by Ellie J Duck
Great move, Anna. Fall for the guy who hates you! I think to myself bitterly at the very idea, although it does nothing to help with the arousal.
“I’m going to go with ‘why’ again,” I murmur, since I have no idea why he has a problem with me being on the team. Everyone has been dancing around it and only telling me that it’s simply because I’m human.
“This is a unit that systematically hunts down creatures and beings who slaughter humans,” he replies, his voice cold in my ear even though his lips are warm against my skin. “We’re the disciplinary measure in place to regulate people who are far faster, stronger, smarter and better than humans. We keep them from rising up and overthrowing the human population via the mass slaughter of all who get in their way. And while they might not much like it, they accept it because until now there has never successfully been a human on any unit who does what we do. It’s a personal affront and an outright insult to all beings to know that they will be hunted down and killed if they kill a human, a weaker species than them. Now imagine their outrage to know that if they commit such an offense, they might be put down by a human. As you can probably imagine, that rubs some people the wrong way.”
Suddenly it makes a little more sense to me than it did yesterday when the vampire murmured about the idea of his mistress being interested to know that there was human on our team. It also makes more sense as to why Tobias was so against it. Despite that, I must bite my tongue and clamp down on my muscles to keep from begging him to show me how I can rub him the right way. Like a total idiot.
“If that’s the case then why are Brody, Tara, Mitch and Greg totally fine with me being here?” I ask him in a whisper.
“Brody, Mitch and Tara have never lived among your kind and find novelty in having a human in their midst,” Tobias tells me. “They also don’t grasp how strongly opposed my kind are to humans after all that your people have done to mine. Greg brought you into this team because the minute you left the Academy you were at, you were going to become a target to any who knew about your existence and had an axe to grind with Magnus Cane. He’s doing your father a favor.”
“What are you talking about? What my people have done to yours?” I ask him, frowning now and trying to look over my shoulder at him, earning myself a sharp nip to my earlobe for even moving. “If you tell me it’s the werewolf hunts from the fifteenth century, I may still shoot you just for spite, Hilton. Most of those poor people who were captured and slaughtered were human!”
“Were you there?” he asks, his voice a low growl now, causing me to shiver again in his hold. As if the nip to my ear hasn’t driven my heart into overdrive and made my whole body tremble in his arms.
“What sort of a stupid question is that? Of course, I wasn’t there! But all reports point to most victims being human,” I retort, seizing on my irritation at his stupidity and using it to hide how badly I want him.
“So say the human histories that were put in place to protect Shifters from being believed to be anything more than myth. To put an end to the slaughter!” Tobias whispers to me, his tone angry now. “You have no idea what you’re talking about, no idea about any of the species and beings you’re going to be hunting and you wonder why some of us are insulted by the idea of a human on this team?”
“And so, your Pack are outside, prowling the perimeter looking for what? A signal from you to come on in and kill me?” I demand, eyeing the predators in the darkness who have begun to fade into the forest.
Hilton snarls, low and dangerous in my ear and his arm tightens around my chest until it hurts just a bit.
“My Pack are asleep upstairs in your bed where you left them to go prowling in the night,” he corrects me, and his tone tells me how deeply insulted he is by my suggestion. “The fools outside were scouts sent here by the state Pack to investigate the rumor that they are now expected to wear the insult of being hunted by a human if they happen to kill a human. And you confirmed it the minute you got out of bed and came on down here, wandering around like some female Terminator wannabe.”
I quiver again in his hold, involuntarily, and I hate myself for how much I want a man who clearly hates me. What is wrong with me? All my life I’ve never been much interested in anyone. Sure, I had the occasional crush, but I got over it quickly. No one ever made me feel like this. I feel like a bundle of nerve endings being slowly tormented by the sight, smell and sound of him, by the feel of his body pressing against mine, his warmth soaking into my skin and settling itself in my soul. I hate myself for feeling this way and I hate him for making me feel anything at all. Until he came along, I’d never lusted after anybody the way I’m lusting after him. And as if that isn’t bad enough, there’s the added insult of knowing he can’t stand me and wants nothing to do with me. That he feels I have no place amongst his team, his people and his world.
