by Ellie J Duck
“Plenty of bed space left,” I answer, dragging my eyes away from him before I start drooling. No one should look that sexy in sweat pants. It should be illegal for anyone to look as good as he does. His dark hair is still wet, and I can tell from the way it’s still dripping that he’s probably only just gotten out of the shower. The sweats he wears are navy, his shirt tight and black. There is more stubble on his jaw than yesterday and he looks handsomer than ever.
As he walks into the room and climbs up on my bed, I sincerely hope that the scent of my pain and wounds and the meds in my system are overriding any scent of desire that I don’t doubt is coming off me in waves. None of them mention anything so I hope I’m in the clear. Unlike the pair of cats and the bear already sharing my bed, Tobias doesn’t move close and sit on anyone or touch me. Instead he turns in a circle three times like a canine before he sits against the wall between Brody’s feet, staying on top of the blankets like Tara did, though she snagged a spare blanket from her room after one of her popcorn runs. I can’t help but chuckle quietly at the way he turned in circles the way my dog used to do before sitting.
No one speaks as we watch the movie and I feel myself smile slowly at the ease and comfort of being with all of them.
“You’re hopeless! All of you!” Greg announces when he comes back into the room and sees us all sitting piled onto my bed like puppies, rather than like the adult assassins we all are.
“Do you have my meds?” I ask him hopefully rather than commenting on the puppy pile.
“Yes, but you’re going to have to climb out of there and let me check your wounds before I give them to you,” he informs me seriously, putting the needles with what I’m hoping is morphine down on my desk and waiting for me to do as I’m told.
“But Greg, I just got comfortable,” Tara whines.
“I don’t care, move your ass and let her up. I want to make sure she’s not going to heal over those stitches,” Greg tells her, and she hisses like the cat she is before she crawls across us and down the bed, planting her cheek on Hilton’s thigh and the rest of her body on Brody.
When I have the freedom to move I slide out from between Mitch and Brody, feeling the loss of their warmth as I do so and standing on unsteady feet on the bed before crossing it to stand in front of Greg. I feel a little self-conscious in my ripped old night-shirt that I stole years ago from Dad. It’s one of his old football jerseys and is far too big on me. Paired with red silk bed-shorts, my long legs are on display and I want to roll my eyes at myself for being self-conscious. I’m in front of three people I’ve seen naked who are all flawless, and a fourth that I very much want to see naked as I don’t doubt he’s the hottest one of them all.
I hold my arm out to Greg and let him unwrap the bandage he put on it earlier. When he peels back the sticky pad and gauze over my stitches, I wince at the way it pulls my arm hair and pulls at the stitches.
“Ah, shit!” he curses suddenly, and I raise my eyebrows at him.
“What’s wrong?” Tara asks, sounding concerned and no doubt feeling a little guilty.
“She’s healing over the stitches. One of you go and get my surgical scissors!” he commands, and I jerk my arm out of his grip.
“What are you talking about, you put these in a few hours ago!” I grumble, before I see that he’s right. I stare at the wound on my arm where there are four long lines of stitches in my skin. The skin has begun to heal over the wound and looks to be doing so right before my eyes. Even as Tara races out of the room to fetch the surgical scissors, I pull the pocket knife out of my bra and begin slicing all the stitches open.
“Are you insane?” Mitch asks me seriously as they all watch me slice them open, digging into the skin that’s grown over the stitches at the ends of each long gouge.
“Why would you ask me that?” I query as I sheath the knife once more and begin jerking the stitches out with my nails. It stings like hell but the longer I wait the more it will hurt.
“You just pulled out a knife and started slicing at your stitches,” he retorts.
“Sorry I didn’t use claws,” I respond sarcastically and Brody snorts.
“Where did you even have that knife hidden?” Mitch asks me, more curious than ever. Typical cat.
“I’m not going to show you,” I tell him as I finish with the stitches in my arm and marvel at the fact that all there is left behind is the shiny, pink scar of four claw marks on my forearm.
