Serpentine

by J. Kearston

  Pushing through the chaos to latch on to his scent, I let it ground me in the present. My fingers trace over the smooth skin of my stomach where I was stabbed, the only proof that anything happened in my memories. Even if I’d been unconscious for several months, there would have still been a mark. This is the only tangible proof that I can work with, proving that they might be crazy, but so am I.

  Or they’re not, and I need to look at this as an unexpected gift, the way out that I couldn’t find before.

  I give him a sad smile. “Bold of you to assume I want to go back to it.”

  Chapter 5

  Risa

  Arms wrapped around the throw pillow as I sit on the couch, my thumb runs a constant path over the rough fabric, using the texture as a focal point so that I don’t spiral. Stryker and Bane are sitting in the chairs opposite me, Mason leaning against the wall, and all of their eyes remain rapt on every twitch I make, already giving me a complex.

  “So I could technically go back if I came up with a plausible reason for my disappearance?”

  They’re all silent, sharing a look before Bane hesitantly answers. “In theory, but it’s harder than you’d imagine, especially in the bigger cities. It overwhelms your senses and leaves you agitated, making it much more likely you’ll accidentally shift if startled or feel boxed in. There’s a huge difference between being in a place crowded with humans, and surrounded by shifters.”

  I nod to myself, thumb stroking the pillow absentmindedly. “So I’ll feel like I do with you three around other-“ I bite my tongue before forcing myself to say “-shifters?” Because if I’m going to entertain this as an actual possibility, I need to voice it until it doesn’t sound so ridiculous.

  Mason’s face softens with understanding. “Not quite. It’s more like the difference between riding the subway at night, and going to a family cookout. One will have your guard up and jumping at shadows, and the other, you relax, knowing instinctively that there’s safety in numbers and you’re surrounded by friends. We’ll introduce you to some of the neighbors so you can see what we mean.”

  The thought has me tensing up before Stryker hastily backpedals. “Only if you want to! It might actually be better if you take a few days first, give yourself a chance to adjust.”

  Grimacing, I can’t bring myself to explain the reaction. “No, it’s okay. Probably a good idea to hear things from other people, in case you’re all secretly psychopaths.”

  Three matching smirks make my chest lurch, and I metaphorically punch myself in the face to combat the impulse to put less distance between us. It’s exactly why I parked my ass as far away from them as possible, because the thought of simply taking a seat on Stryker or Bane’s lap sounds like a perfectly reasonable idea, and it scares the hell out of me.

  “But there’s nothing stopping me from going home, so long as I don’t reveal your secret society to anyone? Could get a remote house on the edge of town and live out my days pretending that nothing changed?”

  As I watch them exchange another look, silently communicating with each other, my grip tightens on the pillow. A small spike of fear has the next words tumbling out of my mouth before I can bite them back. “So you’re going to send me back after you get me brought up to speed and situated.”

  Frowning, Stryker rises from his chair, sinking to his knees in front of me, and covers the back of my wrist, stilling my anxious fingers. “Risa, I don’t think you’re getting the full picture here. We don’t want you to go anywhere. You’re ours to take care of now; that’s what the bond is all about. You think it’s hard to ignore when we’re in the same room? It would drive us mad if you left town.”

  He tightens his grip, like just thinking about it makes him anxious. “Fuck, Risa, you’re all we’ve thought about the past week, and we didn’t even know you then. How do you expect us to pretend you don’t exist, to carry on with our lives like we can’t remember the taste of sinking our teeth into your skin?”

  Running my tongue over my teeth, I let one of the sharp points dig in until drawing blood so I can keep my composure. “So, the sire thing. If this means you guys are pretty much my supernatural guardians, is it supposed to be this,” I trail off, second guessing myself if things are different on their side of things, but honestly, it’s driving me mad already, and it’s only been a few hours.

