by Layla Nash
Atticus smiled again, and I couldn't help it — I smiled back, feeling dreamy and soft and slow. His large hands flexed and I stared at them, mesmerized. Difficult to believe he'd swung one of those meaty things at me and hadn't taken my head off. His head tilted as he studied me. "Is that better?"
I managed a nod but whispered, "I want to leave."
The smile turned a little sad, and he nodded. "I know. Not yet, though."
Not yet. My stomach clenched and I swallowed hard against a knot of panic. So I really was a prisoner.
Atticus rumbled in his chest, a strange sound almost like a purr, and rubbed his jaw. "Look at me, Sophia."
I blinked and found myself caught in his golden gaze once more. And the panic eased, melted away. He took a deep breath, not moving as the door to the room opened and three large men strode in. I tried to look away but couldn't, though I cringed as they entered my peripheral vision. They all looked related, and though none were as large and intimidating as Atticus, they were none of them wilting violets. I'd be hard pressed to defeat any one of them alone, but if they ganged up on me, I was toast. The shaking started up in my hands at the thought. Never going to get away.
"Hey now," Atticus said softly, a frown wrinkling his forehead as he watched me. "What's wrong? Don't cry, Sophia. You're safe."
Don't cry? I touched my cheeks and found them wet, more tears dripping onto the t-shirt I wore. Someone else's clothes. For some reason, I thought they might be Atticus's. I shivered and huddled under the blanket. "Let me leave. Please."
His head tilted again, then he looked at the others. An edge hardened his tone. "You're scaring her. Back up."
The three men retreated a few steps, but it didn't help. One, thinner than the others and wearing a business suit and tie, folded his arms over his chest. "Why's she still in there, Atticus? Let the girl out already."
Hope surged and then died as Atticus shook his head. He straightened slowly and rubbed his shoulder. "She doesn't know."
"Doesn't know?" This from the oldest, his straw-colored hair raked back from his face so his blue eyes flashed.
"Nope."
"What don't I know?" They all looked at me. I lurched to my feet. Maybe they knew something about my parents. Or the orphanage. Or anything. I felt like I was balancing on the edge of a precipice, about to hear something that would change my life forever. "Tell me. What don't I know?"
Atticus took a deep breath. "You're a shapeshifter, Sophia. A leopard."
Whatever I expected him to say, that was not it.
Five
Atticus waited for more tears, possibly screaming, threats or bargaining. Some kind of reaction. Sophia just stared at him, a flush creeping up her throat until her entire face reddened. She laughed instead, a sharp bark with very little amusement in it, and gripped the bars of the cage until her knuckles turned white. "Fuck you very much, that isn't funny."
"It's not a joke." This from Edgar, his expression difficult to read.
Sophia looked at Atticus and cleared her throat. "I'm serious. It's not funny."
"I'm serious too." Edgar went to the desk and picked up the remote for the security system, clicking buttons as he continued to talk. "I don't know your background, Sophia, so I don't know who failed to tell you what you are, but you are most certainly a shapeshifter."
She shook her head, continued shaking it even as one of the panels on the wall near the desk opened and a set of monitors came into view. Edgar brought up one of the tapes from the night before on the main screen and fast forwarded, not looking at her. "Last night, after you were attacked, you shifted. No doubt a reaction to the stress and adrenaline. Luckily, Atticus was there and notified us so we were able to track you, tranquilize you, and bring you back here before you hurt anyone."
A bitter laugh choked in her throat and Atticus wanted to hold her, wanted to pull her into the safety of his arms and keep her there until his brothers left. Then he could explain.
The muscles in her jaw jumped as she started pacing inside the cage. "I don't know what kind of fucked up trick this is, but you guys get off on some weird shit. Let me out of here right now and I won't call the cops."
Atticus watched the rise and fall of her breathing. He inhaled deeply, trying to get a read on the level of her panic. The night before, she shifted so quickly he hadn't caught any of the indicators. But Edgar continued talking and pointed at the monitor. "Right here, young lady. This is you."
