Serpentine

by J. Kearston

  I lock my pleading gaze on Mason, who’s given up the pretense of playing with his phone to openly watch me again. He’d know better than any of them the difference between born and turned, and with the sire thing overruling my common sense, he’s a safer bet since he’s been so much more reserved.

  “Help?”

  His eyes darken, and the next thing I know, an arm is wrapped around my waist, snatching me out from between the two men. When we’re several feet away, he sets me back on my feet, shooting a glare at the others. His hands settle on my shoulders, pushing me out to arm’s length and looking me over before tucking them back into the pockets of his shorts.

  “Want to head home?” he asks, but his dark tone ruins the easy-going vibe he was shooting for.

  Swallowing, I quickly shake my head. “Just finding it hard to focus.”

  A small, relieved smirk has the murderous vibes he’s giving off fading. “I tried to tell them, but they wouldn’t listen.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “You previously discussed trying to seduce me in the woods?”

  A startled laugh bursts from his lips. “No, just about keeping their hands to themselves.”

  Stryker stays put, but calls out, “You ask too much from mere mortals, Mason! How’s she supposed to fall madly in love with me if she doesn’t know how good I am with my hands? It’s my biggest selling point.”

  The unease in my gut is replaced by genuine laughter. “Shouldn’t that be your personality?”

  He gasps dramatically, turning to Bane. “You hear that? She likes me without even knowing how great I am in bed yet. I knew she wanted me to marry her.”

  Rolling my eyes, I ignore him and face Mason. “Does it feel different for you to shift? Born versus turned sort of thing?”

  Bright blue eyes hold mine as he very subtly shakes his head, knowing it’s going to leave me crestfallen. “The actual process of it is harder on turned ones since we instinctively fight it, but it starts the same. For natural borns, changing bodies is as easy as breathing. For us, it messes with our heads for a while until we figure out how to mentally cope with all of our beliefs being blown up, and it hurts more because we don’t want to cede control.”

  Hesitantly, he watches my face as he reaches forward, like he thinks I’m going to take a step back. When I don’t, he presses three fingers into the same place that Bane did. “Stories make it seem like we’re two beings inhabiting the same body, fighting for control. It’s true to a degree, but there’s no voice in the back of our heads; just a sort of tight anxiety that lives right here. Each form feels like something’s missing, so we never really feel completely whole.”

  His attention becomes focused on his fingers pressing into my flesh as he gets lost in thought. “When I’m... me, I get overwhelmed by the sensations and sometimes need to let go, spend time in my other form where there’s less existential dread, and I’m more connected to nature. Things don’t seem so bad like that, when all of the social constructs and expectations of society don’t apply. I’m able to simply exist.

  “Yet as a viper, I’m still not right. I have too much awareness, and not a soul to talk to, so I’m completely isolated within my head. Phantom itches that can’t be scratched, but knowing I should have the ability to do so, yet can’t.” His face tightens. “The identity crisis that comes from not fully fitting in anywhere, not knowing who you actually are anymore or what’s real-”

  “Mason.” Bane’s voice is firm, snapping Mason out of his spiral. “You’re going to freak her out and make it ten times harder on her if you don’t shut the hell up.”

  Blinking several times, Mason looks up at me, quickly withdrawing his hand and taking a step back. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I-“ he rakes a hand through his dark hair, looking wrecked. “I’m going to call it a night.”

  With that, he heads back alone. Between the darkness and his long strides, it doesn’t take long for him to disappear into the trees, leaving an awkward silence in his wake. I’m left turning to Stryker and Bane, confused they’re still standing there.

  “Aren’t you going to go after him? Make sure he’s okay?” I ask neither of them in particular.

  “Sometimes he just needs to be alone, angel,” Stryker says, and while I know that’s a fact for some people, it’s not sitting right with me.

  Bane’s face is tight with disapproval. “He needs a chance to get his head on straight. He’s getting his priorities mixed up; stuck down memory lane instead of realizing that you’re right here in front of him, needing our help.”

