Plot Twist

Chapter 18

Chapter 18

"There cannot be a crisis next week. My schedule is already full." - Henry A. Kissinger

"How dare you fucking attack my mate?"

I was still reeling from almost getting my face permanently redecorated that I didn't even realize what Mason had said, and with everything going on, I doubted anyone else did, either. At a speed only someone supernatural could muster, Skylar had thrown her entire body on top of me, and Jackson stood in front of us in a protective stance - growling extremely loudly.

Holy shit.

Ryder just tried to attack me.

And not in a 'I'll-give-you-a-black-eye' kind of way, either. This was more like a, 'I'm-going-to-slit-your-throat-with-my-huge-ass-claws-that-just-grew' kind of way.

I mean, holy shit!

I'm already a dick - with my face torn off, I would have no redeeming qualities.

"N-no, p-please! I d-didn't know! F-forgive m-me!" The sound of Ryder's choked pleads was what finally snapped me out of my dazed thoughts, and I attempted to regain as much clarity as I could to face the situation at hand.

Okay, Cal, you can deal with the whole 'almost-getting-mauled' emotional bullshit later.

Right now, you need to pull yourself together and figure out exactly how to handle this.

Skylar was still shielding my body with hers - although it really just felt like she was sitting on top of me - and Jackson remained unmoved.

I took a deep breath, and with all the human strength I could summon, pushed Fake-twin off of me and stood up. Jackson turned to look at me, and I did my best to nonverbally communicate with him that I was perfectly fine. In reality, I didn't really feel fine. My heart was pounding in my ears, my hands were shaky, and my legs felt like jell-o. I could still feel the adrenaline rushing through my veins - my fight-or-flight instinct begging me to get the hell out of dodge.

"I-I d-didn't k-know! I-I'm s-so sorry-y!"

As I hesitantly approached Mason and Ryder, Ryder's eyes locked onto mine as he desperately clawed at Mason's hands. His feet had left the ground, and his skin was pale and already almost bluish from lack of oxygen.

But it wasn't any of that that messed with me - it was the way he looked at me.

Seeing him like that made me feel like I was the one being choked.

He wasn't looking at me like he had done only moments ago - with utter rage. No, he was looking at me with fear. Pure, unadulterated fear. In that mere nanosecond that we made eye contact, I didn't see some asshole alpha mate. I didn't see some cocky playboy. All I saw was a kid who was really fucking scared for his life.

I didn't really think about what I did next.

All I knew was that I needed to do something that would distract Mason enough for him to release Ryder.

So I kissed him.

I reached up, grabbed his face with both my hands to pull him down, and placed my lips on his.

Now, you know that moment in books when the protagonist kisses her love interest for the first time and she describes it as this magical, spark-filled moment with fireworks and explosions?

Well, let me tell you something.

That's really not what kissing is like.

There are no fireworks or explosions going off or dramatic music playing in the background. There is no applauding or sounds of awe coming from the audience like in all the sitcoms.