Phoenix13: Redemption (Phoenix13 Book 2)

Part #12: The Thirteenth Hour: Chapter Five

Chapter Five

When Jason returned to his room—my father's room, he thought with a sharp pang of grief—it was to find Morgan lying across it dressed only in a sheer black nightdress and knee-high heeled boots. As the guards closed the enormous double doors behind Jason, sealing him in the room, the wolf shifter rose into a sitting position, dangling her legs over the side of the massive bed. She patted the comforter, flashing a seductive smile. Made a come-hither gesture with one ring-studded finger.

"Morgan." Jason didn't react to her obvious attempts to scramble his mind with her pouty sunrise lips and bare toffee skin. "What the fuck're you doing in here? Wait, wait." He threw up his hands. "Better question: how the hell did you even get in here?"

She pursed her lips, and rolled her golden eyes dramatically. Crossing her arms over her half-exposed chest, she said, "Master thief, remember? I go where I want. You should know that by now."

Jason opened his mouth to reply, then shut it again. He shook his head. "Look, Morgan. You need to get outta here, okay? We're just... you and me, we're not good for each other. Besides, I've got other things to deal with. I'm not in the mood for a touchy-feely reunion."

"Hmm, right. Because we already had that." Morgan had the audacity to smirk at him. Rising to her feet, she approached him slowly, the hem of her silken gown ghosting against her slender ankles. She reached him and stopped. Their chests were only inches apart. "Back in the forest. On the cold-ass bare ground, as you eloquently put it."

Jason couldn't help it—he smiled, and a low chuckle escaped his throat. But he shoved the amusement roughly aside, gritting his teeth and forcing his lips back into a downward curve.

"Oh get over yourself, McKinley." Morgan's eyes flashed fire. Her mirthful façade dropped away. In its place was a seething concoction of frustration and wrath. "Just because I'm not the loyal bitch you thought I was doesn't mean you have any right to give up on this. On us. Especially not now. Not when I'm carrying your goddamn fälorn lo-omin (firstborn child) in my body."

"Shut up," Jason snarled. Without thinking, he reached forward and grabbed her by both shoulders, thumbs digging into her collar bone. He could feel her heartbeat soar at his touch; he shook her slightly to make sure he had her full attention. "I'm only gonna say this one more time, Morgan, so listen up. The. Fucking. Kid. Isn't. Mine."

Morgan bared her teeth. "The mystic of Varadrín doesn't lie."

"I don't fuckin' care what some crazy mystic said! It isn't possible. I'm human, you're Àmandinian. It doesn't work like that."

Morgan's tone took on a defiant note. "You're not human."

"What."

"You heard me, McKinley."

"Fuck you. That's bullshit. My parents are human. Everyone I'm related to are fuckin' human. My dad seemed pretty damn human when he bled out in front of me last week. My uncle was pretty damn human when a plague that only affects Earthborns killed him." Jason's every word vibrated with barely restrained fury and grief. The cracks in his carefully cultivated calm began to spread, breaking him down bit by bit until he was in grave danger of shattering. "My little brother was definitely human when I shot him in the head and sprayed his blood all over camp. And me, I felt pretty fuckin' human every single time I pulled the goddamn trigger, every time I got blood on my hands and couldn't wash it off. So explain to me, Morgan. How exactly am I not human?"

Morgan saw through him then. He could see understanding flash like a jolt of electricity through her body. At once her shoulders relaxed under his hands. The sharp lines of her face grew soft. The fire in her eyes dimmed. She stopped shaking, the fight draining from her. "I know it hurts, Jason." Her voice was like feathers, light and soft. "You've got to get past it, mi amor. You can't let this destroy you."