“Please?” Mitch begs, and I laugh at him even as I lift the back of my shirt to reveal my stitched-up shoulders to Greg, who immediately pulls off the bandages and starts cutting the stitches with the scissors Tara has returned with.
“Not a chance,” I tell him, “One day I’ll surprise you with all the places I hide my weapons by using them on you if you piss me off.”
“But Anna!” he whines, pouting now.
“You just want to see my boobs, so shut up!” I laugh at him.
“You’ve seen me naked. It’s only fair,” he argues, looking hopeful.
I hiss when Greg stabs the scissors into my skin to get at the ones that have already grown over.
“Anyone want to tell me why I have scars where there were wounds two hours ago?” I ask the room at large, noticing the way Tobias is eyeing the exposed skin of my abs and back with a strange gleam in his eyes.
“You turned eighteen yesterday,” Brody says. “Your mother’s paranormal DNA will have started to kick in.”
“And that means I get to heal faster?” I ask, glancing at Greg who has stopped what he was doing to glare at Brody for telling me the truth about my parents and how I landed in this situation.
“It means you’ll heal faster and if you work at it, you’ll be able to move almost as fast as any of us, though you won’t be able to Shift like we do,” Brody informs me, ignoring Greg’s glare.
“Nice,” I grin, feeling the pain in my face beginning to lessen slowly. Hilton rolls his eyes and goes back to watching the movie.
“Do you still want pain medication?” Greg asks me when he lowers my shirt, done with my wounds.
“I think I’m okay,” I tell him. “Everything hurts less now that those stitches are out.”
He nods and eyes the rest of the team even as I go back over to my bed and clamber back into it, chuckling a little when Tara stretches out across us again.
“Is there a reason you’re all in here watching on that tiny laptop screen when there’s more space and a bigger TV downstairs?” he asks seriously.
“Anna needed us,” Mitch says nonchalantly without looking away from the TV. As such, he doesn’t catch the expression of surprise and happiness on my face. I wasn’t aware I needed any of them, but it feels kind of nice to know that even having them think I might has lured them all in here, Hilton included. I must admit they’re growing on me.
“I doubt that,” Greg tells him, making me chuckle. “Well, if you’re all going to insist on piling up in here, somebody better budge up.”
He grins when I laugh at that and then pulls up my desk chair, sitting and watching the movie with us.
“What are the chances of another hunt tonight?” Mitch asks a while later when the movie ends, while Tara nudges Tobias to try to persuade him to put a new one on.
“High,” Greg answers. “I expect there’ll be another attack this evening, probably in more than one area so they can try to scatter us. They’re not going to like us having a new addition to our team, especially a human addition. We need to get them under control. There’s been some intel over the coms through the day about a possible psychic attack today too, so we might have to look into that.”
“Does this area draw a particular kind of violent supernatural?” I ask, surprised to hear there is more than one group of paranormals terrorizing the area.
“Not exactly, and we cover a very broad area in our jurisdiction so when I say that I’m expecting another attack, I don’t necessarily mean they’ll hit Missoula again. They might hit Spokane. It�
�s big with the vamps. The possible psychic reports were coming from there too, when a few locals reported seeing a group of people staring at other people who then began doing odd things, like dancing on tables and getting very drunk, very quickly,” Greg explains to me while the rest of the team watch the movie.
“So, when you say psychics, you’re talking about people who control the mind, not just your basic palm-readers?” I clarify and Brody grins at me for the suggestion.
“Yeah, that’s what we do with our time, hunt down phonies making a living off the highly gullible and naïve,” Tobias scoffs and I narrow my eyes at him.
“We only go after paranormals who harm humans. That’s our job. Vampires feeding on victims and leaving them dazed but alive? Not out problem. The state’s werewolf Pack losing control on the full moon and chowing down on humans? Our problem to fix by putting them down,” Greg tells me.
“What if it’s an accident?” I ask. Seems a fair enough question to me. It’s not like they can control it.
