by C. N. Owens
In my excitement, I shut the door and begin trying on some of the clothes, having never had such a selection before, even if they are used. Many are super cute, but I would never have the nerve to buy them on my own. Occasionally, I would be able to go out with one of the mistresses and buy some clothes for a show, or simply because I had nothing left to wear. Of those times, I would manage to sneak a cute shirt or low-rise jeans into the dressing room to try them on, but I’d quickly grow discouraged. Even if I got to wear them, it would be for a customer or a live show. So really, there was no point in trying to look or feel pretty if it was for the benefit of a pervert.
But now, everything is different. I’m with friends, people I can trust, right? So, as if I may never have the chance again, I eagerly pull on a pair of gray boy-cut panties and a matching bra made of a T-shirt material, and then pull on a pair of blue jeans.
As the jeans travel up my legs, I see the parallel reddish-pink scars on my inner thighs. They are much lighter now after shifting. I was trying to avoid them, so I wouldn’t ruin this moment with old memories. It was an old habit, back when I was much younger, when the pain of my situation grew unbearable; I used whatever I could find to cut myself, in hopes the pain might distract me from my situation at the time. That was a long time ago, before addiction wrapped her cold fingers around my throat and held on tight. I remember those days, those precious memories when my entire day wasn’t planned around how and when I would get my next fix.
“You look adorable.”
I jump and turn, covering my chest and fumbling to get my hair out of my face so I can see. It’s Cassie.
“I’m sorry, I got carried away and forgot to come down. I was trying on all these clothes. I know it’s childish, but I’ve never done this before, not like this!”
“They fit you well, too. I imagine the pants will be a tad long on you, but Andrea’s a thirty-two A cup size as well, and her hips are about your size.” Cassie laughs and leans on the doorway. “She’s begun dressing Trent, now.” She laughs a little harder.
“I don’t know how I can repay you for all this,” I say while rushing to pull on a shirt, trying to forget how low the jeans ride on my hips and hating how the little pink shirt doesn’t cover my waist.
Cassie doesn’t respond but smiles appreciatively and steps back, looking out the door. “She’s dressed,” she says lowly, and Trent walks into the room.
“You look cute,” Trent mumbles as he walks in and sits on the bed.
I blush and look away. “Thank you.”
“Sweetheart, when’s the last time you got high?”
I bite my lip. “You want to know? Really?”
“Well, yeah. You need to come off the drugs gradually.”
“The day before yesterday.”
“Come here,” he says with a commanding father like voice. I take a few steps toward him, and before I can react, he pulls down my bottom lip and slips what feels like a pill between my cheek and gums. “Let it dissolve. It’ll help with the withdrawals.”
“What is it called?” I ask, my speech altered because I don’t want to move my lip.
“Suboxone,” he says, and pulls my lip aside to look again. On his way back, I notice that he’s wearing a rubber glove on his right hand; the pinky looks deflated, as if there’s nothing there.
“Did you hurt your hand?”
“Yeah, a long time ago, with a band saw,” he says, and stands. “Your work was on the news.”
“What?”
“A multiple murder in South Carolina, the pimp you killed.”
I nod and look away, feeling my good mood being replaced with a head rush that I can only assume is from the drug dissolving in my mouth. “I’m sorry.”
He looks to Cassie. “Bento probably saw that. As if he needs any more of a trail to follow,” Trent says, his voice becoming a growl.
“Yes,” Cassie says, “but we already knew this would happen. We all need to prepare, you, most of all.”
He looks to me and his eyes narrow. “Cass, I don’t know why you’re doing all this work to the house. You know we can’t stay put. Not any longer.”
Cassie chuckles and places a hand on Trent’s arm, which he snatches away so fast it makes me flinch.
“You underestimate us,” she says in a soothing voice.
He pulls the rubber gloves off with a snap. “Time has made you complacent,” he says before storming out of the room.
I cross my arms and sit on the bed, too shocked to cry. “I didn’t know things were so dire.”
Cassie smiles and sits next to me. “Trent is a worrier,” she says, and smooths back my hair. “It’s unfortunate that Bento no longer has Raoul to keep him under control. If we must run… that’s what we’ll do.”
“You don’t know me. Why would you do this for a stranger?”
“Because Trent and I care about the world, and mortals. If we keep you safe, the world benefits from that.”
“Bento showed me something in the hospital. He took my hand and through him… I saw another world.”
“Yes. I’ve heard about this world before.”
“What did he show me?”
Cassie laughs, stands up, and walks to the window. “Come on, you’re a smart girl,” she says, peeking through the vines that cover the window and shade the late-evening sun.
“I really don’t know; I’m so confused right now.”
“It’s probably best that you don’t know.” She turns again to face me. “I’m sure someone will be cooking in a while; feel free to come down for dinner whenever you’re up to it.
***
It’s 2:00 a.m. when I wake up. I fell asleep on top of the covers, using the loose clothing as a blanket. I look around, forgetting where I am for a second, but I’m relieved when it comes back to me. It’s so late; it should be the perfect time to explore this massive old house—and maybe find something to eat.
