I wanted to know where all this stuff was coming from. As far as I knew, we were far, far from anyone else.
But Hudson and Kale informed me that all of it was coming out of a shed on the property of the cabin. They speculated that it hadn't been latched properly, and that its contents were blowing everywhere. Neither of them thought the conclave was going to be particularly happy about the lost stuff.
I stood between them. Kale was on one side of me, and Hudson on the other. None of us touched, but I was aware of both of their presences on an almost primal level. I thought it had something to do with the storm. All my life, storms and fires had made me feel unnaturally nervous. It was only when I was older, after the incident, that I realized that the nervousness was a connection to my wolf. It was the animal inside me that didn't like these natural phenomena. If I'd had hackles, they would've been raised on my neck.
The animal inside me was close to the surface. And the animal felt connected to both Kale and Hudson. So as I stood between them, I got a sense of both of them… of their essences. I don't know how else to explain it. It made sense to me but in a wild way, a way that almost defied words. They felt so different. I felt them like fire and ice. Hudson was a chugging furnace. He drew me to him with lazy warmth. Kale was cold and smooth. He drew me to him as well, but it was his sleekness. He was beautiful and intriguing. And in between them, as I watched the storm, I felt like an anchor, holding the two of them together. Somehow I knew that they were better together than apart.
Out of nowhere, the wind tore a huge branch off of a nearby tree and carried it through the air. The branch crashed into the sliding doors, shattering them. Shards of glass when everywhere.
All three of us backed away, gasping.
Instinctively, I pulled up my arms to protect my face and drew myself into a ball. The other two did this too, but they seemed to converge on me, as if I was the center of the three of us. So my arms went up over my face and so did Kale’s and so did Hudson's.
I was wrapped up in the two of them. I could smell Hudson's unique, woodsy scent. I could feel the lean rigidity of Kale's chest.
It felt good. I liked being close to them. I liked being engulfed by them. And what was more, I felt as if I belonged right there in the center, a link between the two men.
Wind was rushing in through the hole in the door, gusting against us, pelting us with rain and cold gushes of wind. But this only made us all huddle closer. We backed up together, and we were a tightly wound unit.
I burrowed against them, and they closed in on me. I sucked in air, breathing them in like I wanted to memorize them. Though the storm was raging at us, reaching its icy fingers inside our little cabin to try to harm us, we were together here, safe and strong in each other’s arms. It was all I wanted to feel, and I refused to let go of either of them.
But their masculine senses of duty seemed to kick in, and they both started to extricate themselves from me.
“You okay?” said Hudson.
“Let me get something to cover that,” said Kale.
I let them go, and they hurried forward, communicating to each other in half-spoken phrases that didn’t make sense to me. However, they seemed perfectly in sync.
“We need…” Kale gestured at the branch, which was protruding into the living room.
“Yeah, definitely,” said Hudson.
They approached the branch together, and wrestled it back through the doors, out into the storm.
Now the wind was coming in even more furiously. It thrust their hair away from their faces, and they had to yell to be heard over its roar.
“You know where it is?” yelled Kale.
“No, I don’t,” said Hudson. “You go get it. I’ll hold the branch back.”
Kale left Hudson with his hands through the shattered hole, pushing on the branch to keep it out of the way. He darted past me and down the hall, only to return in a moment with a large sheet of plywood and some nails. The plywood looked to be the size of one of the glass doors. It had holes in the sides, as if it had been nailed up before. I assumed that it was often used in storm prep.
Hudson knelt down, still with a hand on the branch, and Kale fitted the plywood against the door. Hudson pulled his hand out of the way. He held onto the plywood while Kale began to nail it in place.
Everything was already much better. There was less wind now, and I felt more at ease.
The only problem was that there was glass all over the floor. But I thought I’d seen a broom in the kitchen. I scurried in there and came back with a broom, a dustpan, and some paper towels. Within a few minutes, I’d gotten the glass up and mopped up the water that come in as well. The guys had secured the broken door.
