Torn Between Her Fated Mates

Chapter 6 - True Lies

BREELYNN'S POV

Leaning against the headboard, my legs are stretched out and crossed at my ankles; it's a lame attempt to keep my virtue intact since I can't be trusted to tell him no. Watching me take tiny bites of my sandwich, Blackie puts his hand on my leg, tracing imaginary lines on me. It tickles and makes my skin bumpy with goose flesh.

“What is your name, Piccola Lupa?”

"Breelynn, what is yours?

"Marco. But I like it when you call me Blackie."

Something dark and unnatural is pulling me to him. Every hackle I have is on full alert, telling me he is a threat, an evil that will consume me, but I don't care. Want and need are at the forefront, so I have to fight a false desire to keep my wits about me.

“What does piccola lupa mean?

"I will tell you when you let me mark you."

Tossing the crust from my sandwich onto the tray, I pick up the bottle of water. "What does that mean? Is it a tattoo of some kind? You keep mentioning a mark, and my mate and I have no idea what you are talking about."

Marco stops playing with my leg and gets up to remove the tray; he sets it on the nightstand next to his side of the bed. Without warning, he sits at the head of the bed but faces me rather than leaning on the headboard. "How about we play a game? Whenever I correctly guess a secret of yours, you have to kiss me."

I can feel the blush on my cheeks as I try with all my power to keep from smiling. "And if you guess wrong or tell me something that isn't a secret?"

Marco rolls his eyes up playfully and nods his head from shoulder to shoulder, pretending to think of something; instantly, his whole face lights. "For every wrong guess, I will give you an hour's head start on your escape from here. We both know you will try to escape; this will give you some assicurazione, insurance."

Honestly, I didn't think there was anything he could offer to make me play his stupid game, but with a few hours of a head start and my hyperspeed, I could be a free woman. In addition to the crazy person in my head, I have a few other peculiar things about me that I can't explain. One of them being I can run insanely fast. "Deal," Marco smirks, and I get a strange knot in my stomach that I am about to lose.

He cups my bruised cheek in his hand and gently caresses it. "Usually, you heal fast, like superhuman fast. I would even guess you have to pretend your injuries last longer than they do so no one would notice how quickly you heal."

Sudden stillness overtook me; he has to be guessing, right, maybe because the scratch on my face his stupid ring gave me is already healed. As if my shock was a silent affirmation, he leaned down to my ear, "You owe me a kiss." Off guard, I barely turned my face, landing my lips on his cheek and paying my debt. Granted, it is quick and chaste, but he never set boundaries.

Annoyed by my platonic friend's kiss, he grabs my chin between his thumb and forefinger and brings my lips from his cheek to his lips. Just a breath away from touching, he looks into my eyes, "Sorry, Piccolo Lupa, all kisses will be on the lips. If not, I will also use a cheater loophole and say that I allowed you an hour head start, but Maverick and Bex did not."

Without an ounce of hesitation, I give him a quick kiss on the lips but pull away instantly as my body struggles to fight the dark pull this man has on me. It may have satisfied the bet, but I can tell it didn't satisfy him or me.

"Better, I guess." Marco moves around, sitting next to me, leaning against the headboard. Not having a chance to react, his body twists at his center; he reaches over, grabs me by my waist, and pulls me to him, spinning me until I am facing him and sitting on his lap. My legs straddle his thighs; my hands are rapidly working to keep my dress from rising and showing my panties.

Once settled, I try to get off him, but Marco puts his hands on my hips, holding me there. My innocent rubbing and grinding movements cause an unexpected chain reaction of him getting hard and me loving the friction between my legs.

His eyes appear to shift color; his fingers dig into my skin. Even though I stopped, my internal battle is still raging. I want something, something I am not even sure ever existed in my life, but the throbbing in my panties wants to discover it.

"Be careful of what you start; I may not be able to control my inner beast." For the life of me, I can't understand why I am so drawn to this guy. He is literally my kidnapper, and I just want to give in to my needs and grind on him until...