The grainy security footage of inside the office showed the team placing the unconscious snow leopard in the cage. Atticus winced to see himself on film, wearing only sweatpants. He sent everyone else out and then dragged blankets and towels and pillows from his room to make a nest for her in the cage. He felt the weight of his brothers' gazes, and then Sophia's, but he didn't dare look away from the video as his cheeks heated. So he wanted her to be comfortable when she woke up. That wasn't weird. It was kindness. Very practical kindness.
As he made himself comfortable on the couch and fell asleep on the video, Sophia made an ugly noise. "So what? Video can be manipulated, and if —"
She cut off and Atticus held his breath. The transformation was never pretty, but he'd grown up knowing a body could turn itself inside out and come out looking different. She hadn't, clearly. As the snow leopard on the video curled in on itself, cried out, and writhed, she became human again. Naked, panting in pain, and still in the cage, but human.
The silence stretched for so long Atticus couldn't take it, and he looked at her. She stared at the video, mouth agape. Then she turned on her heel, marched to the far end of the cage, and vomited all over the floor.
Benedict made a face. "That's a Persian carpet, you know."
Sophia, eyes narrowed, wiped her mouth on her sleeve and spread the puddle with her foot. "So sorry."
Logan pinched the bridge of his nose, then gestured for Edgar to get on with it. The security chief paused the tape. "And on that note, Sophia, we have a couple of issues to discuss. They're different issues than we expected, to be perfectly frank. A shifter who can't control their animal form is one thing, but someone unwitting to even being a shifter... We haven't seen that in some time. Years."
"I'll control it from now on," she said. Her lips thinned to a knife-slash across her face. "Message received. You can let me go and I'll behave. It won't happen again."
"Sophia." Atticus spoke without thinking, and her name escaped more like a caress than a warning. He cleared his throat and handed her another bottle of water through the bars of the cage. "You can't control it. It's probably been happening your entire life."
She went very still, the bottle open but forgotten in her hands. At length, her hazel eyes met his and a charge jolted through him. Her face went blank, her voice flat. "Seizures. I have seizures. That's all it is."
"Do you wake up naked? Do you remember anything from during the seizure, or right before it?" From the tremble in her chin, Atticus knew she knew. She just couldn't admit it yet. He knew the feeling — he fought it every day, slowly losing control of his own life and yet not being able to stop the train wreck. He took a deep breath. "Did you ever wake up with blood on your hands or teeth?"
The color drained from her face and she made another trip to the corner to retch. Atticus looked at his brothers. "Give us a minute. Send up dinner when it's ready."
Logan raised his eyebrows. "Giving orders, little brother?"
"She's afraid." Atticus stared his alpha in the throat. "It's easier this way."
Benedict glanced at his watch, attention already elsewhere. "Sure. I have to meet Eloise anyway. Good luck, Atticus." And then he was gone. Logan soon followed, no doubt on his way to meet Natalia for dinner as well.
Only Edgar remained to fiddle with the security cameras and panel by the desk. Sophia stared vacantly at him as the security chief approached the cage, his arms folded over his chest. Edgar radiated calm, far more effective at using some of the shifter magic to calm her down. It worked earlier wh
en Atticus did it, but Edgar was a master. Sophia's eyes drooped and she leaned back against the cage as Edgar started talking. "Atticus will talk you through a few things, Sophia, but the most important thing — do not try to escape. Do not run. You are a danger to yourself and to others until you're able to control your shifting. We'll let you out of the cage but only if you promise not to run. Understood?"
She blinked long and slow, almost owlish, and Atticus wanted to kiss her. She looked so damn cute. Cute but miserable as she hugged herself and nodded. "Okay."
"Good." Edgar nodded. He clapped Atticus on the shoulder. "Call if you need anything." And then he moved silently out of the room, shutting the door behind him.
Atticus unlocked the cage and swung the door open, standing back as he gestured at the couch where he'd slept. "Here. Have a seat."
