Page 117 of Lavender and Lightning

“You watch your tone with my pack mate,” Rhett growls, turning his gaze to glare at Pastor Joe.

“Pack mate?” Samuel asks, true confusion coming through.

“This is absurd. Sam–”

“Silence, Diane,” my father snaps as my mother tries to interrupt, and like the obedient wife, she listens and backs off.

“The Lord has spoken, and He has shown us the way. Lydia is to belong to our son, as–”

“God doesn’t get to decide that, and neither do you nor my father!” I shout, cutting across Pastor Joe. I take Rhett’s hand tight in my own, stomach twisting as I feel how sticky it is with blood. “I decide that. And I’ve made my choice.”

There’s a low moan that draws all of our attention, and I suck in a sharp breath through my nose. Darren is getting to his feet, though very shakily. He can barely hold his head up, and the lower half of his face is swollen almost beyond recognition. He staggers forward a step, standing level with my father and within arm’s reach of me and Rhett.

“Omega whore,” he says, words garbled as he barely manages to open his mouth to speak.

I hold my breath, watching as the barest hint of a smirk crosses his face. Then, before I can react, he hocks and spits a glob of red in my face. My gag reflex is instant, and I double over retching as I try to wipe the spit and blood away. Rhett’s hand comes free from mine, and I look up just in time to him kicking out with his bad leg at Darren’s knee. There’s a crack like a baseball bat connecting with a ball, and Darren crumples. There’s shouting, a woman’s scream, but no one is fast enough to stop Rhett’s fist from connecting with Darren’s jaw once, twice, and then he goes down, unconscious again.

I straighten as my stomach settles, though I still feel the burn of bile in the back of my throat. Sam and Jason are holding Adam, who is swearing to make Rhett pay and half a dozen other things. My eyes connect with theirs, and Sam gives me a sad, resigned look while Jason looks determined. But even through those emotions, I can sense their silent plea for me to leave. Pastor Joe is on the ground, fanning his wife, who has appeared to have fainted. Rhett and Samuel are chest-to-chest, eyes level with each other.

“Pack St. Clair claims Lydia Anderson. Come near her, and we’ll make sure it’s the last thing you ever do,” Rhett growls.

“Is that a threat?” Samuel responds, sounding almost amused.

“I don’t make threats,” Rhett responds.

“Lydia, are you going to let your father be disrespected like this?” Diane screams, motioning wildly.

I look at her, really look at her for the first time. She’s an aging beauty, past her prime. Her dress and makeup overpower whatever charm could be lying beneath the surface. She looks on the edge of tears, desperation twisting her face into something ugly.

“Let’s go home, Rhett,” I say softly, taking his hand again.

Rhett turns when I tug lightly, and I let him lean on me as we turn our backs on my family for the last time. Caleb watches for a long moment, following after us, but keeping his body angled to keep watching behind us.

“You don’t get to walk away, you ungrateful little bitch! I raised you, and you–”

“Do not take another step closer, or I will be forced to take appropriate countermeasures,” Caleb growls.

Rhett and I whip around and Caleb’s facing away from us, gun drawn but down at his side.

Completely undeterred, Diane takes another step forward and glares at me. “You walk away, and I will make you regret ever daring to defy me. You think you’ve known suffering? I will teach you–”

“Are you making threats against the life of my charge? Because if that’s the case…”

Caleb’s soft, Eastern-European accented voice still manages to cut through my mother’s tantrum. Even the insects seem to go still as the gentle ‘click’ of the hammer being cocked fills the gulf between us.

“Diane, enough. Let them go,” Samuel orders, but not in a true bark.

I wonder for a moment if she’s going to take the risk, to call the bluff. But she backs down, taking a step back, though her glare never wavers.

“Voyin,the car is at the end of the path. Go,” Caleb instructs, not taking his eyes off them.

I nod, trying to contain my trembling long enough to get Rhett and myself into the backseat of the SUV. Moments later, Caleb is in the front, and in a spray of gravel, we’re off into the night.

fifty-two

Lydia

IlookupintoCaleb’s eyes as we make our way through the nearly deserted New Orleans streets toward the CBD. He’s focused entirely on the road, but his eyes flick back to meet mine for a heartbeat. I nod my thanks, not trusting my voice right now. He blinks in acknowledgement before going back to watching the road.

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