  My mind keeps replaying that broken look on Mason’s face as he thought that he was sabotaging me, even though that couldn’t be farther from the truth. And each time, I’m more confident that they’re wrong, even though I have nothing to base it on. I’d rather know exactly what I’m walking into so that I’m not caught off guard when I’m forced to deal with the side effects he was talking about, thinking another thing was wrong with me when I did finally shift. Bane and Stryker make it sound so easy, like I simply need to get out of my own way and let things happen, but it’s not that easy.

  I want to shift, if only to keep them from being so disappointed in me that they send me back because I’m defective.

  “Just because I need help, doesn’t mean that he doesn’t need it, too,” I state quietly, forcing myself to look directly at them despite my heart thundering with anxiety.

  I don’t know what’ll happen if I piss them off, but I’m not going to finally have a second chance at life and end up in the same position I was in before. And if they’re the sort of people that will constantly be writing me off, simply placating me to keep me in check, I’d rather find out now. I’d like to imagine that they’re better people than that, but I barely know them. What I am sure of? There’s no better way to see a person’s true colors than when they’re stressed, or you tick them off.

  “I’m not here to force anyone out. What kind of bitch would I be if I showed up and shoved someone out of the picture, especially in their own home? Yeah, I’m kind of high maintenance right now with all of the unknowns, and need some time to find my footing, but that doesn’t mean I’m more of a priority than any of you are. I don’t-“ I fist the fabric of my shorts, subtly drying my sweaty palms, hating confrontation with every fiber of my being. “I don’t want to be that kind of person; self-absorbed with an inflated sense of entitlement. How am I supposed to trust you guys if you’re willing to pick some chick you just met over your friend that’s clearly having a hard time?”

  Before I can talk myself out of it, I turn away from their stunned faces, and start running. It’s like a physical stab in my gut leaving them like that, the bond fucking with my head. I can’t stay, leaving things as they are with Mason, but it’s hard to go, not knowing what I’m going to come back to when I face the other two again.

  Bane and Stryker curse behind me and I sprint harder, dirt caking my bare feet uncomfortably. Despite my enhanced senses, it’s hard to see in the darkness, sharp twigs snapping beneath my feet and rocks slicing into my flesh. Focusing on the writhing pit of snakes in my chest, I follow the pull to guide my path, suddenly slamming into Mason’s chest as I round a bend.

  “The hell are you doing?” he demands. Eyes narrowed, he glares down at me, but clearly still chose to wait when he sensed me chasing him. His pupils shrink to slits as his nostrils flare, similar to what happened to Stryker right before he shifted. “You’re bleeding.”

  Ignoring him, I narrow my eyes right back, though the effect is ruined by my ragged breaths. “I asked you for help back there because I knew you’d skip the sales pitch and be honest. Despite them trying to make it out to be some great thing, I know this whole situation isn’t sunshine and rainbows. I’d rather be aware of the hard facts going in so that I can prepare instead of being blindsided in the heat of the moment. Or worse, think that I’m even more defective than we already know and too scared to ask.”

  A low growl rumbles from his chest as he repeats, “You�
�re bleeding.”

  Furrowing my brow, I shrug. “I’ll live. Super healing, remember? Not like I lost a leg, here, I’ll be fine in a day or two.”

  Tightening the arm around my back to pull me closer, he lifts a hand to palm the side of my face, stormy expression unreadable. “I got carried away, and I’m sorry. I didn’t have the same support system that you do when I was turned, and it fucked me up. But just because I struggle, doesn’t mean you’re going to, so it isn’t like I was giving you any useful facts to prepare you. I’m hardly an expert. You won’t be alone like I was; you have us. So you’re going to be fine, I promise.”

  The heat from his hands sears my skin, my breathing leveling out only to hitch in my chest. “Mason.” When he moves in like he might kiss me, I tap his chest rapidly, trying to get his attention without caving into my rising panic. “Mason!”

