Winter's Wrath: Sacrifice (Winter's Saga #3) (27 page)

“Say what?” he frowned; worry forming shadows in his handsome brow.

“I need to hear you say, ‘Meg, I won’t be mad at you.’ Can you do that for me?  Please?” The more she spoke, the more she was beside herself with terror that she was about to make things so much worse.

He squinted at her, then rolled his eyes and repeated, “Meg, I won’t be mad at you.  Now, tell me what’s wrong.”

Meg hesitated for a moment before taking a deep breath and blurting, “What happened between us last night?”

Cole’s face was unreadable in her panicked state.  “What do you mean?”

Unable to stop herself, Meg shook his hands off her wrists and flew out from under the covers.  She began pacing the floor, periodically flapping her hands as if she had spider webs clinging to her finger tips. 

“Last night, Cole.  I remember Evan giving me sleeping pills and you were sitting there in that chair,” she flapped toward the wingback, “and I got in bed…”

She stopped pacing and stood ridged waiting for Cole to finish the story.

“Yeah,” he said.  “Is that all you remember?”

Meg chewed her lip and nodded.

He hadn’t moved from where he perched on the edge of her bed, but now he stopped to look down at his hands.

“Cole, what happened?”  I heard panic in her voice.

After a moment that felt long enough to have grown a sequoia, he shook his head casually, looked up and smiled at her.  “You fell asleep, Meg.”

She hadn’t realized she was holding her breath until then. 
She
exhaled.  “That’s it?”

“You were really sleepy from the pills.  You got into bed and,” Cole shrugged, “next thing I knew you were sound asleep.”

Meg frowned deeply and resumed pacing.  After two passes, she stopped and looked at Cole.  “I’m just going to throw this out there: I dreamed of us.”

His eyes widened before he turned away, stood and absently busied his hands by making the bed. 

Maze, bored with their conversation, jumped off the bed and walked to the closed door.  So accustomed to her coyote, Meg didn’t even think about it when she followed him and opened the door for him to leave.  When she turned back to look at her friend, he was carefully positioning the pillows.  His large hands st
oo
d out beautifully against the white of the pillow case
.  T
hey seemed to linger over the pillow still warm from her sleep.

He turned toward her and shoved his hands deeply in the pockets of his jeans, offering an innocent shrug.  “Well, I dream of us all the time.”  His face blushed beautifully.

Meg opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, he said, “Listen, I’m going to go.  I’ll see you later, Meg.”  Just three of his long strides had him already at the door Maze just exited. 

He stopped and looked back over his muscular shoulder at her.  The green of his eyes danced in the morning light with crisp green streaks bursting from the black pupils that seemed to dilate every time he looked at her
. 
“I’m glad you had a good night’s sleep.”  He nodded slightly and stepped through the doorway, closing the door behind him.

Meg frowned at the closed door.

What the hell just happened?
  She scowled at her toes, feeling an overwhelming urge to kick and punch and inflict bone cru
shing
pain.  Instead, she stomped into her bathroom to brush her teeth.

Fifteen minutes later, she emerged from her room with minty fresh breath, her wild tresses braided in one long plait down her back and dressed in running clothes.

“Meg?” she heard her mother’s voice from the kitchen.

Sighing deeply, she walked into the kitchen.  “Morning, mom.” Meg smiled at her mother’s warm brown eyes hiding, as usual, behind the dorkiest pair of black-rimmed glasses.

“You look much more rested,” she grinned as she passed her a glass of orange juice.  Meg scowled at it and handed it back. 

“Thanks, but I can’t drink orange juice.  Just brushed my teeth and you know how gross citrus tastes mixed with toothpaste,” she shrugged.

“Right.  How about milk?” she offered, head buried in the refrigerator.  The white lab coat she was already wearing spoke volumes of her plans for the day.

“That’d be great, thanks.  You working in the lab today?” 

“Theo, Evan and I have already been at it.  We’ve accepted another contract from the Center for Disease Control.  We can’t live off our savings forever,” she sh
rugged casually as she handed Meg
a piece of buttered toast. 

“Oh?  Interesting assignment?”
Meg asked as she dished a spatula full of scrambled eggs to her plate.

Margo grinned, “You know me.  Any scientific research or study is fascinating!”

“Right,” Meg said, and bowed her head to pray silently.  

“Have you seen Cole?” she asked through a mouthful of food, trying to sound nonchalant.

“He left with Alik and Farrow to get back to training.” Mom emphasized the word “training” in a way that led
Meg
to believe they were doing more than lifting weights. 

Alik had taken Cole under his wing—teaching him some necessary skills every metahuman who hangs out with the family should know to survive.  Alik was a good teacher.  He was patient and calm with both Cole and Farrow as he worked with them.    He never talked down to them, but he seemed to naturally know how to build on their prior knowledge.  They had become very good friends, and they were all thankful for it.  

With Evan always hanging out with mom and Theo, Meg had been left to her own devices a lot lately.  She frowned at the crumbs on her plate as she walked it to the sink for a rinse.

I really ha
ve
isolated myself from my family since we moved here,
Meg thought. 

She glanced over at her mother, who was starting to clean up now that everyone had eaten breakfast.  Maze whined at her feet, wanting to help lick the dishes clean.

“Oh, you rascal,” she was saying to him.  “I am not feeding you from the table.  You’re not a young pup anymore, and it’s not good for you.”

Meg smiled at how everyone talked to her coyote as if he understood every word. 

“Meg, why don’t you take Maze and get going on your run before I give in to those sweet yellow eyes and fix him a plate of bacon.”

Maze licked his chops at hearing the word “bacon.”

“You sure you don’t want me to help you clean up in here?” she offered. 

“Oh, thanks, honey, but I got it.  You go enjoy the morning.”

