Serpentine

by J. Kearston

  Taking a deep breath, she tentatively asks, “Can I see?”

  Wicked smirks light up Carson and Parker’s faces, while Bane wraps an arm around her collar from behind and pulls her into his chest. There’s no growling or snapping teeth like some of the others with less control of their instincts, just a silent warning. His pupils shrink to slits as he goes stock still, a snake coiled and ready to strike at the slightest provocation.

  They might be shameless flirts, but they aren’t idiots. We might stay on good terms, understanding the value of connections in today’s world, but the whole safety in numbers thing is what brought them here, not the other way around. The three of us were just fine before the others appeared and offered to remodel our house as they built theirs; creating a tiny community that hid behind the fact we warded off both humans and shifters alike.

  Sharing a look with Carson, Parker turns back, scratching the back of his neck to answer her. “Um, maybe some other time.”

  Sensing the change, Risa tilts her head back to look up at Bane. “Not really helping your guys’ case here.”

  His attention remains focused on Carson and Parker, though his thumb starts stroking over her shoulder. “You want proof, beautiful, we’re happy to. You just didn’t ask, and we didn’t want to push you too far, too fast.”

  Knowing where her head is at, having been in her shoes before where everyone around us hasn’t, I explain, “In our society, asking someone to shift for you is pretty much foreplay. Most people have to strip first so they don’t destroy their clothes, and once they give into their other half, their baser instincts tend to drive their actions. It’s pretty much a declaration that you’re interested and want to start a sexy game of chase.”

  Chagrined, she cranes her head to look at me, still trapped by Bane’s unrelenting hold. “So I don’t need to worry about that if I ask you guys because you’re my-“ she struggles to say the last word, like voicing it makes it fact “-sires?”

  I pointedly ignore Carson and Parker’s uproarious laughter at our expense. “It’s our job to help you transition, no matter how you feel. We aren’t going to try something you’re not comfortable with, if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

  Stryker puts himself between Risa and the others, helping Bane relax a fraction. “You’ll see when we walk you through your first shift.”

  “Woah, wait, she hasn’t yet?” Parker interrupts and the look the three of us shoot him is deadly enough that he takes a step into the house.

  Risa shrinks back into Bane’s chest, leaning into his hold as her nerves spike. “Was I supposed to?”

  Her anxiety helps to snap Bane out of it, his pupils returning to normal and guiding her towards the steps, away from the house. “None of us expected you to, don’t worry. Most turned shifters wake up after about a day, so since you were out a week, we already assumed it probably wouldn’t be for at least a few days, if not longer. Don’t let them get in your head, gorgeous.”

  Face furrowed with concern, she doesn’t look back at the men standing in the doorway, missing the heavy look they exchange before I shoot them a death glare, ensuring they keep their mouths shut this time. No doubt the entire clearing will be filled in before dusk, but at least we can shield Risa from hearing the whispers. If they get in her head and psych her out, it’ll make it ten times harder for her to let her guard down, making the first shift hurt worse than it already will.

  As she passes by me on the stairs, leaning against the rail, she meets my eye and I mentally curse, because she’s definitely spiraling now. “Can we call it a day?”

  I shrug, trying to play it off. “Sure. Not much to see anyway. A circle of houses filled with obnoxious men, a couple of women, and a convenience store. You have to drive about thirty miles out of the woods before you actually run into anything interesting.”

  Stryker’s hand winds up on the middle of her back to guide her steps, unable to fight the impulse that I’m trying so hard to tamp down. Her unease is like a siren’s call, making me want to punch the world in the face before crushing her to my chest to ensure she’s safe. My fingers twitch, itching to reach out to her, to touch her and assure myself that she’s alright.

  Much more of this and the only way that I’m getting any sleep tonight is by drinking myself into oblivion.

  When we’re on the stone pathway leading up towards the door, she quietly asks, “So it’s not weird if I ask one of you to shift? To prove I’m not crazy for buying into all of this, I mean.”