  Bane clears his throat, his eyes flicking down to my mouth like he knows I pricked my tongue. “Nine times out of ten, people are only turned because they consider the human their mate. It’s a fluke that someone goes crazy like the old wolves and tears through towns, trying to build an army. So yeah, it’s perfectly natural if it feels sexual.”

  Stryker’s gaze roams over me languidly. “Where you’re drawn to us instinctually to stay safe, on our end, it’s more... obsessive. You’re ours, Risa; to care for and protect. You’re not our prisoner here, but honestly, if you want to go back, I can’t promise we won’t hang around to watch over you.”

  Mason rubs at his chest with the heel of his hand. “We can’t just leave you at the mercy of humans when they don’t have any. I know it’s hard to imagine right now, but give us a chance to help you before you make any rash decisions. You don’t have a kid waiting for you or anything, right?”

  “No.” My lips press into a flat line before I admit, “Just a boyfriend, but I’ve been trying to leave him for a while. If I go back, I’ll be starting over anyway.”

  Three sets of eyes narrow instantly, but it’s Stryker that demands, “What do you mean, trying to leave him for a while?”

  Releasing a long, slow breath, I try to disassociate so it isn’t as difficult to talk about. “Kind of hard to move when any time he found my money stash, he’d lose his shit and confiscate it. Everyone that knows him thinks he’s a damn saint and would never believe me, constantly pointing out how lucky I am.” I scoff, tapping my fingers in agitation, Stryker still not releasing my wrist, but it feels more comforting than restraining. “Plenty of people think it’s so easy to up and leave, but unless you have a support system in place, it’s either wind up on the street, or convince yourself that it isn’t that bad so you can make it through just one more day.”

  “So really, getting kidnapped was a blessing in disguise,” Mason tosses out there, and the dark humor has me smiling, breathing a bit easier.

  “You could say that. Though admittedly, not a fan.”

  Bane and Stryker, on the other hand, aren’t nearly as amused. Bane’s face is completely devoid of humor, grip tight on the arm of his chair. Stryker becomes unnaturally still, making a conscious effort not to tighten his hold on my wrist despite the way the temperature in the room seems to drop alongside their silent fury.

  And it kills me that their reaction makes my eyes burn with unshed tears, because I’m not used to having anyone in my corner. Yet these three strangers actually seem to give a damn when no one in my life ever has.

  Stryker’s hand slides up my neck to gently cup my jaw. “What’s his name, gorgeous?”

  My mouth feels suddenly dry as I nervously shake my head. Not because I’m worried about him getting hurt, but because I’m worried about them doing something stupid and paying the price. It’d be my fault, and with everything I’m already struggling to deal with, I don’t think I can handle that guilt on top of it all.

  “Risa.” Bane pulls my attention towards him, Stryker’s palm still heating my skin. “So we can protect you. We can put the word out so if someone catches wind that he’s sniffing around, they’ll give us a heads up long before he ever gets close.”

  I narrow my eyes at him, something about his statement ringing false to my ears. “You’re lying.”

  Rather than deny it, a sly grin transforms his scowl, looking borderline feral. “You got me. But it proves you can tell the difference and makes it easier to believe what we’re telling you, doesn’t it? So trust me when I say, we only want his name to protect you.”

  “I’m assuming that you can also tell if I lie to yo
u?”

  Three assorted forms of ‘yep’ sound out simultaneously and I sigh. As much as that’s a pain in the ass, it’s actually... a relief, maybe? It leaves no choice other than to be open about things, and as someone that’s spent the last few years forced to wear a plastic smile and surrounded by fake people, it feels like a weight’s been lifted from my shoulders.

  A small smile tugs at the corner of my lips as I repeat his statement in my head. “But you can be vague and play between the lines to get away with shit. Is this a sire thing, or shifters in general?”

  “You’re avoiding the question,” Mason chastises, looking just as high strung.

  “And so are you,” I counter, raising an eyebrow. When he doesn’t dispute the claim, I lick my lips, meeting Stryker’s hard, emerald stare. “You’re not going to do anything stupid, are you?”

