Hissy Fit

by Tilly Pope

  The fact that I’m already imagining being with this man is irrational, and a little creepy, however, I’m low on sleep and running on the fumes of the last chapter of my romance I finally finished. It contains an extremely erotic and tender scene between a werewolf and his high school sweetheart. Some hot as hell sex, a wedding ring, and poetic pronouncements of love. Basically, every woman’s dream.

  “So, are you going to say anything, or have I totally freaked you out by noticing you’ve been standing in my room for the last five minutes? I smelled you when you walked in,” Connor says, and all my fantasies come crashing down as I remember that I’m a professional, and he’s a patient.

  “Oh! Uhm! Do I stink?” I stutter, punctuating my words with the world’s weirdest giggle fit and raising my arm to sniff myself.

  “Not at all. Your perfume. It smells good. Magnolias? Jasmine?”

  “Uhm. Thank you. Versace. My favorite.”

  “Hmm...good to know.”

  “I…uhm…was just…checking in on you. I’m one of the doctors who attended to you in the ER. When they brought you in. For the motorcycle accident?”

  Why I’m explaining his own injuries to him is beyond me, but at least I’m talking.

  “Oh. Thank you. I must’ve looked pretty rough, huh? The nurse said I was totally out of it when I arrived. Apparently, I hit one of them? I think she may have been the one to turn this podcast on as a way of getting me back, but I love it. I feel bad, though. I’m not usually that irrational when I’m in pain,” he says.

  “It’s okay. Brittney’s fine. Plus, she said all the guys at her cross-fit class are afraid of her now. She gets free reign of the weights,” I tell him.

  Connor laughs, and it hits me right between my thighs. I want to hear that laugh more. Low and rumbling, like thunder rolling in from miles away. I want to make him laugh again.

  And I do, countless times over the next few hours as the ward clears out and a new shift begins. I should’ve gone home hours ago, but I can’t stop talking to him. Tucked away here with the curtain pulled, and the only nurses on duty are friends I can quietly shoo away. It feels like we’re in our own world.

  My awkward nerves slowly ebb away as I tell him about why I became a doctor, my childhood back east, and in return, he tells me about growing up around here, about the garage he runs with his brothers, and about the bikes he fixes up.

  I’m not shy with my feelings about those evil contraptions. To my surprise, Connor agrees with much of what I say, bemoaning all the racing clubs on dirt bikes that have cropped up in this area.

  “That’s not what I do. I’ve been riding for years, for one thing, but I don’t race, and I treat my bike like something to be both feared and respected. I know it can destroy me if I’m not careful,” he says, running his hand over the dressing at his temples. “That stupid car ran a stop light and I’m just glad to be alive. People really need to watch out for bikes.”

  I surprise myself by reaching across and placing my fingers over his, bringing them down and holding them in mine. “Yes, yes they do. I’m glad you’re getting better. Did the ophthalmologist say when you can take the bandages off your eyes?”

  “I heard I can go home tomorrow, but I’m not sure I can take the protective gauze off. I wish I could.”

  It feels weird holding his hand. It’s not something I should be doing. He doesn’t need comforting, he isn’t in pain, and he isn’t even my patient anymore, but I can’t stop myself. My cheeks flush hotter, my nipples tighten, and my stomach does that swooping thing it always does when there’s a perfectly delicious combination of nervousness and excitement that only a hot guy can elicit.

  Or a perfect guy, in this case.

  6

  Connor

  My eyes aren’t healing like they should. Four weeks have already passed and I’m home, but I’m still not allowed to open my eyes. I have an itchy rash on both eyelids that weeps and oozes and, according to my brother, Dara, it’s one of the grossest things he’s ever seen.

  Bastard.

  It’s pretty scary not knowing if I’ll ever see again. What will my life be like? I wonder if I shift for good, will I be able to see? Cobras don’t have eyelids, so am I doomed to blindness forever?

  For now, I’m stuck inside the house all day and my brothers are running the shop. I am a little worried about the place since we have to keep paying off The Federation, but there’s nothing I can do about it now.