“Well, come on, you wily coyote,” she called to him. 

“Hey, Meg?”

“Yeah, mom?”

“I’m so thankful to see you feeling better.”  She smiled widely and as she did her eyes glistened with emotion.

Meg nodded, feeling her love warming her heart.  She crossed the room quickly and wrapped her in a big hug, burying her face in the crook of her mother’s neck, just as she did when she was a little girl.  Margo smelled like home.  Meg held her for a moment, basking in the glow of her unconditional maternal love.  “I love you, mom.”

“I love you, too, Meggie,” she cooed. 

“I don’t ever want to let you down,” Meg confessed.  “I don’t want to let the family down.”

“Oh, little one.  You’ve always felt the need to take on so much.  There is nothing you could ever do that would stop me from loving you.”  She kept her strong hands on
Meg’s
shoulders even as she pulled back to look her in the eyes.  “You are my daughter, my breath, my heartbeat.  Don’t you see?  You and your brothers—you gave my life meaning.”

“But what if I mess up?  What if I’m not strong enough to keep us safe?  All I am is a stupid, emotional girl.   I’m an enormous ball of useless mush—even my evolved gift weakens me.”

“You listen to me, young lady,”
Margo
’s brows furrowed with the gravity of what she was trying to make
her daughter
understand, “there is nothing ‘weak’ about you! 
Nothing!
  Don’t you ever, for one moment, think feeling emotion is a weakness.  Your strength
comes
from your emotions.  You feel everything—passionately.   You’ll learn how to harness that passion into a ferocious strength, and with that strength, you will
level
anyone who
dares
threaten your family!”

Meg stared into the crisp flashes of fury glistening in her mother’s eyes and nodded slowly.

Margo’s
eyes softened with nostalgia.  “I didn’t know one thing about taking care of babies when I first brought you and your brothers into hiding.  Did you know you taught me?  You showed me how to know what the boys needed.  You taught me how to hold you, even taking my soldier’s calloused hand in your soft, pudgy one and wrapping my arms around you.   And when I was worried or anxious, you always knew.  You knew when any of us needed you, and you would come to me and snuggle in my neck—freely offering your gentle comfort. 

“You have always taken care of all of us, Meggie.  Don’t you see?  It’s your emotions, your God-given gift of empathy, that is not only a fierce strength in itself, but even more powerful because of the strength your love unlocks in those around you.  You aren’t an emotional superconductor, little girl.”  She shook her head.  “You are a generator, a power source—with the limitless ability to summon the
best
in everyone around you.”  The woman who gave up everything to be Meg’s mother stood emotionally bare and raw in front of her. 

“My tiny, dark-eyed baby girl—” her voice echoed with memories as she brushed errant curls away from her daughter’s cheek.  “You have been my strength, Meg.  Open yourself to the truth of who you are.  Pray about it.  Ask for strength and wisdom.  Don’t be afraid of being an angel of healing.  And don’t think God expects you to fight with flowers and fluff. 

“You are a
warrior
—lethal, brave and loyal.  There is a balance between the angel and the gladiator.  You are both.  The two parts of you are not exclusive—each side of you only strengthens the other.  There is so much I see in you, daughter.  See yourself through my eyes.”

Margo closed her eyes and rested her forehead against Meg’s.   Effortlessly, her daughter’s empath gift channeled into
her mother’s
emotions.  Her emotional signature was absolutely beautiful.  She was
Texas
skies blue, yellow sunlight bursting through and she smelled of cinnamon and crisp apples.  Every word she spoke was her truth.  She showed Meg, Alik, and Evan her pure love.  She wrapped them in her devotion and determination. 

She showed little Meg curled up in her arms rocking back and forth, her small toddler’s body snuggled as close as they could be—her plump arms wrapped tightly around her mother’s neck, breathing slowly together in the glow of the moonlight.  Then she showed her an image of Meg now.  She saw her as a winged warrior.  She saw a light inside her bursting through her skin.  That image seared her mind brightly—causing Meg to gasp with the strength of the vision. 

She didn’t know how much time had passed before she felt Margo pull away from her.  Her mother’s face was wet with tears, as was Meg’s.  “Now you see.”

“Yes, I see.”  She pulled her closer for a hug.  Margo’s image of Meg as the glowing winged warrior was superimposing onto the real world around her

She hugged her back.  They stood in content silence, both feeling so blessed. 

“Um…am I interrupting something?” Theo’s voice called from the other side of the kitchen.

Margo and Meg stepped back from each other and smiled sheepishly as they wiped tears away from their eyes.  

“No, I think we’re good.  Right, Meggie?”

“Yeah, we’re good.”

Theo looked back and forth between the mother and daughter.  “Okay, well, I just wanted to get more coffee…and I kinda missed you,” he grinned at Margo. 

Margo rolled her eyes toward her longtime love, then looked back at her daughter and said, “Men!”

Meg grinned.  “I’m just going to head out for that run, now.”

“Okay, kiddo,” Margo said casually passing Theo the creamer from the fridge.

“Oh, and mom?”

“Hum?”

“Thank you.”

“No, Meggie.  Thank
you
.”

She nodded, nudged Maze to get up and walked out the back door, closing it securely behind her. 

Once outside, she took a deep breath of the fresh air and thought back to the image her mother gave her, then compared that to the vivid nightmare Meg had back on the plane where she had clipped her own wings. 
Coincidence?  Was my dream trying to tell me something?
  Absently, Meg reached over her shoulder and felt her back.  She chuckled to herself when her hands just grazed over her smooth skin.

“Maybe it’s metaphorical,” she said to Maze. 
Maybe I’m supposed to let myself free to feel and experience my gifts and not hold myself back with doubt
and fear
.  Maybe this is the sign I was waiting for.