the door.

"Willow? You awake?" Aleric asks gently from behind the door. When did the grade A asshole start being all gentle and sweet? Oh, yeah. Since you almost burnt yourself alive, you fucking psychopath.

Deciding I'm not particularly in a talkative mood, especially since I just got to a really good scene where the princess is getting loved on by two of her men, I blurt, "Nope. Dead asleep. Come back later."

A grumble sneaks under the door and I roll my eyes, turning my attention back to the book in my hand that deserves my attention. That is, until the annoying man opens the door and steps inside anyway, an eyebrow arched and a smirk in place. Bastard.

"Ah, yes, I see you listen very well," I gripe, staring harder at the words I can no longer focus on. Damn distracting men in this stupid apartment.

"Oh, I listen. I just chose to ignore you because you were being a brat," he volleys, causing my head to snap up almost painfully. That little fucker.

With a deceptive calm I don't feel, I close my book and place it carefully on the desk, dropping my feet to the floor. "A brat?Iwas being a brat? Are you shitting me? Do I need to replay everything that's happened since we officially met, or are you going to take that back before I kick your balls into your throat?"

"So violent," he answers, his lips twitching and his emerald eyes shining with humor. This man is confusing. I swear, the weather is easier to predict than this man's moods. Talk about whiplash.

He's silent for a moment as he walks toward the bed, sitting on the end to face me. Studying my face, he bites the inside of his cheek before finally saying, "I'm sorry."

Honestly, I would have expected anything else. An apology? Well, color me speechless, because yet another impossible thing just occurred, and I have no idea what to say about it. Clearing my throat, wide-eyed and a little floored, I croak, "You're... sorry? Wha- Why? What for? I mean, there's a list a mile long, I'm sure you know, but what specifically could you be apologizing for?"

Shaking his head, the twitch of his lips finally turns into a smile that would make weaker women melt into a puddle on the floor. As it is, I just break out in a little sweat, my heart doing a weird somersault in my chest. That smile should come with a warning label. Damn.

"I'm sorry for everything," he starts, resting his arms on his legs while he watches me much like a hawk would a mouse. "For the cold shoulder, for the dishonesty, and for the secrets we can't fully divulge yet. Trust me, Dove, we want to tell you. We want to tell you everything, but we literally can't. We're under an oath, and breaking it will come with severe consequences for us all, you included. You most of all. We're here to protect you, and if that means having to keep some things from you until you're ready for them, then that's what we're going to do. Can you understand that?"

Well, when the bastard puts it like that...

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