Divide (16 page)

I brought my hand to her face and ran my fingers over the cracks that were forming near her eyes. The sight of them scared me, but not because I was scared of
her
.

They scared me because I was scared of
losing
her. Scared of failing the one thing I’d been put on this earth to do.

Save
her.

A tear slipped from her eye and I caught it with my thumb before it travelled further.

What could I say that would put her mind at ease?

Challenge accepted.

Instead of answering her, I pulled her to me and kissed her again. Had this been a test, it was a test I’d willingly participate in, time and time again. As my lips crushed into hers, I cradled her face with both hands, then slid one hand behind her head to cup her neck, my fingers splayed in her hair, holding her to my mouth as I returned my other hand to her lower back.

With a quick movement and possibly another deep growl, I flipped us over and lay her down, lowering myself on top of her.

Holland wrapped her arms around me, pulling me to her so firmly that I feared I’d crush her. Wrapping her legs around me, she held on tight. With our bodies so close, and my hips pressing into hers, pinned within the cocoon of her perfect frame, I was ready to lose myself in her, completely, willingly, and without regret or restraint.

I hoped her fears were slipping away as quickly as my self-control.

The latter was nearly non-existent.

Though my body screamed to go further with this irresistible enigma of a girl, I wanted only to show her that I’d kiss her forever and never tire, never fear her, never be blinded by her skin, regardless of the color.

She was perfect. Beautiful and defiant, scared and strong. I’d been made for her and her for me; a destiny she couldn’t trust yet and didn’t want to believe. A destiny I’d bet my life on.
Will bet my life on.
The word itself carried a humorous connotation. Destiny. I couldn’t disagree with that. But fate had a plan for us.

Holland’s skin could turn purple with bright green spots and I’d still want to be right here, pressed against her body, with her perfect lips on mine—tangled up in Holland Briggs, mind, body and soul.

Holland

I awoke with the feeling of someone watching me while I slept. I opened my eyes to sunlight, the bright rays shining through sheer curtains. Sunshine. I hadn’t seen the sun in weeks, and I’d only been in the cabin since yesterday, but I was already tired of the snow. Gray skies were not for me, especially now that I was gray enough for all of us.

“She wakes.” An unfamiliar voice, deep, rough…

I flipped over and sat up, scooting so my back was against the headboard, and pulling the blankets up around me—all in one quick movement. I was thankful I’d at least put my sweater on again last night.

“Who are you? Where’s Mick?”

The man sitting in my room had Mick’s build and dark hair, but his eyes were a deep brown, and didn’t hold any of the sparks of life that I loved about Mick’s green eyes. This guy’s hair was not shaved off like Mick’s but more of a rugged cropped cut, a bit longer on top. He had that professionally tousled look going on, as if he paid someone a few hundred dollars to run their fingers through his hair, resulting in fashionably messy. His smile was predatory at best, and as he watched me, goose bumps popped up all over my body.

Good looking, sure, but also creepy as hell.

“Yes, where
is
Mick? I was wondering that myself just a few moments ago. It’s a shame he’d leave you sleeping here so unprotected like this.” He turned his attention to the window, away from me, as if thinking out loud.

The man had an accent I couldn’t quite place. But then, I’ve never been very good with that. I guessed England, but I had a terrible habit of mixing up British and Australian. I’d offended a few people in my lifetime with that, but it wasn’t purposeful—just something wrong with my ears, I guessed.

I didn’t respond, but instead repeated my still-unanswered question.

“Who are you?”

“Well, in short, I’m Donovan Gregory. But the long part of it? My favorite part? I’m the guy who’s going to break the spell, love.”

What?
How did he know about the spell? How did he—?

Then I remembered I was gray and realized someone other than Mick and I now knew my secret. I tried to pull the blanket up even higher, but couldn’t fully cover myself without taking my gaze off the intruder. And looking completely ridiculous hiding beneath a blanket fort.

“Wait,” I continued. “What did you just say?”

“That’s right. I know all about you. Though, by the way you rested so peacefully, I thought for a second I was in the wrong fairytale. You’re a much more fitting
Sleeping Beauty
than
Beauty and the Beast
. Even with the…
discoloration
of your skin.”

I cringed at his word choice, but if he noticed, he didn’t seem to care.
Discoloration.

He continued, “But that’s obviously how I knew I was in fact in the right place. And judging by the cracks forming near your eyes, I’d say not only am I in the right place, but I’m just in time.”

“How do you know about all of this? Where’s Mick?”

“Ah, yes, Mick. Let’s call my little brother up here, shall we?”

