Five Weeks (Seven Series #3)

by Dannika Dark

  Ivy tiptoed toward the stairs on our left and turned around, lowering her voice to a whisper. “We have a little girl in the house, so please don’t shift. She’s human and doesn’t know you.”

  I nodded with a bemused look as we reached the top of the stairs. It wasn’t common for humans to live in the same house as Shifters, but Austin seemed like a progressive city. On the second floor, I stared at two separate hallways shaped like an L. One led to the back and had doors on either side, while the other ran along the front of the house. Ivy led me toward the back until we approached a room on the left. She switched on a small lamp beside the bed and turned around.

  It was a quaint little room with a bed on the right, a window straight ahead, and no other furniture. I’d heard most bedrooms in Shifter homes were small to accommodate more people in a growing pack. This room didn’t appear to be inhabited by anyone.

  She turned down the bed and closed the drapes.

  “If you need anything, let me know. My Packmaster is already aware you’re here, but he hasn’t told everyone else yet since they’re either asleep or not home.”

  “Thanks again, Ivy. I’ll find a way to return the favor,” I said in a quiet voice.

  She touched the end of her lovely braid and her dark lashes fanned across her cheeks. “Good night.”

  After she closed the door, I collapsed on the bed and got a whiff of the clean sheets. “Oh my God,” I groaned, feeling a dull ache in my bones. I barely pulled my legs beneath the covers before my eyes slammed shut. After wiggling out of my jeans and sweatshirt, I tossed them on the floor. It felt wonderful to know I wouldn’t be sleeping in my car, but I needed to think about my plans for tomorrow. That meant getting up early and finding a place before my shift started.

  Random thoughts tumbled in my head as I switched off the lamp and scooted to the left side of the bed. Hopefully I’d be able to figure everything out in the morning. I nestled my face against the cool pillow, grateful for Ivy showing up when she did and for her generosity.

  ***

  The bed lightly shook, and I covered my head with the pillow. Hawk loved startling me awake, and the curtains did little to block out the morning light. I felt a tug at my hair, and my wolf began to stir.

  “You got pretty hair,” I heard an angelic voice say.

  Something in my brain switched on, and I remembered I wasn’t at home. My wolf instantly submitted to the sound of a child’s voice. This was Ivy’s house. I peered out from the pillow and glanced over my left shoulder. A young girl with sparkling blue eyes sat behind me, her tousled blond hair tumbling past her shoulders. She had on a bright pink shirt with a wide collar that had slipped off her shoulder, and her fingernails glittered with purple nail polish.

  “I wish I had hair like this,” she said, holding up a strand.

  I smiled and rolled over, the covers tucked beneath my arms. “And I wish I had dimples like yours. I’m Izzy. And who is this pretty little face brightening my morning?”

  She giggled, and I noticed a missing bottom tooth. “I’m Maizy. We both got Zs in our name.”

  “We sure do. I think your hair is much prettier than mine. Want to trade?”

  Maizy smiled and touched my wild hair again. It had picked up a wave from all the tossing and turning. Against the white sheets, it looked like a blaze of fire.

  “My mom wants to know if you’re hungry.”

  “Did she send you in here?”

  “No. She asked Miss Ivy, so I decided to come ask you myself. They’re in the kitchen making lunch.”

  I leaned around and looked for a clock. “What time is it, honey?”

  “Noon o’clock,” she said with a smile.

  I sat up and rubbed my face. “I need to go. Tell your mommy not to worry about fixing me anything to eat. I’m going to take a shower and then I have to leave. It was nice meeting you, Maizy.”

  She leapt off the bed and her wide collar pulled down in the back, revealing some of her shoulder blade. I caught a glimpse of a birthmark and watched as she scrambled to fix her shirt. “Oops. You weren’t supposed to see that,” she said, her cheeks flushed.

  “I promise I won’t tell anyone,” I said with a curious smile. Human children were so endearing.

  Her worry evaporated, and she swung open the door. “Nice to meet you, Miss Izzy.”

  After the door closed, I snatched my clothes off the floor and wrapped a throw around me so I could hunt for the bathroom.

  I checked two rooms in the hall before I found it. I slammed the door and took a quick pee while waiting for the shower to get hot. Then I began rifling through the cabinets in search of towels. I needed to get moving and find a motel—hopefully one that would accept a late payment.

