The Truth About Kadenburg (17 page)

She had no idea how many of them were here!

“Oh shit,” she groaned as she came to an abrupt halt.
She was panting for air as she pressed a palm against the siding of her
childhood home and then she listened.

She could hear her uncle and the wolf within fighting.
Glass was breaking, things were being smashed into. She could only imagine the
damage that was being done.

Poor Uncle Arnold,
she frowned.

She had to do something. This wasn’t right. She
couldn’t just
leave
him in there with
that
.

“Shit,” she muttered again as she whirled around. She
collided with pure muscle and yelped, tilting her head back to meet piercing golden
hues.

“Hello there, sugar bear,” the man gave her a wicked
grin as he gripped her arms. “I have been waiting to meet you.”

Seventeen

D
imitri had no sooner heard the scream leaving
Presley’s lips when Lorcan shoved past him to get to the couch. He stumbled
backwards, a bit dumbfounded as he tried to grasp what was happening.

He turned his head to watch as Liam’s brother leaned
over the female, cupping her face in his hands as he tried to wake her up.

“Presley! Presley! Wake up! I’m here, okay? I’m right
here.”

She’s having a nightmare,
Dimitri frowned. He
turned his head towards the hallway, watching as a wide eyed Mrs. Bamey and an
alert Arnold Goult bolted out of the bathroom. The female’s uncle was
shirtless with a large bandage wrapped around his torso.

“What in the hell?” Arnold Goult asked as he approached
Lorcan. “What’s wrong with her?”

“I think she’s just having a bad dream,” Lorcan offered
as he lightly smacked his palm against her cheek. “Presley, can you hear me?”

“Oh heavens,” Mrs. Bamey gasped as she rested her hand
over her chest. “That poor girl has been through too much. It isn’t good for
her mind…”

Dimitri felt like he was out place as the ursithropes
surrounded the young female. What right did he have to be in here anyway? It
wasn’t his place to be in this house with these people. He should’ve been
outside keeping watch-not Mr. Bamey.

He quietly slipped out the door, welcoming the cool
breeze of the night as it swept over the land. He closed his eyes and sighed.

How can I protect these people from Breslin?
He
wondered as he leaned over the railing of the porch.
He’s stronger than
me. He’s probably coming up with plan B at this very moment.

His upper teeth sank into the
flesh of his lower lip as he hung his head and frowned.

“You ever used one of these before?”

Dimitri lifted his head to see Mr. Bamey standing at
the foot of the steps. The older ursithrope was holding a long gun in his
grasp, and the wolf couldn’t help but to wonder just what in the
hell
he
planned to use it for.

“No, Sir,” Dimitri replied hesitantly.

Mr. Bamey gave a small grin as he glanced down at the
gun again, his thumb delicately tracing over the trigger. “You want to?”

–––––––

Warmth radiated through every nerve ending of her body
as Presley nestled beneath the blankets. After the nightmare fiasco, Mrs.
Bamey had been kind enough to offer her Liam’s bedroom so she could rest.

“Just try and get some sleep,” Uncle Arnold had said as
he kissed her forehead. “I’ll be right down the hall, Presley. If you need
anything, you just let me know.”

“Or me,” Mrs. Bamey had added. “My room is just a door
down, Sweetie. Don’t hesitate to ask, okay?”

Everyone was being way too nice to her. It was weird.

They’re only being nice because you’re on the verge
of another mental breakdown,
she thought. She rolled over on the soft
mattress, heaving a sigh as she blinked in the darkness of the room.

This was Liam’s bedroom, and it made her feel very
uncomfortable. Everything in this small space belonged to him. It didn’t
matter if he was dead; every poster, trophy, and piece of clothing surrounding
her were things he’d loved.

Poor Mrs. Bamey,
she bit her lower lip. Mrs.
Bamey was a good mother. Sometimes Presley had felt incredibly jealous of Liam
and Lorcan. They had something she would never obtain in life and it made her
green with envy.

That was stupid, wasn’t it?

Go back to sleep,
she groaned inwardly as she
rolled over onto her stomach, burying her face against the pillow. It wasn’t
long before her mind finally obliged, allowing her to drift into temporary
death once more.

“She sure is pretty.”

