by JK Cooper
“Hey!” Shelby yelled.
“You won’t be needing that,” Lucas said. “We have our own.” He took out his phone. “You don’t mind if we record this, right? It’s always good for later.”
Move, her mind told her. Get out! The instinct to run came just as she realized what was really happening.
Ryan moved behind her and grabbed her before she could escape.
“Get off!” she yelled. “What are you doing?”
She struggled, stomping on his feet, twisting her torso, but Ryan was too strong. He was on the wrestling team she remembered in dismay. Reaching up and clawing behind her head, she blindly searched for Ryan’s face. He moved his head out of the way of her scratching hand, and she slammed her head backwards, catching him in the face.
“You little—”
“Aw, she got you, huh?” Lucas said.
“It’s gonna be a black eye, you slut!” Ryan said.
Lucas gave Ryan a look of feigned worry. “You gonna live, Ryan? Need to go home to see Mommy first?”
“Shut up, Lucas! You said it was my turn this time,” Ryan said, still holding her firmly.
“Oh, I think there’s enough for each of us with this one,” Lucas said. “But I got first dibs.”
Lucas punched Shelby in the stomach. All the air jettisoned from her lungs, leaving her gasping in shock and pain as she squinted her eyes, the first of her tears starting to fall.
“That’ll take some of the fight out of her,” Lucas said. “Let’s get on with it.”
Dave grabbed her legs and lifted her off the ground, Ryan still holding her arms. They put her face down on the sheet, and Ryan knelt on her shoulders, pinning her.
“Stop! Get off me!” Shelby screamed into the sheet, still trying to get her breath back. Her cries sounded little more than muffled.
“Shut her up!” Lucas said.
Dave shoved a sock in her mouth, and Shelby’s eyes watered as she felt a length of rope pulling tight against her cheeks and being tied at the base of her skull. She screamed into the gag. She felt Dave kneel down on her hips while Lucas tugged on her white-denim shorts, reaching under her and undoing the front snap. He tore them free despite Shelby’s frantic kicking.
Terror. It was the absolute terror of this nightmare that let it loose from its cage. Her eyes started to sting, burning like someone held a blowtorch to them. She wanted to claw them out, but Ryan was too heavy to free her arms. Her back cracked next, and her skin felt too tight, like wearing clothes three sizes too small. It was tearing, wasn’t it? That’s what she was feeling? What were they doing to her? All her bones ached, not like a feverish ache; something deeper, in their core.
“You really don’t need to fight,” Lucas said. “You remember Mindy Hannon? She ended up really appreciating what we did for her. I see it every time she looks at me now.”
They’ve done this before, Shelby realized, and the horror inside her redoubled as did the physical pain.
“And Cara Thompson?” Lucas went on. Shelby remembered Cara. She hadn’t seen her since 9th grade.
Dave snickered. “Man, that one was sweet, bro!”
“She kinda took it wrong,” Lucas said. “Changed schools. I mean, really? Kind of an overreaction, right?”
“Just trying to help little girls grow up,” Ryan agreed.
“The best might have been Veronica. I mean, she still hangs out with us. See, Shelby, that’s what I mean. Gratitude. You’ll understand soon.”
“Man, those legs are hairy, bro” Dave said. “You sure you want that?”
“Whoa,” she heard Lucas say. “Look! What the Hell?”
It spread over her body—a feeling of being stabbed in a thousand places at once. She tasted blood in her mouth. Had they hit her? Her skin split along her spine, and she screamed. But it didn’t come out as a scream, rather as a bloodcurdling howl.
“Holy—” Dave started to yell but was cut off as Shelby’s hips rose violently, throwing him off her. Ryan cursed in surprise as he flew from her shoulders, falling hard into the tree. She smelled them both, each a distinct scent, heard their hearts pounding.
“It’s a freaking monster, bro!” Dave cried.
She heard Dave and Ryan running away, their steps awkward, stumbling desperately.