  After I rushed through a hot shower and shut the water off, I remained in the tub and dried my legs with a hand towel because it was all I could find. They must have had a linen closet in the hall where they stored the big towels, unless they just walked around naked.

  When I heard the door open and close, I stood paralyzed with fear. Through the frosted shower curtain, I watched a shadow move to the left and lift up the toilet seat.

  Oh. My. God.

  I wasn’t used to locking bathroom doors and must have forgotten. This was embarrassing. It was past the point I could say anything since they were already unzipping. I touched the towel to my hair so the water droplets wouldn’t tap against the tub.

  I covered my eyes until he finished, and when the toilet flushed, I blew out a quiet breath of relief. Then I heard the sound of pants dropping on the floor and someone getting naked.

  Very naked.

  The kind of naked you get before taking a shower.

  Eek!

  My eyes went wide, and the little hand towel would only cover one private area of my body, so I chose the southern hemisphere. Before he could tear open the curtain, I grabbed the end and blurted out, “Occupied!”

  Silence followed for what seemed like eons.

  “Occupied? What the fuck?”

  The curtain tugged, and I gripped tighter. “Don’t you dare come in here!”

  “Who the hell is in there?”

  When the curtain moved to the left, I screamed. It was a shrill scream—the kind heard in horror movies. While I had no problem with nudity, I had a real problem being naked with a stranger in a confined space.

  The door kicked in and someone entered the room.

  “What’s going on?” another man said in a deep voice. I got butterflies in my stomach and knew it was the Packmaster.

  “Don’t look at me. I sing tenor, not soprano. I thought the last person finished up in here. Who the fuck is that?”

  I peered around the edge of the curtain, my wet hair dripping as the cold began to make me shiver. To the right stood a fierce man with dark tattoos inked on his shoulders and upper arms. Like me, he didn’t have a shirt on, and a medallion glimmered against his chest. He had dark hair and the bluest eyes I’d ever seen.

  As soon as he saw me, his eyes narrowed at the man to my left, who wore nothing but a pair of silk boxers. “Did you touch her?”

  The guy in boxers looked just like Wheeler—the Shifter with the tattoos April had introduced me to last night. They shared the same eyes, mouth, face, and dirty-brown hair. The striking difference was that he had no facial hair or tattoos. He seemed a little softer than what I imagined Wheeler must look like beneath his clothes, but they were unmistakably twins.

  “Ben, get out,” the Packmaster ordered.

  “What’s going on in here, Aus?” another voice said. I cringed when Denver moved into sight. His eyes widened when he saw me peering out from the corner of the shower. “What the hell is she doing here?”

  Hell’s bells, this was Jericho’s pack!

  I looked at his threadbare T-shirt with Popeye on the front. “Nice shirt.”

  He ignored me and tipped his head at the Packmaster. “Do you know who that is, Austin?”

  “Our guest.”
r />   “That is Izzy Monroe. Ring a bell?”

  Austin’s jaw set, and another person squeezed into the room.

  “Is this a party?” Jericho blanched when he saw me.

  “I really don’t want to be rude, because I appreciate that you let me stay the night and use your shower, but could you all leave the room? I’m naked.”

  “I’m Austin,” the Packmaster said, stumbling over his words and looking at Jericho. “That’s Izzy? Your Izzy?”

  “I’m nobody’s Izzy. I’m naked,” I reminded him. “Could you all leave before I completely lose my mind and start screaming? No offense or anything, I’m just naked in a room full of strangers!”

  They hustled out of the room and slammed the door. I listened to them argue in the hall while I slipped into my baggy jeans and thin sweatshirt without drying off. I needed to make a quick exit. My shirt soaked up the water from my hair, but at that point, all I wanted to do was finish brushing my teeth with my finger and get the heck out before an explosive fight erupted.

  I swung the door open and noticed everyone had left.

  Except Jericho.

  He had his arms folded and was leaning against the wall across from me with his leg bent at the knee. Reno and Austin were solid in height and stature, but Jericho snuck in just an inch taller. “Can’t seem to stay away from me, can you?”

