“Calvin Johnson,” he answered. “He said he wanted to see how you’re doing, and asked me when our sessions would resume.”
“Is he outside?” she asked, sitting up. She winced at the pain.
Depogare nodded. “Before I let him in, I wanted to check with you,” he explained. “I know the two of you don’t get along, and any sort of stress is the last thing you need right now.”
“You can let him in,” Jane told him. “I just …” She felt herself flush. “I just need help getting dressed.”
Speaking of which, she couldn’t remember the last time she showered. Her nose crinkled in disgust at herself. She probably reeked. She would have to amend that as soon as she could. Perhaps Brielle could come back and help her, since there was no way she’d be able to stand on her own.
“Of course.”
Depogare stepped toward her and provided her something sturdy to hold on to. Jane did most everything by herself; moving was tough but possible, and she forced herself into a sitting position, throwing her legs over the side of the bed. Her fingers clutched to the edge of bed so tightly her knuckles turned white as her back screamed in pain. She had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from grunting or crying out loud.
“Why don’t you let me get you something to wear?” Depogare asked. “Your clothes are in this dresser. Your grandfather bought you some while you were in and out of consciousness.”
Jane felt herself smile at the thought. How unsurprising. Even when she wasn’t conscious, her grandfather insisted he take care of her in some way.
“Can you get me some yoga pants and a boyfriend T-shirt?” she asked as the professor walked over to the dresser.
Depogare paused for a moment, and then nodded his head. Jane realized he had no idea what she was talking about, but proceeded to look anyway. He brought her leggings and a T-shirt.
Setting the clothes next to Jane on the bed, he returned to her and helped her undress. She hoped he didn’t smell her. She wasn’t embarrassed or ashamed of how she looked, either. Underneath her clothes were undergarments, so she wasn’t completely naked, but this was the first time she had ever been this undressed in front of the opposite sex—except Cillian—but certainly he didn’t factor into the equation. Being forced had to be much different than choosing to be vulnerable.
“How are you feeling?” Depogare asked, grabbing the black leggings and situating them in front of her so it would be easy for her to step into.
“I’m okay,” she told him. “It’s tough to move, but not impossible.” She paused, swallowed. “Thank you for helping me.”
“You do not have to thank me, Jane,” he told her.
She nodded, but he couldn’t see. It would seem they refused to talk about what had happened in their dream. If it changed anything between them. If they would do it again, should the occasion call for it. Jane wasn’t sure if that was good or bad, but decided she wanted some sort of clarity on the matter at some point. They had had sex; they couldn’t simply ignore that forever. Not when she wanted to have it again, at least.
By the time Jane had finished, Calvin was already pounding on the front door, clearly impatient. Jane did not hurry her movements, having no qualms about making him wait. Depogare let her use his arm to lead her into his living room, and deposited her on his comfortable couch. It felt off sitting after such a long time in bed, and walking was one of the most difficult things for her to do, but she managed.
When Depogare finally opened the door, Calvin let himself in, breezing past Depogare and taking a seat in the chair across from her.
“What happened to you?” Calvin asked, without any small talk. Jane appreciated his directness. “I get back from Christmas vacation and the dean calls me into his office to tell me our meetings were canceled because you had been attacked.”
Jane nodded, and before she could respond, Depogare intervened.
“Mr. Johnson,” he said, “I want you to know that the only reason you’re in my room is because Jane said she would see you. Should you instigate anything, should you pester her with questions and opinions no one asked for, I will insist you leave.”
Calvin nodded, but the professor’s words didn’t sink in. His cerulean eyes were focused on Jane.
“Were you attacked because of what we are, do you think?” Calvin asked. “Am I in danger? Should I enlist one of the shifters to walk me around in case they want to attack me?”
Jane rolled her eyes. “I haven’t told anyone what we are,” Jane told him. Except for Sophie, and she would never say anything. “I highly doubt what we are had anything to do with my attack. I think they targeted me for different reasons. I don’t know what those reasons are, but I definitely don’t think it’s because I’m quis.”
Calvin shrugged. “It seems like the only reasonable solution,” he insisted. “Why else would someone attack you in such a brutal manner? Unless, of course, they weren’t trying to kill you, but to weaken you so you would be easy to kidnap and run experiments on.”
“No one can get to Miss Cabot while here with me,” Depogare said. Jane detected annoyance in his Southern accent.
“And I would have died if Depogare hadn’t gotten to me,” Jane pointed out. “If they wanted to weaken me, they would have done a terrible job of it had I ended up a corpse.”
“They can still run tests on a body,” Calvin pointed out.
“Jane is not dead,” Depogare said, his voice tense. It would seem Calvin was getting to him rather than Jane. “Clearly, she is not dead, so we’re going to drop the subject, yes? Why are you here, Mr. Johnson? Is it to visit Jane, or are you more concerned with yourself?”
