by Amira Rain
The attack on the red-eyed wolf, who'd surely been weakened by my attack on him, only lasted a minute or so. When the sounds of snarling and snapping jaws went quiet, I opened my eyes and saw one of the large gray Haverwood wolves dragging a headless carcass into the opposite ditch. Sickened by the sight, I immediately looked away and saw Cynthia's face, chalk white as if she were in extreme shock, pressed against the back window of the car, just a short distance up the road.
Deciding I should go check to see if she and the other two agents were okay, I got to my feet but discovered that my legs didn't want to cooperate.
"Oh...boy."
Head spinning, I struggled to remain standing on my rubbery legs but just couldn't and sank to my knees, then sat back on my heels.
One of the Haverwood wolves, who'd just finished dragging the red-eyed wolf's head into the woods by the side of the road, saw me and immediately began heading over to me, shifting from a wolf to a man within a blink.
"Are you all right?"
I didn't answer, because I wasn't sure what I was. I suddenly could hardly remember my own name. All I could think about was how devastatingly attractive the man speaking to me was. With dark hair, green eyes, and a face with strong jaw, high cheekbones, and a wide forehead, he was maybe the most attractive man I'd ever seen in my life. His face was only the half of it, though. His body was the other half. I'd heard that when shifters shifted back into human form, the clothes they'd been wearing prior to shifting shifted right along with them, but apparently, this particular shifter hadn't been wearing a shirt. He was now clad in only boots and jeans, with the bright sun highlighting the expanse of his broad, chiseled chest and his washboard abs.
When he reached me, he extended a hand.
"Here. Let me help you up."
I took his hand, desperately hoping he was one of the two men I was going to be trying to get into bed.
With his grip firm yet gentle, he began helping me to my feet.
"I'm Elliot Maxwell, one of the two alphas here in Haverwood. And you must be our new Gifted."
Thanking my lucky stars, I nodded. "Yes. I'm Jayme Adler."
"Nice to meet you, Jayme. Are you okay on your feet now? Do you need me to pick you up and carry you?"
I needed him to do all sorts of different things to me. Preferably while we were both naked.
But in response to what he'd asked about carrying me, I shook my head. "Thanks, but no thanks. I think I'm fine."
That wasn't entirely true. I was actually still a bit dizzy and beyond bone tired. However, I didn't want to allow myself to become that girl, that damsel in distress, who needed to be carried away from the scene of a fight.
Elliot said okay, and at the same moment, I noticed another man coming up behind him, and this man was equally as gorgeous. When he reached us, he introduced himself as Cameron Scott, the other alpha of the Haverwood wolves. We shook hands, and I introduced myself, literally struggling to remember my own name. It took me a second. The problem was that I felt like I was getting lost in Cameron's dark gray eyes. I was kind of getting lost in everything else about him as well, from his height, which was several inches over six feet, to his well-muscled physique, to his beyond-handsome face and full lips. Unlike Elliot, he was wearing a t-shirt with his boots and jeans, but it was thin enough that I could still see the outline of his chiseled pecs beneath, and I found myself drawn to the sight.
Cameron seemed to be a little drawn to me, too, running his gaze from my face down my body and then back up to my face again before releasing my hand.
"We were expecting a brand-new Gifted today, but clearly that's not you. Was there some mix-up?"
I shook my still-spinning head. "No, no mix-up. I am the brand-new Gifted. It's me."
Cameron frowned, giving me a once-over again. "You only recently discovered your powers?"
"Yes...less than twenty-four hours ago."
He frowned even harder.
"Well, based on the amount of damage you inflicted on that Angel wolf before Elliot and I arrived...I would have guessed you've been a Gifted for years. Very impressive."
Fighting increasing dizziness, I offered him a small smile. "Thanks. I don't feel very impressive, though. This is really the first time I've used my powers intentionally, and it's left me feeling incredibly tired, and...." I swayed on my feet while my dizziness became even worse still. "Whoa. Maybe I'll just sit down for another minute."