  He winks. “Now, would I lie to you?” As I narrow my eyes, he simply shrugs a single shoulder. “Depends on what you classify as stupid. Not about to leave you alone to go track him down, but I can’t promise what’ll happen if one of us ever crosses paths with the bastard.”

  All eyes on me, I grimace as the words are pulled from me against my better judgment. “Blake Thompson.”

  A small flash of victory flickers over his eyes before Stryker gets to his feet, kissing my forehead on the way up. “I’ll find some clothes for you so you can shower and have some time to decompress, if you’d like. I know we’re bombarding you with information, so breaking it up into manageable chunks might be a good idea so it isn’t so overwhelming.”

  He strides out of the room, Bane’s fingers still digging into the arm of his chair. “I don’t know if introducing you to the neighbors is the right thing to do anymore. I don’t want you feeling like we’re trapping you here, but,” he trails off, tongue in cheek and looking aggravated.

  Mason takes over, biting a hangnail. “Any of the shameless bastards start flirting with you, might just kill ‘em, right about now. Tomorrow’s probably a smarter choice.”

  “You’re kidding,” I scoff, incredulous at how overly dramatic they’re being.

  Yet two sets of hard eyes fall on me. “He’s dead serious, Risa,” Bane declares, still seated. “While most shifters only turn their human mates, everyone in this area is well aware of what happened. Sires or not, it’s not like we own you, and once they see you?” The ice thaws as his gaze heats, locked on my face. “You bet your ass they’re going to be hitting on you.”

  Stryker returns with a set of clothes. “Whether they do or don’t, they’re idiots. Fools not to try and steal you away while there’s a chance, and suicidal fools to attempt it.”

  Taking the bundle of clothes from him, I rise to my feet, the promise of a hot shower sounding more enticing by the minute. “I thought you said that I was free to make my own choices about my future?”

  Mason kicks off from the wall, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and guiding me towards the stairs. “Of course you are. We just mean to show you that any choice beyond us is a stupid one.”

  Chapter 6

  Mason

  Motherfucker, those eyes are going to be the death of me.

  When Risa first came home with us and we tended to her wounds, she had hazel eyes that I only saw when checking for a response to light, unseeing and nearly devoid of life. But since she’s woken up, they’ve turned a brilliant shade of violet that makes it hard to look anywhere else. I’ve never heard of someone’s features changing after being turned, and though she hasn’t commented on it, there’s no way she didn’t notice after her shower yesterday; the mirror over the sink takes up nearly an entire wall.

  She anxiously tucks her hair behind her ear, but doesn’t say anything about wanting to head back home. I file away the nervous tick for future reference, fighting to keep my hands casually in my pockets so I don’t overwhelm her. I know firsthand how hard the first few weeks are after being turned, an onslaught of sensations and confusion, and I don’t want to add any more stress to her transition.

  It’s killing me though, because all I want to do is sink my fangs into her neck, to have her writhing beneath me and promise to stay with us forever.

  The sire bond is no fucking joke. She’s the first thing I think of when I wake up, and the last image I see before falling asleep. If I thought this last week was hard with her not waking up? It’s nothing compared to last night. I spent it tossing and turning, knowing she was so close, but remained out of reach. I couldn’t be sure she was safe since I couldn’t feel her heartbeat beside me as I slept, her scent muted behind closed doors as she took Bane’s room so that she had a lock to hide behind.

  And I still can’t get the intoxicating taste of her blood out of my mouth, wasn’t nearly prepared enough for that part of the process. We don’t tend to drink blood often, unless we’re gravely wounded and want to speed along the healing process, but plenty of people are into that sort of thing on the regular. I never thought I was one of them until Risa, but now, my mouth starts watering at just the thought.