Shelby came to her knees, the pain still ripping through her. She looked down and saw her hands changing, morphing. Claws jutted forward from her fingertips as her fingers grew closer together, becoming stubbier with pads where fingerprints had been. Her legs bent unnaturally and her knees buckled, the joints snapping inward and popping sickeningly. Again, the howl-scream came out.
“My dad was right.”
Lucas’s voice. He was still there. His dad was right?
“You’re a demon.”
She whirled around, alacrity in her limbs like never before, her back hunched, and she felt . . . hair? . . . stand up on her withers. Strength. Endurance. Lethality. A growl rumbled in her chest, the growl of a predator facing its prey.
Lucas stood but stumbled and fell, tripped up by a tree root. He hit his back hard but immediately tried to roll over and get up again. There was a fear on his face that she hadn’t known could exist, one that must have only been worn by those who knew they faced death.
But she was not death. No matter what they had tried to do, what they did do, she could not kill despite the wolf within her aching to tear him apart. In an empowering yet terrifying moment, she realized she actually could.
She lashed out with her right paw, a shimmering dark blue coat covering her arm. It flew through the air and caught Lucas in the face, her claws tearing his cheek as she dragged her paw down to the side of his neck. Lucas wailed as the smell of wet iron scented the air.
Shelby shot up in her bed, her sheets dripping with sweat and heart thudding. She took a loud breath, as if she had been underwater too long, starving for oxygen.
“Oh my gosh,” she said, no more than a whisper. “It’s just a dream, just a dream . . .”
She reached for the lamp on her nightstand and switched it on. The yellow incandescent glow filled her room. She swung her legs off her bed, then put her head in her hands, resting her elbows on her knees. Her lavender tank top was damp at her back as were the roots of her hair.
“It’s okay,” she told herself, rocking slightly. “You’re okay.”
Embarrassed even though no one was with her, she checked her boxers. Slightly damp, the faint smell of urine. Deeper embarrassment. If her nightmares weren’t so terrifying, she might have believed something to be wrong with her, wetting herself as a seventeen-year-old. She gave herself a pass on that, grateful this was the first occurrence in the past three months. That had to be a good sign.
A note sat on her nightstand under the lamp, her dad’s handwriting scribbled on it. She looked at the digital clock. Its green glow read 11:14 p.m.
Had to run out and get some milk for the morning. Be back soon.
“Of course we’re out of milk,” she said and put the note down. “What else is new?”
I need to start doing the grocery shopping, she thought. You know, like a responsible adult. Late night grocery runs were always part of their life. Heaven knew Grant would never grow up enough to actually plan ahead on the little things. Like food.
Her heart still raced as the nightmare’s echoes lingered in her mind. Thoughts of Kale pushed her anxiety aside. Their kiss last night after meeting the rest of the pack … she had lost herself in that moment. How could she feel so deeply for this boy whom she had only known for days?
Not days, she reminded herself, but ages. Eternities.
That made no sense. Her mind spun as her brain tried to quantify what her heart and soul seemed to already know. How could her logical brain understand the language of love that was eons old?
She’d had to practically pry herself from Kale’s side when it was time to go last night, her heart aching to not leave him, to remain in his presence evermore and her lips beggi
ng for his just once more. They had actually tingled when she said good-bye. Through the bond—that enigmatic but wonderful bridge between them—she had felt his longing to remain with her as well, as if being separated from her would be the trial of his life and—
“You’re hopeless, Shelby,” she told herself aloud. “Get a grip. He’s just a boy.”
She felt something inside her stir in disapproval at the lie. You miss him, too, don’t you? she said to her wolf. Shelby felt her wolf’s longing as well, but more for Kale’s wolf. Huh. That stirring within her produced a new feeling. How would she ever manage two sets of hormones? Do you have periods and stuff to deal with, too? Shelby closed her eyes. Don’t answer that, she told her wolf, but, of course, there was never an answer.
Werewolf stuff was freaking weird sometimes, she decided. Imagine that. How about some normal stuff, like what would she wear to homecoming? It was still about six weeks away, but she already fretted about it. There. See? Normal girl stuff.
