Chapter 70: Turbulence

"Where is she?" the familiar deep, gruff voice arrived somewhere behind August, and she turned to see Graeme suddenly at her side, his face contorted with worry.

"What happened?" he cupped the sides of her face, and she shook her head silently, looking away from him.

His face was like home, but now there were competing images in her mind. That same face with those warm, deep eyes had invited someone else in. Someone else had seen him the way that she had seen him. It made her nauseous.

"She met Violet," Greta whispered, "Violet must have grabbed her."

"And where were you?" Graeme snapped back.

"You know what, I'm fine," August blurted out, angry at the hushed voices and the tears and the nausea that was building, but she couldn't bring herself to look at her mate.

It was irrational to be angry at him, she knew that. Nothing had changed. He hadn't done anything wrong. But there was knowing he had been with someone else, and then there was seeing and feeling it herself. Through the memories of his previous lover—the previous lover who still desired him. The previous lover who had carried his child.

"August…" his voice was gentle.

"Shhhh. No. Just… Back up," she whispered, waving her hands at them, ushering them back. "Just give me a few minutes," her eyes were pressed together.

"But…"

"I can't have you in my face right now, Graeme," she snapped, glaring at him through her teary eyes, a short sob breaking through her lips before she sucked it back in.

She felt like an idiot behaving this way. What was this? High school? Was she jealous? But then again, most people never had to live through the thoughts and memories of exes like she just did.

"Just give me a few minutes," and Graeme backed away, resting against the tree opposite her looking like a kicked puppy.

August closed her eyes again, willing herself to erase what she just saw. Violet's memories were on the surface of her mind now, but maybe she could direct them out if she focused. She could ground them like Sylvia had talked about in their sessions, flush them out into the earth—or at least into a proper perspective where she wasn't giving them a home inside her own emotions.

Despite the effort, the turbulence of Violet's thoughts kept bubbling up, breaking August's concentration with the swimming influence of the alcohol in her system. And with those foreign thoughts came her own insecurities.

What had she gotten herself into? Despite how close she felt to him—despite how many times he had saved her now—she had rushed into this with Graeme way too quickly. There was baggage and history and so much potential hurt waiting for her that she should have considered more logically.

Someone stunning and elegant and lycan loved him and had been waiting for him. Someone of his own kind. Someone who had felt the quickening flutter of a new life within her—made with him.

No one would ever accept August here. Had she doomed herself to the same lonely, broken fate as her mother? Her mother. August's heart ached for her. She missed her. Would she ever see her again?

One wave of torment after another swelled in her mind as Violet's memories resurfaced. Graeme in Violet's eyes. Younger, less furry, but still Graeme. Still with those eyes of his. And Violet hadn't been imagining the desire in Graeme's eyes for her. As a guest in her memory, August had witnessed it, too. She shuddered remembering how his eyes had glazed over with lust before taking Violet in his arms.

Across from her, Graeme whined softly at the despair he felt lashing his mate over and over again. He felt as though he was pacing helplessly along the shore watching as a rip tide pulled her away from him. A rip tide he was responsible for.

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August's eyebrows pulled together at his soft noise. Somehow this small reminder of his presence was enough to tug her back, pulling her free where she resurfaced from Violet's memories.

She took a deep breath. And then another. She breathed in the woods. Its calm. The solid ground beneath her. The wind whispering, cooly brushing against her hot skin with the ancient wisdom of the forest that held deeper sorrows and more intense joys than she could ever possibly experience.

The window into Violet and Graeme's past was nothing compared to the stories the forest carried—the death it had seen and the rebirth from its own soil. She could let go of this. Somehow, she could flush it out of her and find a way to pull her own joy back into this body that she inhabited.

With another deep breath, August cast her thoughts out to bring in the vast sky, remembering the strange mist world she had seen at the base of Graeme's tree. The enchanting world she had somehow been reborn into.

It was that night that she had realized they were each minor characters in one elaborate, magnificent play of the universe thrumming with a constant rhythm indifferent to any good or bad, right or wrong, pain or joy that occurred within it. It kept moving, kept swaying—its arms rippling the fabric of existence in long waves of starlight. And through it had walked Graeme, scattering the energy around him like dust parting at his presence, bowing to his will.

Holding this focus, August searched for the moonlight that she somehow knew was waiting to guide her. She searched for the stars and their pin pricks of reassurance. Were they singing again tonight? She took another slow, deep breath listening for them.

Instead, August found Graeme's woodsy scent resting across from her, his breath now even and patient, waiting. She breathed him into her own lungs, feeling his signature warmth in ripples on the air that she welcomed in.

And now she recognized again his strength like a river within her, that steady, trilling knowledge deep within that he was hers and she was his and that somehow this was more than just the two of them combined. He offered to help her carry her darkest memory, the greatest burden on her soul thus far. This peek into Violet's mind didn't change that.

'And there it is'—suddenly she could feel the moonlight filtering down through the trees, kissing her skin with its gentle luminescence. August smiled, seeing the full, pale belly of the moon in her mind. The calm pull of its gravity like a mother cradling its child, sending her worries aflight. 'Mother moon.'

August felt a pressure build in her stomach, pushing upward with a sudden momentum that catapulted her forward where Graeme jolted up and scrambled to her side, holding back her hair as she got sick on the forest floor. It took several times heaving, allowing the fluid and the thoughts and energy that weren't hers to flow up and out of her, leaving her body trembling but clearer now with the moon bathing her in its reassuring glow.

Graeme had an arm around her shoulders as August finally pulled back and wiped her mouth with a sleeve.

"It's all out now," she said quietly, shaking now but relieved, and she turned to see her mate's deep gaze engulf her. He wiped the tears on her cheeks with his thumb and gathered her into his arms.

"I can explain…" he started.

"No, please. Not right now," she cut him off, letting herself be pulled in by his warm gravity. "Some other time," and she reached up to bury her face in the curve of his neck, allowing his presence to fill her senses and calm her.

He hummed in response, creating a soothing rumbling in his chest that rumbled through her as well.

"I'm going to take her home," she heard him say over his shoulder to Greta.

"No, it's okay," August whispered against him, cupping the side of his face to feel the comfort of the coarse texture she recognized as his. This Graeme, right here—the one beneath her fingers—was hers.

"Are you sure?" he lifted her into his arms as if intending to do it anyway.

"I'm okay now," she sighed against him, letting her head rest on his shoulder. Her fingers fanned out against his cheek as a child's might, using touch to communicate where words failed.

"I'll meet you guys out there," Greta whispered, passing something to Graeme before tracing her way back to the clearing.

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