#Chapter 4 Mate
Content Warning
Five Years Later
Viviane’s POV
I wake on a pillow littered with pearls.
I’ve been crying in my sleep again, subconsciously battling the demons that always appear in the unguarded realms of slumber. I whip the blankets from my body, sending gems flying, and slide out of bed.
My own screams echo in my ears as I move swiftly toward the bathroom. I’m completely alert, drowning in adrenaline. I feel exactly as I did five years ago, the dream sent my brain into full flight mode but left my body unable to flee.
I yank the shower handle down, stepping out of the way just in time for hot water to burst from the showerhead. I strip frantically, leaving my nightclothes in a haphazard pile on the floor, before disappearing into the steam.
The water is too hot, it scalds every scrap of skin it touches, but I don’t flinch away. I need the heat, I need it to wash away the feeling of Mordred’s hands on my body. I grab a sharply bristled scrub brush from a hook on the wall, dousing it with soap and attacking my body.
In my head I’m back in my little room – the first room I ever had, the first place I ever felt safe. It feels so real, as if the past five years were the dream, and this the reality. With one horrific act, Mordred ripped away the fragile sense of security I’d imagined, scarring me more permanently than any brand.
I can smell his body odor, feel his sweat dripping onto my face while he tears me open. I can see his wolf glowing in his eyes; suffering his claws cutting into my skin, and enduring the burning pain of his violent thrusts.
All I can think is that I must not cry. I can scream and fight, I can feel the violation and agony. But I must not cry. If Mordred finds out what we truly are, there is no telling the cruelty he’ll inflict. It’s a well-kept secret in the border country that Damien will pay anyone who brings him a mermaid a generous bounty – so generous that husbands have been known to turn in their wives, and wives their husbands.
It’s possible Mordred knows about the bounty, but more likely that he would find some other way to exploit us. He would become our new slaver, and that can never be allowed to happen.
I do not cry in my dreams, just as I did not in real life, but the tears often escape my resting eyes. As I scrub my skin raw, I try to think of new hiding places for the opulent spheres. The pearls my nightmares produce have kept a roof over our head and food on our table ever since we left Mordred’s manor, but I cannot be seen with so many. It would raise too many questions for an eighteen-year-old girl to have so many flawless gems.
Because we are unregistered, we could not go to the police after the rape. Instead Mom immediately removed us from the house, rising from her sickbed like a righteous avenger, no matter how weak she’d been moments before.
Mordred blamed her, saying that if her illness had not rendered her incapable of fulfilling her wifely duties, he wouldn’t have needed to touch me. If she’d had a way to kill him, I’m certain she would have. Instead she launched herself at him with a roar, only to be swatted away like a fly with a single backhanded slap.
I told her over and over again it wasn’t her fault, not for bringing Mordred into our lives, not for his violence. He was the only one to blame and she had only been trying to protect me – to do what was best for us.
Even so, I don’t think she will ever recover from the guilt. Her illness went from intermittent bouts of malaise and exhaustion, to chronic, debilitating impairment. So now it is my turn to keep us going. She ensured we would have lives beyond the pearl farms, I’m going to ensure we get to live them.
“Hello stepsister.”
I halt in the middle of the sidewalk, staring in shock at Nerissa. I’ve seen her from afar a few times over the years but our paths rarely cross, as she attends the pack’s private academy, while I go to the public high school.
They sit on opposite sides of the same street, so that we commoners must watch the Nightshade Academy students flaunt their luxury cars and high end fashions, all the while wondering whether we’ll be able to afford to eat lunch. Few students are as poor as I am, but then again they have healthy parents with the legal right to work.
“I’m not your sister Nerissa.” I remind her, keeping the staff I use to aid my depth perception firmly between us.
“Thank the gods for that,” She drawls, rolling her eyes. “Though I thought the nickname could stay. You know, for old times sake?” I don’t respond. “No? I suppose I’ll have to call you something else… how about bottom feeder?”
Blood rushes in my ears, dulling all the street noise around me. I’ve always suspected Nerissa knew, she certainly hinted at it after catching me putting makeup on my ankle. “What do you want?” I ask nervously, “I’m late for school.”
