Brothersong (Green Creek #4) - T.J. Klune Page 0,50
being in his head. If he felt untethered and lost in a storm of violet rage.
And then he said, “Thomas,” and my heart stuttered in my chest. “Thomas Bennett.”
“Yeah,” I said hoarsely. “That’s… yeah. My dad. I know, man. Right? I know what it’s like. To have them be gone.”
He shook his head. “Not that. He told me. Alpha. Thomas. About wolves. About witches. Magic and monsters.”
The room swayed around me as my vision doubled. “What?”
His nostrils flared. “He came here. When I was a kid. Told me things.”
“How?” I asked, and it was blue. All of this. This house. This place. His words. Everything was blue.
“His father. Alpha.”
“Abel.” My grandfather.
He nodded. “Thomas said he put me here. Hid me away. Gave me away. I hate him. He’s dead, and I’m happy he’s dead. I don’t have to kill him.”
“I didn’t know.”
Gavin glanced at me before looking down at his bare feet. “Secrets. Everything is secrets.”
That I knew.
And then Gavin said, “I looked for him. After. In Green Creek. Years after.”
I took a step back, a buzzing sound in my ears. I felt unmoored, anchorless and floating away. “When?”
He must have heard the thunderous beat of my heart, the tangy sting of sweat on my skin. He looked at me miserably, and I never wanted to see that expression on his face again. His anger I could deal with. His wrath I could take. This was too much.
He said, “He was already dead. I didn’t know. With others. Omegas. Went to Green Creek.” His hands flexed, blood smeared on his palm though the wound had already healed. “You were… gone. With your brothers. And Gordo.” This last was said with a sneer. “The others remained. Omega took girl. Jessie. Tried to use her. Ox came. Not a wolf. But still an Alpha. He asked a question.”
“What is your name?” I whispered, the memory of what I’d been told rising like a ghost. They’d killed the ones who’d attacked. They let the others go. We’d found one of them in the town of Portal. Gordo had— “Oh Jesus Christ. You were there. You were there. All this time. They knew you. They knew you.”
His eyes flashed, but all I felt from him was an ocean of blue. “Didn’t hurt them. Didn’t want to hurt them. I….” He took a step back. I couldn’t breathe. He said, “Left. Away, away, away. Caught. By hunter. By Elijah.” He spat her name like a curse. “Chain. Around neck. Always silver. Always choking. Dying. I wanted to die. But she wouldn’t let me.” He looked around wildly. “This house. Haunted. Only ghosts. Everything is haunting me.” He glared at me. “You’re haunting me. Gavin, Gavin, Gavin. That’s all you say. Why, Gavin, why. How, Gavin, how. You never stop.”
I was spiraling out of control, barely able to keep up. “I can’t.”
“I hear you,” he said. “Talking. To Kelly. To ghosts. He’s not real. Maybe you’re not real too. Dreaming. I’m dreaming. I want to wake up. I want to wake up. I want to wake up!”
He lurched forward, and I steeled myself for an impact. But he didn’t go for me. He flipped the old bed over. The rusty framed snapped. He went to the walls, claws extended as he tore into them, plaster breaking and raining down around him. It looked like snow in his hair.
I grabbed him from behind, pinning his arms to his sides. He roared, kicking his feet up against the wall and pushing off, causing me to stagger backward. I kept upright and held on as tightly as I could. “Gavin, stop.”
He panted as he laid his head back on my shoulder, his cheek scraping against mine. The scent of him, of the wild and untamed forest, flooded my mouth. I wanted to bite into him. Make him bleed. Hurt him for hurting me.
He howled then, the cords on his neck sticking out in sharp relief. It made my skin vibrate, and I knew what it meant to want to wake up, to want to know this was real.
I said, “You’re not alone.”
I said, “Not anymore.”
I said, “I’m here. Okay?”
I said, “I’m here. I swear it.”
I said, “I’m real.”
He sagged against me, his skin too warm and slick, and as I whispered to him, as I told him again and again that I was real, I felt him shake and shudder.
I held on for dear life.
HE SAID, “I STAYED. Because I couldn’t run. Not anymore. Tired.”