  My gums ache as my fangs fight to descend, her tone far too innocent for what she’s asking. None of us answer for a few seconds, the others clearly struggling as much as I am.

  Clearing my throat, I recover first. “Not at all. Any of us you’d prefer to do it?”

  She takes a second before shaking her head. “Not particularly. Just... seeing is believing, you know?”

  I share a glance with the others, knowing they can read my hesitance. Honestly, I’m not completely sure that it’s a good idea for me to do so right now when I’m already struggling. Bane’s clearly having the same dilemma, face tight, so Stryker tries to smooth over the awkwardness by volunteering.

  “I’m the one that decided your fate by biting you, so I should do it.” We head inside the house, Stryker discreetly drying his sweaty palms on his jeans. “Want to do this now or later?”

  Risa bites her lip, and I watch the transformation overtake her features as she bolsters herself up. “Let’s just rip off the bandage.” She turns to look at me, violet eyes hypnotic and drawing me in. “But I hope you have something to drink here, because I can almost guarantee I’m going to need a bottle of wine or two after.”

  Chapter 7

  Risa

  Toned, defined muscle now on display, Stryker tosses his shirt onto the chair before unbuttoning his jeans, stripping down to his boxers. Mason and Bane are sitting on either side of me on the couch, turning Stryker into our personal stripper for the night. He’s pointedly not making eye contact with me, and after what Mason explained, I’m not sure if I feel more worried, or flattered. While I’m uneasy about how much control they actually have in their other form from how they were talking, there’s a stupid part of me that gets off on the fact that they’re so nervous about getting carried away, not used to anyone being interested in me like that.

  Blake only wanted someone to control so he could feel powerful, someone on hand to fuck and get off on their misery. But never once has he looked at me like these three do; like there’s nothing else in the room worth noticing. And now, standing there in his boxers, Stryker is taking every precaution that he can to ensure he doesn’t get carried away by his instincts and risk making me uncomfortable.

  “You ready?” he asks, and I tuck my hands beneath my thighs, nodding.

  With a slow exhale, he closes his eyes, tilting his head towards the ceiling. I’m afraid to blink and miss anything, but nothing dramatic happens; no bright flash of magical light or whatever I was expecting. Instead, it’s a more fluid transition, a layer of violet scales spreading over his skin. Where the sunlight streams in from the window, it casts them in an almost pinkish glow. As he starts to shrink, sending the light dancing over his scales, the color continues to morph like an opal stone, appearing different based on the angle you look.

  Slithering out from the underwear now laying on the floor, the viper is a little over three feet long, stretching his head up to look at me as I struggle to remember how to breathe. I remain transfixed, but as I meet a familiar emerald gaze, what little air remains in my lungs rushes out, the reality of my situation hitting me hard.

  “You’re not crazy,” I whisper, not daring to look away and risk breaking the spell that feels like the only thing holding me together.

  Mason’s voice fills with sad understanding. “Blessing and a curse. If we were, you’d be stuck in the middle of the forest with some lunatics. But we’re not, and your reward is still being stuck in the woods with us, just knowing we
aren’t crazy.”

  I don’t tear my gaze away from Stryker as I lean down. “Really selling me on the idea that any life choice besides you guys is stupid; stellar work there, Mason.”

  “What can I say, I’m a realist,” he replies with a shrug. “This realist just so happens to turn into a snake, but knows how hard that idea is to process without some dark humor to wash it down.”

  As if compelled, I slowly extend a hand above the floor, unfurling my fingers in invitation. Stryker never once breaks eye contact as he slowly closes the distance between us. His scales are cool to the touch as he snakes across my palm, and I’m finally freed from the stare off as he coils around my wrist and up my arm.

  “Risa?” Bane worries, turning in his seat beside me for a better view as I sit up.

  “I’m okay,” I murmur, following his path over my skin, something inside of me shuddering in response.