  Over his shoulder, a stone’s throw away between the trees, a set of amber eyes catch the moonlight. A low growl emanates from the grey wolf, lips curled back in a snarl. Mason stiffens, cursing himself for being too distracted and caught up in his head to notice it approaching.

  “I need you to shout for the others, okay?” Mason says softly, tracking the small step forward the wolf takes, testing the waters.

  My voice lodges in my throat, knowing instinctively that the moment I break the spell of tense silence, it’ll attack. Whether that’s by screaming or trying to make a run for it, despite being the one to initiate a challenge, the wolf will wait until someone signals the game’s begun.

  “Risa,” Mason whispers sharply. “Just do it. They’re trying to give us some privacy, and I’m not sure how far off they are. They’re more attuned to you than me, and more likely to pick up on your distress, even if out of hearing range. It’ll be alright, I swear, but you need to work with me."

  His promise doesn’t ring false, and I latch on to his confidence like a lifeline. Licking my dry lips, I raise my voice a bit. “Guys?” The wolf takes a step forward, Mason matching it by taking one in front of me, pushing me behind him. I try a little louder, still finding it hard to draw a deep breath. “Guys!?”

  “Do you remember the way back to the house?” he asks, and I shake my head in denial, already knowing what a stupid plan he’s come up with.

  “I’m not going to make a break for it and leave you here to be mauled,” I protest.

  “Have a little more faith in me than that, beautiful. It’s just easier to fight if I don’t need to worry about you getting caught in the crossfire.” The wolf slowly starts stalking closer, and Mason reaches a hand behind him, urging me back another step.

  Even though I want to hide, I’m afraid to close my eyes, convinced that if I do, the next time I open them it’ll be to a bloodbath. Sucking down a deep breath, I force myself to scream, since it’s the only thing I can actually do to help. “Bane!”

  Mason shoves me to the ground in the next instant, so when the wolf launches itself at us, the two of them go flying over me instead of crashing into me. Scrambling to my feet, I watch as Mason sacrifices his left arm, letting the wolf sink its teeth into it so that he can reach its neck without getting his face bitten off.

  In a flash, fangs appear in Mason’s mouth, only to disappear beneath fur and flesh. With a yelp, the wolf releases his arm, rearing back before setting its eyes on me, gauging the distance to see if he can make it past Mason. It feigns one way, enough to throw Mason off balance, able to correct its course easier.

  A strange sense of calm cuts through my fear, helping me think clearly instead of shutting down and bracing for impact. I track its speed, the way its muscles bunch on one side the same way it did when trying to trick Mason. Rather than sprint to the side, I wait another heartbeat before stepping into its path.

  Too late to correct the move, it continues its turn, narrowly bypassing me by a foot. I take a step back, wincing as the various cuts on my feet get dirt and debris in them, pulling them open a bit more.

  “Risa, move!” Mason demands, but his voice is muffled, like I’m hearing him from underwater.

  I don’t even notice the sound of my own heartbeat, wholly attuned to the wolf’s, to the rush of its breaths, the scuff of dirt beneath its claws when it’s about to launch forward. For several breathless moments, I wait until the moment it snarls, pebbles shifting beneath its paws. Without second guessing myself, I launch forward, pressing my body flat onto the ground.

  Claws slice deep grooves into my lower back, but better that than taking a chunk of flesh. When I start to push myself up, Stryker’s there, grabbing my arm to haul me to my feet. “You suicidal woman,” he rushes out, panting. “You’re going to give me a heart attack.”

  A look over his shoulder shows Bane straddling the wolf’s back, using an arm to crush its windpipe, his other hand removing a bloodied blade from its ribcage. Slumping to the ground, the wolf’s breathing grows labored, but Bane doesn’t let up. Mason’s shifted at this point, the amethyst viper striking one of the wolf’s front legs, close to its chest.

  All things aside, I feel relatively numb when I ask, “Is he going to die?”

  Stryker hisses in a sharp breath, probing at the bloody scratches on my lower back. “Slowly, if I have anything to say about it. Come on, let’s get you home.”

  “What about the others?”