“Both.” If Calvin was anything, it was honest. “I’m glad you’re all right, Jane. I just hope you’ll continue to be okay.”
“And what is that supposed to mean?” Depogare asked through clenched teeth.
“Well, think about it,” Calvin said, standing up. It would seem he was ready to leave. “Either way, someone attacked Jane. You think they wanted her dead, and since she’s not, the job isn’t finished. Don’t you think whoever attacked her is going to at least attempt to finish the job? And if they didn’t want her dead, that leaves you with the question of why attack her in the first place? I assume it has something to do with what we are, and possible experiments and tests to see her genetic makeup, breeding possibilities, that sort of thing. But you don’t. So I would be on guard.”
“No one is breeding with Jane,” Depogare snapped.
Jane jumped at the fact that he raised his voice. Depogare never raised his voice. He was usually calm, composed, and tough to rile up.
“Not yet, anyway,” Calvin said, heading for the door. “Stay safe, and if you find anything out, let me know. I don’t want to be next.”
“I don’t think people are lining up to breed with you,” Jane muttered under her breath as Calvin walked out.
He did make a good point, however. If they had wanted her dead, what would they do once they found out she had survived?
21
It was New Year’s Eve, and Sophie was getting ready to go out to lunch to meet her parents. Her heart hammered in her chest as she raided her closet, looking for the perfect outfit. She wanted to appear presentable, but not like she was trying too hard to impress them. This was more difficult than she thought, and she wished Jane was back from Depogare’s or Elle was back from holiday. It was selfish, yes, but she desperately needed to talk to someone about this, and she couldn’t exactly go to Will. He had been clear about his point of view on the whole matter, and the last thing she wanted to do was start a fight over it. So when she received word from her mother that they wanted to meet today for lunch, she agreed, keeping the information to herself.
If everything went well, she promised herself she would tell Will after the fact. She wanted to tell him, but she also needed him to know that he wasn’t always right about everything.
She still felt guilty, keeping something so big from him, but
the guilt had become manageable and was secondary to the nervousness she felt at seeing her parents for the first time in more than a decade.
After another fifteen minutes of searching, she decided on a nice plaid shirt that highlighted her waist, and low-cut jeans. Her hair was brushed and pinned back, the long red strands left down. She wore light makeup and boots on her feet. The outfit reminded her of Will, and the thought made the guilt subside a bit. Even though he wasn’t going to go, at least she’d still feel his presence in some way.
She grabbed the letter her mother had written and read through it one more time. Then, setting it on the desk, she turned to leave, hoping this wasn’t the biggest mistake of her entire life.
Sophie managed to leave campus without Will knowing. It was silly, but the entire time she walked over to the gate, she couldn’t help but be tense, couldn’t help but worry he might catch her. She had no good explanation of where she was going and what she was doing—plus, she had promised herself she wasn’t going to lie to him, regardless of anything else. Luckily, she hadn’t been put in a position where she had to worry about that. While he wasn’t a mental, Will had this uncanny ability to show up at the most random moments, as though he knew she either needed him or didn’t. This time, she left without so much as a glance. He was nowhere on campus, unless he was in his room.
Fire Starter was popular with the students, but since it was winter break, she doubted anyone she knew would actually be there. Tourists were slim this time of year, so the island was there for the residents. Sophie wasn’t sure if this was a good thing or a bad thing, but she tried not to dwell on it. She wasn’t sure if her parents were already there or if she showed up first, but either way, she needed a moment to mentally prepare herself.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Maybe she should have told Will. That way, he would be here with her now. She wouldn’t have to do this alone.
The thing was, Will couldn’t always be there for her. There were going to be moments when she was required to stand on her own two feet without him. It would be hard because even though she had years of experience fending for herself, Will’s presence calmed her. She didn’t have to be alone anymore and didn’t want to. However, there would be times she didn’t have a choice, and this was one of them. She hated not being able to even share this with him, talk to him about it, but this was her secret, her cross to bear. And once this was all over, she would have no problem telling him all about it.
She rolled her eyes at herself. This was getting old. And repetitive.
Her feet seemed glued to the gravel, refusing to let her walk inside. If Jane were here, she would tell Sophie that something was blocking her from going in, that maybe a part of her didn’t want to go back to her past and only wanted to focus on the future. If Jane were here, she’d be able to read the minds of everyone in the little café and tell Sophie if he parents were there right now, so it wasn’t this huge guessing game.
“You’re being ridiculous, Sophie Harper,” she muttered to herself. “They’re just two people. That’s it. Two people.”
Except her parents were much more than that.
She swallowed again and clutched the strap of her purse tighter to her, forcing herself to walk inside.
It was a quaint café filled with small white tables that matched the tables outside. Each table had two or three chairs and silver boxes of napkins sitting on the surface. There was no one sitting outside, which made sense because it was both overcast and cold. Outside was populated during the summer, where the table umbrellas were popped and food and coffee were served with shade and sunshine. Inside, only three tables were occupied, each by an individual reading or on their phone.