“She looks like her mother.”

“She will be mine.”

“No!” Presley gasped, her eyes
snapping open as the scene replayed in her mind. She felt sick as her chest
tightened and nausea formed as a painful lump in her throat. She swallowed
hard, closing her eyes. “Oh my god.”

She wasn’t even safe in her dreams now. How in the
hell did anyone expect her to sleep if she was being haunted by some stupid
werewolf?

“This is such crap,” she muttered, pushing the covers
back and swinging her legs over the side of the bed. Her bare feet hit the
cold wooden floor and a shiver ran up her spine.

Things like this were only supposed to happen in
dreams-they weren’t supposed to be real.

Yet you got dragged through the river by a smelly
werewolf and you possess the ability to turn into a bear.

Couldn’t her thoughts shut up
for five minutes? Just five minutes; that’s all she needed.

Her eyelids felt incredibly heavy as she pulled open
the bedroom door, which didn’t squeak, and crept out into the hallway. It was
very dark and judging by the gentle snoring currently reaching her ears,
everyone was asleep.

I should be sleeping.
She sulked as she tiptoed
towards the kitchen. Why was she hungry at this time of night anyway?

That’s all I need. I’ll eat until I’m a big fat
bear and then I can hibernate until 2025 for all I care.

Pulling out a container of ice
cream from the freezer, Presley carefully grabbed for a spoon from the dish
drain.

“Caramel swirl,” she nodded, pleased. “It’ll do.”

Not even bothering to get a bowl, Presley made her way
back to the bedroom with the ice cream and spoon. If she was going to be up
all night, haunted with vivid flashbacks of a psycho werewolf; she was going to
do so while consuming a vast amount of frozen deliciousness.

Shutting the door as quietly as possible, Presley
inched towards the bed. Her mouth was already watering from the sweet
anticipation of devouring an entire tub of ice cream.

I deserve it, damn it,
she thought with a small,
determined smile.

“Craving a midnight snack, huh?”

The spoon fell from her grasp, clattering against the
floor as she clutched the frost covered container to her chest. Presley
whirled about to see a much darker shadow in the corner of the room. What in
the hell?

She squinted in the darkness, frowning. “Lorcan? What
the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“You woke me up,” he stated simply. Light suddenly
flooded the room as he turned on the lamp and Presley blinked rapidly from
being blinded. “How is anyone supposed to sleep around here with the racket
you’re making?”

Presley’s mouth fell open as her brows furrowed.
Racket? She wasn’t making any noise. She’d been as quiet as possible!

Oh….

“Right,” she rolled her eyes. “Super bear hearing and
all that…” She sighed as she bent down to retrieve the spoon. Great. Now it
was dirty. “Well I’m sorry I woke you up. I was trying to be quiet.”

Lorcan’s chuckle caused her eyes to snap in his
direction. Why was he laughing?

He shook his head slowly as he ran his fingers through
thick, dark locks. “I’m sure you’ll learn it eventually, but you can’t
necessarily be quiet in a house full of ursithropes, Presley.”

“Well, I
tried
. It’s not my fault if you’re a
light sleeper,” she frowned.

“I’m not a light sleeper,” Lorcan responded as he
pulled the office chair away from Liam’s desk and spun it around. He straddled
it as he eased down, resting his muscular arms against the back. “But I wasn’t
necessarily resting very well either.”

“Oh?” Presley asked, half-listening to him as she pried
the lid off the container. She frowned, glancing at the spoon and then looking
back at the ice cream once more. Could the five second rule apply in this
case?

“It’s sort of hard to relax when all I can smell is
you,” Lorcan stated after a moment.

Presley lifted her eyes from the ice cream, meeting
chocolate brown hues before she frowned. “Do I stink or something?” She asked,
fighting off the urge to sniff herself.

Lorcan tilted his head to the side, his eyes remaining
on her face as his tongue traced over his bottom lip. Presley watched as his
nostrils flared. Was he..sniffing?

“Quite the opposite,” he grinned, resting his chin
against his palm. “I think you smell amazing.”

Presley scowled, dropping her gaze to the ice cream as
she tried to think of a clever comeback; her mind went blank.

