Shifting Solitude (Outlaws, Fangs and Claws Book 1)

by Cheyenne Hart

  That was right, it wasn't her room. She didn't even have a room since her ex had kicked her to the curb. Suddenly her head was flooded by images of what had gone down on that bus, then in the middle of nowhere, all those sexy women who didn't know any better, the drugs, the sex outdoors, fangs and claws, hot saliva, her still wet cunt and the smell of unreal monster all over her.

  "But it can't have really happened," she said.

  "You must be real shaken up," the man said in a sympathetic way.

  Without missing a beat, she leaned over and vomited on the floor. Years of practice as a party girl had taught her how to avoid vomited in the bed, no matter what state she was in. It tasted of acid bile.

  "It's okay," said the man. "Let it out. You should drink some water before you do that again though." It was too dark to see his face but he looked big. "I'm just going get some light in here." He started shuffling something around on the table, then sparked up a small flame and lit a candle. It only made the room minutely brighter, but it was better than nothing.

  Melody felt more aware of herself now that there was light. She looked down and realized her top had practically been destroyed, and she hadn't been wearing a bra in the first place. She pulled the covers up to cover her chest, then started to get up off the bed.

  "Some water would be amazing," she said through acidic burps and dry reaching bile. "But I really have to get out of here. Where am I again? God, your apartment is, rustic, isn't it?" Melody's head started to spin around in a lop-sided circle the moment she hoisted herself from the bed.

  The man put the candle down on the bedside table and rushed toward her but she fended him away with spaghetti arms and a weakened sense of self-preservation.

  The man let her go but hovered his hands around her like she was a six-year-old attempting to ride her bicycle without training wheels for the very first time.

  Melody partway fell down to the cool floor. It was stone or some fancy tiles, not carpet or linoleum or wooden boards.

  He caught her and held her up. "Take it easy," he said. "How about you lay back on the bed until you get your feet back?" He had strong, handsome features and was able to lift her up without effort, placing her back on the bed, drawing the cover over her carefully.

  "Who are you?" she asked, followed by a sigh of defeat. There was no point pretending she was going anywhere. "I'll just, I'll rest for a little longer then."

  "That's a good idea," he said with forced smile. He seemed worried though.

  Melody went back to sleep.

  The sun was up when Melody woke up again. The first thing that came into her view when she opened her heavy eyelids, was a rough, gray wall. The room seemed to be made of stone. There were no lighting fixtures, windows, or anything else of that nature. Besides the bed she was back on—had she gotten off during the night?—and some simple, rustic furniture, there much to the room. It was the home of either a very poor and simple, or very rich and stylish, person.

  She was alone now, as well. The man was gone, if he'd been there at all. Or if he was really a man. Her brain was having trouble reconciling itself with the memories it contained. "Are you still here?" Melody called out with a hint of desperation. She didn't want to be all alone right now.

  Light was coming in from around the corner of the stone wall, but not much of it was reaching the room. There was gentle air floating in from the same direction the light came from. It might have been natural light from the sun, which might mean the air was coming in through an open window or door. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the pure energy of it.

  Invigorated, she propped herself up on two rickety legs and tried to walk.

  And she slowly fell, crumbling to the ground in agony. It took a good few minutes to get back onto the bed without making it worse. Melody could hardly bare to do it, but she needed to assess her injury. She noticed that she was wearing a clean shirt, button up, and much too large for her.

  Undoing the buttons and starting to panic about what she might find, Melody's heart raced. She imagined there'd be a hideous mess of puss and gangrenous flesh just waiting to kill her with infection or blood loss. Much to her relief, she'd been bandaged quite professionally. And when she lifted the edge of the bandage to peek at the wound beneath, there was no stench of infection.

  Someone approached at the entrance to the strange room.

  Chapter Seven

  Hallard had cooked a pot of venison stew outside his cave. His cooking area consisted of a fire pit beneath series of large rocks that held his pots and pans aloft over the flames. It was away from the entrance to his cave, to avoid attracting unwelcome animal guests there. The food was ready but he stayed outside, not wanting to disturb or frighten the woman by being present before she'd come to her senses this time.

  When he'd heard her calling out, Hallard grabbed the stew and brought it in to her. She was inspecting his stitching and bandaging under the fresh shirt he'd put on her.

  He blushed and looked away. "I hope my stitching work doesn't scare you too bad," said the man.

  "You fixed me up? Is this your shirt too?"

  "Yes and yes. I hope you don't mind. I couldn't let you lie there in that filthy thing you were wearing. Infection's a killer and all ... sorry. Are you hungry?"

  "You undressed me?" she said, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. "Wait, you have food? I'm starving. How long was I sleeping for? I lost my phone and you don't seem to have a clock, or much of anything."

  "I don't have a clock. I think we need to have a talk about your situation though. Maybe you want to talk while we eat?" He was holding a steaming pot by the handle.

  She hesitated to answer, despite how eager she'd just seemed. "You have to understand, this is all pretty strange. And now you're cooking for me?"

  "Well, we're not exactly near any diners or pizza joints, so it's cook or don't eat for me. And it would make my day if I got to eat with a beautiful woman as company for a change."

