Greyriver Shifters

by Kristina Weaver

  So why look at me and go all crazy? I wonder, shaking my head when nothing comes to mind.

  I sigh when it happens again, that acceptance of not knowing and think about exactly how out of place Gregor’s behavior was. All I know is that one minute I was meeting a good-looking guy, who was friendly and used to talk to me like a friend, and the next, he was getting possessive and scaring the hell out of me.

  I’ve been with guys, few admittedly, but enough to know that I’m more a settle type of girl than the obsession type. Guys find me pretty, funny, and easy to be around, so whatever interest I’ve sparked in the past is more about making them want to have an easy relationship than the, oh God, I want her variety.

  But with Gregor, it was something else. He wanted me. Badly. To the point that it scared me, and boy do I now know I should have been more afraid because the guy turned out to be a complete maniac.

  I can stand here and tell myself that I didn’t see what I saw until I am blue in the face, but the two long lines on my shoulder, scars from where he bit me the night he tried to “claim” me, scream that I would be lying.

  I saw him in my room, the way he changed right in front of my eyes. Hair sprouting on his face, teeth growing longer and sharp as knives, his eyes changing from a deep blue to this electric blue that told me loudly he isn’t human.

  Even now, as I remember what happened and the fear that pumped through me, I know deep inside that he became…a werewolf. It sounds ridiculous when I think it, never mind having to say it to someone else, but it just is.

  Gregor is a werewolf. Those things do exist. I totally fucked up ever getting involved with him, and yes, I do believe that he is coming after me. The only question I have now is: Why?

  Why me? Maddy, the girl I worked with, is so much more attractive. She’s thin, has legs up to her armpits, and nice boobs that may or may not be fake, though my jealousy demands they’re fake. She’s got perfectly straight teeth, and she’s got a great personality.

  In short, she’s the girl I’d want to date and have sex with if I were a man.

  And yet Gregor didn’t once look at her. In fact, I can tell you with all sincerity he seemed disgusted with her, as if just the thought of being with her made his skin crawl.

  Me though, me, he wanted to the point he changed into a monster and came after me like one. I can still feel the pain of his teeth scoring my skin before I got free and beat his head in with that lamp.

  I can still see the scars he left behind, telling me that I was not drunk, high, or suffering hallucinations.

  He changed, and I am on the run, or I was until these nice people offered to let me stay and help me start a new life. I don’t understand why Hannah and Logan care so much, but you know what, I’ll take it because I have nothing else.

  There is no one for me to turn to for help. My mother is gone, her life cut short by apathetic interest. All she cared about was getting me to adulthood so that the foster system wouldn’t get hold of me.

  I have no one and nothing besides these strangers, who seem to want to help, and that’s okay because I am so tired of being alone that I will easily take what I can get. I’m that desperate.

  “Cass?”

  I hear Hannah calling from the bedroom and turn with a grimace, giving the scars on my shoulder one last look before walking for the door.

  “I’m in here, Hannah,” I call out softly, cracking the door just wide enough to peek through.

  The rest of me, I keep behind the wood, not at all comfortable with anyone seeing me in a tiny towel. I’m not ashamed of my body, just modest since Mom taught me that the only time I should be looked at is during sex.

  That’s my mom for you. Not a prim bone in her body, though she lectured the hell out of me many a time and let me know that disease and unplanned pregnancy is the result of a lazy woman and one who has no respect for her body.

  I have a healthy respect after Gregor tried to take my choice from me, trust me.

  “Oh, well, Logan brought your bags from the car after getting them from Jake’s Garage!” she trills, making me smile.

  These people are all so nice, I think, wondering if they just like being kind or if it’s like a thing with them. Like they’re taught that way. It sure would be nice if it was both, but I’ll take any of them right now since it gets me a free bed and food that I couldn’t otherwise provide.

  “Oh goodness! Thank you. That is so sweet. Where are they?” I ask, scanning the room for my bags.