I hate myself for feeling hurt by that fact.
“Get off me, Hilton,” I say. My voice is cold and bitter in the darkness as I move to escape his hold, unable to stand his touch when I know his hatred. He ignores me for several long seconds and I’m vaguely aware of the fact that he is breathing in my scent, his nose skimming against the soft, sensitive skin behind my ear at the edge of my hairline. It tickles and makes me want to melt into him and beg him to have his way with me.
“You never answered my question,” he murmurs, those lips of his teasing my flesh and causing my heart to skip another beat as it races in my chest.
“What question?” I demand, beyond frustrated now with his continued hold.
“Are you afraid?”
“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” I tell him stubbornly. Except maybe having him realize how much I want him.
“And yet your heart is racing,” he murmurs, his voice alone making me bite my lip to keep from moaning as he presses my gun back into my hand before releasing me and melting away into the darkness.
I clench my fists as I watch him go, disappearing back down the hall toward the stairs that lead to the bedrooms. Part of me yearns to follow him, to return to bed and try not to think about the way my body aches with the loss of his touch against me. But I know I won’t find sleep and the rest of the team are still asleep in there. Instead, I do the only thing I can think of to work off my mounting frustration. I go into the firing range at the far end of the base, and I murder paper targets until I’m out of bullets. When that doesn’t help, I go to the gym and climb on the treadmill, where I run and run and run until I can’t think past the need to put one foot in front of the other and just keep running.
∞ ∞ ∞
Dawn arrives before I’ve run off my frustration and I’ve lost all awareness of reality as I pound away the miles until Brody shows up in the gym to do his routine morning weights session. I am so lost to the running that I don’t even notice he’s there until he sticks his big head in front of the mile counter on my treadmill before he yanks on the safety cord, abruptly stopping the machine, which seems to groan in relief at finally being switched off after such prolonged use.
“You’ve run twenty-eight miles!” he says, frowning in concern when I stumble at suddenly being stopped. My legs have found the rhythm of running for so long and don’t know what to do now that the machine has stopped. He picks me up off the treadmill when I fall to my knees, carrying me with ease over to sit on one of the weights machines and handing me a bottle of water. When I’m unable to take it due to clutching something in my hands that he can’t seem to wrest away from me and which I can’t seem to force myself to drop or even recognize as not being part of my body, Brody holds the bottle to my lips, forcing me to drink.
“Take small sips or you’ll get stomach cramps,” he instructs. “How long have you been in here?”
“I don’t know,” I tell him, my voice hoarse and my throat burning from the run now that I’ve finally stopped.
“What do you mean you don’t know?” he asks me, frowning.
“I don’t know what time it was when they came,�
� I answer tiredly. “In the night. The wolves. They prowled the fence, confirming there’s a human on this team now…. When they were gone, I went to the firing range, but I ran out of bullets…. I’ve been running ever since.”
“There were other Shifters here last night and no one but you stirred?” he asks. His voice is rumbling now, and I sense a trickle of worry and anger from him over the idea of any creature coming to our base of operations and simply prowling about, watching, assessing.
“Tobias woke,” I answer dully. “He told me why they were here. How the Shifters and the other beings will hunt me now. How they take offense to the idea of a human like me being on the team of people who will hunt them down and kill them if they kill a human. How the wolves hate humans for all we’ve done to them in the past. How me being on this team is an affront to all supernatural beings.”
Brody’s expression doesn’t change, but his dark eyes flash with something I’m too tired to recognize, let alone process.