  “I didn’t know you lived here or I would have passed on the offer,” I said, closing the door behind me. I leaned against it as we stared at each other, just a couple of feet apart.

  He stepped forward and dropped his arms. “What kind of trouble are you in?”

  “My boyfriend is sorting out some personal stuff, and we’re temporarily separated until he figures it out.”

  Jericho moved a little closer and tingles prickled at my neck. “Broken up or did you bail on him too?”

  I sighed hard and pulled my hair back. “Look, Ivy was kind enough to offer me a place to stay, and you know I’m not a drama queen. I don’t want to do this with you right now—not with your pack around. I have a lot on my mind.”

  My heart quickened when he closed the distance between us. His eyes lowered, and when I glanced down, I realized why. My wet hair had soaked the front of my shirt, and my nipples were pressing against the fabric. Jericho tilted his head to the side and engaged in a conversation with my chest.

  “Where are you going to stay tonight?”

  “That’s where I’m heading now. I’m going to check out some of the motels near the bar.”

  His eyes—I swear I could feel him touching me. Jericho had only looked at me like that once before. I remembered it so vividly in my mind…

  It was the night before he screwed that girl in our hotel room. We were lying in bed, watching a comedy show like we’d done a million times before.

  Jericho spilled his Coke on me when he reached over to set it on the nightstand to my right. I called him a few names and laughed, taking off my shirt and tossing it across the room. That was the first time he had ever looked at me like that.

  Wild and ravenous.

  His eyes roamed over my chest like a force of nature, studying the white fabric of my bra and the shape of my breasts. He licked his lips, and his mouth looked like he wanted to taste.

  I didn’t want to become another notch on his bedpost. Especially not with Jericho, because he slept with women left and right.

  Before his lips met mine, I turned over and showed him my back.

  “No, Jericho,” I said. “Let’s not go there. We’re not going to have sex because you’re having a moment of weakness. You can watch a movie if you want, just turn the volume down. I’m beat, so why don’t you go back to your bed.”

  Jericho didn’t leave.

  He pressed against my back so I could feel him in an intimate way that I never had before. The full length of his body, the warmth, and the desire.

  He spoke sweetly against my ear. “Are you sure you want me to go?”

  “Yeah.” That was the last thing I wanted. Being near him felt safe and good—too good. He brushed my hair out of the way and began caressing my arm with a silky touch of his callused fingers.

  “Can I just kiss your neck? Nothing else, Isabelle. I promise.” Restrained desire clung to his words and melted my resistance.

  I didn’t respond. Part of me wanted to see if he’d get up and go back to his bed. His soft mouth touched the back of my neck and ignited my body all the way to my core. No man had ever turned me on so quickly.

  “Does this feel good?” he whispered, slowly kissing and stroking my neck with his warm tongue.

  Oh God, did it.

  I clutched my pillow and pulses of pleasure touched my sex like a heartbeat. Erotic thoughts went through my mind of him sliding my panties down and taking me roughly. Jericho was gentle with his women—I knew this from conversations we’d had. But the wolf inside me wanted more. Instincts I’d never felt for another Shifter erupted, warming my blood with ancient heat. I wanted to hear his textured voice whisper my name against my skin over and over, but I was terrified to say anything.

  Terrified that it meant more to me than it did him.

  But I thought about it.

  His mouth journeyed around the nape of my neck, and I clenched when his tongue ran straight up. When he licked a sensitive spot, I shuddered, becoming wet. Every press of his lips sent another wave of need through me, and my body began to tighten, curl, and stretch. When his teeth scraped my skin with a greedy bite, I moaned.

  “Want me to stop?” he asked, nipping on the lobe of my ear. “Say no, Isabelle.”

  I said nothing.

  He bit my neck with more force and I clutched my pillow, trying to figure out what I was allowing to happen. I wanted him to stop, and I didn’t want him to stop. I wanted our friendship to stay the same, but I wanted a claim on him that no other woman had. It was an unattainable wish, and Jericho wasn’t at a place in his life where he desired a mate.

  “Can I touch you, Isabelle? I need to touch you,” he said, his voice breaking apart.

  His kisses worked up into a frenzy, mixed with light sucking, and when he curved around to the left side of my neck, an intense tightening began to release.