We all surveyed each other, grinning at our efficiency.
I smiled. “We make a good team.”
The guys smiled too. And then they looked at each other, and I watched the smiles slide right off their faces.
Kale cleared his throat. “I’ll, um, put back the hammer.”
Hudson looked away.
* * *
Even with the living room boarded up, the couch had still gotten soaked, and it was hardly the place we wanted to hang out in. The den had a leak in one of the windows, and we took some time trying to secure that, putting down a bucket to catch the water and moving everything out of the way. That only left the bedroom. It had one small window, so it was the least likely to be pummeled by the storm. But it was pretty cramped in there for three people. Still, that was where we all went. And since there was nowhere else to sit, we all sat on the bed.
At first, we tried to keep our distance. But the bed wasn’t very big, at least not big enough to accommodate two hulking men and me. So, eventually, we all ended up sitting at the head of the bed. As before, I sat in the middle between the two guys.
It was dark. A little bit of light filtered in through the window above us, but the sky was still gray and stormy. The storm raged around us, pounding the house with strong winds and pounding rain. Every time the thunder crashed I jumped.
Kale chuckled gently. “It’s only rain, Piper.”
Normally, I would’ve found his comment annoying. I didn’t much like having my weaknesses pointed out. I liked to think of myself as tough and strong. The truth was, I was more vulnerable than I let on. But I didn’t want anyone to know that. However, right then Kale’s words didn’t bother me. They seemed comforting. I ducked my head down. “It’s only that big weather like this reminds me of how small I am in the grand scheme of everything. Makes me feel helpless.”
Hudson’s hand snaked across the bed and grasped mine. “It’s okay,” he said quietly. “I know what you mean.”
“We’re not helpless,” said Kale. “We took care of that tree branch, didn’t we?”
“I wouldn’t have been able to do that on my own,” I said. “I am helpless, and I have to rely on you guys.”
Hudson sighed. “And you don’t trust us. Do you?”
I chewed on my bottom lip. I shouldn’t trust them. I shouldn’t even like them. Maybe it was the storm, or maybe it was that Stalking Syndrome, but I wasn’t worried. “It isn’t like that.” I looked back and forth between the two of them. “I know that neither of you are bad people, so it isn’t that I don’t trust you personally. But I think the situation is fucked up.”
Hudson shook his head. “Yeah, I know.”
“So why are you participating in it?”
“It’s complicated,” said Hudson.
“I tried to tell you this yesterday,” said Kale. “You don’t know what it’s like growing up in the conclave. You don’t understand the pressures.”
A very loud clap of thunder sounded right outside the house. I yelped. I gripped Hudson’s hand and buried my face against Kale’s shoulder.
Now they were both laughing at me. But it wasn’t a jeering laughter. It was gentle. They found me amusing, but not ridiculous.
“I promise the thunder is not going to get you,” said Hudso
n.
“Yeah, we’ll make sure you’re safe from the big, bad loud noises,” said Kale.
I raised my face sheepishly.
“I don’t know,” said Hudson. “She’s kind of cute when she does it, don’t you think?”
Kale grinned at him. “Well I have to admit that I could get used to the idea of her rubbing up against me like that every time there’s thunder.”
I shot Kale withering look and scooted away from him.
He laughed. “Hey, where are you going?”
Hudson raised an eyebrow. “Obviously, she doesn’t want to be near you if you’re going to insult her.”
“I didn’t insult her,” protested Kale.
“You were mocking her,” said Hudson.
Another clap of thunder, this one even louder, even closer. I couldn’t help it. I did the exact same thing again, squeezing Hudson’s hand and burying my face against Kale’s shoulder.
Both of them laughed again.
I pulled away from them, slapping at them both. “Hey. You don’t know. That thunder could be really bad. Maybe the storm’s just going to tear the entire house apart. The branch already took out the sliding glass door.”