“Let’s get something in your stomach to make you feel better. You look dead on your feet, Anna. You were badly banged up yesterday and the healing process takes a lot more out of you than you realize yet. Being up most of the night running miles and miles, it’s a wonder you’ve not dropped into unconsciousness already,” he says. I try to half-heartedly protest when he scoops me up again, cradling me against his chest and carrying me back through the base to the kitchen where he sets me on the bench and starts digging around in the fridge for some bacon.
He is still cooking it - after trying to hand me a cup of hot chocolate - when the rest of the team begin stumbling into the kitchen, groggy at being awoken by the amount of noise Brody is making. I suspect he is angry about something, but I can’t get my mind to focus long enough to consider what it could be.
“Anna, are you okay?” Tara asks, concern evident in her voice though I feel too exhausted to even turn and look at her. “No offense sweetie, but you look like hell.”
“I’m okay,” I murmur. I feel like I’m floating on a cloud, not all there and I suspect delirium is beginning to set in from the lack of sleep and the amount of energy I’ve expended.
At least, I feel that way until suddenly Brody moves across the kitchen with far more speed and agility than I expected from someone his size. When his clenched fist collides with Hilton’s jaw with a dull-sounding thwack, sending the werewolf reeling, the others cry out in surprise. I blink slowly, trying to process what is happening despite my exhaustion.
“What the fuck was that for?” Tobias snarls, his eyes too bright a shade of orange to be human and his teeth looking far too sharp for my comfort. He looks severely pissed off and his jaw is already swelling from the blow. Vaguely I think to myself that it ought to be considered sacrilege to do anything to such a pretty face that might in some way mar, maim or otherwise obscure all that rugged handsomeness.
It’s in that moment, as we all wait for Brody’s reply and I ponder the prettiness of Tobias Hilton’s face, with far too much concern over one punch - which he almost certainly deserves - that I realize I am totally and utterly delirious.
“Oh, I think you know,” Brody rumbles, looking like he wants to hit Hilton again. Part of me kind of wants him to, but for the most part my mind is simply detached. I feel as though the lights are on, but the only person home is the scatterbrained aunt with way too many cats. Like I’m simply a spectator to my own reality. On some subconscious level I know it’s a result of utter exhaustion and still being in a state of auto-pilot, but I can’t seem to snap out of it.
Tobias doesn’t answer Brody’s suggestion though he does scowl like somebody ate his dog biscuits. The thought makes me snigger a little and earns me a dirty look from the werewolf.
“Look at her!” Brody snarls, going after Tobias as though he means to hit him again and gesturing wildly in my direction. “What the fuck were you thinking?”
“What the hell do you think I did?” Tobias snarls back, eyeing me now as though I’m crazy even though it’s Brody who's losing his shit. Tara and Mitch both eye me too and I vaguely stare back at them.
“Why don’t you go and look at the treadmill in the training hall and tell me what you fucking did? That is, if it has cooled down enough that it’s not going to blow up when you turn it on again!” Brody snarls.
“What is going on in here?” Greg demands, arriving in the kitchen and still trying to pull on his shirt, frustrated at being woken.
“Brody and Tobias are fighting because there were Shifters here last night to confirm that Anna had joined out team. She’s been up half the night running on the treadmill after Tobias told her that every being in existence is going to take issue with her being on our team,” Tara fills Greg in quickly.
“Anna?” Greg asks, coming toward me slowly as though he’s just noticed my zombified state. I try to look at him, but I’m still too busy pondering the swelling on Tobias’s jaw.
“You scared the crap out of her!” Brody snarls, going for Tobias again.
“I’m…” I begin, frowning at the mention of that idea. “I’m not afraid….”
“Oh, I see,” Brody says sarcastically. “So, you emptied both magazines from your guns, which you are still futilely clutching, and then ran twenty-eight miles on the treadmill and would still be there if it wasn’t for me stopping you. You did all that for nothing, huh?”
“I’m not afraid,” I repeat, feeling my brain wake up a little under this kind of accusation.