She edged past him, eying him with a degree of caution that punched him in the chest, and perched on the couch. Atticus sat on an ottoman in front of her and chose his words with care. "I know it's a lot to take in. You're doing great, by the way."
She made a rude noise and he smiled, rubbing his jaw. "I'm serious. Look, I can answer your questions and we can all help you learn how to shift, how to control it. It can be liberating. You're a beautiful leopard."
Her head tilted and an eyebrow arched, and Atticus flushed. He meant every word of it, though. "But here's the thing. We're all shifters as well. Lions. So you really shouldn't run."
"Or you'll kill me?"
He wanted to smile and assure her that wasn't the case, but he wasn't entirely certain. Logan might decide the only way to fix the problem was to eliminate it. He let the silence hang and then said quietly, "We'll work on controlling your shift. That's the best, safest way."
She stared at him for so long he almost reached out to shake her, to make sure she still breathed. Sophia took a deep breath and looked around the room. "I need a drink."
Atticus retrieved a bottle of whiskey from the secret stash in the globe near the desk. "That's easy."
As he handed her a glass full of the amber liquid, a tentative smile broke the tension in her expression and something in him eased. She would be fine. She would learn and grow stronger, and maybe she would stay. His lion felt better with her nearby. It wasn't the same struggle to remain human when he could see and smell her, when he felt the warmth of her hand near his. He felt whole. Like he might be able to make it, to survive, if she stayed with him.
And that was fucking terrifying.
Six
Once the three strangers left, I could breathe again. And the whiskey Atticus gave me helped take the edge off. Maybe it was all a dream, a weird hallucination caused by a concussion and too much MSG in the air from the restaurant below my apartment. He let in a suited guy pushing a cart with food, and as they set things up on a side table with just enough room for plates and silverware, I eyed the hallway through the open door. No guards. I could still make a run for it, get to my apartment to pick up my files, and get the hell out of there. Enough of this shapeshifter bullshit. They'd clearly doctored the video. It just wasn't possible. People didn't turn into animals in real life.
Atticus pulled out a chair for me as the other guy departed, leaving the cart near the table. "Are you hungry?"
My stomach rumbled, so there wasn't any use in denying it. I hadn't eaten much at the bar after class, too keyed up and ready to fight if John called. So I eased into the chair, trying to ignore that he stood behind me for a long moment, breathing deeply. He radiated warmth. I almost didn't mind being locked in a room with him.
Nothing about him said threat, and my normally reliable instincts remained silent rather than warning me of any danger. Atticus sat next to me and started putting food on the plates — roast chicken and potatoes, sautéed spinach, carrots glazed with something sweet, and half a dozen other things I couldn't immediately identify. I inhaled it as quickly as I could, barely stopping to chew.
Atticus picked at the food, pouring both of us more whiskey from the fancy crystal bottle. "Those were my brothers, by the way. Logan, Carter, and I live here most of the time, although Logan and his fiancee also have an apartment in the city. You'll meet Carter later. Edgar and Benedict live downtown as well. So it's a big house but there aren't as many people here as normal."
I studied him as he spoke, noted the careful admissions. When he spoke of his brothers, very little emotion colored his tone. Something about them hurt him, but I couldn't tell what that was. Not really my business, though. Except I knew what it was to feel alone in a crowd.
The food tasted better than anything I'd eaten in years. As I reached for my second helping, Atticus smiled and passed a basket of rolls. "Logan's fiancee, Natalia, is a chef. So she's improved what we eat by miles. Good, isn't it?"
I nodded, concentrating on chewing and swallowing as quickly as possible. A trip to the bathroom, then escape. A good night's work.
"Where are you from, Sophia?"
My fork paused halfway to my mouth, and what remained of my appetite evaporated. I started pushing food around the plate. "I don't really know. I was left at an orphanage in Chicago at some point, but I don't remember anything before twelve or thirteen."
His eyebrows rose. "I'm sorry."
I shrugged, staring at the shelf of books behind him. It was an old wound, albeit one that still tore open now and then. "Don't be. It is what it is."
