Call Me Baby

by J. D. Light

  Copyright © 2018 J.D. Light

  Cover Art by www.coversbyjess.com

  CHAPTER ONE

  I stumbled sleepily out of my room, wondering groggily if I should have actually made the effort to search out my other house shoe, because I was pretty sure wearing only one was going to be one of those things I regretted once I had caffeine dancing merrily in my blood stream.

  Okay, so claiming the room I was kinda vacating—I was out in the hallway now…sorta—was a bit of a stretch. The house actually belonged to my brother, but he was busy shacking up with his sexy neighbor, and I was running from a psycho. So, I was claiming that shit.

  Catching my poor, little, un-shoed pinky-toe on the baseboard at the top of the stairs, I cussed my effing A off, wondering the whole time if fuckityshitbitch was even a word, and if saying it over and over again could change it’s non-word status, and possibly make me famous and/or rich.

  Stumbling around the top of the staircase, cussing creatively should be an incentive for a vision-impaired person like myself to maybe put on my glasses. But those bitches were staying perched on my head, because as stated before, I hadn't had my coffee yet, and that meant I had a lot of eye rubbing in my immediate future.

  Wandering around the kitchen for a good five minutes while ignoring the muted voices coming from the living room, I grumbled when I opened the cabinet I was pretty sure was supposed to have the magic mugs that one used for coffee consumptions, for the thirty-something-ith time and still didn't see any.

  Seeing, being the operative word.

  "Sutton?! Why the fuck do you keep movin' the coffee cups," I yelled in my delightful southern accent that I couldn't fucking seem to drop, in the general direction of the entrance to the living room.

  I knew him and his man were in there being all lovey-dovey at too early in the fuckityshitbitching morning, because they had been every damn day for the past three mornings.

  "Put your glasses on, B. They're right where they've always been."

  Scoffing, I made a face at the cabinet they were clearly not in. "I don't wanna."

  I rubbed my eyes, turning to lean a hip against the counter, which led to one of those full body stretches that felt so amazing you were pretty sure you might have had an orgasm, and then rubbed my eyes again.

  I moaned, dropping my hands and then squealed when a gorgeous human, kinda came into focus right in front of me. "Fuckityshitbitch!" I clutched my chest and frowned at the half dressed man in my brother's kitchen, who definitely wasn't Ronny. "Sutton!? Why do you always have sexy-ass, men who only wear sweatpants runnin' around yours and Ronny's houses? Do we need to talk about your sex life?"

  The man in front of me was slightly taller than Ronny, but maybe not quite as wide. His hair was a lovely, if blurry shade of light, golden brown and even without my glasses, I could see the chiseled perfection of his torso.

  Was he hard? I think he might have been.

  Maybe I should put my specs on. Something told me, this is a sight I wanted to actually see.

  Half naked dude chuckled, and something about that sound made my chest warm and achy at the same time. I found myself smiling at whatever the fuckityshitbitch time it was in the morning.

  A growled, "that's not fucking funny," from the living room made me actually giggle. Ronny was such a possessive bastard. He was probably going to prohibit all these delicious, shirtless men from coming on to his and Sutton's property now.

  The man held up a finger in front of me. I honestly wasn't sure if he was telling me to hold on, or flipping me off, so I squinted at the digit until the same hand moved for my head. For some reason, I stood there, and let the man get entirely too close to me, as he grabbed my glasses, and very gently slid them down my face to perch unwanted onto my nose.

  I frowned, wondering if I could pull off acting like a petulant child in front of this guy and still maybe not make a bad impression, but my frown and my jaw dropped when my eyes managed to focus on all the skin on display before me.

  I think I made a noise that probably resembled getting the air knocked out of you, as I let my eyes move over his amazing body. I swallowed audibly when I found his swollen and chiseled arms and pecs, and I licked my lips when I got stuck on a pebbled nipple, before moving down his sinewy stomach, watching the flex and release of his abs, as his breathing seemed to be increasing. When I got to the low hanging gray sweats, I moaned. Like, actually moaned.

  He looked fucking delicious.

  "My eyes are up here, NBB."