No parents.
For whatever reason, this relieved Sophie. She had time to gather her thoughts, to calm herself down. She chose a table in the back, taking a seat so she faced a window rather than the front door. She wanted to avoid that awkward moment when the two walked in and they saw her from afar, waved, and took their time coming over to her. This way, they’d have to recognize her from behind—from the hue and style of her hair, from the way she sat—rather than from her face.
Time ticked by.
“Can I get you anything, Harper?”
The owner of the café was a brash woman everybody loved. She was short, with wild, curly brown hair always pulled into a ponytail high on her head. Her name was Caroline, but all the kids called her CC. She wore the same outfit her employees wore—a white T-shirt, blue jeans, and comfortable black shoes with good soles. She didn’t have a notebook in hand because she could memorize orders down to a T, and sometimes, she didn’t even take orders. She would bring out a customer’s usual without needing to be asked. Sophie was still new to the island, so CC didn’t have her usual memorized just yet. Truth be told, Sophie was so new she didn’t have a usual.
At least CC knew her name, though. That was pretty cool.
“Water, please,” she said, her voice catching in her throat.
Odd.
CC nodded her head and was off to get her a cup of ice water. After it was served, with a straw, Sophie took a sip and waited some more.
“They aren’t coming.”
Sophie jumped at the abruptness of the voice, and before she realized what was going on, Michael slid into the seat across from her. Sophie froze, watching him do so. Her grip on the plastic cup tightened and her eyes narrowed.
Michael.
What the fuck was he doing here?
He smiled at her, in his odd way, and already she could feel herself becoming drawn to him, like two magnets who couldn’t resist. She hated it because this was in her biology, her chemistry, and she quite literally couldn’t help the feelings he brought out in her. It didn’t hurt that he was good looking to boot, either. With short, copper-colored hair and pale green eyes, he was as handsome as he was evil. He was tall, taller than Will and nearly as sturdy, but appeared lean in his clothes. Today, he wore a green V-neck and jeans. It brought out his eyes even more, and she hated him for it.
“Don’t do anything rash, Sophie,” he told her in his low voice. It still had a slight German tenor to it, though she could detect English in it as well. She wondered if that was where he had been the past couple of weeks. “We don’t want what happened at Utlra’s to happen here. CC doesn’t deserve to have her café in rubble.”
“What are you doing here?” Sophie asked through gritted teeth. “And where are my parents. I swear to God, if you hurt them—”
“There is no God worth believing in,” Michael said, his voice bitter. “No God would want to create us and let us equalize among humans. Not when we’re better than they are. As for your parents …” He let his voice trail off and tilted his head to the side. “You didn’t really think they were coming, did you?”
“What are you talking about?” Sophie went for her pocket in order to grab the letter when she remembered she had left it on her desk. “My mother wrote to me. I recognized her handwriting. And how do you know about that anyway?”
“How do you think they found out where you were staying?”
CC came over and Michael ordered a coffee. Only after filling the black liquid with creamer and taking a sip did he resume speaking.
“Good coffee,” he murmured to himself as he set the cup down. “You see, Sophie, I need you. We need each other. I knew I had to get you away from that campus if I wanted to get you. To be honest, I was surprised that muscle of an instructor you’re always around isn’t with you, but why question a blessing? This was the best way I could come up with that would guarantee me your presence.” He smiled to himself. “And I was right.” He took another gulp of coffee. “As for your parents, they were easy to track down. They wanted absolutely nothing to do with you until I promised them a large lump sum of money if they would just write you a couple of letters.”
My own parents set me up? Her own parents set her up. She didn’t even have time
to wrap her head around the situation when Michael started talking.
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” he said, his long finger caressing the coffee cup. “You’re going to walk out with me calmly. You’re not going to run.”
Sophie arched a brow. “And if I refuse?” she challenged.
“There will be no more Fire Starter’s and no more CC,” he responded.
22
Jane wasn’t sure how she felt about the fact she and Depogare had yet to address the fact they’d had sex. Yes, it had been a dream, but it still counted, didn’t it? They both experienced it, they both felt it. And now, they were both avoiding it.
In terms of recovery, Jane was progressing better than expected. Brielle came every other day to help her shower, and Depogare made her walk five times during the day. She was sore, she was exhausted, and there were times when she was cranky, but she was getting better every day and she knew it. As such, she tried not to get too cranky. It wasn’t anybody’s fault she was in this mess; there was no reason to take her frustration out on anyone. She made improvements each day, and on New Year’s Eve, could now get up and dress herself. She couldn’t go long distances without help, but walking around Depogare’s spare room by herself was manageable. Kessler had told her she wasn’t supposed to be walking for another couple of weeks—perhaps she’d be able to play soccer once the season resumed, after the holidays. It was a long shot, but definitely something to strive for.
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