  Careful to wrap an arm around the middle of my back so that he doesn’t brush against the raw flesh, he bends down to slip the other beneath my thighs, lifting me up. Only when the pressure isn’t on my feet anymore, the adrenaline beginning to wear off, do I notice how torn up they actually are.

  “You wanted to help Mason, right?” He starts walking towards the house, the wolf releasing a pained whine behind us that echoes through the night. “Nothing’s more cathartic for the guy than revenge. So let’s get you cleaned up, because if they come home and still smell you bleeding, it’s entirely likely those two will go after Marcus’ brothers next.”

  Chapter 10

  Risa

  I will keep my hands to myself. The words carved into Marcus’ now human back don’t bleed, done post mortem. The sun beats down without mercy on his still form in the center of the clearing as I gaze out the window from the safety of the house. I should feel worse about it than I do, but I just keep picturing the wolf’s teeth buried in Mason’s arm, and it helps ease my guilt.

  If it had been my fault, it’d be one thing. But not only did I do nothing to provoke him, even by accident, he chose to attack Mason. From what they’ve told me, that was an incredibly idiotic thing to do, upsetting the balance of peace and safety these people were after by coming here.

  “The smell is going to be unbearable by the end of the day at this rate.” I turn over my shoulder, Bane sitting on the bed and watching me.

  “Ensures everyone has a chance to see the message before we let his brothers collect his body,” he defends without remorse.

  Letting the curtain close, I cross the small distance, taking a seat beside him. “I wasn’t arguing, simply stating a fact. Weird things you have to worry about with enhanced senses. Could you imagine having to work in a hospital or something?” The thought alone has me wrinkling my nose. “The bleached chemical smell was bad enough before. No wonder there aren’t any weregoose doctors.”

  He snorts, hard features relaxing a fraction. “Weregoose? We aren’t ‘were’ anything, Risa, even wolves. Just people... with a bit more flair.”

  My gaze flicks down to his hands involuntarily for the hundredth time since last night, phantom images of them dripping with blood overtaking reality, splicing it with memory. “Thank you for coming.”

  Slowly, as if he knows where my mind is at, he tilts my chin up to face him. “I will always come for you, Risa.” A playful smile twitches at the corner of his mouth. “Whenever you want me to. Heck, why wait? Right here, right now, I’ll prove it.”

  I smack his shoulder and he pulls away laughing. “Men never grow up, I swear.”

  Getting to his feet,
he grabs my hand so I’m forced to follow him downstairs and into the living room. Mason’s already there dozing in a recliner, but his eyes open the moment we step into the room.

  “Fuck, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that,” I huff in complaint, hand on my chest. “Like something out of a low budget, vampire horror movie.”

  A startled yip slips from my lips as Bane picks me up, only to drop me on Mason’s lap as he heads over to flop on the couch. “I’ll pretend not to be offended by the low budget quip.” He shares a look with Mason, who subtly shakes his head, and I frown.

  “What?”

  Ignoring him, Bane tucks an arm under his head as he stretches out on his back across the couch. “We need to talk about last night.”

  My stomach flips, and I shamelessly sink into Mason. “I’m sorry for arguing with you and Stryker, I-“

  Mason’s hand claps over my mouth, and he glares at me. “Stop fucking apologizing. You didn’t do anything wrong, and nobody is mad at you in any way, shape, or form.”

  Stryker walks into the room with a bag of chips, kissing my cheek in passing before lifting Bane’s legs with one hand and sliding into the seat beneath, letting them fall across his lap. “Honestly, it was pretty hot.” He pops a chip into his mouth with an obnoxiously loud crunch. “Seeing you get all heated defending one of us?” Waggling his eyebrows, he finishes, “Was torture not to chase after you; especially in those shorts.”

  Mason removes his hand from my mouth, dropping his palm to my collar and stroking a thumb over the hollow of my throat. Reluctantly, he admits, “We’ve been mulling over a theory.” Turning to Bane, he snipes, “That we agreed not to bring up until we had any facts to back it up.”