Trust Lincoln

Trust Lincoln


GINGER

The sound of servers arriving, each of them bearing the hefty weight of their dome covered trays, completely escaped my attention as I sat there, dehabilitated, prostrating beneath the suffocation of my thoughts. I had hardly eaten more than a bite or two all day and I should have been ravenous. 

But I wasn’t.

No. My appetite had fled along with my confidence the very moment Lincoln pulled the wool from my eyes and let the light shine down on a little truth. Yet...the echoes of all that had transpired since Lincoln's homecoming remained to drag me back into the darkness and their voices paraded my shame.

...on that night, the night of the Mating Moon it will be more than black and white for you… 

Lincoln’s words. Stated only hours ago in my new suite.

They don’t invoke my love the way they did before. They don’t invoke my passion either. Nor desire. 

Instead, they thin the walls of my heart, inside, like a razor peeling a layer of flesh from the most vital part of me. Leaving the organ raw and bleeding, singed with the pain of having been burned. All I can think about is how well I’ve played myself, believing I was truly special…believing that tomorrow would reveal him as someone I had wished him to be. A truth I still didn’t have the strength to confess.

It's no wonder he marked me the way that he did. In places that you might brand your whore as your property. 

How did I let this happen? How did I let him fool me into thinking that he wanted me? He’s always hated me, that was never in question, so what in the Goddessdamned world was I-

...His secret is that you’re that girl. The one he could never get out of his head. The one he wanted to hate, but couldn’t…

Ha! Fuck you too, Ghost!

... just try and trust Lincoln…

Trust Lincoln? Trust…Lincoln?

The night of my birthday…the way Lincoln looked at me when he thought I was disgusted by him, when he thought he'd offended me somehow…I could tell he was afraid and I have never seen Lincoln afraid. Not ever. But that night I did.

And after Emily, Giselle, and Blair jumped me in the showers, Astrid told me that Lincoln was in a complete panic. That he couldn’t even bear to look at me until Astrid checked my pulse. According to her, he fell to his knees, the life simply drained out of him.

...He’s obsessed with you, Red. And he has been for a long time…”

But is he, though?

The clothes…the room…the strawberry walls…the strawberry blossom tattooed on his chest.

“Trust Lincoln,” I mouthed to myself, thinking that I have attempted everything I could come up with in order to get Lincoln to support me, and be honest with me…demand respect for me. Everything, except…trusting him. The Devil.

Trusting Lincoln was the one thing I had yet to try.

And just like that, his voice warmed my ear, his lips grazing the sensitive flesh behind my lobe as he spoke, his words soft and beseeching, “Why aren’t you eating, Strawberry? What’s wrong?”

I jolted back to the present, becoming acutely aware that every pair of eyes was set on me as was the returned presence of a very intrusive set of fingers. This time they stroked my thigh outside the skirt of my dress and I didn’t try to remove them for fear of missing their warmth.

Fuck.

Did I zone out?

I must have.

Zelda, Timber-fuck, the Beta of the Thunder Wolf Pack, Rafael, Alpha Mario, and even Giselle, they were all watching me. Each of them wore a different emotion on their face. An assortment that was truly a menagerie of how each of them saw me. How each of them felt about me. From extreme jealousy to rapt amazement to abject hate. Each had his own singular box to check as they observed the proximity of Lincoln’s lips and my rapidly growing blush.

And they had all removed their domes to reveal an extravagantly decorated plate of what appeared to be a roasted rack of lamb and vegetable medley of sorts.

“Eating?” I parroted stupidly, shaking myself before turning my head to face Lincoln and the deceptively warm ponds of his eyes. The move brought our lips close enough for a kiss and the sharp inhale of Lincoln’s breath coupled with his half dimpled smile stole the show for me as he was suddenly the only thing I could see. 

He’s smiling at me. Right in front of his mother.

And he’s practically melting me in my chair with how close he’s leaning into me.

Tasting his bottom lip as his eyes dropped down the front of my dress, his chest rumbled with a near silent groan and his hand on my thigh gave a pointed squeeze. "Baby," he whispered, ducking his head around the side of my own so that he might keep his words private, “The faster we finish dinner, the faster we can spend the evening ditching Ghost and Marci.”

“Ghost?” I chirped, speaking a little louder than I’d meant to.

Lincoln drew back, pausing while his face was still slightly obscured by my own. “Yes, Ghost. You didn’t think I was going out with her alone did you?”

My jaw dropped as he pushed himself back to regard me with a curious set of eyebrows and a barely hidden smile.

I wanted to slap him. He knew what he was doing all along. Riling me up to ensure I didn’t punish him for lying in the first place.

Trust Lincoln indeed.

“It’s almost as if you wanna die,” I clipped out, staring apprehensively at his profile. 

Rafael as well as his Beta chuckled softly, the sound of their unfettered joy reminding me that the rest of the room has gone dead silent.

“Only if you are the one doing the killing, Strawberry,” Lincoln announced, loud and proud as he tended to his plate.

”Seriously?” An irritating voice mumbled. ”You call her Strawberry?”

Ah…that’s right. I’d almost forgotten that Giselle sat directly across from me. It must have been the quiet that I’d been blessed with so far. The barrier’s been broken now though.

Lincoln ignored her, as did everybody else, and as the sounds of silverware and low conversation resumed, I reached for my tray and removed the dome.

At first, I had no idea what I was looking at, but then…the smell hit me and I shoved away from the table with a retch of disgust, turning away from my supposed dinner.

Of course... Did I really think I was going to get away without them punishing me at least one more time? Did I think they wouldn't take this golden opportunity in which they might embarrass me in front of mmyyyyy family?

“Ginger?” Rafael called out to me, as Lincoln shot up out of his seat to slam the dome back over my tray. “What is it?”

"It's a head,” he replied, his voice deeper than I'd ever heard it. “A lamb's head...and...it's...rotten.”