"It explains a lot, though." When I frowned, he sat back in his chair. "That you didn't know what you are, I mean. You didn't have anyone to teach you, to show you how to do it right. How to control it. You're starting later than most shifters, but it'll be fine."
"Sounds like you're trying to convince yourself that's true," I said.
He smiled but it was closer to a grimace. "It's not easy. And Logan is concerned about the threat an uncontrolled shifter poses. If even one of us is exposed, it could lead to serious trouble for everyone else. So the possibility of exposure is taken very seriously."
"And that's why you guys knocked me out and snuck me back to your secret lair?"
Half his mouth turned up, and he looked down at his plate. "Sure."
He wasn't at all what I expected. He wasn't cocky or overbearing, he didn't smother me with boasts or challenges or come-ons. He didn't want to talk about himself. He looked like a meathead fighter, like all the rest of them on the circuit, but he wasn't that at all. I almost regretted having to run away and never see him again. But that whole threat of being the one who exposed them... That wasn't a burden I wanted to carry.
"Why do you fight?"
I took a deep breath, resting my elbow on the table and my chin on my fist. "Money. Why do you fight?"
"Control." That same half-smile appeared and faded, almost before I caught it. "Physical exertion helps a lot. It's important for keeping the lion and your leopard calm. It also helps to shift frequently."
I snorted, shaking my head. Ridiculous man. Turning into a lion all the time might work in a giant ass house with no one inside it, but turning into a leopard in a one-bedroom apartment over a 24/7 Chinese takeout was just asking for that exposure they so feared. I speared a potato on my fork and shook it at him. "I doubt that. Doesn't that just increase the odds someone would see and figure it out?"
He nodded, then reached out and took my potato. "Depends on where you do it, girl. Once you've got some practice, you'll see how amazing it is. How freeing."
I frowned and took a replacement potato off his plate without thinking. "Except you have to fight all the time to control it?"
Atticus shrugged. "Strong emotions can trigger a shift if you don't have practice keeping things under wraps. But we'll work on that, too."
He didn't seem like the nurturing type. If I hadn't met him at the fight, I probably would have thought him more a threat in the alley than the three men who actually attacked me. My fingers tapped the table near his hand. I wasn't quite brave enough to touch him, even though the insane urge to lace my fingers through h
im struck me out of the blue. "So how did you get stuck with me? Are you the one who wrangles all the troublemakers?"
"Stuck with?" Atticus smiled again, and this time it hovered long enough to brighten his whole expression. "I wouldn't let anyone else teach you."
"Why?" My heart beat a little faster in anticipation. I didn't entirely mind that he wanted to be the one to teach me. But he wouldn't be around to help with anything after I ran.
"A couple of reasons." He poured more whiskey in my glass, then tilted his head at the tray and a few covered dishes. "Dessert?"
"Bathroom first?" My heart thumped, uneven and too fast.
Atticus got up immediately, folding his napkin on the table before gesturing at the door. "This way. There's one just around the corner." He showed me the door and I edged through, almost holding my breath.
I regretted having to leave. And for a moment I considered staying. Maybe it wasn't all movie magic that had me turning into a leopard. Maybe it was real and I didn't have seizures at all. Maybe he told the truth. Maybe they held the key to my identity and my people, and if I only stayed with them long enough to see this thing through, everything I'd ever wanted to know would become clear.
Or maybe I'd end up dead or a prisoner forever.
I used the facilities and washed my hands, splashing water on my face as I debated. Running was the only way to protect myself. Even the promise in Atticus's smile wouldn't be enough to stay.
When I opened the door, an empty hall greeted me. The door to the office remained open, with Atticus and the watchful brother talking inside. Distracted. I took a deep breath and slid into the hall, closing the door to the bathroom behind me so maybe they'd think I was still in there. Neither left nor right looked like it led outside, but time ticked away too quickly. I couldn't afford to burn up my headstart in indecision. I went left, staying close to the wall so the floor wouldn't squeak, and moved as fast as I could without running.