  I cringed, closing my eyes and praying a little that I hadn't just heard that stupid nickname from that stupid––never going to admit that I find it sexy––voice, coming out of this gorgeous man that I absolutely had just been caught ogling.

  "So help me. If I open my eyes, and Foster is standin' here, I'm goin' back to Georgia."

  Foster growled, making me jump, and my eyes pop open. "What the fuck is that?"

  I squeaked again––wasn't really having some of my finest moments, was I––as Foster advanced on me, backing me up until I ran into the corner of the cabinets. "What?!"

  His gorgeous amber eyes were zeroed in on the spot on my neck I'd had covered the last few days. I reached up, knowing before I felt the skin, the bandage had probably fallen off in my sleep.

  "Who marked you?" I'd known Foster a while. Well, technically, we'd never actually met. But I'd been annoyed by him––and intrigued, if I'm honest––more times than I could count when I'd video called my brother.

  I'd seen him mocking and sometimes, downright rude. I'd seen him serious, and––begrudgingly admitted––I'd seen him funny. I'd never seen him angry before. It was more than a little intimidating.

  "Some asshole bit me."

  No way was I going to tell him that the guy had looked closer to animal than human, when he'd cornered me in the locker room at the pool, and sank his too sharp teeth into my shoulder. Just the memory had my chest heaving.

  Shit! Why couldn't I get oxygen?

  "Burke!" Foster grabbed both sides of my face, putting his eyes right in front of mine. "Breathe for me, okay? You're fine. Breathe."

  I knew what was happening to me. It had happened one other time in my whole life, and that had been the day Sutton called from a number I didn't recognize a couple days after he'd turned eighteen to tell me he was never coming back to our childhood home. I knew why, and I knew, even then, at fifteen, that he should get as far away from out terrible parents as possible, but all I could think at that moment, was that he was going to leave me alone with them.

  I'd somehow managed to hang up the phone that day, but as my lungs had refused to work, and spots started dancing in front of my face, I'd known I was about to pass out. Alone in my room.

  I hadn't had a panic attack since then. Not even the day the beast/man thing had bitten me. I'd just hit the man with the pepper-spray Sutton had insisted I keep with me, scooped my clothes up and ran. Thankfully, at nine at night, the pool had been completely empty, so nobody saw my white ass as I trucked it, completely naked, out onto the street.

  Nobody had been there for me the day I'd thought I'd lost my brother for good, but this time, I was staring into a pair of beautiful amber eyes, as the man I'd both detested and secretly wanted breathed in and out with me, reminding me how to do it right.

  "What the hell is goin' on, Foster. What did ya do to my brother?" I could hear Sutton's angry tirade, but only distantly.

  My focus was mostly on the beautiful, tanned and very lightly freckled face of the overbearing asshole who'd been tormenting me, and torturing me within my own fantasies since the first time he'd interrupted one of mine a Sutton's video calls about three years ago on my eighteenth birthday.

  He'd taken one look at me and scoffed, tellin
g me I looked like a nerdy version of every boy band member he'd seen, ever. And I'd told him he looked like every sleazebag who'd ever tried to sell me a used car, ever.

  He hadn't. He'd looked like every forbidden fantasy I'd ever had since I went through puberty, ever. But I'd be damned if I'd ever tell the jerk-face that.

  "Foster?!"

  "Sutton! Shut the hell up. He's having a panic attack, and I'm trying to calm him down."

  "Why the fuck is he having a panic attack, Foster?"

  Growling––which really should be scary considering the reason I was having a panic attack in the middle of the kitchen in the first place, but was actually kinda sexy––Foster focused back on me, completely ignoring Sutton.

  "You're okay, baby. I swear I'll keep you safe."

  I was already pretty well calm. Probably not ready to carry on a conversation, but definitely breathing in a fashion that allowed oxygen to actually enter your system. So, I frowned at the endearment, and at the almost sweet way he'd said it.

  When he noticed my frown, he smirked, dropping his eyes to my mouth. "Who knew all I had to do was make you have a panic attack to shut you up all this time."