Mildly startling me, Elliot scooped me up off my feet and into his strong arms.
"I think we should get you to the village where you can rest comfortably. We're only a few hundred feet away. You just relax, and we'll be there in no time. Go ahead and even close your eyes if you want. Extreme tiredness is very common the first time a Gifted uses her powers. It'll get better with practice."
Extreme tiredness wasn't even a strong enough term for what I was experiencing. In fact, my eyes had begun closing even while he'd been speaking. And now, giving in to the feeling of being protected and cared for, I let my head fall to Elliot's bare, hard chest, wondering how long of a rest I'd need before I could start work on getting him and Cameron into bed.
*
I was out like a light before Elliot even began walking back to Haverwood with me in his arms. When I awoke some hours later, after a hard, dreamless sleep, I was in a very comfortable bed in a darkened room. Pale moonlight shone through gauzy curtains, and I wondered if it was actually possible that I'd slept through the entire day and into the night. Apparently, it was, because once I'd shifted in bed a little, I could see the moon. It looked to be at least ten or eleven at night.
Wondering exactly where I was, I sat up with my eyes beginning to adjust to the dim light. Containing only the bed, two nightstands, and a dresser, the room didn't really give me any answers, except just that I was in a bedroom in some house or dwelling in Haverwood. It seemed to be a master bedroom, though, if a sliver of faint light coming through a doorway on one side of the room was any indication. I figured the doorway probably led to a bathroom lit by a nightlight. Realizing I needed to make use of the facilities badly, I got out of bed and crept over to the bathroom, realizing that I was still dressed in the top and shorts I'd been wearing earlier that day. Only my sandals had been removed.
The spacious bathroom was fairly empty, except for a stack of folded towels and washcloths on a rack, a wrapped toothbrush and tube of toothpaste by the sink, and a bottle each of shampoo, conditioner, and body wash on the tub ledge, indicating that I was probably in a guest room. Even the medicine cabinet was empty. I wondered how big the whole house was that even a guest room had its own bathroom. I was beginning to become very curious about who, exactly, was the owner of the house.
After using the restroom, washing my face, and brushing my teeth, I turned on a nightstand lamp, spotted my bag in one corner of the room, and figured I should probably just change into pajamas and go back to sleep, being that it didn't seem quite right to go out exploring a house that wasn't mine, not to mention a house that I didn't even know whose it was. However, I was starving. I'd not only missed lunch, but dinner as well, and my stomach was loudly growling in protest. So, after a few moments spent thinking, I decided I'd just tiptoe out of the room and see if maybe I could find the kitchen and a midnight snack. Wherever I was, I couldn't imagine that the owner would begrudge a guest helping herself to a little something to eat.
Beyond the bedroom was a long, dark hallway, and I padded down it as quietly as I could, not wanting to wake anyone up. At the end of the long hallway, a tabletop lamp on a small table illuminated a vast foyer that gave me a definite clue that the homeowner was a man. Beside the front door sat a pile of muddy boots that had dirtied up the hardwood flooring; a short distance away sat a pile of dirty socks. The foyer table itself was littered with keys, crumpled up bits of paper, and even a few t-shirts wadded into balls.
At the end of the foyer was a doorway, which led to the area of the house I was looking for. I hadn't been
expecting a light to be on in the kitchen, however. I also hadn't been expecting to find Cameron sitting at the table, eating what appeared to be either a late dinner, or one hell of a midnight snack. Yet, as I entered the vast, open, kitchen-and-dining-area space, there he was with a plate laden with several pieces of what looked like chicken, a baked potato, a mountain of vegetables, and a few slices of sandwich bread. The kitchen area was fully lit with track lighting, but in the dining area, only a single Tiffany lamp above the table was on, giving Cameron's lightly-tanned skin even more of a golden glow.