Excitement sparks in Nerissa’s hazel eyes, “Nightshade Academy is having a talent competition in a few days, and the winner gets to have dinner at the Pack House with the Alpha and his family.”
I’m truly baffled. “So?”
“Sooo,” Nerissa draws the word out into a whine. “I don’t have a talent.”
Where is this going? “That’s too bad.”
“Yes, well I have been dreaming of marrying Caspian Shaw since I was five years old and this is my chance to catch his eye.” She’s practically bouncing with eagerness, the waves of her dark hair swaying around her shoulders.
“Nerissa, Caspian is dangerous.” I caution. “He’s a criminal – the only reason he isn’t behind bars is because he’s the Alpha’s heir. I know you like him, but he could hurt you. It isn’t safe.” I don’t know why I care. I don’t have a single ounce of fondness for my one-time stepsister, but disliking her doesn’t mean she deserves to be abused by a violent man.
My warning falls of deaf ears. “I don’t want to hear it fish girl.” She counters. “You’re a mermaid. That means you can sing.”
“I don’t see how my singing ability is relevant to any of this.” I remark, suspicion clawing into my thoughts.
“Because,” she’s beaming now, “you’re going to sing for me!”
My incredulous expression is hidden behind my sunglasses. “That’s cheating.”
“You know it wouldn’t kill you to break a rule every now and then.” Nerissa groans. “This goody two shoes act is so tired.”
Typical Nerissa. “I don’t want to get in trouble.” Where I come from breaking rules gets you killed.
Nerissa shifts to my side, wrapping her arm around my shoulder as if she’s oblivious to the fact that I’m trying to get away from her. She gives me a little tug, urging me to walk with her. “It’s good you want to avoid that.” She coos as our schools come into sight. “Because if you don’t sing for me I will tell everyone your scaly little secret.”
“You can’t!” I exclaim.
“I can,” she warns me, “and I will.”
It’s a good thing Nerissa is the one on stage, from where I’m standing the lights are absolutely blinding. I fidget with my nautilus necklace, nervously squinting towards the audience. I may be able to sing, but I’ve never done so in front of so many people – in front of anyone but my mother.
I’m hidden in the wings, a microphone identical to the one Nerissa is holding in my hands. The only difference is that mine is on, and hers is off.
I can see the judge’s table well enough to make out Caspian Shaw at its center. I can understand why so many girls like Nerissa are attracted to him physically. He’s tall and muscular, with dark skin and striking blue eyes. Tattoos peek out of his collar and shirtsleeves, a scar runs through his left eyebrow, and scruff lines his sharp jaw. He exudes authority and confidence, his posture completely relaxed where the other judges are sitting stiffly.
No, looks aren’t his problem. The problem is his personality. I wasn’t kidding when I told Nerissa he’s a criminal – he’s been apprehended by the pack enforcers dozens of times for violations ranging from public brawling, to possession, illegal street racing, theft, and vandalism.
As the music begins I take deep calming breaths, careful to hold the microphone away from my mouth so the sound is not picked up by the sensitive technology. I’m so anxious I almost miss my cue. As the first notes leave my mouth I hear a gasp reverberate through the crowd.
My nerves ease as the song begins to flow out of me naturally, and I give myself over to the music. The ethereal melody holds the audience in a trance, and for a moment I’m afraid Nerissa will fall victim too and cease lip syncing, but she holds on by a thread.
Most of these people have probably never heard mermaid song. That’s what you get for mistreating us. I think bitterly. Every eye in the room is focused on Nerissa, pure adoration exuding from every pore.
All save one.
Caspian Shaw is not watching Nerissa, a fact that has her brow furrowing in frustration. Instead the future Alpha is scanning the auditorium, almost looking as though he is scenting the air. The next thing I know, he is on his feet, disappearing out one of the side doors.
Nerissa, crestfallen, finishes her act, and as the crowd surges to a fanatical standing ovation, I feel a strange prickling on the back of my neck. I shut the microphone off and spin around just in time to see Caspian prowling towards me through the darkened wings, his blue eyes positively glowing.
I back away from the approaching predator instinctively, only to find myself cornered against the back wall. Sharp white teeth flash as Caspian’s lips unfurl into a lethal grin, “Hello Mate.”