  “Oh, I burnt those, silly! They were hideous. Trust me, I was doing you a favor. I went out to Denise’s place and got you some new stuff. I think you’ll love them. I got you jeans that will actually fit, some shirts that will show off your cleavage, and shoes that don’t look like the stuff sad girls wear when they stop trying!”

  I blink, hearing the words but not quite understanding them before it registers. She burnt my clothes? No. Of course, she didn’t, I think, blowing out a relieved sigh. No one does that.

  “Er…well, that was sweet of you, really…but uh…I would really rather prefer my own stuff. It’s…uh…my stuff, and I chose it, so where is it?” I ask softly, trying not to offend her too much.

  Hannah blinks, cocks her head, and looks back at me confused.

  “I burnt them. As in, I looked through your bags, saw the oversized stuff you seem to want to drown in, and…burnt them,” she says slowly, smiling when I stare at her blankly for long seconds filled with disbelief.

  “Um.”

  “Oh! You’re upset. This is you being unhappy about taking stuff from me. I understand. Don’t feel bad! This is all me. I can’t stand bad style, Cass. It’s like my Kryptonite. And Logan totally agreed after he saw the way you’re hiding under those tents and old lady pants.”

  She says all this as if I shouldn’t be offended and shows her opinion when I scowl and shake my head. Gratitude is one thing, but standing here pretending that this woman didn’t just erase everything I have acquired over the last three years is not something I am willing to do. Not even to spare her feelings and remain in her house.

  “You took my things, looked through my bags, and burned them?” I say slowly, my tone more question than statement.

  “Yes.”

  “You burned my clothes?” I try again, not quite believing her.

  Hannah frowns again, seeming confused as to why I should ask her that again, which I do because I cannot believe this!

  “Yes, silly. I just told you like a billion times. I took them. They offended me, so I started a nice big fire in the pit out back, placed them in the middle, poured lighter fluid all over them and whoosh! Toast. You’re welcome by the way,” she says and giggles, making my eyeballs twitch while they’re wide and dumbstruck.

  “You burned my clothes! You burned…my clothes. How could you do that? How could…? Do you know that I like those clothes?!” I yell, stepping out of the bathroom with a hiss of fury.

  “Well, I don’t see how, honey. Those jeans you seem to favor look like they belong to the fat version of Miss Daisy. Your shirts are all a hundred sizes too big and do nothing for your figure, and those shoes are the shoes of a woman with no interest in her appearance. I got you a whole bunch of stuff that will show off your boobs and make your ass look like the hot commodity it is. Lord, you are so lucky to have the figure you do! I hate that my ass is so small. I’ve tried and tried doing squats, but the problem is I am terminally lazy! Who likes exercise, I ask you?”

  My lips twitch, reluctantly, because I am struggling not to yell a “Hell yeah!” and high five her for that comment. Until I realize she looks this hot without lifting a finger.

  Whew! Talk about jealousy, I think, shaking my head to dispel the random thoughts.

  “You realize that is so wrong, right?” I venture slowly, not knowing what I should really say because I’m pissed and strangely flattered at the same time.

  “Oh! Yes. Yes, I do. Luckily for us all, I don’t care and always do what makes me happy
,” she says cheerily, smiling when I gape. “Oh, you’ll get used to it and love me eventually. Why, even Bear’s mother loves me now and she used to hate me. I kinda grow on you. Like a fungus. Only I smell waaay better, and I have more looks. Sooo, do you wanna see what awesome taste I have?” she wheedles, her face falling when I just stare and try not to freak out.

  “I…I need a minute. I kinda don’t know exactly how I should respond to this,” I admit slowly, looking down at the bed where bags of very expensive clothes sit, the sight making my heart beat with dread.

  I don’t have near enough money to cover the cost of any of this, not even if I max all three of my cards, and I know it. I can practically smell the dollar signs on each tag, and even from here, I smell way too many zeros.

  Wwwwaaay too many.

  Hannah sighs when I just keep looking and eventually just grabs a bag and starts taking out clothes.