Shelby stood up and went to her bathroom. The fluorescent light above the mirror made her squint as it fluttered to life. Why did these kinds of lights always seem to make that annoying hum sound? She splashed some water on her face and grabbed the hand towel, patting herself dry. In addition to new boxers, she’d have to change her tank top. Werewolf or not, her sweat stank. Really stank.
Crap, probably my sheets, too.
She went to her dresser and found a new shirt and boxers. Sheets . . . did they have extra sheets yet? Grant really needed to get married again at some point. He had the protector/provider thing down cold but the homemaking thing? Yeah, he’d never figure that out.
She walked into the hallway to see about sheets in the closet. The old floor creaked. Feeling her way along in the dark, her fingers traipsing over the old textured wallpaper, she found the closet doorknob and stopped. One more creak from the floor sounded. Had it come after she had already stopped walking? Maybe it was just a floorboard flexing back into place as she stepped off it. But it had sounded farther away than she would have expected if it were from her steps.
Still. Perfect stillness. She stood at the hallway closet listening intently. Only the faint sound of breathing found her ears. Perhaps this would have been calming to her if she had not been holding her own breath.
Chills slithered up her back, down her arms.
“Dad?” she whispered.
She looked down the hall to his bedroom. Dull moonlight spilled through the open door. He slept with the door closed. Always. He still wasn’t back from the store.
The wrongness in the air grew so thick she almost thought she could see different shades of black in the night.
When she was a little girl, she would go downstairs to get a drink of water at night. Sneak some fruit snacks, too. Sometimes, that feeling that made her think she wasn’t alone, that someone was with her in the dark, played upon her mind. She’d run back up the stairs, the heebie-jeebies tickling her back, knowing that if she turned around the boogieman would be there, at her heels, snarling and reaching for her. Her blanket was her force field, that magical barrier that could protect her from everything sinister.
Maybe it was that engrained childhood reaction that made her run to her room instead of down the stairs to safety, the belief that her blanket would send the shivers of fear away like always. But in her room, a monster did indeed await, one with a scar across his face and neck, standing on the opposite side of her bed. She’d never make it to her bed in time to make the nightmare dissipate, never be able to close her eyes fast enough to protect her from the horrific vision illuminated by the lamp on her nightstand.
“Hey,” Lucas said. “Remember me?”
The floor creaked behind her and a hand reached across her face, covering her mouth. She screamed into the beefy palm and Lucas smiled. She felt the prick of the syringe in her neck before her knees went weak and everything faded to black.
Kale awoke, startled. He sat up and ran a clammy hand through damp hair. His heart raced, and his stomach ran hollow. He didn’t remember any dream . . . what had shaken him so? He checked his phone. 11:31 p.m. He had only been asleep for half an hour or so. On the lock screen, he saw a preview of what would no doubt prove to be a tirade from Chelsea. Thankfully, his eyes were too blurry to make anything out. He tried to rub them clear but ignored the text, and put the phone face down on his nightstand.
Shelby. His thoughts turned toward her. Of course they would. That first kiss . . . Well, every kiss, every time he was around her changed him a little more. Something new had started growing within him when their lips had first touched a little over a week ago at the bonfire, something that had let him see through time, through different planes. But it had actually started before that, on the football field the first day of tryouts, when he was introduced to pom-pom pushups.
You’re such an idiot.
Kale had never thought of himself as overly spiritual or religious, but something had touched him when he and Shelby first kissed. His dad would tell him those were the hormones talking again.
Kale stood, rising a bit shakily from his bed. He was glad Bubba wasn’t here to make fun of him. But Kale did feel wobbly, unsteady. Or was it that he felt unsure? But of what?
He walked into the hall, down to his parents’ room. He always liked the feel of the contours in the thick Brazilian cherry planks that made up the wood flooring under his bare feet. When he arrived at his parents’ room, he peered through the slight crack between the door and frame. His father’s form lay next to his mother’s.