They only laughed harder. Kale’s arm slipped behind my shoulders. Hudson’s hands slid over my waist until he was resting his palm on my hip.
“Maybe,” said Hudson, “you should just stay close to us, in case the house does fall down around you.”
I could picture it, all of us floating in a flood of water, nothing left around us but the bed. I liked being close to them, though. I couldn’t deny that. They were warm, and they smelled good, and they did make me feel safer. I sighed softly. “Well, maybe,” I said in a tiny voice.
And we were all quiet. Our bodies pressed against each other in many ways. I could feel how solid and firm the men were on either side of me, and I remembered what their bodies looked like and felt like without clothes. My pulse began to thrum, and I began to feel a little warm.
Then there was more thunder. It sounded as if the sky was shattering. I burrowed into them, whimpering a little.
It was so dark in the room.
They closed in on me, both pressing nearer, like warm, comforting blankets.
I clutched at them. One of my hands grasped Kale’s shirt. One hand found Hudson’s shoulder. “It’s nicer when you’re close,” I breathed. “Both of you.”
I could hear their breath, and both of them seemed to be breathing a little quicker.
The thunder roared again. I could swear that it was coming at faster and faster intervals. This storm was getting worse, not better. I cringed. “You can’t leave me, either of you, okay?” Maybe I was being ridiculous, acting like a terrified schoolgirl or something, but I couldn’t bear to be left on my own.
“We’re not going anywhere,” said Kale. “We couldn’t even if we wanted to. The rest of the house is soaked.”
“You do want to, don’t you?” I said, feeling apprehensive. “You both hate each other.”
Neither of them said anything, but I could feel them both stiffen. They were starting to pull away from me. I grabbed them both tighter, pulled them close.
“You didn’t used to hate each other, though,” I murmured to them.
“Piper, let’s not talk about this,” said Hudson.
“And I saw the way you guys worked together to fix that branch,” I said. “You communicate well with each other.”
Kale grimaced. “Drop it, please.”
“You don’t have to talk to me about the past,” I said. “But for right now, for my sake, can you just pretend not to despise each other?”
“We’ve been doing that,” said Hudson, “for the most part, anyway.”
“Good,” I said. “Because I like this. Being here with both of you. It’s like the way we woke up the other morning, all sleeping together like a pile of puppies.”
Neither of them said anything.
“Don’t you guys like it?” I said.
“I like being close to you,” said Hudson, his voice quiet. “God knows why. I probably shouldn’t. It doesn’t make any sense. But you’re very soft.”
“She is soft,” Kale agreed. “Soft in all the right places.” His hand trailed its way up my thigh, but then he ran into Hudson’s hand at my hip. He recoiled.
Hudson moved his hand back to the other side of my body. “We could just… divide her up the middle, maybe?” he said in a gravelly voice.
Kale laughed darkly. “So that each of us has one tit and one ass cheek?”
Hudson laughed too. “Well, those are the soft parts.”
“She has great tits,” Kale murmured. He reached up and cupped the breast on his side.
Hudson cupped my other breast. “They are great, aren’t they?”
Both of their hands stroked me, and I was violently turned on, both by their touch and by the way they were talking about me. But it also terrified me, because I felt as if I’d just dropped out of the conversation entirely, as if I was just an object they were discussing and toying with. So I shoved both of their hands away. “There will be no dividing of me.” I wanted my voice to sound strong and commanding, but instead, it trembled. I forced myself to sit up, to move away from them to the other side of the bed.
Thunder boomed again, and I winced, putting my hands over my face.
Hudson reached for me. “Come on, Piper. Don’t be like that.”
“No.” I held up my hand to keep him back.
“You were teasing us,” said Kale in a low voice. “You can’t wriggle all over me like that and not get me worked up.”
“And you said we both had to stay with you,” said Hudson. “What other option did we have?”