“Brother?”

The stranger—Donovan—walked to the door and opened it, calling down the hall for Mick.

“Hey, little brother! Come up and have a chat with me!”

He turned back around with a wide, wicked grin on his face, and then stepped away from the door.

“What the
fuck
? Holland!” Mick’s voice was distant, but his fear rang loud and clear through the cabin. His feet thumped up the stairs, and my heart joined their frantic rhythm, his panic confirming the fact that this man was unwelcomed here.

Mick ran into the room, straight to my side. He gave me a quick once-over with his eyes and, confirming I was unharmed, spun around to face Donovan, positioning himself at the end of the massive bed, protectively between the two of us.

“You’ve got about two seconds to get the fuck out of here before I remove you.”

Donovan laughed and shook his head from side to side. “Well, aren’t you the little scrapper, mate? I’d be impressed if I wasn’t so disappointed. I mean really, is that any way to treat family?” Donovan tsk-tsked, then crossed his arms over his chest.

Mick stepped toward him, his fists clenched at his sides. “What did you just say?”

“You heard me. Family. I’d expect a better welcome for your long lost big brother.”

Observing the two of them as they stared each other down, I saw the resemblance. The dark hair—though Donovan’s was long and Mick’s was almost completely shaved off—was the exact same shade of chestnut. The way Mick’s jaw was so square and defined—Donovan’s was structured the same. His face even mimicked Mick’s now, his chin jutting out, his lips pulled into a tight line…Donovan’s defensive stance was the spitting image of Mick.

“Holy hell.”

I hadn’t realized I’d spoken out loud until both guys turned their hardened stares to me. Donovan’s dark brown eyes and Mick’s light green eyes watched me as I scrutinized the two of them side by side.

“You didn’t know?” I asked Mick, my voice a mere whisper.

A curt shake of his head was the only answer he gave me before turning back to his brother.

“Explain. Or my original offer to remove you from my home still stands.”

“Why don’t we go downstairs so our sleeping beauty can get dressed? I’d like some coffee, and I’d like to give you the chance to redeem yourself for the poor hospitality you’ve offered thus far.”

“Uh-uh. No way. I’m coming with you guys. I want to hear this.” I jumped out of bed, forgetting for a moment I wore next-to-nothing. I met Mick’s green eyes and blushed as I remembered why I was nearly naked. Heat snaked its way over my body as Mick held my gaze, until he broke it by turning away to chastise Donovan.

“Do you mind?” He practically growled the words, reminding me of the sexy way he’d growled when I bit his lip last night. Something deep down inside me stirred at the sound. It felt almost primal, like it wasn’t my reaction to the reminder of last night, but…more like the monster inside me was reacting to the tension in the room. My muscles tensed and constricted, my fingers clenching.

I swallowed, took a deep breath, and headed for the bathroom, grabbing my discarded jeans from the floor, and ignoring the surging, angry feelings inside me. Donovan getting a quick showing of my nearly bare ass was going to be the least of my worries if I flipped out and broke something.

“Give me two minutes.”

“We won’t start without you, love.”

“Do
not
refer to her like that again. My patience only goes so far.”

Donovan laughed. “I meant no harm by it,
brother
.”

Avoiding the mirror, I dressed and brushed my teeth as quickly as I could. I was pleasantly surprised when I exited the bathroom, that Mick and Donovan hadn’t killed each other in the two minutes I’d been out of sight. They still stood the same way they had when I left the room. Mick’s shoulders were tense, and his fists were clenched as tightly as his jaw appeared to be, while Donovan leaned back against the wall, one elbow on the mantle over the old fireplace. His relaxed demeanor made him appear as if he didn’t have a care in the world, and his smirk showed that he found Mick’s intimidating stance amusing.

I cleared my throat, and both guys turned to me.

“After you,” Donovan said with a wave of his arm.

“Not on your life,” Mick said, as he reached a hand out to me. “You will walk ahead of us so I can keep an eye on you.”

“As you wish.” Donovan bowed, mocking Mick, and nonchalantly strolled from the room.

I raised my eyebrows as I walked toward Mick and slipped my fingers into his. He squeezed my hand in response and butterflies kicked up in my belly. I watched him as we walked, but he kept his eyes on Donovan. A muscle worked in his jaw, and I wondered what he must think about this sudden appearance of a supposed long lost brother.

I also wondered how this would affect me—and the curse on my family.

I was tempted to ask questions—so many raged through my mind—but I stayed silent, knowing there would be plenty of time for us to talk later, after this guy was out of the house and, hopefully, our lives. He gave me the creeps.

