Bound by Obsession (Shadowed Souls #2)

1. Chapter One

“ O h, Little Swan. It means you always were a Shadowed Soul after all.”

Those words flutter on the edge of my consciousness as I rouse from yet another fitful sleep. Huxley is flush to my back, his deep even breathing fanning my ear. Each morning, I wake naturally before the sun, allowing me a fleeting moment of reflection before the confusion and worry sets back in.

Within my mind, there is a constant, slow ticking. How long will I be safe here before Fredrick comes for me? What am I going to do when he does? Fight with those who have proven their loyalty to me, or go quietly to save them from any more pain? The answer isn’t clear, but the ticking remains, my soul reminding me I’m on borrowed time.

The days have been slipping by, each one becoming lost since Wyatt…well, since he became lost too. I haven’t brought him up. No doubt, the others know where he is. What he’s up to. I don’t want to know. The way he looked at me when he left. So filled with hatred, regret and revulsion. I couldn’t comprehend the feelings at that time.

My twin. My own flesh and blood. The other half to my soul, apparently. I had finally been gifted with something in life that was real. A person irrevocably connected to me since birth. But the reality of what we did, what I did, came crashing down like a ton of bricks.

Lying still in the dark and maintaining the pretense of sleep, I slowly build up the layers around my heart, burying it far beneath the surface. Huxley shifts and rolls over, his movement giving me the green light to launch myself from the bed without him noticing. Dropping from the mattress into a crouch on the floor, I peek to check he’s still asleep. The cover rises and falls smoothly over his new position on his left side. Picking up my phone from the bedside table, I tiptoe on silent feet around the bed. I make it all the way to the bathroom door before his voice echoes throughout the room.

“Where are you going?”

“I need a shower.” My tone is too sharp, escaping before I can clamp my teeth down onto my lower lip. For so many nights, Huxley’s room was an oasis. It’s quickly becoming a steel-barred cage. I need to excuse myself before I say something I’ll regret. None of this is Huxley’s fault, he was just the messenger. The bearer of bad news. He’s the one who told me I didn’t really know who I am. He turned my world on its axis. My brain just needs a little more convincing to separate those facts.

“I’m sorry. I just…I’m going to shower. You should go back to sleep, it’s early.”

“Do you want me to sit in with you?” Hux asks hopefully, pushing himself upright. His blond hair tumbles over his shoulders as he blinks the sleep from his eyes. The pink, puckered scar on his broad chest is barely visible as the early rays of sun begin to spill through the curtains. I know Huxley means well, and the puppy dog look in his eyes almost makes me say yes but I need some space. His protectiveness is suffocating me.

“It’s fine. I’ll be back soon.” I disappear through the door and sag against the counter on a sigh. Checking my phone, the screen illuminates with a selfie of Meg and I at last year’s New Year’s party. Her eyes are glimmering to the purest shade of aquamarine in the flash, her red painted lips curved into a huge smile as I’m running the pad of my tongue up her cheek.

My heart twists painfully. The festive season is fast approaching. I’d hoped that, whatever my life looked like at this point, I could rely on being back at the manor with Meg at my side. Pushing back the tears, I open the contacts and tap on Meg’s name. Holding the phone to my ear, I try to steady my breathing. The entire weight of the world is resting on my shoulders, threatening to crush me flat.

With each drone, I silently beg her to pick up and my hopefulness slowly ebbs into dread. I know it’s nearing the end of semester and she will be busy trying to wrap everything up, ready to return home. I vaguely remember Meg’s lacrosse team had a big match last weekend, and I suddenly feel even worse. Shit, I’ve been a terrible friend. I’ll apologize as soon as she-

‘ Sorry, we are unable to connect your call at this time. Please try again later.’ As I listen to Meg’s automated message play, I slump to the floor. The backs of my eyes sting as I try to keep my voice as level as possible.

“Hey Meg, I don’t want to bother you. I know you’re super busy and I hope the game went well. I just needed to say that I really miss you. We’ve never gone this long without talking. There’s so much I need to tell you and really need your opinion on. It’s not the same being here with only the boys to talk to. So, give me a call if you get a chance. l love- ”

A beep cuts me off and I toss the cell, hugging my knees and leaning my forehead against them. Those blasted tears I’ve been fighting begin to fall onto my bare thighs, running a trail down to my pajama shorts. The floodgates are open now and I don’t know how to close them. My body shakes violently with loud sobs I can’t conceal. Distantly, the sound of the door opening reaches my ears and causes me to glance through the watered glaze in my eyes to see Dax approaching.

Bending low to collect me from the floor, I slide my arms around his neck as he straightens with ease. I bury my face in his black T-shirt. The firmness of his chest beneath the fabric presses against my cheek, a solid support for my limp body.

Carrying me to my own room, Dax sits on the edge of my bed and cradles me tightly while I use his warmth and scent to reign myself back in. His sea mineral scent, filling my senses with each deep exhale I force myself to take. He doesn’t say a word, just holds me and rests his cheek on top of my head. His growing afro tickles my ear. Despite myself, I find a small smile behind the sorrow. Shifting my head so I can glance over his darkly tanned shoulder, I see ominous dark clouds filling the sky through the glass.

