Chapter Eighty

Havermouth, Present Time

Aislen swaggered along the main street feeling rather pleased with herself. She stopped into a couple of the boutique clothing stores and found a pretty, sheer, ruffled blouse and a black wriggle skirt that, when paired together, were perfection. A lingerie shop had her fantasizing about Talen as she selected a few matching sets, lace topped stockings, and a satin camisole and shorts pairing.

The Secret Keeper was visible in all the businesses, along with the pool that each shop was running, and someone had begun adding “Vote The Secret Keeper for Mayor!” posters.

“The Secret Keeper for Mayor?” She commented to the shop assistant as her purchases were tissue wrapped and bagged.

“It’s looking that way,” the woman was amused. “But honestly, he couldn’t do worse than the current mayor. At least he’s got a policy of transparency,” she laughed.

“He?”

“Ah, well, you know,” the woman shrugged. “There are a few theories going around about who it could be. The most popular is a self-appointed reporter, Leighton Richard, who publishes a small paper once a month, The Havermouth Expose, around his pottery business. It’s quite popular for speaking about things that the official town paper won’t address.”

“Leighton Richard, eh?” Aislen repeated. “I’ll have to check it, and him, out.”

“He’s well worth checking out,” the sales assistant winked. “Not that this town is short of eye candy.”

As Aislen left the shop, she almost walked straight into Rhett. He was holding a tray of coffee, and stopped dead, looking down at her, whilst the pedestrian traffic flowed around them. His eyes lifted to the store mannequins in their lacey lingerie before dropping to her bags, and his expression became strained, his pupils dilating.

“Hello, Rhett,” she said, as the silence dragged out between them, and he seemed to not know how to proceed. “Your coffee is getting cold.”

He looked down at the tray that he held, his hair falling over his face. “Aislen…”

“I saw Cameron yesterday,” she said. “Fucked him on my front porch, in fact.”

“Yeah,” he swallowed hard. “I heard. You didn’t leave. You stayed…” He stepped closer to her, holding the tray with one hand. “That means something, Aislen, that you chose to stay.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “It means something, but I’m not entirely sure what.”

“Walk with me?” He asked softly, reaching out and running his fingers through her hair. “Please. We need to talk…”

She looked up at him, and could almost taste him on her tongue, could almost feel the touch of his lip piercing against her skin. “I think I’d better not,” she decided. “I didn’t mean to fuck Cameron, that kind of just happened. But if I go with you now, we both know that…”

He leaned over and kissed her, his thoughts spilling into her, images of the little office, closing the door and fucking her on the desk, his mouth on her skin, and her hair spilling lushly over the paperwork.

Her heart raced. “Ah, fuck it,” she groaned. “What is it about you three?” She demanded unsteadily.

“Aislen… Please,” he whispered, his cheek against hers and his lips near her ear, his fingers in her hair, cupping her skull. “We cannot talk here.”

“We never talk at all,” she pointed out, and then sighed. “Fine.”

He pulled back and caught her hand in his. “Come with me.” He set off down the street at a pace that had her almost trotting, his urgency communicated through their joined hands, along with a tumble of thoughts. (Last chance… She has stayed, that must mean something… There must be a way to put things right… Not prepared to give up…)

He turned towards the tattoo parlour, the bell over the door ringing as he opened it for her. There were customers being worked on, and all eyes went to her and Rhett as they entered. “Here,” he set the tray onto a table. “Coffee.” He continued into the office, drawing her along with him, closing the door and locking it.

The music playing in the parlour was muted by the door shutting. He released her hand and cupped her face instead, lifting her mouth to his, kissing her with absolute focus and intensity. Her shopping bags slipped from her fingers.

There was a knock on the door, and Rhett released her with a curse. “I’m busy,” he yelled.

“Rhett,” Heath’s voice was muffled.

“Fuck,” Rhett groaned, and ran his hands through his hair. He stepped over and unlocked the door. Heath stepped inside and looked between Aislen and Rhett without surprise. “It was a dumb move, Rhett,” he said cuttingly, as he closed the door behind him. “Kissing her on the main street and then bringing her back here. It’s all over town. I heard about it within five minutes…”

“I know,” Rhett gripped his face between his hands. “I know. But…”

“Not here,” Heath said, and stooped to pick up Aislen’s bags. “Call Cameron and we’ll go to the river house.”

“No, we will the fuck not,” Aislen said immediately.

Heath looked at her for a long moment, a muscle working in the corner of his jaw, and she could see the argument play out over his face.

“No,” she repeated, shaking her head. She took her bags from his hand. “Here’s what is going to happen. You are going to call Cameron, and the three of you are going to come to my house. And the four of us are going to sit down around the table and talk this out like the adults we are.”

“Heath,” Rhett murmured.

“Alright,” Heath said slowly. “But if we have this conversation, Aislen, you have to understand that…”

“I have known what you are since the first time that we met, Heath Gale, and I have kept that secret,” she reminded him. “You know what I am, and how I know. An equalizer,” she said tartly.

“You know nothing,” Heath replied with a sneer. “That is the entire problem, Aislen. You think that you know more than you do.”

“And whose fault is that?” She demanded. “Have you ever considered that this would have gone differently if you had simply talked to me in the first place?”

“We are not free to talk,” Heath replied. “We endanger your life if we talk, and I think you know that. You think you’re so clever with your little fucking Secret Keeper bulletin, your pithy little rhymes. All you have done is expose yourself, Aislen. You have no idea the danger that you are in.”

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” She replied snidely. “That my secret identity threatens your campaign to be mayor."

His wolf leapt into his eyes, and for a moment, she saw a ripple cross his features and realized that she angered him to the point of losing control of his shift. He fought his anger back. “You are a curse,” he snarled. “I don’t know what sin we committed in a previous life, but you are our punishment.”

“Heath!” Rhett was appalled. “Don’t… No.”

“If anyone is being punished,” she replied. “It is me. From the day I met your fucking Triquetra,” she spat the word. “I have been raped, abused, brain fucked, and my self-esteem torn to pieces by the three of you. I lost both my parents in this fucking town because they couldn’t stand what you made me into – they were too ashamed of the Triquetra’s whore - and I don’t blame them. I couldn’t stand myself either.

“You think that I am your mate? Fuck that, Heath Gale. If this is how you treat a mate, then I’d hate to be your fucking enemy. The best thing that happened to me was getting the fuck out of this fucking town and away from you!” She shoved past him and pulled open the door, storming out of the tattoo parlour and out into the fresh air, almost tripping on her heels.

She shoved her sunglasses onto her face to hide that she was crying and walked as fast as she could away, though why either man would pursue her, she didn’t know. She made it back to her house and closed and locked the door behind her before sinking down on the floor with her back to it. She sat there and wept, angry, ugly sobs.

She got herself under control and made her way down to the kitchen, opening a bottle of wine and taking a swig direct from the bottle.

“Oh, for fuck sake,” Heath sighed as he, Rhett and Cameron entered. “Number one, alcohol isn’t a cure for every woe, and number two, at least use a glass.”