by Harper Wylde
God, these people were so fucking confusing. “Look, while I appreciate that you were trying to make me comfortable, you really don’t have to, um, put Ryder on a leash.” I swallowed down the comment I wanted to make about a unicorn named Ryder wearing a leash. “I don’t know if we’ll end up being friends. I don’t have friends. But I do need information from all of you. So, just be yourself. If I need to tell him to shut up or if I need to slap him, I’ll do it. Don’t change your habits for me. Although, I do appreciate not breaking out into fist fights over the dinner table.”
Ryder lit up, “Yes! See, I told you she wouldn’t care!” He sent a smug look at Theo and, to my surprise, Killian. Weird, had he said something to Ryder about his behavior? I wouldn’t have taken him for the type.
I waved my hand, closing the subject. “Damien, thank you again for cooking. It’s really good. Much better than the cafeteria food I’ve been subjected to for the last few days.”
The smile he sent me was both sweet and mischievous. “No problem. Thanks for making the salad dressing.” I glanced around the table, noting that only Damien and I—you couldn’t really count Ryder since his didn’t exactly qualify—had taken salad. I blushed.
“Well, I guess I should have asked if there was a preference.” I hopped up from the table, making a beeline for the kitchen cabinet. God, I was so embarrassed. I always did stupid shit like this. What if one of them had an allergy? “I think I saw the stuff for a balsamic vinaigrette, or I can make a tahini dressing, or even a greek yogurt dressing,” I rambled as I began to shuffle through the fridge doing a quick inventory of the ingredients. “I’m sorry I didn’t ask before, I was just focused on making something quickly. What would you all prefer?” Soft hands wrapped around my fingers and drew me back toward my seat at the table.
“It’s alright, Nix,” Hiro murmured as he placed me back in my seat. My cheeks were hot with embarrassment as I studied my plate. “Damien’s been working hard on getting all of us to eat the way we should. We’re pretty bad at it to be honest. It has nothing to do with the kind of dressing you made. I’m sure it’s absolutely delicious. We appreciate the fact that you jumped right in to help.”
I nodded, keeping my eyes down to the table. My stomach was in a knot and my face was on fire. God, it was bad enough that I screwed up the dressing but to go and have a panic attack over it? There went any chance I had at being their friend. They would think I was a total wack job.
I picked up my fork, poking at the food on my plate. I knew I wouldn’t be able to taste it now and was afraid that it would end up like lead in my stomach so I just moved the noodles from side to side. The others began to murmur as they dug back into their food.
“Wow!” The surprised exclamation had me whipping my head up to study Killian. He was staring down at his plate, looking at a pile of salad he must have just placed there. What in the world? His emerald eyes were wide as he looked up at me. “This is actually good. I mean, it doesn’t taste anything like that crap that comes in the bottle. It actually makes it taste really good.” Shock edged his voice as he studied me.
I was torn between amusement and confusion. I couldn’t tell if he was simply trying to make me feel better or if he had honestly never had real salad dressing before. Considering it was Killian and I wasn’t sure that being nice was anywhere in his genetic makeup, I decided I’d go with amusement. “Salad dressing tastes much better when it's homemade. The ingredients are fresh and bright. They enhance the salad instead of trying to cover it and don’t have any of the chemical aftertastes that are prevalent in many bottled dressings.” I shot him a shaky smile as he shook his head at me in what appeared to be wonder and began to plow through the food on his plate. Damien looked at me with a proud smile on his face before going back to eating. Fortunately, my years of solitude had lead to an unhealthy love of TV, the one thing that Michael would splurge his money on, and I had been addicted to the food channel. Ok fine, the food channel and a few informative shows… Supernatural, The Vampire Diaries, reruns of Charmed… you know, the good stuff. While I hadn’t been able to cook expensive meals, I knew a thing or two about cooking and baking, and had gained even more knowledge working in kitchens willing to higher underage staff.