  Was he going for sweet talk at a time like this? Melody couldn't figure him out, but something about him seemed so genuine, down to earth. "That sounds fine to me."

  "My name is Hallard, by the way."

  "I'm Melody."

  Chapter Eight

  They sat outside by a small fire pit, eating and talking. Hallard gave her some antibiotics and over-the-counter painkillers, which was all he had.

  Melody patiently listened while Hallard tried to fill her in on every fuzzy bit of information from the previous night. She came to realize that her memory was fine. Getting the logical part of her brain to accept the facts was the tricky part.

  "Wow ..." was all she said for some time. Then, "I wish you were making this up." It was making her head spin. "I guess I'd hoped it was just a nightmare. But when you wake up in a cave in the woods with a woodsman cooking breakfast for you, there's really no denying the facts, is there?"

  "I'd say not," answered Hallard. They both continued eating. He seemed aloof. Maybe he was hiding something from her.

  Feeling uncomfortable with the silence, Melody tried small talk. "Wow, this is good," said Melody through a mouthful of the rich, comforting stew.

  "Thank you," he said as he also ate. He'd already eating twice as much as she had in her entire bowel, but she was much smaller than him.

  "Holy shit, you have one hell of an appetite," she commented

  "Oh ..." he said self-consciously, and tried to take smaller spoonfuls. It didn't suit his rugged demeanor to act that way.

  Melody stifled a giggle. "Don't worry about it. Seriously though, shit ... I just, I can't even."

  "You can't even what?" he asked with a straight face.

  "You know, 'I can't even this, I can't even that.' It's a saying."

  Still, Hallard looked at her in confusion.

  "Never mind. What I'm saying is, I can't even wrap my head around what I'm doing out here," she answered.

  "I mean, first of all, you actually live out here by yourself?" she asked.

 
"Sure. Where else would someone like me live?" He finished off his stew and set the bowl down by the stove of rocks. "Would you picture me walking around the city looking like this?" He gestured down at his bare chest, a patch of thick hair covering the top of his pecs and running down toward his pelvis.

  "You look like a normal guy to me. I mean, apart from the dirt and not having any shoes, and the fact that you live in a cave." Melody smiled and searched for a glimmer of humor in Hallard.

  He did smile back, but seemed so nervous still. "Thanks, I guess."

  "Then there's the other thing --"

  "I'm a shape shifter."

  "That, yeah." Melody also set aside her bowl. She'd eaten most of it, which was a good sign as far as her mending health went. "You can, change, shift. Into a what exactly?"

  "A bear, more or less. Just a bigger, stronger one."

  "Strong enough to mess up a bunch of werewolves. Because that's what those were."

  "That's right. You and your friends made a big mistake when you got on that bus."

  "They weren't my friends. Never seen 'em before in my life. I only spoke to this one girl, Rita I think was her name. Was she, I mean. She wasn't killed, was she?" Getting the words out was hard.

  "You're the only woman whose blood was spilled. The rest of them got back on that bus headed for the city. Trust me, I have a nose for tracking." He tapped himself on the nose like he was in a cheesy detective movie."

  "That's one good thing then, but where would they have gone?"

  "Probably to be let loose before they sober up and start remembering things too clearly. I doubt those werewolves would have been in the mood to keep partying after I finished with 'em."

  "That big one, his name was Grave, he said something about taking his seed." Melody recoiled at the thought of it. "Is that even possible?"

  "Yes. My mother is, was, completely human. Didn't take the news too good that her husband—and consequently her newborn son—were werebears."

  Melody shivered and rubbed her arms with her hands, even though the sun and glowing coals of the fire pit were quite warm. They sat in silence for a while longer, until she started thinking about her scratch, and Grave entering her without protection. "Holy shit!" she blurted out. "Am I going to get infected now?"

  "Your wound isn't as bad as it seems. It's gonna hurt like a bitch for some time though."

  "No," continued Melody. She stood up. "Am I going to turn into a werewolf?!"

  "As far as I can tell, no. I hope not. I haven't been around anyone, shifters or humans, much since I was younger. But the wound's not healing super-fast, and you don't seem to be showing any unusual symptoms. Hey, it's going to be alright." He stood up too, seemed like he didn't know what to do.

  "Okay, okay." She breathed in deep and collected herself. "I'm not going to become a werewolf, that's crazy, it's not going to happen. I can't believe this. I just can't --"

  "Even?" He smiled.

  "Exactly," she said and managed a smile back at him.

  "You're hungry at least. I was worried I wouldn't be able to get you to eat anything. I'd feel better if you could finish it though. Almost dying can take your strength."

  "Hey, maybe I can pay back the favor and make you dinner some time. When did you last visit the big city?"

  Hallard sat back down, didn't seem eager to discuss it. "Only when I need essentials."

  "Really? So you could help me get home?"

  "You said you don't have a home."

  "I said I'm in between places. But I can get another apartment, soon as I can find another job."

  "The only way out of here is on foot. You can't travel like this."

  Still standing, Melody paced around near the fire. "What are you saying? I'm not allowed to leave?"

