Stranger Series Box Set

by Heather C. Myers

  Will looked like he didn’t believe her, but luckily didn’t mention it. “Today, we’re only going to run around the track, twice,” he said. “We need to stretch first, so let’s get to it.”

  “Not that I’m complaining or anything,” Sophie said as she began to stretch her neck, “but why only twice?”

  Will’s lips twitched up and his eyes sparkled dangerously. “Today, we’re going to fight,” he replied.

  “Really?” Her eyes lit up.

  After a thorough stretch, Sophie and Will headed to the track. Sophie didn’t even mind the run because she was looking forward to fighting so much.

  When they finished, Sophie was surprised at how her breathing stayed relatively stable. She wasn’t out of breath despite having run a half a mile in four minutes.

  “All right,” Will said, stepping out in front Sophie, his hands on his hips. His lips were still occupied by a smirk, something Sophie didn’t quite understand. What was so funny to him anyway? “We’re gonna start slow, we’re gonna start simple. Show me your fighting stance.”

  Sophie had never officially used a fighting stance before, so she did what she saw in movies. She curled her fingers into fists and raised them up before spreading her legs shoulder-length. For whatever reason, Will threw his head back and laughed.

  “Really?” he said. “Oh boy. This is going to take a while.”

  Will took a step toward her so any propriety regarding personal space went out the window.

  Sophie jumped. Will chuckled, then leaned in toward her so his lips nearly brushed her ear and whispered, “Problem, kid? I’m not going to bite you.”

  Any thoughts of Jason Ryan temporarily vanished.

  “Curl your thumbs around your fingers,” he instructed. “Keeping them on the inside is just asking for a break.” He walked behind her and before Sophie could figure out what he was doing, his hands wrapped around her ankles and pushed them out more. She was so surprised she nearly lost her balance. “Keep your legs firmly planted in the ground,” he placed his hands on her upper calves, “and bend your knees.”

  Sophie swallowed at the feeling his callused hands caused on her bare skin. Why hadn’t she worn pants?

  Will walked back around so he was in front of her again. Her hands, which were still raised, skimmed the thin material of his white wife beater. “Keep your hands up, block your face.” He gently reached out and lifted her chin up. “Keep your head up.” She couldn’t help but lock eyes with him. “Never take your eyes off your opponent. Got it?”

  She nodded, not trusting her voice.

  Will took a couple of steps back. “Now,” he said. “Take a shot.”

  Sophie looked at him in disbelief. “Um, no, I don’t think so,” she said.

  He gave her a look that indicated he was already getting frustrated with her and they hadn’t even started.

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” she explained. “Remember last time?”

  Will barked out his laughter. Sophie felt herself start to get mad.

  “What? I’m being totally serious, Will. Or did it slip your mind that I killed someone and gave someone else a heart attack?”

  “Those guys were weak,” he said. “Don’t worry, kid. You won’t hurt me.”

  “Hypothetically, if I do—”

  “You won’t.”

  “Yes, but if I do, you have to promise I won’t get in trouble.”

  “If you hurt me—which you won’t—but if somehow you do, I will buy you your Halloween dance dress.”

  Sophie’s brow shot up. She stuck out her hand. “Promise?” she asked.

  Will only smirked, shaking her hand. “Promise.”

  Sophie immediately dropped into the stance Will showed her. It still wasn’t comfortable for her, but she knew eventually she’d get used to it. She had the courtesy to wait until Will was ready before reaching out and punching—not too hard, of course—him in the stomach. If Will had been faster, she wouldn’t have got the hit in. Sophie didn’t know much about what she was, but she knew her strength would overpower Will.

  And it did. Her hit sent him flying several feet, landing flat on his back. Even if she didn’t walk over to him in order to make sure he was okay, she knew he had lost his breath.

  He glared up at her, attempting to breathe. Sophie tried and failed to keep a cheeky smile off her face. “Does this mean I win?” she asked innocently.

  20

  When Jane woke up the next morning—at least, she thought it was morning—the thumping in her head caused an uncharacteristic groan to emit from her lips.

  “Oh thank God!”

  Jane chanced opening one eye in order to regard Elle. That just enhanced the pain and she hissed in response, snapping it back shut.

  “I really hate to do this, Jane, but you have to see Depogare. Like, right now.” Despite the pain, Jane forced herself to open her eyes. She didn’t speak, but she didn’t have to; Elle would understand what the look on her face meant. “Look, that’s what he said when he carried you here last night, that I had to send you to him right when you got up.”

  “He carried me?” were the only words Jane managed to get out through her clenched teeth.

  “I’m sure he’ll tell you all about it when I get you to him,” Elle said. “Here, I brought you a muffin for breakfast. Banana nut, your favorite.”

  Jane just groaned louder, waving the muffin away. How could she even think about eating when her head was pounding so hard?

  “Come on,” Elle said, dropping the muffin on the nightstand before turning to Jane. “Let’s get you changed and see Depogare.”