I glanced around the table, noting that everyone now had at least a small pile of salad. I blushed hotly, trying to make sure I didn’t have tears in my eyes. “You guys didn’t have to do that,” I muttered, poking at my food again, “I shouldn’t have mentioned anything. I’m sorry.”
Damien’s voice was deep and sweet as he spoke in my ear.“Just go with it. I’ve been trying to get this group to eat healthy for years. They’ve never given in and eaten salad without whining and bribery. They don’t know that I put spinach and beets in their brownies in an effort to get some vegetables into them. If they’ll be more open to the idea of eating salad now, I’ll definitely owe you a favor.”
My mouth dropped open as I met his eyes. They twinkled with mischief as he shot me another crooked grin. A laugh bubbled out of me as I studied him. Who would have thought a Gargoyle—let alone this strong, impenetrable man—would be so completely sweet and ridiculous.
Chapter Fourteen
Theo
I crunched through my salad as I kept stealing looks at the girl at the end of the table. I couldn’t stop watching her. This girl. This girl was driving me crazy. Crazy in a damn good way but it was countered by a niggling feeling that was growing the more I was around her. The “good way” was obvious, she was a stunner! Her exotic looks had hooked me and I couldn’t stop my eyes from roaming over her every time I looked up from my plate. She had an exotic look about her with her golden tanned skin, long dark hair, and bright brown eyes. I noticed more than the basic features though. She had dark lashes that framed her eyes, perfectly arched expressive eyebrows, a small birthmark on the curve of her neck, and a cute, slightly upturned nose. She didn’t have her ears pierced or wear any visible jewelry, and she had full lips that pulled up just slightly in the corners. My Kraken could feel the sizzle of power radiating through the room. I could actually feel her power sparking with mine. Could she feel that? I needed to ask the guys if they felt it too. The methodical part of me filed all that information away for later examination.
All of us had noticed her looks, excluding the triplets of course because, let’s be honest, they only had eyes for Rini. Thank fuck. I could see the appreciation in my brothers’ eyes every time they watched her, which was a hell of a lot. I’m sure if they took a minute to look my way, they’d see the interest in mine too. It was more than looks, though, at least for me. There were signs showing me that there was so much more under her surface and they left me desperately wanting to get to know her. My hands itched to reach out for her, craving a familiarity that I hoped would build, but it was hard not to notice how she flinched away from physical contact. Hell, right now she was sitting as far away from Damien as was physically possible to do at a dining room table. There were skeletons in her closet, and I wanted—no, I damn well needed—to know what they were. I could tell already that she was tough as nails on the outside but her freakout during dinner gave us all a glimpse of the sweet but broken girl on the inside. This girl who jumped right in to help, sassed back, apparently liked to cook and seemed to be kind and caring but didn’t take anyone’s shit—heck, she had put us all in our place already! She was open but closed off at the same damn time. What the hell had happened to her? I would have sworn she almost had a panic attack at the dinner table. I could tell she’d definitely been through some shit. That’s where the niggling feelings came into play. I needed answers but, unfortunately, I had a sinking feeling it would be a long time before she let me have them.
Dinner conversation dimmed a little as we all dove into our meal. I was happy to see Nix eat again, apparently calmer than she had been before. She had started with a salad but was now heartily eating a plateful of spaghetti and meatballs. It was just another way she wasn’t shy. I knew it was a
miniscule thing, but seeing her dive into her meal meant she had to feel at least somewhat comfortable around us. I wouldn’t lie: having her in my home, feeding her, being surrounded by my brothers—it felt fucking right. I already liked taking care of her. It was obvious to me that we were compatible as mates, which was another reason I thought she had to be a mythological shifter. I doubted my biology would allow me to be drawn to someone who wasn’t.
As dinner finished, I watched as Hiro kept the conversation on seemingly safe topics while Ryder ate in unusual silence. Damien was talking quietly with Nix from time to time as she ate with her eyes down, only occasionally looking up to survey the table and room at large. Rini and her trio were laughing and sharing jokes with the table and I was grateful for the lightheartedness they brought to the gathering. I could see Nix smiling at that their antics.
