Chapter 63

#Chapter 63 – Everything According to Plan “I didn’t mean it,” Amelia gasps, looking down at Ian and tugging his arm to pull him to his feet.

“Owwww!” Ian shouts, howling even louder.

“Just leave him!” Victor says, shooting her a dirty look and crouching down beside his boy. “Are you okay, Ian?”

“My shoulder,” Ian sniffs, “it really hurts.”

“Can you sit up?” Victor gently helps him into a sitting position and then gently probes his right shoulder with his fingers. “Yeah, it’s dislocated, buddy. I’m going to pop it back in, but it’s going to hurt a little.

Can you be brave?”

Ian sniffs but nods his head. Victor takes a moment positioning the arm and then gives it a sharp yank.

Ian howls louder for a moment and then tests his arm, smiling. “Okay,” he says. “That feels better.”

“You have to go gentle with it,” Victor says, turning his attention to the cut on Ian’s arm. “It’s going to be sore for a couple of days. Come on, let’s go get a Band-Aid on this cut.”

As Victor stands up, he gives Amelia a dirty look.

“It was an accident,” she insists, stomping her foot, her face pale and grave. “He jumped at me – he was flying through the air! Stalking me, like I was his prey!”

“He was just playing around,” Victor says, his voice cold. “You have to communicate to him that he’s going too far, not just knock him around.”

“I didn’t have a chance –“ she insists.

“You dislocated his shoulder, Amelia,” Victor says, raising his voice and ending the debate. “I think there’s room to say that there was another solution to the problem.” With that, he turns, pointing Ian towards the bathroom.

Amelia watches them go, frustration and anger boiling over in her, tears filling up her eyes.

“It’s okay, Amelia,” Alvin says, wrapping his arms around her leg and smiling up at her. “You didn’t mean it.”

“Get off of me,” she snaps, shaking her leg to dislodge the boy. She can’t take being touched right now, not by one of those boys –

“OW!” Alvin screams and Amelia jumps at the sound. Though she barely moved her leg, Alvin falls away from her – directly into the sharp debris left by the broken glass. Alvin falls hard on his rump, his hands going directly into the shards as he works to balance himself. “OWWW!!” he screams even louder.

Victor and Ian spin back, taking in the scene – Amelia shocked, Alvin sitting in the glass, crying, staring at his hands which prick red with the start of new blood.

Victor stalks over to them. “Are you serious, Amelia?” He hisses, bringing his face very close to hers.

“She…she pushed me!” Alvin whimpers, staring up at her with a betrayed look on his face.

“I didn’t –“ Amelia gasps.

“You’ve gone too far, Amelia,” Victor growls, his snarling teeth inches from her. “I will not let you touch my sons, let you hurt them like this. Shoving a little boy who was just trying to comfort you – he’s six, Amelia.”

“I –“ Amelia begins to tremble, hardly able to figure out what just happened.

Victor backs off, still glaring at her, and stoops down to pick up his son, who wraps his arms around Victor’s neck, careful to keep his hands free. “Come on, buddy,” Victor says gently to Alvin. “Let’s go get you and your brother cleaned up.”

Together, the three walk towards the bathroom. As they go, Alvin picks his teary face up off of Victor’s shoulder and looks directly back at Amelia, giving her a wicked grin.

About forty-five minutes later, the boys are cozied up on the couch, wrapped in their favorite blankets.

The mood is noticeably more subdued than it was earlier, but Victor doesn’t mind. He’s exhausted now – exhausted with frustration, and anger, and disappointment in Amelia. How could she behave like this, with his children, of all things?

And if this is how she treats two little boys just trying to play with her, to comfort her, how was she going to be with her own children?

Victor grinds his teeth, staring down at the tubs of ice cream waiting on the counter. He’s promised the boys a big bowl each but…

Damnit. He needs a drink first.

Letting the ice cream sit, Victor heads for the bar in the corner and grabs the decanter of whiskey, pouring himself a big serving in his favorite cut-glass tumbler. Then he moves to the freezer, removing one large ice cube that he pops into the glass.