  “This is the dress I got you to wear to dinner tonight. It’s casual without screaming I don’t care what I look like. And shoes. I got you some sweeeet little pumps with three-inch heels since I am almost certain you can’t walk in anything higher. Oh! And I got you some other stuff too. All on sale, don’t worry. Ever since I mat—ried Logan, I’ve been making myself aware of the fact that I am spoiled. Not that I spend less. I mean, I’m still me, but I now know exactly what I do spend, and I thought you’d appreciate more of the affordable things.”

  I listen to her prattle on and on about how cheap the three-hundred-dollar jeans really are, which, wow, I can’t even say anything to that, but what I am really doing is looking at the lilac sheath dress with a feeling of utter dread and bone-chilling panic. It’s gonna be tiny. Tiny. I can just see that the amount of fabric on that thing isn’t going to be nearly enough to cover my huge ass! Oh God. I’m going to be stuffed into a sausage casing, and the moment I sit it’ll split and everyone will see and—

  “Oh calm down! I am a professional I’ll have you know. You’re what a two on the waist and a three on the ass?” she asks, waving away my frantic look with a casualness that makes me swallow.

  “That’s too small. I…it will never go over my ass and my boobs—”

  “Are exactly right. You’re a B, no shame in that. I myself have acquired an excellent C cup due to the pregnancy, and my Logan is entranced, but I have to admit, I hardly know what to do with all the extra boobage. Now that ass, Lord help me, I am so jealous. I always wanted a nice big booty that a male could sink his teeth into.”

  She keeps pulling more clothes out of the bags, and by the time I can actually speak again, I almost choke seeing just how much there is. I didn’t have this much in my bags after three years of buying, never mind a whole collection of clothes that scream money.

  I’m so shocked and horrified that I hardly notice when she flings the clothes down impatiently and stalks my way with a frown.

  “You’re being a baby. I only did this because I cannot stand the thought of you walking around in gunny sacks with that perfect figure. Now stop being so squeamish and let’s get you ready. Lord, I can’t wait to see you in this dress, you lucky bitch,” she says, shocking me dumb by ripping my towel free.

  It takes me all of three split seconds—probably like a third of an actual second—before I squeal and try to cover myself up, my arms going to my chest while one leg shoots up to over my bits.

  “Oh my God! Give that back.”

  “Nope. See. Gone. Stop being such a prude. You should be more confident, Cass. No one likes a self-conscious baby,” she mutters, flinging the towel away with a flick of her wrists.

  I can’t move a muscle or risk showing her everything my mama gave me, and she seems amused when instead of responding, I gape, my mouth falling to the floor when she grabs a pair of whisper-thin panties off the bed along with a matching lilac bra.

  “Here, if it’s that much of a problem, put this on. Hurry! I want to blow dry your hair and get some color on those cheeks.”

  I practically snatch the underwear with one hand and spend the next few seconds diving into the stuff while my cheeks burn scarlet. Thank God I shaved in the shower, or I’d be showing her a bush worthy of an afro.

  When I’m as covered as she’ll allow me to be, she walks to the dressing table in a closet the size of my previous apartment and gestures for me to sit. I do…simply because she seems like she’ll drag me there if I don’t…and sit gingerly, sucking my stomach in so nothing rolls.

  This seems to amuse her more than anything, and I watch as she shakes her head and picks up a brush that she runs through my hair before getting a round brush and the hair drier.

  “Most females would dry this and straighten it with a flat iron, but I like how much volume you have.”

  I nod, blankly, and sit completely still while she flicks on the drier and starts going at my hair, the movements of her hands hypnotic to watch. It takes a while for things to dry since I have a lot of hair, but when it’s done, boy, am I flabbergasted.

  It looks straight without being flat and the color is shining, silky, my natural highlights giving it a sense of sparkle that I haven’t ever been able to achieve on my own.

  “Oh wow. Cass, you lucky bitch, it’s so pretty,” she says on a breath, lifting a swathe of hair to let it flow through her fingers. “No makeup! I changed my mind. You look perfect just as you are. Such a perfect complexion for a huma—so perfect. Now come on. Let’s get you into that dress and then go eat a few cupcakes on the sly.” She chuckles, patting my cheek when all I can do is blink.