  "Don't get used to it," I was finally able to say, glaring at the man. "It won't happen again."

  "Good," he said, still smirking. "I don't like it when you're quiet. "If you're not being a sassy little pain in my ass, I'll worry something is wrong with you."

  Sending my brother a "what the fuck" look, I shook my head. "I think this conversation is more bizarre than being bit by a man."

  Letting go of the side of my face with one hand, Foster tugged the collar of my shirt down, revealing the weird looking bite mark. "This man, did he look funny to you? Was everything normal with his face?"

  Swallowing hard and looking into his amber eyes, I bit my lip. "I don't know. Wha-What do you mean?"

  "Someone bit him?!" Sutton squeaked, throwing a look over his shoulder at Ronny. "Who?"

  "I don't know, Sutt," Foster said, barely holding on to his patience. "I asked that same thing right before he had a panic attack. Which makes me think he's seen something he's not really sure about. "He rubbed his thumb along my neck, gently caressing the puckered skin where it was healing badly. "Is that's what's wrong, NBB? Did you see something that scares you?"

  Nodding, I glanced over at my brother and then looked back at Foster. Somehow needing his handsome face to ground me.

  "You can tell us, Burke. What happened?"

  "His teeth," I whispered, closing my eyes. "I saw him the day I went and registered for this semester, last semester. I had some questions about one of the classes and I was hopin' someone would know who to ask. I noticed him starin' at me. I tried to ignore him, but it was like he was purposely puttin' himself in my line of sight.

  "Now, lookin' back, I think he might have been eavesdroppin', and that's how he ended up in my chemistry class and my lab. Really, it had to be, because I requested the lab on Thursday evenings, so I could go straight to the pool from there. I don't like swimmin' when there are a lot of people there. You have to share a lane and it's just not relaxin'.

  "Anyway, all semester, I felt like I was seein' him everywhere. He somehow ended up bein' my lab partner, even though I'd been paired with some other guy in the beginnin'. He was fine at first. Just really quiet and had a tendency to stare at me when he was supposed to be payin' attention to the professor."

  I blushed, wishing Foster would let go of my face, so I could look down. I hated talking about stuff like this. It felt weird telling Foster and Sutton about some guy who'd basically been stalking me.

  "He asked me out about three weeks ago. I told him no, because I don't date, but he just kept askin'. The night I called Sutton, I'd told him earlier at our lab that if he didn't quit askin' me out, I was goin' to request a different partner. He got pissed, tellin' me he was sick of the games. That we belonged together."

  I closed my eyes, not wanting Foster to see just how afraid I was. "I guess he followed me to the pool that night. I didn’t see 'im, but I tend to zone out when I'm swimmin'. I was in the locker room after, takin' a shower when…He growled. Like a real growl. I thought there was a dog in the bathroom until I turned around and saw 'im.

  "His face looked wrong. Like he had longer teeth and fur. His fingernails were really sharp too. But I didn't even notice until he grabbed me." I lifted my hand to rub through along the still sore groove across my ribs, where he'd gotten me when I managed to slip out of his hands. "I managed to get away from 'im, and to my bag where I have a can of pepper spray hanging from the zipper, but he pinned me against the lockers."

  Squeezing my eyes as tight as I could, I took a deep breath, but all that came out was a whisper. "I thought he was gonna rape me right there. He kept talkin' about me bein' his mate and how we were gonna make babies, and he would not stop grabbin' my ass. Finally, I was able to get the pepper spray up between us and get him in the face. As soon as he loosened his grip, I grabbed my stuff and ran. I didn't even bother puttin' my clothes on until I was few blocks away behind a dumpster in the parkin' lot of a bus station.

  "I didn't even think about it. I bought a ticket to the airport, and then bought a ticket here." I opened my eyes to look at Foster, momentarily surprised by the boiling anger I saw in his beautiful amber eyes.

  "Sorry," he grumbled, his voice making my insides quiver a bit. "I'm not mad at you, NBB."

  "Do you think I've lost my mind? I kinda feel like I have."