  And I haven’t even seen Benny’s bike. I need to get it ready for Sturgis.

  Ever since I came home, I’ve been trying to do things on my own. My senses are pretty keen when it comes to staying away from the furniture. I get on the treadmill to get a little exercise while listening to my romance podcasts. My brothers think I’m crazy, but I don’t care. They can see. And Dara set up my tablet so it’s voice activated. I don’t need them for anything.

  Alana and I are dating, and I couldn’t be happier. Well, except for this eye thing. It all started when I was in the hospital and she visited me that night. We talked for hours, she held my hand and the next night, she came back to see me. When she was sure we were all alone in the room, we shared a few kisses as well.

  After I came home, she’s been stopping by every day after work to check on me. She’s amazing. Hilarious, intelligent, kind, and generous. She’s beautiful to me in every way, even though I’ve never seen her.

  I’ve kissed a lot of women in my life, but Alana’s kisses are the best, by far. It just feels so…right; like we are meant for each other. Her lips are made for mine, and the taste of her; sweet Jesus, she’s intoxicating, and constantly makes me want more.

  But I can’t have more. Not yet, at least. I don’t want to take this any further until I have my sight back. If I never see again, I’d hate to put the burden of taking care of me on her. I have to learn how to take care of myself first, so for now, it’s just talking and kisses.

  That doesn’t stop me fantasizing about her laid out in front of me for our first time together, though. Her soft skin under my fingertips. Her sweet kisses. But I want to see her. I want to see every freckle, every hair, and take in her beautiful smile.

  I’ve run my fingers over her face, her lips, and her hair. I’ve held her hand in mine, but it’s not the same as seeing her while I do it. I want to look into her sparkling eyes and reach all the way to her soul.

  Waiting is torture, and far worse than just being cooped up in the house, but I know I can do this. My mind is constantly filled with thoughts of Alana. It’s a desire, deep inside, unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before. The accident, meeting Alana, losing my sight—it’s all changing me, though not necessarily for the better.

  There’s been a lot of changes in my life lately, and it’s clear I don’t deal well with it. None of us McKinley’s do. I guess that’s what happens when you go from having a perfectly normal life, to losing our parents, and then finding out we are cobra shifters. It’s more than enough to turn your world upside-down.

  My aversion makes itself known, both with anger and tension; two things I’ve never been afflicted with before. I snapped at Dara yesterday when he burned the toast. He does it at least once a week, since he just shoves the bread in the toaster, doesn’t look at the setting, then wanders off to tinker with whatever his latest project is. It’s never bothered me before, but lately, little things like that have been driving me up the wall.

  It doesn’t help that on top of all these changes, there’s also something else dragging me down; I’m not being honest with Alana. I haven’t told her about who, and what, I really am, our parents’ legacy, and our duty to The Federation.

  Alana told me that first night we talked about her study of snakes and their deadly venom. About how her sister’s death from one inspired her to investigate the field. She sounded so excited when she started talking about her research.

  She’s so knowledgeable about snakes from all over the world, and I could feel her glowing as she spoke ab
out it. She told me she’s made a name for herself in the medical world as an expert on venom and sometimes gets called to other hospitals to consult. It’s impressive, especially for a doctor in her first year of residency.

  Or it would be impressive, if her hatred of snakes wasn’t clear in every word she spoke about them, and I get it. A snake bite killed her sister. It makes perfect sense why she’d be afraid of animals like me, and our ability to end someone’s life with just one bite from our fangs. She has every right to feel that way.

  A good guy would have told her that and come clean about him being a cobra shifter. A good guy would let her go before things got complicated, and before feelings got involved.

  Obviously, I’m not a good guy.