  Jericho’s hand searched for the one place that needed to feel him. His hand memorized the shape of my body as it leisurely made its way toward my thighs. When he suddenly cupped his fingers over my sex, I came to a full orgasm with one deep stroke of his finger. The intensity shattered me, and I made a soundless gasp, gripping the pillow tightly. Jericho nestled against me and nipped my left shoulder while I rode it out.

  All from a kiss to my neck.

  No man, before or since, has had the power Jericho held over me, unleashing a frenzy of desire from within that made my wolf pace and howl. And I wasn’t even in heat.

  Afterward, I was so embarrassed and confused by what had happened that I leapt out of bed and bailed on him. I’d spent the next day confronting my feelings for Jericho and realized that I must have meant more to him than the other women, and maybe we could build a relationship from the strong foundation of our friendship. It might pull him out of the chaos he’d gotten himself into with the partying and drugs.

  Maybe loving him out loud would make a difference.

  The next evening, I returned to our room and decided to apologize for running out on him. I went with my heart on my sleeve, and that’s when I walked in on Jericho having sex with another woman.

  In my bed. The very bed he had pleasured me in not twenty-four hours prior.

  Standing so close to him in Austin’s hallway conjured up all those buried memories—good and bad.

  I pushed at his chest and felt him resist. “I have to go.”

  “Go where?”

  “I don’t know. Away.”

  He slipped his hand behind my neck. When I felt his fingers against my bare skin, I pulled his arm until he let go.

  “Why do you keep touching me, Jericho? One minute you hate me and the
next you can’t seem to stop groping me.”

  He jerked his neck back. “Groping?”

  “Yes, groping. I’m sure your girlfriend wouldn’t appreciate you hitting on other women.”

  “That woman you met at the bar is not my girlfriend,” he said, a smile tugging the corners of his mouth as his jade eyes centered on mine. Why did he have to have such provocative eyes?

  “What happened to the Jericho I remember? Is he still in there? Or has he been replaced by Sexton Cole?”

  He blinked and stepped back, brushing his hand across the thin fabric of his black shirt.

  “Was that sealed with liquid fire?” I asked softly, admiring the ink on his arm.

  Jericho touched the image of the guitar on his left arm. “I had it done a year after you split.”

  “It’s beautiful,” I said truthfully. “It suits you. I’m just glad you didn’t get something silly, like a cartoon duck.”

  I stared at his lips and noticed how perfect they were. I secretly used to call them sugar stamps because every woman coveted his sweet kisses, but I’d never seen him stamp anyone.

  Jericho had the most sensual mouth—the kind that when his tongue swept over it, you wondered what he tasted like. And that man knew how to work his tongue. He could stare at you from the opposite end of the table, slightly drawing in his bottom lip and licking it with a slow and deliberate stroke, only showing you the tip of his tongue. I used to think of it as his opening act, and it’s how he got the girls to stay for the big show.

  He pulled a cigarette from behind his ear and popped it in his mouth, letting it flick up and down between his lips. Jericho eyed me, from my damp shirt all the way down to my bare feet.

  “Never thought I’d see you again, Isabelle.”

  “How come you’ve never called me Izzy?”

  He bit the cigarette between his teeth and rocked on his heels. I snatched the stick from his mouth and threw it down the hall.

  “Quit trying to be the badass rock star in front of me. I know the real you. Not the one you pretend to be because maybe that’s who you think you are now. This is an image—a projection of what you thought a rock star was supposed to be to women, the public, and maybe yourself. I remember the guy who used to laugh so hard that he’d cry. I remember the guy who laid out a blanket in the back of a pickup truck in a motel parking lot so we’d have a place to sleep and watch the stars. I remember a guy who beat up four Shifters in the biggest fight I’d ever seen, all because one of them called me a whore. I remember a guy who canceled a big show so he could buy me donuts at the coffee shop on my birthday.” Tears wet my lashes, and I wiped them away. “What happened to that guy? Is he gone for good? Because if he is, I don’t want to keep having these run-ins. What existed between us was years ago; we’re in different places now. If we can’t settle what’s between us because of the shadows from our past, then I may need to move on. I’m not the quiet girl you met at a bus stop on a rainy Saturday—I’m tougher. But that’s kind of how life molded me.”