  “Can’t you give me some aspirin?” Jane demanded. When she heard her voice, she inwardly cringed. She rarely whined and hated when she did.

  “’Fraid not,” Elle said. She reached over and wrapped her arm around Jane’s shoulder, gently pushing Jane to the edge of the bed. “Depogare said no aspirin. But he did say tea would help, which I’ll have by the time you get back, okay? First, though, we have to get you dressed.”

  It took longer than normal to get Jane dressed in her grey marching band styled dress that was much shorter than the two inch regulation school skirt, but at least what Jane was wearing was comfortable and easy for her to move around in. Elle pulled Jane’s hair back and braided it so it hung nice and loose over her right shoulder. On her feet, Jane opted for her usual flip flops.

  With Elle’s help and bodily support, the two girls made it to Depogare’s office. Jane managed to keep her groaning in check by biting the inside of her lip.

  “Okay,” Elle whispered, once they reached the door. Jane had no idea why Elle was whispering; it wasn’t as though Depogare could hear them through the door. “I’m going to knock on the door and when I hear his looming footsteps, I’m going to bolt. It’s nothing against you, but after last night, I don’t think Depogare likes me very much.”

  As Elle knocked, Jane asked, “What did you do?”

  Elle’s blue eyes widened. “Jane, if anyone knows Depogare, it’s you. Why would you think I did anything to him?” Footsteps on the other side of the door could clearly be heard. “Okay, I gotta go. I’ll see you later. Good luck!” And with speed Jane didn’t know Elle possessed, she dashed down the hall.

  The door opened as Jane tried to ignore her dizziness. When Depogare met Jane’s eyes, she lost her balance and fell forward. If Depogare’s reaction wasn’t as fast as it was, she would have been in much more pain than she currently was. Luckily for Jane, his arm shot out and gripped her, giving her the balance she desperately needed. Beyond her control, she let out a small whimper.

  “I’ve got you,” he said, his voice surprisingly gentle.

  As he studied her, Jane took in his scent, the rumble of his voice as he comforted her. Yes, somehow Depogare was comforting her, and the craziest part was somehow this felt like déjà vu. She recognized the hint of cinnamon.

  Jane tilted her head up at the same time as Depogare looked down so the bridge of
her nose brushed the tip of his jaw. Something happened then, something Jane couldn’t understand. Before she could try and contemplate it, however, a sharp bout of pain materialized from nowhere, causing Jane to reach up and clutch her head in agony.

  “Did you have tea?” Depogare asked with urgency.

  Jane blinked slowly. All she wanted now was to fall asleep. Maybe then the pain would go away.

  “Miss Cabot,” he said. Goodness, his voice was so silky. She could fall asleep to that voice. Then his hands were cupping her cheeks, forcing her to look in his eyes. His hands were big, his fingers long and slender and masculine, his middle fingers skimming her hairline. She could feel the hidden power in his fingertips. “Stay with me. I know you are in pain, but I promise you, it will be gone soon. I need to make you tea.”

  “But I’m tired.” Not only was she whining, but once she finished speaking, she felt her bottom lip jut out. She was pouting. Jane Cabot was pouting.

  Depogare shocked her by raising one hand, pushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “I know,” he said, his voice still gentle. His blue eyes trailed his hand’s movement. “I know.” Why wasn’t he yelling at her, telling her to grow up? Why wasn’t his patience wearing thin with her?

  He dropped his left arm back to his side and wrapped his right one around her waist. Jane felt herself relax a bit. His grip on her was strong, as though ensuring he would not let any harm come to her. With his free hand, he closed the door behind them and proceeded to lead Jane to the kitchen. Jane’s head fell to his shoulder; she didn’t have the strength to hold it up any longer.

  “Tell me how you got into soccer, Miss Cabot,” Depogare said as they crossed his office to a small room just off to the side.

  Jane’s eyes sprung back open. “You actually care about how I got into soccer?” she asked.

  Depogare eased her into one of the two chairs in the small room. Jane would have assumed it was a break room of sorts, considering the small fridge, cabinets, and microwave, but it felt unnatural to use Depogare and break room in the same sentence.

  “I need you to stay awake while I make tea,” he replied, reaching up to grab a cup.

  Jane didn’t like talking about herself, especially to someone who wasn’t even interested in hearing it, but did as he told her to. As Depogare bustled around the room, murmuring something about how awful it was to make tea in a microwave, Jane blathered on about how her mother was worried that since Jane didn’t have any siblings, she wouldn’t develop social skills for school so she signed her up for the sport while Jane was in first grade. Jane liked it so much that she stayed with it, making it on both the AllStar team and then the AP team. She could have made it to the club level, but that was around the time Will and Ethan recruited her. When she heard there was a soccer team here, she tried out and became the youngest Ignis sweeper in school history.

  By the time Jane finished her story, the professor had a steamy cup of chamomile tea in front of her.

  “Take a few sips and the pain will be gone,” he assured her as she took the cup from his hands. “Then we must talk.”