  Following her back to the bed, I finally find my tongue and shake my head.

  “That dress is way too small. My ass is too fat for that. Can’t I just wear jeans?”

  “Absolutely not. This is your first family dinner, and I will have a conniption if you don’t look perfect. Besides, Banner will be there. Remember Banner?” she wheedles, making her eyebrows dance as she grins.

  I blush, remembering the guy and all that sexiness he puts off in waves. God, I was so entranced I practically climbed him. I was so gone for him. That hasn’t ever happened to me before. The closest I have come to violating anything was the one time I stopped at a bakery window and saw Baklava dripping with syrup.

  “He didn’t like me,” I mutter, stepping into the dress when Hannah hands it to me.

  “Bullshit! Logan says he had a hard on that would have made a hole in concrete.”

  I blush harder, my throat working, and gape when she winks, her smile going naughty.

  “Don’t you want to see him and show off this amazing body? I bet he lifts the table. Look ma, no hands!” she cackles, making me giggle and blush some more.

  “He looked as if he was afraid to so much as breathe near me last night. Are you sure I should go to this thing? I mean, this is a family thing, and I only just got into town, and I don’t even have a job or a house, and I’m living with you and your husband and—”

  “And I want you to stay here and make a life, so you are definitely going to meet everyone. Besides, you get to see Banner again, and if he doesn’t like you in this dress, sister, he’s gay, blind, or both.” She smirks, getting a nervous chuckle from me.

  I want to see Banner. Of course, I do. For some reason, I feel bereft without the man and if it’s strange to feel that way after meeting him for no more than a few minutes last night, then lock me away, because that is how I feel.

  I spent all afternoon thinking of him after Hannah sent me for a nap, saying she needed to take one too, and I had hours in this room to think. I thought about his beautiful eyes, the color of hammered gold, that perfect mouth I hardly got a chance to notice after I saw his hard on practically bursting out of his pants, and oh my, that body.

  I could just drool thinking of all those muscles and the big hands that I am dying to feel all over my body. That fast, from just one memory, I wanted him so badly I had to shove my hands under my ass to stop from touching myself and fantasizing it was his hands on my body.

  I
would have given in, the need was that strong and so intense I hurt between my legs, but I kinda figure it’s rude to masturbate in someone else’s home.

  That need hasn’t left me though, not for a minute, and the more Hannah speaks about Banner the worse it gets. It’s like I have this button that is pressed every time I hear his name, desperation and a strange sort of urgency taking over when I think, or try to think, that I won’t see him again.

  It’s so bad I feel my throat tighten and close up, my lungs stopping their air intake in such a way that before I know it I’m seeing black spots dance before my eyes.

  “Hey! Wow. It’s okay. Hey, female, look at me. Cass, look into my eyes,” Hannah demands, her hands cupping my cheeks to wrench my face around.

  When I see her eyes, that strange hypnotic blue, I feel calm immediately, like she’s in my head and soothing my anxiety.

  “Good girl. There we go. Geez, if I’d known you’d wig out on me, I wouldn’t have mentioned him,” she mutters, sighing when I finally calm down enough to breathe.

  “I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me. Every time I think of that guy, I start feeling really weird,” I mumble, embarrassment coloring my cheeks.

  Hannah smiles, knowingly, as if she knows something I don’t, and shakes her head. See, I hate it when she does that, but there isn’t a damn thing I can say. Not when she huffs and looks me up and down, her eyes sparkling.

  “You look perfect. Here. Come and see.”

  I gape when she leads me to a full-length mirror where I see, not me, but some really nice-looking woman, who is nothing like me. Of course, that all goes to shit when I turn sideways and see the size of my ass.

  And there you are, Cass. Now you know it’s really you.

  “My ass looks like I could cart a freaking tray on the thing,” I whine, seeing how tight the dress is stretched over the globes.

  “Dudes dig it. Don’t get all shy on me, kid. I happen to think you look nice and the only opinion that matters is mine. Just ask anyone.”

  “You’re so weird.”