“Kale? What’s wrong?”
Elias never slept deeply. Sneaking out to be with friends had never worked out well for Kale. He nudged the door open a few more inches.
“I don’t know. I woke up and feel . . . strange.”
Elias sat up as Gennesaret stirred. “You look . . . agitated.”
“I . . . think I had a bad dream.”
“Of what?”
Kale rubbed his eyes. “I can’t remember.”
Elias stood. “Kale, we always remember our dreams. If you can’t remember it, then it wasn’t a dream.”
Gennesaret sat up. “What’s wrong?”
“He’s had a dream he can’t remember,” Elias said.
“Then it wasn’t a dream.”
“That’s what I told him.”
Kale rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m sorry to wake you. It’s nothing. I’ll go back to—”
Kale grunted and doubled over, falling to his knees. Pain lanced through his stomach, up the right side of his chest, like being stabbed from the inside. He felt veins thumping in his temples, a dull throbbing that made him shut his eyes.
His father knelt at his side, a strong arm around his shoulder. “What is it?”
Elias’s words sounded distant, muted, as if Kale were underwater.
“Kale? Sweetheart?” The concern in his mother’s voice grounded him, allowing him to regain a semblance of focus.
And then, he smelled it . . . a familiar scent. Her scent. Shelby. Within the degrees of her normally intoxicating aroma, he sensed a certain emotion.
“Something’s happened,” Kale said through the pain, still doubled over. He held his abdomen and rocked on his knees. “She’s afraid. I can smell it.”
Elias and Gennesaret spoke softly, words Kale could not make out but he still heard the concern in their tones.
“Kale,” Elias said, “did something happen between you and Shelby last night?”
He took deep breaths, trying to tamp down the pain in his chest. “We just kissed.” More deep breaths. The pain slowly ebbed.
“First time?” his mother asked.
“No, that was a week ago at the bonfire. But it happened even before that, even when I’m just around her.”
“What do you mean, Kale,” Elias asked.
He shook his head, grimacing. The lancing pain dulled more, receding. “It was like . . . like I saw something open. I don’t know.”
“Go on,” his mother said. “Tell me.”
Kale sat on his haunches, his head against the heels of his palms, finally breathing more normally. “It’s stupid. Maybe Dad’s right, and it’s just hormones or whatever.”
“Tell me anyway.”
Kale took a resigned breath. “Like I said, we kissed. That’s it, I promise. But . . . in my mind . . . I don’t know, it was like I knew her, ya know? Like I had always known her but somehow forgot her. And then, it felt like we were once the same, part of the same . . . stuff. Elements. Wow, this sounds really dumb out loud.”
Kale looked up at his mother. She stared intently at Elias.
“What?” Kale asked. “Come on, you guys are scaring me.”
“Son, your mother believes in the legend of the Summer Omega,” Elias said. “It is said that if an Alpha bonds with a Summer Omega, their connection will be as if they were of one body. Some legends go so far as to say that Alphas and Summer Omegas that are able to bond were one, somehow, before this world.”
Kale’s mind snapped clear. “Yes, that. I felt that.”
Elias glanced sidelong at Gennesaret. “It’s really just a legend, Kale. Mom’s interest in information can delve beyond intel and into mythology.”
“Your father’s lack of belief in the legend does not invalidate its truth,” Gennesaret said. “Now, tell me what you felt and saw that woke you just now.”
“I felt fear, but I knew it wasn’t mine. It was Shelby’s. I could tell by the scent.” He shook his head and squinted. “I didn’t see much. Whatever it was, it was murky. Not foggy, but like . . .” He paused. “I think I tasted something. Like cloth. Or sheets. Yeah, it was like seeing through sheets.”
Elias put a firm hand on Kale’s shoulder. “Like a blindfold or a hood, maybe?”
A chill went up Kale’s neck. “Yes.” He swallowed hard. “Why would you think that?”
Elias sighed heavily. “A group of hunters entered our territory several days ago. We thought we had tracked them all.”