I thought I was being silent, but while padding barefoot down the hall toward the stairs, Cassie steps out of Trent’s room, pulling the door closed behind her with a gentle click.
“We missed you at dinner,” Cassie whispers.
“I know; I just needed some time to think about things.”
Cassie nods. “Trent set aside some food for you, in the refrigerator. Shall we talk for a bit?”
“Sure.”
We make our way downstairs to the kitchen. Cassie passes me and reaches into the fridge, then removes a plate and hands it to me. “You’re on your own with cooking. I haven’t consumed solid food in centuries.”
I smirk and look down at what she handed me—some type of seasoned whitefish, scallops, and a seasoned blend of what looks like asparagus and squash. The plate is covered in plastic wrap and sitting on top is a thick slice of corn bread.
“Wow, Trent cooked this?” I ask.
“Cooking is a fetish of his.” She smiles. “I blame him for Andrea’s desire to remain mortal… she loves his cooking.”
“I hate how I frustrate him,” I murmur and pull away the wrap on the food and place it in the microwave.
I hear her coming closer while I squint to find the right button on the microwave.
“He hates it, too,” Cassie says.
I go rigid when she stops directly behind me and touches my shoulder, turning me around.
“How does this living arrangement work?” I ask, seeing images in my mind that contradict things that have already been said about their relationship.
“What are you saying?”
“Well, you’re with Andrea, but you have sex with Trent?” I brazenly ask. “It’s just a little odd that you two would do that since you seem to have a mother/son relationship.”
“I don’t know what you are picking from my memory, but he and I had sex once. I lie with him, occasionally, but I have lots of trouble with dominance. Dominant men, in particular. Some nights, I just need his warmth, or maybe I just need to be in a m
an’s arms.” She laughs. “I have no idea why I’m telling you this.”
“Because I already know parts of it,” I say quickly.
“I don’t tolerate this kind of treatment from just anyone. You should feel privileged.”
“I’m not trying to be rude, I’m still trying to get used to everything. For a while, until I escaped from the hospital, I was convinced what happened in the motel was a hallucination.”
“It was all very real, unfortunately. You are a remarkable girl, and I don’t know why Raoul kept you in that brothel for so long or delayed your coming-of-age, but whatever the reason, he should’ve known that he wouldn’t be able to keep you hidden forever.”
“The drugs—”
“Yes, Raoul and I know that drugs will suppress the beast, but only for so long. Each attempt to shift will be stronger than the last, requiring more drugs, and when it finally happens”—she shakes her head and looks away—“well, you saw firsthand what happens.”
“What about—”
She takes my hand, shaking her head to let me know she’s not finished. “Tell me, did you notice any of those men wearing a necklace, or holding a small charm of sorts?”
I think back. “Raoul might have had something.”
“Damn it,” Cassie says.
“Why?”
“It’s called a focus. It consists of a body part, something that is dead, and a relic from the past, which is why they took your finger, and a lock of your hair, at some point.” Cassie shifts in place. “They used to call Raoul and I keepers, once upon a time. When the numbers of werewolves dwindled to nothing, a few of us, including myself and Raoul, decided that we didn’t want to see them all wiped out. So, we learned how to take care of you… earn your respect and show you how to control your other side.”
I look at my hand. “So, I have a focus somewhere.”
Cassie nods. “That is what makes all of this so dangerous. Now that Raoul is dead, I can only assume that Bento has it. He could kill you, anywhere, anytime, just by destroying it. As the wolf, you grow more lucid when you’re near your focus; you have more self-control. The one who possesses it can communicate with you, but not control you. Your actions are still your decision.”
“They’ve been looking for me since they took my finger.”
“Yes.” Cassie says and takes a step backward. “I care about you, Leila. You won my heart the moment I met you.”
“Can I stay with you? Will you be my keeper?”
Cassie takes a breath. “Child, you don’t know what you offer me.”
“No, it’s what I want; I know what I’m offering.”
“No, you don’t. You are the only female alpha in existence. When joined with a male alpha, your womb will create something incredible. It hasn’t happened in thousands of years. This makes you incredibly valuable, and Bento will kill you if he can’t have you.”
I hear the beep of the microwave but ignore it. “I’m supposed to have a baby with this guy?”
Cassie nods. “You will have a baby with him, if we’re not careful. Your other form will identify him as an alpha, you’ll bond with him, and instinct will take over. You will want him more than anything,” Cassie says, and pulls the food out of the microwave and walks it to the table.
I follow slowly, arms crossed, heart racing. I want none of this. Suddenly, I want to go back and be a drug addict doing porn and fucking old men for money. It sounds stupid, but life was simpler then. Now, so much is uncertain. At least then, when I was getting beat up by a pimp, I knew they would hold back because they still needed to make money off of me. Now, I have a good feeling that my value is lessened.
I look down at the plate of steaming food. It smells great. “I’m sorry, I’m not hungry anymore.”
“Oh, Leila. You are going to wither away if you don’t eat. You’re so skinny!”
I try to smile, but I don’t have the energy. “What if I just left, walked out, right now?”
