Chapter 152: _ Morgan
~Morgan’s Point Of View~
Morgan creeps down the empty hallway like a shadow that knows its own sharpness. The fluorescent lights above flicker cheaply. Oh, the tired things that give the school corridors a half-abandoned feel at night. Perfect. He likes it when the building feels like it belongs to him. The echo of his footsteps, thanks to the silence of the night, reminds him of how easily he could silence them if he wished.
His lips curl at the thought. Silence is an art he has perfected. You know, smiling when he wants to bare his teeth, leaning in close when he’d rather shove a knife into someone’s ribs. His brothers think he spends his nights knotted in sheets with whichever she-wolf happens to bat her lashes his way. And sometimes he does. But mostly, he walks corridors like this, planning and sharpening his revenge while the night’s breeze whooshes past his ears.
Tonight, though, he isn’t here to prowl the school like a predator. He’s heading to a rendezvous.
She’ll already be waiting. She always waits for him. He imagines her sitting there, fidgeting with her hair, rehearsing whatever line she’ll greet him with. The thought makes him smirk. She thinks she owns him, that her love makes her dangerous. How sweet. Dangerous women don’t giggle when he slides his hand down their spine. Dangerous women don’t worship him with wide eyes and whispered promises.
He pushes open the side door to the old music room—his and her chosen place. The hinges groan like they’re tattling on him, but Morgan doesn’t care. He likes the drama of it. Inside, dust floats lazily through a slice of moonlight spilling across the room. And there she is.
She leaps to her feet when she sees him. No hesitation or restraint. She runs into his arms like he’s the sun and she’s been freezing in his absence. Her perfume hits him immediately. That sweet, overdone, cloying scent like roses drowned in syrup. He almost wrinkles his nose but catches himself. Instead, he lets her press her lips against his in a messy, hungry kiss.
"Gods, I missed you," she whispers against his mouth, clutching his shirt like she’ll never let go.
Of course you did.
He chuckles, knowing quite well that it’s the kind of laugh that makes her knees weaken. He knows because she melts against him like butter... the girl always does. His hands skim her waist, linger on her hips, enough to remind her why she keeps crawling back even though she knows she shouldn’t.
When he finally pulls back, she pouts, and he almost laughs again, this time though, genuinely. How pathetic. How useful.
"I told you not to get involved in Heidi’s mess. Didn’t I tell you? Over and over?" Morgan grunts, trying hard to hide the annoyance in his tone.
Her pout deepens into a scowl. She pulls back just enough to glare at him, though her arms stay looped around his neck like shackles she thinks he enjoys wearing.
"It’s hard," she snaps. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to stay out of it when she..." She grips the air like she’s going to break it into pieces. "...when she has all of them wrapped around her little fingers?"
Morgan raises a brow, feigning confusion. "All of them?"
"You know what I mean!" she hisses, eyes flashing. "Your twin. Both your older brothers. And you. All four of you."
Ah. There it is. The jealousy. The fire that makes her voice shake and her body tremble. He drinks it in like fine wine. Anger is so much prettier on her than adoration.
She shoves at his chest, but not hard enough to break free. "Why should she get that privilege, Morgan? She’s just some ordinary Moon Blessed. Nothing special! Meanwhile, I-I’m the one with the top grades, the spotless reputation, the Beta’s daughter. I’m the one who actually deserves that kind of destiny!"
Argh, there she goes again with her pride. At every chance she gets, she makes sure to rat ones’ ears out about her academic and social achievements.
Morgan tilts his head, studying her like a fascinating insect pinned under glass. "And yet..." he tsks, "the Moon Goddess seems to think otherwise."
"Okay, that’s poking the bee." His wolf, Luke, chuckles with satisfaction.
Luke hates her more than Morgan hates everything and everyone around him.
Her nostrils flare. "Don’t mock me."
"I’m not mocking," he lies, smirking. "I’m just pointing out the obvious."
She turns away, crossing her arms. Her shoulders are shaking with indignation so raw, it makes Morgan want to laugh. He loves this part—loves watching people unravel over things they cannot control. Loves knowing he can soothe or ignite them with a single word.
"But don’t forget she’s fated to all four of us because she’s cursed. She has the Moon Goddess’s curse. Being fated to more than one mate, not to mention four Alphas is no blessing, and definitely nothing to be jealous about." He shrugs, hoping that’ll pacify the witch.
It doesn’t.
"I hate her," she spits still, voice echoing too loudly in the empty room. She quickly controls herself because noise only means exposing their little secret. Hence, she lowers her voice to a harsh whisper. "I hate her so much. I can’t stand that she gets them all, and that she gets you."
Her voice breaks on that last word, and Morgan feels irritation flicker in his chest. This again. Always circling back to Heidi. Moreover, this Jezebel claims to be in love with him, and yet, she’s so angry out of her mind because Heidi gets his brothers too.
Why should his brothers be any of her business? Not that he cares anyway. It just irks the fuck out of him.
He forces a smile that makes her believe him even when she shouldn’t. He steps closer, hooks a finger under her chin, and tilts her face up. Her eyes shimmer, wide and wounded as they meet his focused ones.
"You already have me. Isn’t that enough? Or do you want me carved into your skin, branded so you stop worrying about my brothers?"
Her lips shake as their eyes continue to collide. "It’s not that," she whispers. "It’s the thought of you being bonded to her. Even for one second. It makes me..." she breaks off, shakes her head, biting her lip until it almost bleeds.
"Jealous?" Morgan supplies with a smirk.
"Of course I’m jealous!" she hisses. "Wouldn’t you be if the person you loved was tied to someone else?"
Morgan leans back, watching her with amusement. "Jealousy suits you. Almost as much as desperation."
That turns her cheeks pink, but whether from shame or arousal, he can’t tell. Probably both.
He shrugs lazily, as if the whole conversation bores him. "Hold on a little longer. Our time will come. Until then, play your part. Make Amias’s life miserable. That’s all you need to worry about, Lira."