  She’s taken over every part of my life in such a short time that it’s terrifying, and the desire to have her brand me as thoroughly as we’ve done to her is hard to shove into a dark corner to be ignored. The impulse to make her mine so completely, have her baring her neck to me in submission, makes me feel no better than the wolves, but fuck, maybe they’re onto something.

  “So what did you say they were again?” she asks, Stryker’s shirt hanging to the end of her shorts and making it look like she isn’t even wearing pants.

  One of us has to make a trip into town, get her settled in. But hell, there’s something about her in our clothes, covered in our scents, that makes me want to put it off.

  She makes me second guess every little thing, and I don’t think I’ll make it another week before she drives me mad.

  Stryker answers, jumping at any sign she needs something, letting the bond become his damn personality with his obsession to please her. “Leopard and hyena; Carson and Parker. But honestly, that sort of thing only comes up in pissing matches.”

  Bane cuts in, “Meaning it’ll come up. Anyone attempting to get on her radar is going to be boasting how amazing they are to try and make them look like a good prospect.” He turns to Risa with a wink. “But the bigger they are, the harder they fall.”

  A small smile pushes past her anxiety. “You guys have the same venom as regular vipers, then? Since you’re some weird supe breed?”

  I snort. “Better. Our scales stand out because we don’t have a reason to rely on camouflage. They choose to ignore that, it’s their own damn fault when they keel over.”

  Striding up the path to their house, Parker pulls the door open as soon as we set foot on the porch, clearly eavesdropping. His robotic voice, saturated with fake surprise, has my eyes rolling. “I’m so sorry, I had no idea you guys were swinging by.” He stands there shirtless, an abundance of smooth, dark skin on display, shorts slung low. “Pleasure to finally meet the woman causing such a stir,” he states, extending a hand in Risa’s direction.

  Slowly stepping forward, she glances at us quickly as if seeking confirmation that it’s okay. I’m torn between the wave of satisfaction I get at that, to know that despite her reluctance, she trusts us to help her navigate things, and hating myself for liking it. She wouldn’t elaborate on what things were like with her boyfriend, and the absolute last thing I want is to make her feel like she went from one controlling asshole to another. It’s a fine line, because fuck, the things I want to do with her would make a sinner blush.

  There’s a huge difference between dominating sexually, and controlling what she does, yet still, I’d rather lock her in the house than parade her around the settlement. It makes me feel like such a jackass, and honestly, I’m going insane torturing myself over my warring instincts.

  I want her to be happy, but I want her to be happy with me.

  “Nice to meet you.” Risa shakes his hand, and to Parker’s credit, he relea
ses it without trying anything, crossing his arms and leaning against the open doorway.

  Without removing his eyes from her, he partially turns to holler into the house, “C, we’ve got company.” Not two seconds later, Carson appears on the stairs, descending to the living room with a towel wrapped around his waist.

  Bane groans in exasperation. “Seriously?”

  A flash of humor crosses Carson’s light brown eyes. “Couldn’t hear you over the shower, man, sorry. How were we supposed to know she’d finally woken up?”

  Nails digging into my palm in my pocket, I lean against the porch railing, feigning casualty. “We’re happy to come back later after you two pull yourselves together. Hate to intrude, after all.”

  “We’re not busy,” they say in tandem, and Risa tries to smother her smile, covering her laugh with a fake cough.

  “So they’re not a bunch of whackjobs?” she asks, getting confirmation from an outside source to feel better. “You guys are really...?”

  “Amazing? Yeah, it’s true,” Parker chirps and Stryker uses the back of his hand to smack him in the stomach.

  Grinning, Carson rests an arm at the top of the doorway so he has room to join the conversation. “I know the shifter thing is kind of a mindfuck, but it’s really not that crazy if you think about it. Stories have to come from somewhere, after all. We’ve just spent decades trying to write them off as nothing more than ridiculous fantasies to seduce women or scare children into behaving. Wouldn’t be such a widespread concept if there wasn’t some truth to it, though the actual facts get lost in translation and vary wildly.”