“That would be the worst thing you can do. He’ll find you, and you’ll give him what he wants,” she says, taking a serious tone, “You are the last of your line, the curse could die with you.”
“Maybe it should.”
“What would you have me do?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I see that you want to help me, but I don’t see how you’ll be able to do it. You saw what happened to Trent the last time he went against Bento, and then when he ran into me.”
“Leila, you have to give us a chance. Trent and I will lay down our lives to protect you. We see the dangers of your pairing with Bento.”
“And Raoul didn’t?”
“He did, that’s why he wanted you.”
“What is so dangerous?”
“Well”—Cassie sits back in her chair—“it is said that your child would be the beginning of a new pack, a first-generation alpha. You would have hundreds of thousands of betas under your command.”
“And you don’t want that?”
“I just want to exist. I love this world, and the life that was granted to me so long ago, such as it is. Trent is my best friend, and though we’ve had our moments, we always find ourselves together again.”
I feel thoughts flow into me. I see a great field with waist-deep grass, flowing like water on a gentle breeze. To my left, a carriage drawn by a single yellow horse plods by with a dark-haired woman who I can only assume is Cassie at the reins, but as quickly as the thoughts, these latent memories, come to me, they’re gone. “How old are you?”
“That’s not important. Please give us this chance.”
Tears begin to well up in my eyes. “I don’t think it’s going to be enough.”
“Sweetheart, please. You will be defenseless on your own.”
“Then train me. Show me how to kill Bento. I’ve been around him before and didn’t fall in love with him like you say I will, so I don’t think I’ll jump his bones the moment I see him.” My jaw muscles tighten. “I want him to die, I want all alpha males to die.”
“It's too risky without your focus, especially if he has it.”
“Forget it, then.” I shake my head. I’d rather take my chances. “Will you give me a car and let me go on the run? I made it this long.”
Cassie goes silent for a long time, then nods. “If that’s what you want, I’ll do it. He may still destroy your focus, but then again, I don’t think he would give up on finding the last female alpha.”
I let out a whimper, seeing in her mind that she’s risking everything by agreeing to let me run away. Everyone will be at risk of Bento’s retribution. “Thank you,” I say, getting out of the chair and walking around to hug her.
“Take a day to think it through and prepare. I’ll give you everything you need to survive for a while.” She takes my hand and holds onto me when I step away. “Think about it long and hard. You can be alone and defenseless, or you can have a fighting chance and a family with us. We can give you that.”
With her message received, I nod and put my plate away and go back to my room.
Chapter 22
Trent
Morning comes the same way it did yesterday, only this time the smell of bacon and coffee fills my lungs… definitely a dream. I roll over, clutching my pillow, trying to forget about the atrocity that continues in my mind—the fishy smell of a wharf mixed with the smell of putrid corpses. I’m back there again, in her bedroom lying on the floor, staring at the ceiling. Again, I feel the grating sensation and can hear the terrible wheezing sound from my wounds, resulting in a bloody pink foam that I have grown conditioned to seeing.
My eyes snap wide open, and I wonder if Cassie recounts her murder as often as I do.
I discover that I have a hold of Leila’s wrist. She remains silent, kneeling on the bed next to me, her feet tucked under her. She must have been playing with my hair.
“I’m going to make you wear a bell.” I chuckle while marveling at how fast she’s recovering.
The swelling is gone and the bruises are fading. This is the first time I can see the actual contours of her heart-shaped face and her full pink lips.
“How old is your daughter?” Her soft voice almost disappears in the vacuum-like silence of the room.
“She’s seven—wait, I never told you…” I shake my head. “You’re just digging through my mind, aren’t you? Stay out of my head, little one.” I smirk, impressed with her abilities.
“You had a nightmare. Wanna to talk about it?”
“I’d rather not.”
“I cooked breakfast.”
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know,” she says.
“What are you doing in here?”
“Trying to figure out the best way to wake you up without making you angry.” She shoves her hands between her knees and smiles. Looking back at her, I try to think of a way she could have made me angry, but come up with nothing.
I climb out of bed and gingerly stretch, feeling the pull of my stitches. Leila walks out of the room humming, and I stagger to the toilet. Minutes later, I walk into the kitchen just as Leila is setting a plate of neatly organized bacon on the table. She hurries back to the counter when she sees me and returns with a cup of steaming black coffee.
She looks at me with a dimpled U-shaped smile, and I take the cup and sit down at the table.
“You got up early,” I say.
“I have trouble sleeping in unfamiliar places, so I talked with Cassie for a long time last night.”
“Fair enough.” I sit back in the chair and take a slow sip of my coffee. Smooth and not too strong—impressive.
“I tried to cook eggs, but they stuck to the pan,” she says before taking a sip of her ice water.
“Yeah, I only cook with cast iron; it’s not your fault. And I wasn’t expecting this, so you’re ahead in my opinion.”
She grabs a long strip of bacon. “It’s nothing, just don’t get used to it,” she says, then takes a bite of the fatty side.
“How are you feeling?” I ask as I begin eating.
“My ribs hurt, and I think I’m having the worst period ever, but I’ll live.” She cringes. “Sorry, I shouldn’t talk about that while you’re eating.”