“I didn’t… I was scared of the storm. I wasn’t thinking about…” I sucked in air. “I don’t want to have sex with you again. I thought I made that clear.”
“So, you just want to curl up close to us, rubbing your ass against my groin and your tits against his chest, and have us keep our hands to ourselves?” said Kale.
“Yes,” I hissed.
They both glared at me in the darkened room.
I got up off the bed and flounced out.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The storm broke not long after that, but the electricity didn’t come back on. I was still starving, and I went through the kitchen looking for food. But Hudson found me in there and stopped me.
“We can’t eat the food now. We’ll need to ration it for later, okay? Tonight, we’ll shift again and go hunting.”
I hated that idea. “I don’t want to shift, not again. I hate shifting. It hurts.”
“It doesn’t have to hurt,” said Hudson. “In fact, it shouldn’t.”
“Well, it does.” I lifted my chin. “And it always has. Maybe I’m just not meant to be a werewolf.” But I did think of the effortless way that both Kale and Hudson had turned into wolves last time with a bit of envy.
“You’re fine,” said Hudson. “It just takes a bit of practice.” He raised his voice. “Kale! Let’s help Piper shift, okay?”
Kale ambled out into the living room. He’d been back in the den, working on repairing the leak now that the rain had stopped. It was still light outside, and the sun had come back out, so we could see fairly well inside the house, but I knew that it would be much darker later, and we’d have to use the candles that we’d found in the kitchen drawers. I wasn’t looking forward to days without electricity, which is what they both said we’d have ahead of us.
I wasn’t sure which seemed worse. No power or shifting into a wolf.
“Please,” I said. “Don’t make me do it again, Hudson.” My voice was a whine, and I sounded pathetic, but I didn’t care. This entire experience had wrecked me, wearing down at my reserves and changing me to something weak and pathetic. I didn’t even like myself anymore.
“Come on, Piper, it’s not that bad,” said Hudson.
He and Kale took me out on the patio. We could still open the slidin
g doors, even though one was covered in plywood.
“You know,” said Hudson, “not all wolves can shift like this, not even natural wolves. This is actually something Kale figured out when we were in high school.”
Kale’s face turned bright red. “You’re not going to tell her that part, are you?”
“It’s the easiest way to learn to do it,” said Hudson. “See, most natural wolves only shift on the full moon.”
“Did you? But that old guy of the conclave seem to think that you guys can shift any time you want.” I was confused.
“Well,” said Hudson, “most elder members of the conclave are advanced enough that they can shift at will. It’s generally something, however, that a wolf in our conclave doesn’t learn how to do until he’s older. Kale and I figured it out when we were teenagers. Well, Kale figured it out anyway.”
Kale’s face was still red. “Man, don’t tell her about that. It’s embarrassing.”
Hudson shrugged. “Fine, then you tell her about it.”
“Tell me about what?” I said.
Kale cast a glance heavenward. “I was just a normal teenager. I started shifting when I was about fourteen, like everyone else. My dad would make our whole family shift back the minute that we turned into wolves.”
“Hold on,” I said. “Your dad did what?”
“He controlled our shift,” said Kale.
“That’s pretty standard,” said Hudson. “In a natural wolf family, the alpha has the ability to force the wolves in his pack to shift. You might not know since you were bitten, I guess.”
“I wasn’t bitten,” I said. “I had an alpha too. So, I know all about that. I just didn’t understand that your father was your alpha.”
Both of the guys gave me a funny look.
“Everyone’s alpha is their father,” said Hudson. “Wasn’t yours?”
“I don’t know who he was,” I said. “I never met him. The people who brought me up weren’t my biological parents. But I don’t think that my alpha was my father. I think my father was killed in the attacks on the SF back in the day. But I must have had an alpha, because I didn’t shift until I was in college. They told me at the SF that the only way I could’ve gone that long without shifting was if I had an alpha controlling me. So I guess I must have. But then at some point, he stopped.”
Under a Raging Moon: Part Two Page 7