  "If you start bleeding again, I'm not sure you'll have enough to last. God knows if my blood would do you any good, and we're not exactly nearby a hospital." He spoke flatly and without much emotion. It was kind of creepy.

  Melody had known too many men who were capable of terrible things to not be cautious of the signs. Maybe wasn't much better than those werewolves after all. And she'd only just met the guy. Her heart started to race—she felt trapped and suddenly in danger. "I can't stay here."

  "No one's trying to make you stay. You just can't leave until you heal up."

  She remembered hearing stories about patients who were kept sick or injured by their carers, so they couldn't leave them. "Okay," she said as calmly as possible. It was time to play it cool. All she needed to do was get to the nearest road, there was sure to be someone passing by who could give her a ride.

  Hallard picked up their bowls and spoons, took them over to a bucket of clean water.

  "Let me do that," Melody said, scooping up a handful of dirt and walking over to him.

  "Thanks, but you should stay off your feet. I'll help you get home, don't worry. Just wait until you're --"

  Melody through the dirt in his eyes as soon as he turned to look at her.

  Hallard yelled and dropped the bowl he was washing in the bucket, grabbing at his face frantically.

  She ran into the trees and didn't look back.

  Chapter Nine

  Hollard’s eyes stung like hell. It was a perfect throw. He scooped up water from the bucket and cleaned it away, trying to keep from getting angry. The girl was scared, alone out here. His animal instinct was to chase her, hunt the one who'd attacked him. But Hallard's human side was just as strong and on the side of right this time.

  He looked around, once his vision was clear again, and saw Melody running off through the trees. He took off after her.

  She'd gone through a dense section of bushes that was home to a lot of nasty bugs and critters.

  "You don't want to keep going through there!" he called out, trying hard to maintain a balanced state of mind. Pulse racing, body throbbing, and the stinging he felt in his eyes. It was hard to keep calm.

  He lost sight of her as she ducked behind some shrub. That didn't matter because her sloppy running, labored breathing, and bittersweet perspiration were like a big, red arrow pointing right at her. When he caught up, Melody was sitting and sobbing in a tangle of thorns.

  The second she noticed him, she stopped and rubber the tears away nonchalantly.

  His instinct was to run over and help her out of those thorns, but she slapped his hands away.

  "Don't touch me," she said.

  "You've cut yourself all up and down. Let me help you out of there at least."

  "Isn't this how you want me, trapped?" She smacked a beetle that had crawled onto her leg and squished it, then grimaced. "Shit! Why would you choose to live in such a horrible place? The things that are just outside of your door—you don't even have a door. I need to go back to my home." Her voice lilted unsteadily and faded.

  "You're hurt, maybe bad. It'd take a helicopter to get you back to the city without a chance of your wound turning fatal. I'm not trying to hold you here like some prisoner, but I sit back and watch that happen."

  "What does it matter to you? I'm not asking you to sign my death warrant or pull a trigger. I'm fine."

  Growing up in an orphanage, Hallard had seen plenty of stubborn kids who didn't know what was good for them. He sighed. "Then you should be able to get up and walk back to the road by yourself."

  She stretched her neck up and looked around. "Where's that?"

  "That way." He pointed in the direction of the highway. "Should be about half a day's walk if you were to take it slow. I assume that you would need to take it pretty slow."

  "Good. Don't try to fucking follow me." She stood up and pulled herself out of the tiny thorns, showing unsurmountable strength of will not to shudder with pain. Blood trickled from various spots on her arms and legs as she stood, then started to walk.

  Hallard could hardly take watching it, but he didn't know how else to prove that he wasn't trying to keep her there for no reason.

  "Bye!" she yelled, turning behind a tree
quickly and out of sight.

  He heard her slump to the ground right away, then came the tears. Hallard waited and let her have some time alone, before he walked after her.

  He found her leant up against a tree trunk, crying into her hands, limbs bloodied up from the thorns, and looking sorry for herself. "Okay, you win. I get it."

  "If you let me carry you back to that comfortable bed, I promise not to think any less of you," he said as nicely as he could manage.

  "Do I really have a choice?" was all she answered. Hallard carried her back with great care, her warmth a beacon to his deepest being, guiding him and screaming that he needed to keep her close to him.

  Chapter Ten

  Melody was well beyond the point of struggling. As Hallard carried her back to his cave, she felt stupid for having run like that. Of course, her pride was still too strong to let her apologize. Even as he lay her on his bed, she had trouble letting herself enjoy the warm feeling it gave her to be taken care of.

  "I'm not trying to do anything but help," he said, almost like he'd read her thoughts.

  She must have had a stone-bitch look on her face though. "I know," she murmured.

  "Those thorns are nasty. I've got something that'll help." He went to a rustic bench in the corner of the cave and dug a bottle of disinfectant from a plastic container.

  "Now, this'll help, but it's going to sting like shit first."

  "It can't get any worse than—holy shit!" Melody gasped and pulled air along her gritted teeth. "That stings like a mother fucker!"

  "See. Now, do you think you'll be going for any more impromptu runs through the brush? It's a lot easier to stick to the clearings, by the way."

  "I'll keep that in mind when I get the fuck out of here. When do you think I'll be able to walk?"