“It would be understandable if you were, Anna,” Greg says gently as he comes over and tries to take my guns from me. “You only just learned about the supernatural, and you were badly injured yesterday, not to mention traumatized by being tagged by a vampire yesterday morning. To learn that there are some people who might take issue with you being on this team by stalking you, hunting you, wanting to hurt you… it would be understandable if you were feeling a little frightened.”
“Summers,” I say slowly, dragging my eyes up to meet his gaze even though I can’t seem to relinquish my hold on my guns. “I’m not afraid! I’ve spent my life knowing that I was on the hit list of people I’ve never met simply because of who my father is and who I am. I’ve geared my life for the job of taking out targets by putting them down and I’ve had a long time to prepare myself for the idea that because of that job and my father’s job, people will want me dead. A whiny little vampire with a penchant for chewing raw flesh and a few pissed-off wolves showing up in the middle of the night don’t scare me!”
“Then why won’t you give me your guns?” he asks me quietly, still trying to tug them from my grip.
“I’ve been holding them too long,” I admit. “My hands are cramped around them. You’re going to have to pry my fingers loose,” I tell him, making a focused effort to move my hands and release the weapons. Summers does what I suggested, slowly bending each finger back from each gun until he pries them loose of my hold.
“Do you want to tell me why you ran twenty-eight miles? How did you even manage it without keeling over?” Summers asks, handing over my guns to Tara.
“No. I don’t want to tell you. I didn’t even know how far I’d run. I shot up the targets in the shooting range, and then I went running. I wasn’t paying attention. Until Brody showed up, I didn’t even realize how far I’d run.”
Summers glances at the team, sharing a worried look with them.
“That’s not normal, Greg,” Mitch points out. “No human should be able to run for that long. She’s totally out of it and we need to get some food and fluids into her fast before she passes out. I don’t know how she hasn’t already. She expended a lot of energy when her healing process kicked in. To have then been up half the night, not just awake but sprinting for twenty-eight miles, it’s a wonder she’s not already out.”
“Yes, thank you, Mitchell,” Summers says in a voice that suggests he already knew those things. “Tobias, would you care to explain why you thought it was alright to knowingly deviate from proced
ures?”
“They were only here to confirm she was human. If she’d stayed in bed like a good little human, she’d be fine,” Hilton growls, and even the sound of his voice makes me want to get right back on the treadmill and try to run this stupid crush out of my system.
“Do you have to be a jackass all the time?” Tara snarls at him. “Get over your issues Tobias, because if you fuck with her over the grudge you have against humans again, I’m going to maul you in your sleep!”
“Now you’re defending her?” Hilton asks. “She’s a human. She shouldn’t be here!”
“Yeah, yeah,” I sigh in annoyance, drooping a little more on the bench and wondering if anyone would object to me sleeping here. “Humans killed some werewolves a long time ago and even though neither of us were born, you should hold that against me. I was clearly responsible for it.”
“It’s not about that!” Hilton snarls, protesting the stupidity of such a notion. “We kill things that prey on humans and you’re a human! If you start killing things for preying on humans, they’re not going to see it as the justice system at work, they’re going to see humans getting revenge and further controlling them more than already happens!”
“And since they all know I’m damn well here and the ones who don’t want to kill me for that instead want to kill me for who my Dad is, I’d say there’s not much that can be fucking done about it other than to make sure I’m as good at my job as I can possibly be. You don’t have to like it. You don’t even have to like me. You just have to shut up and do your damn job!” I explode at him, feeling my temper flare despite how much energy it seems to drain from me simply to get upset at him.
“You need to eat something before you pass out,” Brody’s voice cuts into the silence that follows while Tobias scowls at me. I glance toward the were-bear and see that he’s clutching a plate of bacon, holding it toward me. The smell makes my stomach rumble and then cramp with hunger and I reach for it automatically, snatching up rashers of it and crunching on it.