"Secret number two," his words are strained, laced with desire and willpower, "you can run fast, again, superhuman fast, scary fast." Simple words have completely disintegrated my inappropriate thoughts and replaced the emotions with anxiety; then, it dawns on me.

"You must have seen me running by the farmer's market in the woods. That's cheating."

Removing his hand from my hip, he taps his lips, demanding his p*****t. Leaning into him, my breasts press into his chest, reigniting the liquid heat in my core. What was meant to be another platonic kiss elevated itself, and my lips were pressed harder against his.

Not sure who initiated it, but neither of us stopped. Although our tongues never touched, our lips opened, sharing each other's breath. He sucked on my bottom lip generating a tiny mewl to escape.

His teeth gently scrape my bottom lip as he pulls away to release it, his breathing shallow. Moving to sit upright, he holds me in place, his body trembling, the vibration reverberating through me. Something shifted in the room; the s****l playfulness was gone and replaced with passion. "Mi stai lentamente rubando qualcosa che non avrei mai pensato di avere, piccolo lupa. Un cuore." His eyes hold mine, demanding a truth I don't have to give. Then it is gone, so fast I wonder if it existed.

I am released from his hold, placed upright on his lap, and his hands return to my hips. "Much better. Number three, four, and five, I want a real kiss for these." Still reeling from the last one, I blush. "That wasn't a real kiss?" With a roguish smile and a raised eyebrow, he doesn't have to verbally answer my question to know his answer.

"Quit stalling, secrets three, four, and five; you can see at distances nobody else can, even at night. You can smell everything, and by everything, you can smell expired milk in the refrigerator from a different room. And your hearing is so acute that if you concentrate, you can hear the heartbeat of a bird nesting in a tree over fifty yards away."

It's impossible; how can he know this about me? Has he been stalking me? Even so, how can you see what someone hears or smells?

All the lust, passion, and playfulness are gone; I try to get away, but he holds me tight. The light in the room is fading; the darkness is weighing in on me as my fear shows its face. He knows, he knows all your secrets, he has taken you, and you don't even know why.

'TRINA, I NEED YOU!' Where is she? I can't…I just can't.

Marco's hands slid up my back and pulled himself up to me, but instead of kissing me on my lips, he trailed tiny kisses from my cheek to my ear lobe. His hands rub my back to soothe me as he whispers, "It's okay, Piccola Lupa; I am not going to tell anyone; your secrets are safe with me, with all of us." He pulls back, and we lock eyes. Looking for deception, malice, lies, or anything to keep me from trusting him, but I see none of that—just understanding.

Caressing hands cup my face as he is studying me. His eyes take in every inch of my face, and then smiles. "This is the last one, Piccola Lupa. Are you ready?" I nod yes, although I am scared. "Sometime around your sixteenth birthday, you started to hear a female voice in your head."

Gathering the rest of my resolve, I shake my head and pull away from him. I don't want to hear it. But his strong arms held me in place. He kept me imprisoned as he continued, "But she isn't like a little voice, it's a full-on personality that you can have conversations with, and she probably says words like shifting, mating, pack, and maybe recently alpha and submit."

Heavy silence encompassed us. Of everything I have experienced today, this was the moment I felt pure panic. I need to get away from him. My lungs lost all air; my head felt light. How, how does he know? I have never told a single soul about Trina, not even the Trauma Psychologist I was forced to see.

Relaxing his grip, I catch him off guard and scramble away, quickly making my escape into the bathroom. I slam the door shut, lock it, and stare at the towels hanging from the rack. I hear Marco walk up to the door and wait for him to try the knob or break it down. But he just stays there.

How did he know that? 'Trina, where are you?' This is impossible; I never told anyone. 'I could use your help; I am sorry I was so mean before; please, Trina, talk to me.'

Gentle knocking on the door tears me from the one-sided conversation with Trina. "I am the same as you, Bree." His deep baritone voice resonates in the room. "The speed, smell, vision, hearing, we are the same. I also have a voice in my head too. His name is Ricco, and if you come out here, I can tell you why we are special."