  What I should have said is, “Speaking of deadly snakes, my brothers and I are cobra shifters and we pay a monthly fee to a government agency, covertly named The Federation, to protect our identities. However, they wouldn’t hesitate to kill us if we ever made a wrong move. Oh, and there’s also a gang of shifter-hating vigilantes who’ll kill us if we ever forfeit The Federation’s protection by leaving Pythos for more than a few weeks. So, we should probably cut things off now, since you hate everything I become when I shift. I don’t want to fall in love with a woman who hates half of me.”

  Yeah, that would go over really well.

  But what I actually said was, “That’s so interesting. I love how passionate you are. You turned your sister’s death and turned it into something positive by studying and using your knowledge to save people’s lives. You’re amazing, Alana.”

  We kissed after that, and that kiss sealed my fate. There was no way I could let her go, not after a kiss like that. It was explosive, and hotter than any kiss I’d ever had.

  I’ve rehearsed telling her the truth a thousand times in my head over the last few weeks. I know it’s wrong to keep the truth from her, and there is a chance—a very small chance—that she might not immediately send me away. She might even stay with me, accept me, and realize that although I’m a snake, it doesn’t mean I’m going to hurt her.

  But if I tell her that, I also have to explain everything about my family, The Federation, the gang of shifter killers waiting to come after us, and I’ll have to explain why Brodie bit the girl that she saved. She’ll realize that while I may promise not to hurt her, I can.

  I could take her life in a split second, just like the snake that killed her sister, and show her exactly why humans fear snakes. Telling her would show her she’s right to fear me and my kind. That’s more than enough to send any woman running, so I can’t tell her any of it. I know I’m being selfish, but I don’t want to lose her.

  Alana is the most amazing person I’ve ever met. Touching her makes me feel alive, like there’s electricity buzzing through my veins. Listening to her talk is more entertaining than any movie, or even my favorite podcasts. Every second I spend with her makes me even more certain that she is my mate. For life.

  I know that makes no sense, because if I truly believe that, why wouldn’t I trust her to understand and accept me for what I am?

  I love Alana. She makes me want to stay. I wouldn’t mind being stuck in Pythos for the rest of my life if it means I’ll get to spend every day of it with her.

  But I can’t do that if she leaves me, so I must find a way to make her stay.

  No matter what.

  7

  Alana

  Today’s the day! Connor is finally getting the final dressing removed from his eyes. I’m so excited. I can’t wait to see his whole face for the first time, and to watch his eyes lock with mine. I’ve been with him when he’s had his dressings changed before, but he’s always followed the doctor’s orders and never opened his eyes. It’s been too painful for him, anyway, and no wonder. Gravel in his eyelids? I’m a doctor and that still makes me cringe.

  We’ve grown so close over the past few weeks, but I can tell he’s holding something back, and I have a sneaking suspicion it’s because he hasn’t seen me, or at least, seen me clearly. They say that the eyes are the windows to the soul, and I guess since he hasn’t been able to look into mine yet, he’s still not sure about us. Not completely certain that what we have is real.

  I have no such hesitation, and I believe that finally seeing each other for the first time will bring us closer together, in more ways than one. Connor hasn’t even wanted to have sex with me until his sight returns, and I have a serious case of lady blue balls that my vibrator and Kindle full of steamy romance have done little to help. I have a special dinner planned for us tonight, after which I plan on jumping his bones and finally experiencing what the weight of him on top of me, behind me, and under me feels like.

  “You excited?” I ask, squeezing his hand. He’s sitting on a bench in Dr. Patel’s office while we wait for the doctor to come in and cut the dressing and gauze away. I’m practically vibrating with excitement.

  “Yeah,” he says, smiling, but there’s a slight tilt to the edges of his lips that keeps his grin from assuming its full, widespread brightness. I can’t wait to see that go away, to see him completely give himself over to us and our new relationship.

  “Hello!” Dr. Patel says from behind me, and I turn to see his smiling, serene face as he walks into the room. James Patel must be the happiest doctor in this hospital. I suspect that has something to do with the fact that his job rarely requires him to work the night shift, and for that, I envy him.

  “Hello, Doctor,” I say, and Connor greets him, too.

  “Dr. Patel,” he says, nodding politely.