“I’ll get the dishes. Why don’t you guys go get comfortable in the living room?” Damien suggested.
Standing, I stretched, lifting my hands above my head for a tick and caught Nix’s eyes watching where my shirt had risen above my waistband. I couldn’t keep a small smirk from gracing my lips as I noticed her taking in that sliver of skin. Catching me watching her, I saw a blush work its way into her cheeks and she quickly looked away before hopping up out of her chair. I full on grinned, and then readjusted my shirt.
“I can help you, Damien,” she said as she started grabbing the serving bowls off the table and walking toward the kitchen.
Intercepting her, I offered to take the bowls instead. “We’ve got this, go with the guys and get comfortable in the living room. We’ll join you in a minute.” I smiled at her. “Do you want a cuppa?” I asked her.
“Cuppa?” she smirked, “what’s that?”
“Oh, uh, coffee? Tea? Hot chocolate?” I forgot she didn’t know my lingo. It had been years since I had lived in Australia. Apparently you can take the guy out of Australia but you can’t take the Aussie out the guy.
“Oh, hot chocolate would be nice,” she said as she handed the bowls over to me. My fingers brushed hers when I took the dishes from her hands. The feeling was electric but over way too soon because the next thing I knew, Nix yanked her hands back and pulled the sleeves of her sweater down over her hands, gripping the ends in fists.
I knew the look on my face wasn’t helping anything. I couldn’t help the furrow in my brow as I watched her reaction. Bloody hell.
Ryder. Dishes. Hiro, distract her. I don’t want her cleaning up after everyone, especially on her first night here with us. Theo. You need to smooth that over and then make some coffee and hot chocolate. Please.
Damien pushed the demands into our minds. Damn, Damien was on edge. I knew he wanted to make a good impression on her and I didn’t blame him. We all did.
Ducking down to meet her eyes I tried an apology. “Sorry Nix, I didn’t mean to invade your personal space.” I heard a huff come through mentally.
Not helping, man, Damien pushed into my head.
I’m trying, mate, I answered Damien. I knew if I focused my thoughts on him he would be able to pick them up as long as we were close enough in range.
Hiro, Damien commanded again.
On it, Hiro joined the silent conversation.
I’d like to be on her, Ryder piped up as he cleared more dishes and walked them to the sink.
Enough! Killian growled.
“So what are you majoring in, Annika?” Hiro asked, using her full name. I watched as he motioned her toward the living room.
“I can’t believe I haven’t asked you that yet!” Rini exclaimed. “What are you studying?” She joined Hiro and Nix in the living room and her men followed her, Donovan lounging on the floor by her feet, Cayden behind the chair she had chosen, and Barrett perching on the upholstered arm. I watched from the kitchen as Nix chose a seat on the longer end of our sectional and sat gracefully. She took that end seat, with a back to the wall and a perfect view of the front door. Good. I wanted her to be comfortable when we broached the more serious topics that we were about to dive into. She squirmed a little in her seat, pulling on the sleeves of her sweater.
“Well, I had planned on being a Justice major. I wanted to join the FBI.” Her voice was cool, as though expecting us to laugh at her.
“Wow, that’s quite an ambition. Why the FBI? And why did you say you had planned on it, have you changed your mind?” I tried to be enthusiastic with my answer, keeping my voice warm as I joined her on the opposite side of the sectional and leaned forward to rest my elbows on my knees.
“I want to help people. I’m okay at science, but it’s not my best subject. I feel like I’d end up losing my mind doing social work because there are so many restrictions on what they can do. I thought about being a cop, but I’d like to do more than that. I don’t want to be relegated to writing tickets. I want to actually catch the bad guys and make sure they’re punished.” Her voice was fierce and her eyes flashed as she emphasized her last statement. This girl definitely had a fire in her.
“That’s a very noble goal. We’re mostly science majors here, so if you do end up needing a hand with your intro classes let us know. We’re all sophomores so we’ve got a good handle on the campus.” I smiled at her, hoping she’d continue.