“There are no accidents like that, Anna. Anyone who’s a Shifter knows what they can do and knows that on the full moon they lose their humanity. They are even given subsidies to pay for the infrastructure they need to have enclosures constructed to contain them during the full moon to ensure they can’t harm humans, other Shifters, or any other beings. If they lock themselves up and somehow break loose, the case is investigated and if there are mitigating circumstances that have caused the issue, those are considered. If they just forget to lock themselves up before the moon rises, it’s an offence and they are punished to the fullest extent of the law.”
“But only if they kill humans, right?”
“Right,” Greg nods.
“What about if they’re just turning humans? I’m assuming that you’re not all just born this way. Brody mentioned my Dad was bitten…”
“There are different rules for different beings, but generally the rules are that there can only be a certain number of humans turned by any Clan, Pack, Pride or coven each year and if that number is exceeded, the government intervenes.”
I nod my understanding and decide to hold off on the questions for a while to keep the team from getting annoyed with my lack of knowledge whilst trying to watch a movie. I can’t help but grin a little when I turn my attention back to the laptop and notice that Tobias has picked the first instalment of The Hobbit trilogy. While I refuse to admit it aloud, I’m a total sucker for all those kinds of epic tales and this one is among my favorites. Settling down further in my bed, I grin when Mitch leans over and snuggles his cheek against my shoulder and I flinch only slightly when my foot connects with Hilton’s knee where he’s stretched out a little more fully on the end of the bed.
He glances at me for a moment with an expression of annoyance before he remembers that this is my bed and my room, and reluctantly lifts his legs a little, letting me slide my foot down until my ankle is beneath the bend in his knee. I hope vaguely that no one notices when it feels like my heart skips a beat in my chest at the contact through the blankets.
∞ ∞ ∞
I jolt awake with a start and blink blearily, wondering where I am and what time it is. There is a flickering light near the end of the bed and I look at it, trying to clear the fog in my brain before recalling that after the first instalment of The Hobbit finished, Tobias put the rest of the trilogy into a playlist on media player to save from getting up again.
The sound of snoring draws my attention next and I lift my head to see that I’ve been using Brody’s bicep as a pillow. He has slipped down in the bed and has his chin resting on his chest as he snores softly. Sometime during the night Tara must’ve grown uncomfortable sleeping across the three of us and she is instead curled in a ball with her arms wrapped around Brody’s ribs, her face snuggled into his chest and her body curled up over his stomach and between his legs.
It’s a common cat position for sleeping, I realize, when I try to sit up and find that stretched out beside me, arms wrapped around my thigh and his head on my stomach is Mitch, snoring soundly and making little snarling sounds in his sleep. I try to wriggle up a little bit and he snorts in his sleep but doesn’t wake and I notice that my feet are also trapped, though not by Mitch. Stretched out on his back where he’s been sitting since he came into the room, slumped against the wall, his legs sprawled over my ankles and his chin on his chest is Tobias, also fast asleep. The only one missing is Greg, who I vaguely recall seeing leave midway through the second instalment of The Hobbit trilogy.
Unsure what has awoken me but feeling a strange sense of dread in the pit of my stomach, I very slowly and carefully begin to extract myself from Mitch, first lifting his head from my stomach and tucking it onto the pillow beside me. Next, I carefully unwrap his arms from my thigh, having to resort to giving him the pillow behind my back to cuddle when he makes a strange grunting snarly sound of protest even though he doesn’t wake. Extracting my feet from beneath Tobias’s legs is harder and he shifts restlessly as I slide them out from under him.
When I am finally free of both, I slip from beneath the covers, being careful as I stand up and step over Mitch to reach the floor. The sense of unease I felt seems to grow as I move, and I find myself at my desk, taking out both Glock 17s from the drawer. One filled with silver bullets and the other with wooden ones. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end and there is a tightness building between my shoulders when I hear a sound from somewhere outside the room. It’s a strange sort of wailing sound, as though there is a storm brewing and the wind is moving the trees of the forest, causing them to scratch against something metallic.