“Did he come home last night?” I ask quietly. Dax shakes his head and strokes my arm gently, causing goosebumps to rise beneath his touch. Sleeping next to Huxley is like having a radiator in the bed, but now I’m sitting in a flimsy top and shorts combo in an approaching winter. Dax’s shoulder bunches as he reaches over to my pillow, pulling the orange hoodie out from beneath it. The burn of a flush ignites in my cheeks, embarrassment flooding me as I accept Wyatt’s hoodie with an awkward thanks. I know it’s wrong to keep a piece of your step-brother’s clothing hidden beneath your pillow so his scent is nearby. Or my…whatever-he-is.

Slipping the hoodie over my head, I remain huddled into Dax until I hear the splatter of rain against the glass behind us. It looks like I’m going to spend another day stuck in the frat house with four brooding guys. They are missing Wyatt, and the void is too obvious to ignore. Their self-appointed leader of their group has gone AWOL and their dynamic has shifted massively. Huxley is back to hiding away, Axel and Garrett have coupled up again and Dax has taken it upon himself to be my comfort blanket.

“I’ll fix breakfast. Come down when you’re ready.” Dax kisses my head and places me aside. I watch him leave, a heart wrenching pull almost tugging me straight after him.

That’s the difference. Huxley says he can’t sleep without me, asks to sit in while I shower, and wants me to eat in his room with him. Dax gives me space and is prepared to wait for when I’m ready, yet can perfectly gauge when I need picking up off the ground. Literally. It’s not that I’m questioning my feelings for Huxley, but that our relationship is going at a different pace. I need to slam my foot on the break and remind him there are boundaries.

Yanking on a pair of soft gray tracksuit bottoms, I twist my hair up and secure it with a claw clip. Spraying myself with antiperspirant, deciding to have my shower later, I step into the hallway to see Axel and Garrett heading down the stairs. Thankfully, their attention is on each other, allowing me to hang back in my doorway unseen. I don’t know what’s bothering me more, the way we’re all ignoring the obvious or the long looks I keep receiving. Are they waiting for me to crack, scream and lash out? Maybe they’ve forgotten I’ve spent my childhood alone in a cupboard. Internalizing is my specialty.

I sigh. Let’s get this over with. Ignoring the stacks of paperwork littering the dining table, confirming that Cathy did in fact give birth to twins, I head directly for the kitchen island. There’s a steaming mug of tea waiting for me, and Dax flashes a wide smile as I appear. Always so happy to see me. His pearly whites are perfectly straight and his blue eyes shimmer, giving me a wink as I perch on a stool in front of the steaming mug. He’s magnetic. The way he moves, smoothly gliding from one pan to the next, his hips swaying to the music his phone is playing in the background.

Garrett appears as soon as the scent of eggs and bacon fill the air, Axel’s fingers intertwined with his. The three of us are swept up with the show, especially when Dax splashes oil on his T-shirt and whips it off, tucking it into his waistband. Tanned muscle tenses reaching across the kitchen for a spatula. Holy mother of Brazilians. Misjudging the mug, boiling liquid spills over the edge. I shoot up with a hiss, large hands ushering me to the basin. Axel forces my palm under an icy spray of water while I struggle against him.

“Axe, it’s fine. Just leave it.” His grip on my wrist doesn’t budge, his hazel eyes stern.

“It’s not fine. Twenty minutes of cold water will stabilize the blood vessels and prevent blistering.” When it comes to first aid, Axel doesn’t leave any room for argument. Unfortunately, I'm not in the mood for a lecture.

“So what? A blister isn’t the height of my problems right now.” That bitchy tone has returned in full force, clearly having no filter on who receives it today. Groaning, I drop my head against Axel’s shoulder and relent my struggles. I need to get a handle on myself. “I just mean, what’s the point of trying to protect me anymore? The world seems set on screwing me over.”

Axel’s free hand skates to my chin, tilting my head up to look at him. The sternness in his gaze ebbs away, relieving the raw emotion I’m used to in him.

“I told you, I would always protect you. Nothing has changed there.” I melt into his touch, my eyes closing briefly. Those strong fingers remain on my chin, basically holding me up as another shifts in behind.

“I get what this really is about.” I twist to raise a brow at Garrett’s solemn appearance, his brows furrowed beneath a mess of dark hair.

“You do?”

He leans against the counter, nodding to himself. “You don’t want to heal the hand you jerked off your twin brother with.”

“Dude?!” Dax yells, smacking the back of Garrett’s head at the same time as Axel shouts, “What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Despite all of this, Garrett can’t hide his grin. Oh how he loves stirring shit up first thing in the morning. He reaches for some paper towels, crossing the kitchen to clean the island. When the mug has been wiped down, Garrett gently places the remaining tea into my uninjured hand.

“He’s not, by the way.” Garrett’s tongue rolls across his teeth, barely containing whatever bait he’s dangling for me, his eyes gleaming with a dare. With nothing else to do while Axel is continuing to hold my hand hostage under the water, I bite.

“Who’s not what?”