  “You ready for this, Connor? It’s going to be a bit of an adjustment after all those weeks with no sight, but I’m confident you are healed, so you should have no pain when you open your eyes,” Dr. Patel says, placing a hand on Connor’s shoulder. “It will be bright though. Did you bring some sunglasses?”

  “Yeah, I have some with me. Okay, I’m ready,” Connor says, and I squeeze his hand to let him know I’m here for him.

  Dr. Patel takes a pair of sterilized scissors from one of the drawers in the cabinet next to him and opens the packet. He approaches Connor and tilts his head to the side.

  “Snipping in… three, two, one,” he counts down, bringing the scissor blades to the gauze taped at Connor’s temple. A minute later, the entire dressing is off.

  “Go slowly at first, since your eye muscles aren’t used to movement,” Dr. Patel cautions Connor. Meanwhile, I’m standing behind the doctor, clasping my hands together and waiting to jump around in excitement. I’ve met his brothers over the past weeks, and they all have golden, hazel eyes that are really striking. Each one of them has a slightly different shade to their irises, especially noticeable in the sunlight. I’m guessing Connor’s will be hazel too, and I can’t wait to see them.

  Connor nods, and I watch as he slowly blinks open his eyes. But, when he turns to me and his eyes meet mine, I gasp and bring my hands to my face. There, between lids tipped by long dark lashes, are two large black pupils and irises that look exactly like those of a cobra. The same damn type of snake that bit my poor sister, Hannah, and killed her.

  I can’t be hallucinating, can I? Is Connor, the man I’ve grown so close to, actually a snake?

  My jaw drops, and Connor’s and James’ heads whip toward me. They both stare at me, and while I see James’ kind, large brown eyes staring back at me with concern, I can’t bear to even look at Connor’s face. It’s bringing back so many bad memories, and now they are all bubbling back up again.

  Thoughts of finding Hannah, a mile back on the trail from where she’d promised to meet me, flood my mind. I remember holding her head in my hands as I called 911 and the call cutting in and out, since cellphone service in the Mojave Desert is famously non-existent. I remember trying to bind the wound on her ankle that was already swelling up and turning a mean shade of green. Hearing her rasping breaths, and her softly uttered words of love and farewell as we waited for the search and rescue team to find us.


  By the time they showed up, she was already dead. My little sister, valedictorian of her class, and only in her first year at UCLA, was dead. Her light blue eyes were glassy as they stared up at me, her blonde hair matted against my arm, slick with sweat and fear.

  “What’s wrong, Alana?” Connor asks, snapping me out of my thoughts with concern in his voice.

  “Sorry, it’s just…your eyes…” I say, without looking at him, then Connor jumps off the table and looks in the mirror above the sink.

  He whispers, “Oh shit,” under his breath, then holds out his arms and checks his hands, turning them palm down, then palm up, as if he’s looking for…I have no idea. All I know is, I can’t breathe. I need to get out of here.

  “Sorry, I…I have to…” I say, but I can’t finish my sentence. I run out of the room, down the hallway to the stairs. I take them three at a time, nearly turning my ankle as I sprint down the floors. I’ve got palpitations, and I need fresh air to wipe my mind clean of all these horrible thoughts.

  I push through the emergency exit door at the foot of the stairwell without even acknowledging that I’ve set off the alarm in the process. All I’m focused on is the sidewalk in front of me. I just run as hard and as fast as I can.

  Why are his eyes like that? They look like a snake’s, and why was he checking his arms? Is he a snake? No way. That’s only in fairytales and science fiction movies, isn’t it? I just can’t deal with this right now; I can’t deal with him.

  The sidewalk leading around the side of the hospital ends abruptly at a cross walk. It’s mid-afternoon, so traffic isn’t bumper to bumper yet and I’m able to fly across the road with nothing more than a cursory glance to the left and right. The road is empty on either side, and I sprint across the intersection, but there’s no sidewalk on the other side of the road; just the on-ramp to the freeway.