Watching my hand tremble as I reach for the doorknob, I just want to disappear. "Please, Piccola Lupa, don't you want to know the truth?" With that statement, I pull myself together and open the door. I have wanted to know the truth for so long that being afraid of it now is not an option.

Opening the door, Marco is there, holding his hand out for me; this time, I take it. Leading me to the bed, he has me sitting on it with my legs hanging over the side. Marco squats down in front of me, his eyes looking into mine, not nearly as intense as earlier but full of kindness.

"Think back to the first time you heard the voice in your head; what else happened that day?" My heart starts pounding; the last thing I want to do is think about that f*****g night. I don't know how Marco knows what he does about me, but that night is not open for discussion.

“Calmati, Piccola Lupa. Calm down. There is no need to be frightened; we have all done it." How can he stand there and look at me as if what he says is okay? Nothing about that night was close to being okay.

"Excuse me?" It's all I can mutter; he has me off-kilter.

"I understand that you were alone and scared, but afterward, you must have felt how natural it was?"

"Natural?" There was nothing natural about what that disgusting man did to me; what is Marco talking about?

"Yes, being raised as a human would make the shifting a terrifying event. But once you spoke to your wolf afterward, you would feel the connection; you would bond and realize that you are special. And Breelynn, Piccola Lupa, you are exceptional, but you are not alone anymore. We are all werewolves in this house. You are one of us."

Did he just say werewolf? As in, howl at the moon and stay away from silver bullets, f*****g werewolf? Holy s**t, this guy is insane. Okay, Bree, you are in a locked room with a dangerous, crazy guy who thinks he is a werewolf. This is bad.

And he is staring at me. He is expecting me to react, and since I don't want him to kill me, I think I should respond as if this is all okay.

"Wow. Like, wow. Ummm, werewolves, huh. That's exciting." Way to sound like a total i***t Bree.

"You don't believe me?" He tilts his head to the side, and that cocky smirk that made my knees weak just a few minutes ago now makes him look sinister.

"No, I mean….yeah, I totally….believe you. I mean that…..explains why every full moon I have these odd blackouts and I…..ummm…..wake up super hungry and…..naked?"

Did I just say naked? Fantastic, have the crazy dangerous guy picture you naked?

"Everything you just said is cazzate, bullshit. Are you telling me you have never shifted into a wolf?"

"Hey, if this kind of role play-type thing is what you're into, I don't judge, but I'm not…."

"Answer. The. f*****g. Question."

"Fine, no, I have never turned into a wolf. Are you happy?"

Marco starts pacing the room; he looks unhinged, which doesn't give me a warm fuzzy feeling. He really believes this whole werewolf thing. And I have no idea how to play this out. Do I pretend to believe him or stick to the truth?

"If you're not a werewolf, then explain the person in your head, your speed, hearing, sight, smell, all of that, and what were you doing with that witch and the other wolves? Why would that Alpha pretend that you were his mate?

"Who are you talking about?"

"The old witch whose booth you were at and those two asshats who carried you to their car?"

"Marco, you're scaring me; please just stop."

Everything about his demeanor changes as his entire body softens. His movements are slow and gentle while he makes his way to me and kneels when he is standing in front of me. Making eye contact while taking my hands in his is the final step in shifting the vibe in the room from chaotic to calm.

"I'm not trying to scare you, Piccola Lupa; I am trying to make you realize the truth, we're werewolves. You are my destined mate, my Luna, and we will rule our pack together."

Pulling my hands out from his and sitting up straighter on the bed, I am forced to fully comprehend the situation I am in.

First, there is a bizarre pull towards him that I can't fight. And despite every boyfriend I have ever been with being unable to kiss me passionately without my suffering a full-on panic attack, this guy has had me kissing and grinding on him in his bed.

And second, well, he thinks we are werewolves. This doesn't feel like a situation that will end well for me.