His answering grin is too smug not to want to punch him. “Wyatt. He’s not your twin brother.” I feel myself harden at the same time Axel does. Dax has given up on cooking, all the stoves off and a hand towel thrown over his shoulder. Everyone is still, except Garrett who’s starting to vibrate with smugness.

“If this is a prank,” I say carefully, “it’s not funny.” Garrett rolls his eyes, as if such a notion is ridiculous. Whipping a piece of crumpled, folded paper out of his shorts pocket, he waves it around for all to see. Even Huxley, who has appeared at the kitchen island since I last looked.

“I raided Wyatt’s room for some hair samples, and you shed all over the house. It’s like having a cat,” Garrett picks a hair from his T-shirt and flicks it away. It was most definitely one of his own. “And then there was the old brush in the box under your bed labeled ‘Mom’s stuff’. I sent all three samples off to a lab for DNA testing.”

I reckon a gut punch would have had less effect.

“And you’re only just telling me now?!” I gasp, simultaneously throwing the mug into the basin and jerking my hand free. Reaching for the paper, Garrett holds it high out of my reach.

“I mean, even on express, these things take time. It’s not magic, you know.” Garrett is rolling his eyes and tutting while I prepare to climb him like a tree.

“Give it to me!” I shriek. Garrett’s laugh echoes through his chest.

“Oh, I’ve missed hearing those words.” After a few more failed attempts, I grow frustrated and shove at his chest with one wet and one dry hand.

“Tell me what it says,” I almost plead, encasing my desperation within anger. It’s naive to think these guys don’t know exactly how eager I am to hear the slither of truth Garrett is feeding me. If Wyatt isn’t my twin, everything can be okay in the world again. I can shed this shit-ton of guilt consuming me. Wyatt always worried I would drive a wedge between him and his Shadowed Souls. He was right.

“Take a seat,” Garrett nudges me towards Huxley. I don’t immediately respond. “Trust me. You’re going to need it.” As soon as my butt touches the stool, Garrett lays out the page. He takes the time to smooth out the creases, his hand pausing over a paragraph at the bottom of the page. The others crowd in around me, three muscled men holding their breath as Garrett talks us through the results. “See here, there are no genetic markers between you and Wyatt. You’re not related.”

My heart is unraveling. The relief is too much to comprehend, and I’m not even thinking about how long Garrett has had this piece of paper. Instead, I poke at his fingers still shielding the bottom section.

“And this?” I look into Garrett’s dark gaze. He’s a sucker for my large eyes and the slight frown I put on for him. Chewing on his inner cheek, he looks the most nervous I’ve seen him all morning as he removes his hand.

“There’s always a catch, Peach. Turns out Wyatt doesn’t match the markers to Cathy either. But you do.” The silence in the room is thick enough to choke. No one wants to speak first and I finally understand. This is what Garrett had been hiding. Not for my sake, but for Wyatt’s. Once this truth is out in the world, everyone will know. Wyatt will be devastated. Garrett folds the paper and tucks it back in his pocket, then takes both of my hands tenderly in his. I’ve accepted that I’ll be getting that blister after all.

“You’re her daughter. Wyatt is not her son.”

I shake my head. Lifting the neckline of the orange hoodie, I dip the lower half of my face into it. The expensive cologne still clinging to the fabric grounds me, an anchor to a world turning on its axis once again. Why can’t I just be a normal girl, going to a normal school where nothing that isn’t normal happens to her?

Of course, there’s been so many times I would pretend Cathy was my real mom. She loved me without limits, gave me all of her attention and affection. Since the diary pages surfaced, this was the one part I hadn’t dare let myself wish for. I couldn’t handle that glimmer of hope being snuffed out. But there’s no use denying the black and white text on the page. I’m Cathy Hughes’ biological daughter. I have a real mom. Well, had .

“We can’t tell anyone this.” I breathe harshly. Huxley’s firm bicep shifts against me, his voice of reason ringing out.

“We can’t lie to him, Little Swan. He deserves to know.” It’s true. I know that as much as I can detect the twinge of regret in Huxley’s tone. He doesn’t want to be the one who keeps disagreeing with me, but he is right. I can’t hold that against him any longer. Shaking off the men caging me in, I round Huxley’s stool and tug on his arm.

“I’m ready for that shower now.”

“Really?” Huxley asks, too full of hope to deny. My smile is small as I give him another tug. He stands, towering over me yet pausing until I walk first. These men are used to a leader, someone to bind them together. I suppose I can step up temporarily.

“Everyone get ready and pack an overnight bag. Meet back here in an hour.”

“Where are we going?” Dax asks, glancing over at the unfinished breakfast. He doesn’t need to worry, Garrett is looking in the same direction and visibly salivating.

I squeeze Huxley’s arm for reassurance. “We’re bringing Wyatt home.” Like a snap of a rubber band, the energy in the room suddenly becomes charged. The men are beaming, nudging each other playfully. The stress of the past week fizzles away just like that and before he heads out, Axel places a kiss on my forehead.

“I hope you’re ready to drag him back kicking and screaming,” he chuckles. Oh, I’m not ready at all, but for the men in this room, I’m quickly coming to realize I’d do anything.