  Slowly, Stryker makes his way up to my shoulder, the tip of his tail flicking across my fingertips as he crosses my shoulder. A shiver runs down my spine as he brushes the back of my neck, crossing to my other shoulder. My breathing levels out, eyes fluttering shut as something integral shifts. This. This feels right. It feels like finally making it home, a sense of comfort and security that defies logic.

  Like a bucket of cold water is dumped on me, Bane darts out a hand faster than lightning and grabs Stryker at the base of his head, ignoring his hiss of protest to peel him off of me and tosses him across the room without remorse. “Get your head on straight.”

  Stryker shifts back butt ass naked with a curse, pushing himself off the floor and gathering his clothes. “Fuck, Risa, I’m so sorry,” he hastily apologizes.

  “For what?”

  Stepping into his jeans, he fastens them while looking at me, riddled with guilt. “I almost bit you.”

  My brow furrows, because I didn’t sense any aggression from him at all. “Did I do something wrong? I tried not to move so I wouldn’t startle or accidently hurt you.”

  You’d think I’d struck him with the pained look that crosses his face. “Gods no, beautiful. You didn’t do a damn thing except look good enough to sink my teeth into.”

  Canting my head to the side, I watch him as he finishes getting dressed. “So you’re vampire snakes?”

  Three chuckles surround me, but it’s Bane that answers, “That’s one way to look at it. But that’s a conversation best tabled for another day.”

  Groaning, I brace my head between my hands, elbows resting on my thighs. Every answer leads to more questions, and I can’t even argue with them that spacing out the revelations is for the best. While there are moments of clarity and acceptance, they don’t seem to last long before the overwhelming implications of it all crashes down on me. I may have wanted to escape my old life, but to know that people like this have been living beside me my entire life without me knowing? What else do I believe that’s just a lie?

  Do I even know anything about the world that I live in? Starting over doesn’t sound nearly as daunting of a task as learning everything from scratch does. Expectations, rules of their society; is there a shifter jail, or can you kill someone you get into a fight with? Do you keep what you kill and get their land and wealth, or are you put down for going rogue without so much as a trial? What if you’re framed, who decides your fate then?

  My mind starts spiraling as I shut my eyes tightly, sucking in small, shallow gasps. Every puff of air brings their intermingled scents with it, the sound of my thundering heartbeat drowning out theirs. I can accept that they aren’t lying. I can believe that they had the best of intentions bringing me here, and I can feel in every fiber of my being that they’ll help me figure this all out. But I just can’t wrap my head around the fact that they’re willing to go through all of this for some stranger.

  They haven’t said a peep about if the fated mates thing that’s so popular in mainstream media right now is garbage or not, but honestly, I think I’d be able to understand their motives better if they started making such a ludicrous claim. At least that concept I’m familiar with, even if it’s an overly romanticized one. But if it’s the sire bond driving their actions, wouldn’t that mean they’d be feeling like I do towards the people that changed them?

  Think vampire novels, not werewolf. Blood fetishes, sires, and monsters that lurk in the shadows. Not ridiculous, just different than expected. I can handle this; Lord knows I’ve survived much worse.

  Three guys bending over backwards to help me? That managed to get me out of my situation where no one else has ever even attempted it? How can I turn my nose up at that, especially when they look at me like they actually care?

  Pushing the rising hysteria back down, I toss all of my questions and fears into a box to be unpacked over the coming days. I latch on to their presence, caging me in between the three of them. It doesn’t make me feel trapped like it should, but safe. They don’t try to write me off as seeking attention, merely giving me time to break down and process while ensuring I’m safe enough to do so. They keep the rest of the world at bay simply so I have time to process things in a way I can cope with, and it makes it easier to compose myself.

  Swiping a lock of hair out of my face, I straighten up on the couch. “Okay.” Not really knowing what to say, I simply nod to myself. “Okay.” Exhaling a heavy breath, I turn to face Mason. “I think I’ll take that wine now.”

  ***

  Half a bottle later, I’m feeling better, more like my old self. Before Blake, when fear and anxiety were forced to become a part of my personality.