“The kitchen, then? I imagine our sweet sleeping beauty here is hungry?”

“I am,” I said, though I wasn’t quite sure I’d be able to go about making breakfast and acting normal, as if there wasn’t a stranger in the cabin on top of everything else that was completely screwed up in my life.

Donovan took a seat at the table, making himself at home. Mick stood near me in the kitchen, his butt against the counter top and his arms crossed. His gaze never left Donovan, as I worked around the two of them, making breakfast. Unsurprisingly, Mick was the only one to argue my desire to cook this morning. Donovan observed quietly, obviously a man who believed women had their place.

I quickly scrambled eggs.
From a container, eeew.
I found sausage links in the fridge, along with a bag of hash browns, and managed to whip up a pretty decent breakfast. I plated the food, though why I should be hospitable to this intruder I had no idea. Still, I put a plate in front of Donovan anyway. No one said a word until all three of us were seated at the table and I’d had my first bite of food. The tension was almost stifling.

“She’s beautiful
and
she can cook? What a package.”

Mick set his fork down, ignoring his food for the time being. I continued eating—my body hungrier than I remembered ever feeling before. Each bite couldn’t get to my mouth quickly enough and, somehow, with each bite, I knew the food wouldn’t be sufficient. My stomach continued to rumble, even as I shoveled in bite after bite of protein and carbs.

“Time’s up. Why are you here, and who are you?”

“Well,” Donovan said around a mouthful of eggs. “Like I already explained, mate, the name’s Donovan, and I’m your brother. It’s an uncanny resemblance when you really look at us, don’t you think? Although, your light eyes obviously came from your mother.”

“Actually, my father had green eyes.”

“Oh. My bad. I guess my
brown
eyes came from
my
mum then. No matter. I found out just recently that dear old mummy had a thing for business men from America. She met your dad some twenty-nine or so years ago, they shagged, split ways, and whaddya know? Nine months later, Mum’s got herself a baby.”

Mick cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. Did you say twenty-nine years ago?”

“Yeah, follow along, please; I do hate repeating myself. Your dad, my mum, shagging like high school kids after prom, and here I am. Without so much as a mention of my dad all these years. Mum dies—bless her soul—and I find out she knew exactly who my dad was all this time, only
he
didn’t know about
me
. So I come all this way to surprise him with a ‘Hey Pops!’ and I find out he, too, is dead. Of all the shoddy luck. So I go on a hunt to find out what I can about him, and I come across this cabin. I think to myself, ‘hmm, this seems like a nice enough place, and since it was my dad’s, it’s rightfully mine.’ So I let myself in one night—”

“How?”

“I reckon you mean
how
did I get past your extra special security system, correct? Don’t be foolish, mate, anyone with half a lick of sense can get around one of those, and since I have far more than
half
a lick of sense, well, here I am. So anyway, back to the story. I let myself in, and guess what I find?”

Donovan paused as if actually waiting for us to guess.

“Well, go on then. Guess.”

He was met with continued silence, so with an exaggerated eye roll and a flick of his wrist, he proceeded with the story.

“Fine. You’re all bloody boring, you know that?” Donovan waved a hand in the general direction of Mick’s office. “I find the stash of stuff in your office there. I find newspaper clippings, loads of books with dog-eared pages,
fairytales
, pictures of this one here—” he pointed at me, “—and all this time, I’m thinking my old man was a regular wanker! I mean, he had the girl’s high school transcripts for fuck’s sake!

“But then, then it gets better. I discover these aren’t my dad’s things but yours, my long lost little brother. Imagine my shock when I find out that not only do I have a brother, but he’s a stalker with a shrine in his office!”

The word made me cringe, and Mick gave a curt shake of his head as his jaw tightened.

Oblivious of our discomfort, Donovan continued. “Then, as if I’m as barmy as you are, I begin to read all of your compiled information, and realize—sadly—that I come from a long line of trolley hoppers.”

Trolley hoppers?

Donovan raised an eyebrow, clearly noticing my confused expression. “You know, love, off the trolley? Looney? A card or two short of a full deck?” He tapped his knuckle against his temple, then shook his head.

Sitting back in his seat, Donovan stuffed another forkful of eggs and potatoes into his mouth and grinned, continuing with muffled words. “But tell me, brother, it’s not crazy, is it? It’s all real. And you’ve got your little beasty hidden away here, trying to fall in love with her, and her with you…and lo and behold, you’ll break the spell. Happily ever after, yes?”