Even at the end of what I could only imagine had been a very long day, based on the faint blue circles beneath his eyes, he still looked absolutely gorgeous. His thick dark hair, which was kind of longish, was rakishly tousled, with a few hunks of it falling over his forehead. The effect was mesmerizing for some reason. I even found the way he was sitting, leaning forward in his chair and hunched over his large plate of food, to be kind of mesmerizing. While this posture might have offended the sensibilities of a Miss Manners type of woman, something about it struck me as incredibly masculine and appealing. It struck me as a bit animalistic, too, like even in his human form, Cameron still had a bit of wild wolf about him, enough that I felt a faint current of electricity ripple through my stomach when I saw him.
Not wanting to startle him, I came to a stop at the edge of the dining area, doing a little throat clear, and he looked up, holding a drumstick that he'd just taken a large bite out of.
After chewing and swallowing quickly, straightening up a bit in his seat as he did so, he set the drumstick down.
"You hungry?"
Right on cue, my stomach growled.
"I'm starving."
The scent of the chicken had actually made my mouth begin to water.
After dragging a napkin across his mouth, a napkin he hadn't even bothered to put in his lap, Cameron got up from his chair.
"Well, just go ahead and have a seat, and I'll fix you a plate."
"Thank you."
"Would you like a beer?"
Seeing that that was what he was drinking, out of a long-neck bottle, I nodded. "Yes, please."
"And butter and sour cream on your baked potato?"
"Yes, please."
"Be right back."
He went out to the kitchen, and I had a seat next to where he was sitting, which was at the head of the table. Not having anything else to do while he fixed my plate, I surveyed the food on his own, seeing that the multiple pieces of chicken were all horribly burned, with some of them actually a bit blackened in some spots. His baked potato looked charred in a few spots, too. Also, his slices of bread were fairly mangled, clearly having been spread with cold butter. The mountain of peas and carrots looked all right, maybe not surprisingly, since I wasn't sure how a person could go wrong with simply boiling vegetables.
Despite Cameron possibly needing some cooking lessons, my appetite only increased as I looked at his food. However, his food wasn't the only thing I looked at, and it wasn't the only thing I was getting very hungry for. I also stole a few glances at him while he moved about the kitchen. He not only had what I considered to be the perfect male physique, with his broad shoulders and back tapering into a trim, hard middle and a tight rear, he also had a way of moving that I found incredibly attractive. He moved deliberately and purposefully, though in a way that wasn't entirely without grace. He moved in a way that made me think he was probably almost impossibly coordinated, like he might be very good at sports; or different bedroom activities.
Vaguely embarrassed with the direction my thoughts were rapidly heading in, I reminded myself that if and when I found myself in a position to take part in any bedroom activities with Cameron, I was going to have to make sure that that was as far as things went. I knew I was going to have to remind myself of this frequently, continually even, because despite the fact that I barely knew him and had barely even spoken to him yet, something told me that Cameron was the type of man I could fall in love with pretty easily.
Aside from his looks, there was just something about him that really did it for me. Something about him that made me feel like he was the man I'd been waiting my whole life for, even though I knew that was ridiculous, since I knew nothing about him, other than the fact that he was one of the two Haverwood alphas, one of two men I was supposed to be investigating for signs of traitorous activity. Because of this, I knew I'd be a fool not to guard my heart until I was certain which of the two alphas was the turncoat. However, as I took another little glance at Cameron, I realized this might be easier said than done.
He soon returned to the table with my large plate of food, my beer, and silverware wrapped in an off-white linen napkin, and set everything in front of me.
"Enjoy."
"Thank you."
"You're welcome." Looking a bit sheepish, or maybe uncomfortable about something, he took his seat next to me, at the head of the table, and picked up his half-eaten chicken drumstick. "I have to admit, I'm probably not the greatest cook in the world, but...I hope it's all okay."
Somehow touched and tickled by his culinary insecurity, I smiled. "I'm sure it'll be wonderful. It smells amazing."
It really did. My stomach had intensified its growling.