“As for saying I had planned on…” she shrugged, studying me with shrewd eyes. “Can shifters even join the FBI? Is that a thing?” I couldn’t help it and broke out in a grin. Apparently, that shocked her as she blinked repeatedly at me. Well, I do have a nice smile.
“It’s going to depend,” I answered her honestly, “there are plenty of shifters who serve in the human world working in jobs sanctioned by the Council. As long as we keep what we are a secret, the Council doesn’t have a problem with that. I know that there are certain positions available in law enforcement and the justice system but it gets a little more complicated than that. There is a hierarchy to our world and, depending on what you are, that could have a factor in job placement. If you’re an extremely rare shifter, the Council would probably offer you a very cushy job working for them.” I looked around at the different guys before I continued, “If you are a dragon shifter like we suspect, I doubt they will let you join the FBI. They would consider it too dangerous if you’re that rare. That doesn’t mean you couldn’t use your Justice degree in other ways. The Council has a police and military force set up specifically for shifters. You could become involved in that. There are shifters in charge of making sure we aren’t exposed to the human world, of being liaisons to make shifter issues disappear from the human radar. That would work for you as well. I know it’s not exactly what you had planned, but there is still so much you could do to help people, to bring wrongdoers to justice the way you crave.” I leaned back to stretch my spine, hoping that I could entice her to watch my muscles flex again.
“Think about it as if you’re moving to a new country. Your exact plan may no longer be viable, but that doesn’t mean you can’t find some way to use your dreams and skills. If you’re a mythological then you may have more freedom. Mythologicals get first choice in things like jobs and living arrangements.” I glanced at Rini to see her and the guys all staring at the ground, bothered by my statement. It was something that bothered me too, the differentiation in class. Living with her family, and within her sleuth,had made me see the injustices in a new way.
Rini jumped in, still snuggled into her mates. “Those of us who aren’t mythological fall into the predator or prey category. Predators will frequently work as soldiers or spies. Many of us will work in the more grueling physical jobs just because we have superior strength. Prey shifters hold a variety of what humans would consider low-level positions though they do have the chance to rise within their own species groups. They’re frequently entertainers, servers, or clerks, things like that. Then there are part-bloods. We don’t have many that live among us but those who do end up working the more menial jobs as well. They’re not highly prized in our society.”
“Part-bloods?
” Nix asked, leaning toward me, her eyes appearing enthralled as she took in knowledge of the world she had never known. I tried hard not to groan. I wanted to put that look in her eyes teaching her something entirely different.
“Part-bloods is really an archaic, inaccurate term. Most of the time, part-bloods are just that: shifters with some amount of shifter blood in their genetics. Usually, those shifters have powers that can be detected at birth, and if they are born into the human world instead of one of our communities or packs, the Council will step in and make sure the children are relocated into one. Occasionally, unidentified part-blood shifters grow up to have no idea what they are. Luckily, the Council usually finds part-bloods when they’re very young because their powers can be hard to miss and they could expose us to humans. If any of those shifters are powerful or a rare breed the Council will find them a home at the commune here in Alaska so they can help foster them themselves. They’ve even been known to adopt shifters every once and a while. However, sometimes we also classify full-blooded shifters who, for whatever reason, are never able to shift or show any signs of powers as part-bloods. Lastly, there are those who have only a tiny bit of shifter blood who usually possess no powers and are unable to shift, they are left to live out their lives as humans. If they are brought into the shifter fold, they are given a class amongst us.”
She cocked her head and I watched the way the dark silk of her hair slid a bit from the ponytail she had created earlier. “I thought you didn’t know what I was by smell? How does the Council know what these part-bloods are?”
Hiro jumped in, his voice low as he answered her, “It’s generally only rare shifters that can’t be identified through scent alone. All shifters smell of magic, the stronger the magic the stronger the shifter.”
I could see the questions forming on her face as she thought about everything we had told her. “If the Council is good at finding part-shifters and ignores those who are weak or don’t shift, wouldn’t that mean they’ve already dismissed me?”