Something tells me it’s not just the wind in the trees, though. There is an eerie quality to the night and as I slip from the bedroom where the rest of my team sleeps, I wonder what is causing this unease. Though I’m new to the base, I stalk the halls in the dark, suspecting that those heightened abilities of having Shifter genetics must be responsible for the fact that I can see in the pitch black of the base. I search the rooms, peering into each room of my fellow members and checking they are clear and looking in on Greg, who is sleeping soundly on his stomach, unaware of my presence. The kitchen, living room, and training hall are all clear too, and I freeze when I hear the sound again, realizing it’s coming from outside the base.
I creep silently toward the long hall that leads to the indoor pool and gym. There are windows that overlook what I now realize are the enclosures that hold the team on full moon nights. It is while I am there that I first see them.
There are three shapes in the darkness, though I can’t make them out as being anything specific, and they prowl the length of the perimeter fence, not far from the gates. I squint in the darkness, trying to make out what they are, suspecting from their lumbering gait and size that they might be bruins, or maybe wolves. And it is as I’m staring at them in the darkness that something grabs me from behind in a tight hold, scaring the living hell out of me.
Chapter Six
Ahand claps over my mouth to stifle my scream of fear and surprise, and a tight arm clamps around my chest, pinning my arms to my sides and preventing me from using the pair of handguns I’m carrying. I’m pulled back against a solid and decidedly male body, and despite the way I struggle, I can’t get loose of my attacker’s hold.
“Don’t shoot,” a low gravelly voice mutters into my ear, lips brushing against the sensitive shell and causing my whole body to quiver. I stop struggling, already recognizing the owner of that voice by its singular ability to make me all tingly and hot under the collar. When I stop squirming for release, he takes his hand off my mouth, though he doesn’t release me completely.
“Damn it, Hilton!” I curse him in a whisper immediately. “I nearly shot your foot off! What the hell are you doing?”
“Shush,” he says, lips still against my ear, his body stiff and still behind mine. “Don’t move.”
I freeze, wondering what he sees that I don’t, out there in the darkness where I c
an see the shapes I’d noticed have stopped moving. A shift of cloud overhead shines moonlight on them and grey fur glistens in the darkness, which is nowhere near as unnerving as the glowing yellow eyes of the creatures beyond the fence.
They are wolves, I realize, and they are all staring right at me. They are bigger than any wolf I’ve ever seen, easily rivaling a bear in size and look far more lethal with those eyes and their long-muscled bodies. Those glowing eyes are fixed upon me and I go still beneath the gaze of the predators all staring at me so intently. I also try very hard to ignore the way it feels to have Hilton’s arms around me. His arm across my chest is tight, but despite the predators glaring at me from beyond the fence in the dark, I feel oddly safe in his hold.
Not a good sign.
What is wrong with me that I’ve developed this ridiculous and highly unhealthy attraction to a person who has been openly aggressive to me and disapproving of me having joined this team since I got here?
“Are you afraid?” he whispers in my ear and I realize he can feel the hammering of my heart against his arm. I don’t answer him, not sure if it is the residual fear of being grabbed from behind or simply his proximity to me that is causing my heart to race. I get the uncomfortable feeling it’s the second one given that I feel totally safe while he’s holding me.
“Why are they here?” I whisper in response rather than answering the question. I'm doing my best not to melt in his embrace when I feel his hand trailing down the length of my arm and closing around the Glock I’m carrying. The one with the silver bullets in it. As though he can sense the way it’s twitching with the urge to raise it against the werewolves beyond the fence, shooting them through the glass and ending their lives simply for being here.
“Because of you,” he answers, taking the gun from my grip even though I struggle to hold onto it.
“Me? Why?” I ask, not sure I want to know the answer.
“They have a problem with there being a human on this team just as much as I do,” his lips brush against my ear again, making my whole body quiver in his hold and causing my heart to skip a beat. I imagine I must reek of desire in his hold and I feel a blush stain my cheeks at the idea of him being able to smell my arousal and my attraction to him when it’s clear he despises me.