  "No." I gave another surprised and embarrassing squeak, as Foster jerked me to his chest, wrapping his arms around me and pressing against the back of my head until I rested my forehead against the cradle of his neck. "I believe everything you just told me. Can you tell me the name of the man who attacked you, baby?"

  Again with the endearment? Maybe I was going crazy. Nothing else could possibly explain why Foster Bryant was being nice to me, and calling me baby. Maybe all the pressure I'd put on myself at school had finally caused me to snap.

  Trying to keep my groin pulled back so Foster couldn't feel the erection that had only waned a little when I'd had my panic attack, and was now back with a vengeance, pressing against my cotton sleep pants.

  "Grady White. Are you going to FBI him?" I asked, giggling a little.

  Pulling back, Foster smirked down into my face. "I don't think you want to know what I'm going to do with him."

  "What if I really am losin' it?" I asked after staring at his gorgeous face for way too long to be normal. "What if none of that really happened?"

  Reaching below my t-shirt, Foster brushed a thumb over the scratch along my ribs, making me shudder. "It's real, Burke. These are real. That bite on your neck is real."

  "But how?"

  Sutton appeared at my side with his handsome boyfriend right behind him. "We need to tell you somethin', Burke. And it's probably gonna be hard to take. But for multiple reasons, you really need to know."

  "Let's go sit," Foster said, pulling me around to his side, and then ushering me to the living room.

  "But what about coffee?" I asked, clearly whining.

  "Later."

  I glared at him, wanting to tell him he wasn't the boss of me, but I felt strangely at peace tucked against him, and I really wasn't in the mood to argue.

  "We're going to tell you something important, Burke. It's going to seem crazy and scary, but I need you to keep an open mind, and remember that there is not a soul in this room that would ever hurt you." Foster sat me down on the couch, and took the coffee table, placing his long legs on either side of mine.

  It seemed like an intimate way to sit, and made me feel protected at the same time.

  I nodded. "Okay."

  "Grady is a shifter. Do you know what that is?"

  "I've read a romance novel, yeah." I frowned. "Are ya messin' with me?"

  "No, baby." Foster reached out, taking both my hands in his. "Don't freak out, okay?" At my nod he went on. "Ronny and I are shifters too.
He's a leopard, and I'm a fox."

  I looked around the room, taking in all the faces. Maybe waiting and wondering when someone was going to burst into laughter, and let me know this whole thing had been an elaborate joke that had been going on since December.

  Nobody broke, and Sutton looked like he was on the verge of biting a hole completely through his lip. His nerves were definitely genuine.

  "I wanna see." Why not jump in, right? I wasn't going to believe this, regardless of whether or not they all looked sincere, unless somebody gave me some proof.

  Nodding his head, Foster looked at Sutton and Ronny. "Don't let him run, guys. My fox is probably going to be a little easier to handle than a leopard."

  "Not to mention, you'd probably go for Ronny's throat if he started strippin' down in front of Burke."

  Foster smirked, never taking his eyes off of me. "And there's that."

  What was that supposed to mean?

  My brother giggled as he spun, giving Foster and me his back, followed by a smirking Ronny.

  I was not proud of the sound that escaped my mouth when Foster stood, putting what I was pretty sure was a sizable erection, right in my face. I looked up his abs, slowly, stopping to admire the carved ridges, and the solid mounds of his pecs.

  I wanted to stand, and suck his pebbled nipples into my mouth, but his hands going to the waistband of his sweats had my eyes shooting back down again.

  I couldn't look away. Even when I knew my hard as nails cock was probably pushing the material of my pajama bottoms out like a fucking circus tent right there for everyone to see.

  I needed to readjust myself before my brother turned around, and I scarred us both, but I would have to take my focus off the man who was now standing from where he'd pushed his pants, no underwear, down around his legs.

  Even the way he stepped on his pants to pull his legs free was somehow sexy, when I'd only ever found it kinda funny and ridiculous, anytime I'd seen someone else do it in the past.

  His dick was beautiful. Like truly beautiful. Long, and thick, and hard, with a nice fat head. His pubic hair was short, and neatly trimmed, and a lovely golden brown that looked to be only slightly darker than the hair on his head.