Outside, a light rain had suddenly turned into a downpour, and fat raindrops pelted the windows and also the roof, telling me that we were in a single-story structure. I'd always loved the sound and scent of a hard summer rain after a hot day, and at first, I just ate silently, enjoying it all. Several windows in the dining area were half-open, allowing an earthy-smelling breeze to waft in.
However, once I'd finished my vegetables and a few bites of not-too-terribly-burned baked chicken breast, I set my silverware down and picked up my beer, gaze on Cameron.
"So, is this your house, then?"
Finishing a drink of his own beer, he set the bottle on the table.
"No. It's really nobody's house, actually. It's kind of a free community hotel of sorts, where people stay while their permanent dwellings are being built. This was the first home that was built here in the village, and for a while, right when Haverwood was initially established, we had twenty-something people living here, mostly shifters, but a few of the first Gifteds that had arrived, also."
With such a gender disparity, and with shifters and Gifteds living in such close quarters, I imagined that those might have been some "interesting" early days in the house, to say the least. I figured they might have been more than a bit steamy.
After a swallow of beer, Cameron continued. "Right now, though, Elliot and I are the only residents, here. Well, and you now, of course. Everyone else in town has already had their homes built. Elliot, a few other shifters, and I decided to wait for ours, since during the early days, we were always gone all the time anyway, tracking the Angels and the wolves they've enlisted to help them in their fight. We spent a good six weeks just trying to pinpoint all of their encampments in the area."
"But now you know where they all are?"
Elliot set down his beer and picked up his fork, expression troubled.
"Well, mostly...but a lot of them have been on the move lately, making them very hard to track. Their groups have gotten larger as of late, too, and bolder. We had a large group that attacked us just outside of the village earlier today, and it was almost more than we shifters and Gifteds could handle. That's how one of the Angel wolves was able to slip by us and try to make a break for it, probably intending to make it into the interior of the state and wreak some havoc on the smaller towns.
"But, fortunately, you were able to stop him until Elliot and I could arrive to kill him. Then, after we took you back here to the village, there was a second attack by a smaller group, and a few of them got away. A few others and I spent all evening chasing them down, and Elliot and a few of our elite pack members are out just to the south of the village now, dealing with the carcasses. Some days it seems as if the work never ends...at least not until very late."
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With his dark gray eyes betraying his weariness, Cameron resumed eating his baked potato with butter and sour cream, and I started in on mine, finding it a bit scorched and tough on the outside, and a bit hard on the inside. With the butter and sour cream, it was still tasty, though, not to mention that considering my appetite, cardboard probably would have tasted good to me.
For a while, we ate quietly while the rain continued to pelt the house. Trying to be stealthy about it, I took a few peeks at Cameron, realizing that he wasn't acting like a secret Angel agent in any way. In fact, he was striking me as completely sincere. He was striking me as a man who was doing everything possible to ensure that the Angels and their wolves weren't able to make headway into Indiana. This was odd, though, because during the brief time I'd spent around Elliot, he hadn't struck me as the type of man who'd be secretly working for the Angels, either. However, I had to admit that my interaction with him had been very limited, lasting all of about a minute.
With my gaze on my plate, I couldn't so much see Cameron stealing a few peeks at me, too, as much as I could feel him stealing a few peeks. This made a little heat rise to my cheeks for some reason, even though the room wasn't overly warm, with the rain-scented breeze still blowing in through the windows. It was just that Cameron was so damn attractive; nearly hypnotic when it came to his looks. It wasn't just his looks that were increasing my attraction to him, though. When he'd returned to the table, I'd noticed that he'd placed his napkin on his lap when he'd taken his seat, when earlier, when he'd been dining alone, he hadn't bothered. Something about this little gesture of courtesy and politeness toward me had endeared him to me, as had his cooking skills, or the lack thereof.
Once I'd finished my potato and my chicken, I moved onto my piece of sandwich bread spread with butter, though spread wasn't the exact right word. It had more like been mangled with butter, though I could tell that Cameron had tried to be more careful with my piece than his own several pieces, a few of which had actual holes in them.