“That’s weird,” she finally said after a moment. “I
mean, saying that is weird, Lorcan.”

“Why is it weird?” He questioned with a lifted brow.
“It’s no different than a man telling a woman he likes the scent of her
perfume, is it?”

“It
is
different,” she argued as she met his
gaze again. Why was he looking at her like that? “I’m not wearing any perfume
and all I can smell is…” she did smell herself then, and it made her wrinkle
her nose. “I smell like dog.”

“Mm, I was ignoring that stench,” Lorcan frowned. He
pushed up from the chair suddenly, and before Presley had time to make heads or
tails of the situation, he was towering over her. She tilted her head back to
stare up at him.

He was doing it again; looking at her in a way that
made her insides quiver. She swallowed hard before blinking. “Does it smell
that bad?” She asked quietly.

“Horrible,” Lorcan replied in a lower voice. “It’s the
most god awful smell.”

Presley frowned, gripping the container of ice cream
tightly between her hands. She could feel the condensation dripping onto her
fingertips and that did nothing for the heat surging through her body. Why did
she feel so hot all of the sudden?

“I took a shower,” Presley noted. “I shouldn’t smell
like anything other than me.”

“His scent is lingering on you,” Lorcan murmured as he
leaned down. He was nose to nose with her, and Presley was certain that he was
sniffing her. “I don’t like it.”

Licking her dry lips, Presley pulled her head back
slightly from his. “I scrubbed really hard…”

It was just too weird. The whole werewolf/bear thing
still freaked her out, and Presley wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to any of
this. Scents and sounds, rabid beasts trying to attack her; how was a girl
ever supposed to adjust to
that
?

She was pulled out of her thoughts as she felt the tip
of Lorcan’s nose against her cheek. Sweet lord above, what was he doing?!

“It’ll take a little while for that scent to go away,”
Lorcan whispered as he trailed his nose down to her jawline. “I’m afraid no
amount of shampoo or soap will help.”

“Well that’s disappointing,” Presley managed to respond
as she felt his nose moving lower, ghosting over her neck. Her eyes fell
closed against her will and she allowed her head to fall to the side, giving
him more access if he wanted it.

It doesn’t matter what he wants!
She thought as
his hot breath fanned out against her tingling skin.
Don’t let him sniff
you, Presley.

He smells how sweet you are,
another
voice chimed in.
He likes the way we smell.

Oh great.
That
voice
was back. Presley really didn’t want to deal with a split personality on top
of everything else. She would surely be thrown into an asylum for the rest of
her days over this.

We like the way he smells, too.

No, we don’t!

Oh, but she did. She really,
really
did. Lorcan reminded her of pine trees and freshly plucked grass. The
woodsy scent he possessed was tantalizing, and it made her mouth water.

No, no! This is just Lorcan, remember? You got over
that crush a LONG time ago.

As her eyes fluttered open, Presley began to question
if she’d truly gotten over it. She turned her head, allowing the smell of his
hair to infiltrate her nostrils as her mind fogged over. Maybe there was a
single ember still burning somewhere in the back of her mind. Maybe there was
a slight chance that the fourteen year old version of her still occupied a part
of her subconscious, and that fourteen year old her still got the butterflies
upon seeing sixteen year old Lorcan’s face.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you.”

Presley’s inner debate disappeared upon hearing those
words, and she pulled further away to gaze at him. She could see the pained
expression on his face, and for some reason, it jabbed at her own heart.
“What?”

“I’m sorry that I risked your safety like that,” Lorcan
repeated. “I never should have left. I should have trusted my instincts.”

She chewed her lower lip, frowning. “Lorcan, that
wasn’t your fault,” she insisted in a quieter voice. “You were just doing what
Uncle Arnold asked you to do; what I wanted you to do.”

As he stared at her in mild confusion, Presley placed
the ice cream container on the bed beside of her and straightened up. “I’m
tired, and this has been…a lot to take in. Some stupid little part of me
thought that I could go to sleep and make it all go away. I know now that I
was wrong. This isn’t going away, and I’ve got to accept it, somehow. The
thing is…I don’t know when that’s going to happen. How do you accept that
you’re something you never knew could be possible? And furthermore, that
something is what got your father killed and made your mother abandon you?”