Victor moves to the back door. “I’ll be back inside in a minute, boys,” he calls. “Just getting fresh air.”

The boys don’t respond, except for one small bandaged hand popping up over the couch, giving him a thumbs-up.

Laughing, Victor heads out the door.

He walks down to the pool, letting the cool air and the whiskey do their work on his nerves.

The more time I spend with Amelia and the boys, Victor thinks, the more I realize that this is just… not her world. He shakes his head, wondering.

When he first met Amelia, their mating bond snapped into place almost instantly and, from that moment, they were inseparable. Hardly ever apart, hardly ever out of bed. It had seemed like their lives were so aligned. She was everything he ever imagined the perfect Luna would be – beautiful, chic, sophisticated, smart, charming.

But now, he realized, that was precisely the world she wanted: beautiful, chic, sophisticated. And life with kids…it wasn’t always that. It was frequently the opposite.

If only she could be more like Evelyn, Victor suddenly finds himself thinking. A great mom, but also clever, willful, graceful, with her lightening smile and that laugh…

He stops himself there, willing himself not to let his thoughts go any further. Damnit. Victor clenches his teeth in determination.

But there really was just…something about Evelyn. About her kindness, her flexibility. She’s stubborn, certainly but – at least she stands up for what she wants, fighting for it, instead of resorting to underhanded tricks in the bedroom.

And the way that her ass fits into those jeans….

Victor grinds his teeth, swallowing the rest of his whiskey in one gulp and pressing the heel of his palm to his eye. f**k, he thinks. f**k. He’s a mated man, getting married in a month, to the love of his life.

Amelia. To Amelia, the most beautiful woman in the world.

As Victor takes a deep breath and looks up into the sky, seeking to control his thoughts, he notices a light out of the corner of his eye. Not from his house, but through the woods – from the cottage.

Victor turns toward it. Was that shining just a minute ago?

Evelyn was out for the night, Victor tells himself. Was it an intruder? He’d better check. Ignoring the better impulses that tell him it’s none of his business, Victor crosses his yard and presses through the wood. It’s his house, after all.

As he approaches, the little rectangle of light grows larger, emitting a friendly orange glow. Evelyn’s kitchen window, Victor realizes. He hadn’t been aware, before, that he could see it from his yard.

Perhaps the falling leaves, at the end of November, finally revealed it.

Victor pauses at the edge of the woods, not quite entering Evelyn’s yard, but staying in the darkness of the trees. There’s movement in there, in her kitchen.

As he watches, Evelyn approaches the window, filling a glass of water in the sink and laughing as she does so. Her face lights up in that moment, her eyes crinkling with joy and fun and Victor–

He wishes, suddenly, that he was there tonight. In Evelyn’s cozy little house, laughing with her, with their boys. She doesn’t mind a mess, wouldn’t have turned her nose up at –

Suddenly, another figure enters the scene. Edgar, wrapping his arms around Evelyn from behind, laughing with her. She turns in his arms and they suddenly grow serious. Edgar lifts her up, seating her on the counter by the sink, kissing her, wrapping his fingers in her hair.

Victor feels his stomach turn, his own hands curling into fists, his claws pricking at the edges of his fingers. Edgar pulls Evelyn’s head back, exposing her throat. Then he kisses her neck, runs his tongue along the length of it, bares his teeth to press them against the soft skin where her blood pulses close to the surface of her skin.

Evelyn gasps and Victor feels himself stirring inside, recognizing that look of ecstasy on her face. He growls, watching as Edgar rips her dress from her shoulders, pushing it roughly down, as Evelyn grabs Edgar by the short hair at the back of his head, pulling him back to her hungry mouth, wrapping her legs around him –

Victor snaps his head away, pressing his eyes closed, holding back the feral roar that builds inside his throat, every muscle in his body rigid with defiance, screaming mine mine mine.

In his hand, the tumbler shatters, slicing his palm. Victor lets the pieces of glass fall to the ground, blood dripping on top of them, before turning away to walk slowly back to his house.