Filed to story: Owned by the Alphas Novel
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I wasn’t sure how to just sing after intentionally not doing it for so long.
I looked around us, eyed the forest, then cleared my throat.
I tried again.
But the sound was scratchy and harsh.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” I admitted.
“You can, Kassie. I knew your family, the Kanes. They had siren blood, the same as the others who lived on the mountain and used its properties to survive. Do you know why it was given to us and our ancestors? Why the realm chose us for the song magic?”
I shook my head. “No.”
“We never took more than we needed. We gave back to the realm when we could. We only survived. That kind of compassion, kind of sacrifice of the life others get to live, is why we were entrusted above them. Your family were good people. You are a good person–that’s how I know you can do this.”
I had never heard that story. Or about my family from the outside perspective. It had tears welling in my eyes. Serafina let out another melody from her lips, her eyes glowing blue.
My eyes widened at the sound. It was so damn beautiful. And powerful. I felt it inside me like I had that first day.
“You have three alphas with you, Kassie. Men are weak to our song; you need to learn control or they will succumb to it.”
That had my eyes snapping to hers. I did not want to be the reason the alphas became weak. Or worse.
“I don’t want that.”
“I know,” she smiled, “So sing, Sweetie. I won’t let you go too far.”
I tried–I opened my throat, I let the hum out that sat there. I went further, whispering out the words to an old tale about the territories. My whispered words joined the hum, a song forming.
But as it did, the swelling tightness in my chest became worse.
The first words that came out at volume had the swelling stopping my breath. My head flashed back to my family, the song I had sung, Silas killing them, torturing me.
My mouth snapped shut and tears streamed down my cheeks.
“I can’t,” I whispered. “And then I ran.”
Zachariah was fast, coming after me, but I shook my head and turned to him.
“No. Please. I just need a minute by myself. I’ll see you back at the palace.” I urged, then took off, hoping he respected me enough to give me what I needed.
I ran back through the forest, panting as I did.
I kicked up dirt and sand as I powered through the villages, then water as I ran across the bridge back to the palace.
I needed space. To be alone. To come to terms with the confirmation of what I was. The power–the monster that Silas wanted me to be.
Maybe it was just a voice, a song, or whatever, but what it could do? Was something I had never wanted. I didn’t want to take people’s choice away. I had been caged for years; I didn’t want to be capable of doing the same to others.
I ran down to the room, my power hyped up in my veins at the idea of being let out. I tried to stomp it down, but it gave me a blistering headache.
I went down the stairs toward Atticus’ room when a song in the air whispered words. I turned in the direction of the song, my eyes landing on the solid door with the lock on it. The one I was not allowed to go in under any circumstance.
The one the power in me was urging me to go into. I couldn’t help it; the melody burst from my lips before I could stop it.
A lyrical string of words left my lips, and the lock clunked in the door.
Atticus was going to be so angry, but I opened the door anyway.
21. The Secret
I wasn’t sure what I had been expecting when I had thought of Atticus’s secret room. Maybe a lover or two. Maybe some kink he was too scared to show me, but that wasn’t what I found at all.
Instead, I found instruments. All kinds of hand-crafted instruments hanging on the walls, on displays with lanterns highlighting them. It was stunning.
The room was closed in except for a single skylight, painted a deep red all over the walls with black music notes painted along them.
There was wooden paneling on the ceiling and floor. A small platform was in the corner where there was a chair, lanterns, and a guitar against it. Parchment sat on the side table with a charcoal pencil. I went over to it, smiling down at the music Atticus had been creating.
I couldn’t read the music, but I knew it would sound amazing.
I turned and looked at the different kinds of instruments.
There were wooden drums with leather pulled over the top displayed together in a pattern. And so many string instruments–big and small, with different woods to make them up. Some were painted, some were not.
And I knew they were all made by Atticus.
He was so talented, and he had said nothing.
But I had no idea why Atticus would want to hide something like this. It was beautiful.
I ran my fingers over one of the instruments, plucking the string as I went.
The sound that came out was literal music to my ears and instantly calmed my soul.
I let out a deep breath, my eyes fluttering closed as I listened to the sound of the string.
When the sound drifted off, I opened my eyes, smiling down at the instruments. I went to look at the next one, stopping mid-step when I saw Atticus leaning against the door frame, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes shimmering as he looked at me.
I knew I was in trouble. He had warned me I would be. I blushed, guilt chewing at me for invading his personal space. I should have let him be the one to show me this.
I hung my head and peered up through my lashes, trying to see just how furious he was. He had every right to be.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, turning my hands over.
Instead of saying anything, Atticus went and sat on one of the two leather chairs in the middle of the room. He sighed as he looked around the room.
“What is this place?” I asked softly.
Atticus rubbed his hands over his face, then met my eyes.
“This is my secret, Fox. I inherited some of my mother’s powers.” My eyes shot up at that revelation, but he continued before I could ask about it, “Not much and not the song. I think that only happens to the female heirs. But I can channel magic through my instruments. Through the music they make.”
I thought that was awesome, but one look at his face and I knew he didn’t think so. His face was pinched like he was bitter about the gene he had been given.
I went over to him and climbed on his lap, my arms going around his neck.
“Do you want to talk about it? I’d like to know,” I whispered, kissing his lips tenderly, trying to stop them from pursing.
He kissed me back, holding my face like it was as fragile as glass–then pulled back.
“I don’t want it to affect your decision.”
I shook my head. “It won’t.”
“You say that now, but I suppose it is something I should tell you in case after vampires, naked servants, and secret doors haven’t pushed you far enough away.” He was joking, but I still didn’t like the fact that he was mentally putting himself out of this choice.
“I haven’t made any decisions, Atticus,” I whispered.
He smiled tightly, then sighed again, looking around the room. When he looked back, his eyes met mine. “My mother is being generous when she speaks about why she lives far away. Yes, she doesn’t want the wolves to lose their free will, and it helps her control her voice, but that is because the wolves demanded that of her. She was shunned from the wolves. They are rude and rarely interact long with her because they are scared of what she can do. At one point, on a full moon, they wanted to kill her for it. I couldn’t let that happen.” He reshuffled me on his lap, bringing me closer and tucking me into him.
“How did you stop them?” I whispered, the air full of dormant sadness that was almost suffocating.
“I became a better Alpha. I made sure they respected me enough to leave her alone. I kept them happy, became their friend and their leader. I gave them everything they needed, I counseled them, I listened. And I put my mother out in the forest, promising that she would only leave twice in the lunar cycle for trading. I exiled her, Fox.”
Oh. That would have been the hardest decision to make. Harder than the one I was making, at least.
I cupped his face. “But now they are happy, Atticus. Are they not?”
He nodded. “Yes, Fox. They are all happy. And ever since then, I have hidden this part of myself. The part I used to be proud to get from her. This room has been locked for a long time,” he said, his voice fading away as he looked around. “It’s a mask, Fox. A constant half of me that I give them because if I show them what I truly am, or the gifts I truly have, they will not accept it, just as they didn’t accept her.”
My heart ached for him, and I held him tight, the comfort in the embrace carrying even the slightest hope of making him feel better.
But I knew that wasn’t what he needed.
New Book: Veiled Desires of the Alpha King Novel
Dayson was the alpha of the largest pack in North America. Powerful figures from other packs sought to offer gorgeous girls as potential mates for Dayson. He steadfastly rejected these advances, he was not a pawn to be manipulated. But eventually there came a mysterious girl he could hardly say No. Who was she?