  Mason returns with shot glasses and a bottle of clear rum, setting them on the coffee table that the rest of us are gathered around. “Alright, Risa, game time.”

  My eyebrow quirks up, and rather than look at me with pity, a dangerous glint appears in his bright blue eyes. “I know you’re drowning your numerous questions in booze; been there, done that. So how about we shove all of the heavy stuff aside for a bit and get to know each other a little better? Might make this whole thing a little easier.”

  Taking the glass he slides my way, sitting on the small rug with my legs crossed, I tilt my head in acknowledgment. “Sounds good to me. How do you want to do this?”

  He licks his lips, taking a seat to my right, the only free side of the table left. “Go around the table, and if the person would rather avoid answering, they have to take a shot. If they do answer, the person asking has to take a shot.” At my nod, he decides to kick things off easy. “Risa; how old are you?”

  “Twenty-five.”

  He takes a shot and I turn to Bane, following the same train of thought. “You?”

  “Twenty-eight,” he answers automatically, “and as a bonus; Mason’s a year younger than me, and Stryker one beneath him.” I slam back my shot, extending the glass for Mason to refill. Bane takes a second to decide on his question before asking, “Favorite thing to do when you have free time?”

  I pause. It’s been so long since I was ever able to actually do anything just for me, that I’m not even sure I’d still enjoy the same things I used to. “Running.”

  He frowns. “Lie. Drink.”

  Grimacing, I take my shot as penance. “Not exactly a lie, but not a full truth either. It was the only real time I was free, and I spent a lot of time fantasizing about not circling back on the trail, running until I couldn’t anymore. Lost myself to the music, and for a little while, I was able to be in my own little world. But you’re right; the actual running part sucked ass.”

  “So why’d you do it?” Stryker asks.

  Holding his gaze, I take another shot rather than answer. They’re already looking at me with pity; I don’t need to pile onto it by explaining that I was expected to stay in shape. After the sort of comments Blake would make, giving me a complex, I’d rather just run than deal with the snide remarks. I’m well aware how pathetic that would sound, and since opting out is an option, I gladly take it.

  “Stryker; how long have you three lived to
gether?”

  He wavers a hand from side to side. “Around eight years? Bane and I a couple before that.”

  “What brought you three together?”

  Stryker pointedly waits for me to take my shot for the other question before answering. And even then, his answer is simply slamming back a shot. “Mason-“ his eyes cut to the side and I follow “- why’d you decide to come slither into our beds, Goldilocks?”

  Flipping him off, Mason hesitates, gripping his shot glass so tightly that I’m worried it’ll shatter. Coming to a decision, he dips a finger in the rum, licking it off and holding my gaze as if expecting to see condemnation in it. “I was turned when I was seventeen. My sire was... not a good person, and I ended up killing him so I could be free of the bond. Spent some time drinking myself into oblivion and trying to pretend that nothing had ever happened, but couldn’t cope with being around humans anymore and went feral for a couple of years before running into these two assholes.”

  Stryker takes his shot while I casually point out, “So I guess stabbing you all in your sleep and making a break for it is out.”

  Bane snorts. “You can give it a shot, but unless you tear our hearts or throats out, you’re shit out of luck, gorgeous. We’ll hunt your ass down and haul you back before you end up getting yourself killed.” Even though he doesn’t have to, he takes a drink and winks at me. “Might even enjoy it, so please, feel free to give it a try if it makes you feel better.”

  Frustratingly enough, even the thought of hurting them twists my stomach, like a failsafe their bites coded into my genes to make me inexplicably loyal. The visual of hovering over one of them with a blade pressed to their neck, though? Very different feelings come to mind, and none of the images I conjure are productive to this conversation.

  I glance between Stryker and Bane. “So you two have always been like this instead of turned?”

  They cut me some slack for not picking one in particular to continue the game, a buzz riding me hard as Stryker grins. “Born and raised. What about you, what do you do for a living?”