  This ambiguous statement caused many questions to attack Jane’s poor head, including how tea could cure what could only be described as a migraine on crack and how foreboding he sounded when he said they had to talk. The minute the tea touched her tongue, the thoughts and the pain vanished. Two more gulps, and her headache was gone. She was still tired, yes, but there was no more pain.

  “How did this happen?” Jane asked, looking at Depogare over the rim of the mug. He was standing, waiting. “How can tea make the pain go away?”

  “I don’t know,” he replied in a crisp voice. “But I’ve found it soothes me after an energy drainage.”

  “You mean when I moved the desk last night?” He nodded once. “But I’ve moved stuff with my mind before. Why did I faint last night?”

  “I can only speak from experience, but I believe it has to do with the fact that the previous times you moved an object, you were not stressed or overtly emotive. Last night, your impatience got the best of you, causing you to lash out by moving the desk. Your purpose itself was not moving the object, but your impatience caused such a thing to happen. This drained your energy, causing you to faint.”

  Jane was silent for a moment, deciding to take another sip of her drink. She had never been a tea-lover, but this particular flavor was growing on her.

  “Where do we go from here?” she asked in a meek voice. Her eyes rested on the amber liquid rather than the black orbs staring at her.

  Depogare sighed through his nose. “I have discussed this with Dean Curtis and we both agree that extra training is required with just you and me,” he said. “It will only be once a week, next Sunday, nine in the morning. It would seem that based on our limited information about quis, you are an anomaly. Everything I learned happened slowly so I never had to experience fainting. However I did experience headaches—though nothing as bad as you dealt with—and after trial-and-error, found chamomile tea to be the best to relieve the pain. You, on the other hand, seem to have everything happen fast and hard. I think it’s because of your lack of patience.”

  The two locked eyes, but she decided not to comment on his snippy remark and turned back to her tea.

  “More training?” she finally asked.

  “Anytime you’re being emotional, there’s a chance you’ll move something with your mind, harming yourself or someone else and revealing what you really are.” His tone had gotten serious. “It is crucial this never happens.” He was right in front of her now. “Do you understand?”

  No.

  “Yes.”

  He seemed to know she wasn’t being honest. “I don’t think you understand the gravity of the situation,” he said, his voice low. “No one knows we exist. If they found you, you could be in danger, life-threatening danger. Do you understand now?”

  Yes.

  “Yes.”

  “We need to work on control,” he told her. “You need to learn control or your very precious Ignis emotions will be the death of you.”

  21

  When all three girls, including Jane who miraculously looked better than ever, met up in their dorm room after lunch, Elle immediately suggested they go dancing that night.

  Sophie was all for it. After her training session with Will, she needed a distraction. Not that anything bad had happened, per se, but there was a moment when … Thinking about it now, hours after the incident occurred, still brought a heavy blush to her face. After Sophie had punched Will in the gut and made her smart aleck retort, she actually began to get concerned. Shouldn’t he have caught his breath by now?

  “Are you okay, Will?”

  The look he shot her probably would have had more bite behind it if he could breathe properly. However, he did manage to nod his head, though the action was half-hearted at best.

  Sophie rolled her eyes. “I don’t believe you,” she said, kneeling beside him. “Let me check—”

  “I said I’m fine,” he snapped between long, winded breaths.

  Sophie paid no attention to his proclamation and without thinking about what she was doing, reached over, and began to pull up his shirt. Will inhaled sharply, probably because her fingers had accidentally brushed his wound. Without looking at him, she mumbled a hasty apology and proceeded to ease the shirt up. She saw the makings of a bruise already began to form, but she wasn’t sure if anything was broken. As such, she placed her hand flat against his abdomen, gently pressing down to make sure she didn’t feel anything abnormal. It had been a couple of years since Freshman Health, but she made sure to pay attention to the chances of her accidentally harming someone to the point where they would need medical attention.

  “I don’t feel …” She let her voice trail off when she realized her hand was on Will’s bare stomach and she was touching a rather intimate part of his body. Yet, even with this epiphany, Sophie didn’t immediately remove it. He felt warm, warmer than normal—Sophie r
emembered Jared told her that shifters had regular body temperatures of one hundred and one degrees Fahrenheit, thanks to the part of them that were animals – and his stomach was firm. As she moved her hand down, still checking for something out of the ordinary, she felt the dips and rises of his abdomen. Her eyes took in the sight of the brown hair that covered his tan skin, sprinkled lightly over his stomach until it congregated into a thin line that began just under his bellybutton and trailed downwards, below—

  Sophie yanked her hand back as though she had been burnt, and in all honesty, she really had been. She abruptly stood up, her face no doubt turning red. As much as she wanted to begin her training in the art of fighting, she couldn’t stick around and wait for Will to start teasing her about her reaction to touching him, about her silly little crush on him.

  “Well, I think I’ve had enough for one day,” she said quickly, avoiding his eyes. She couldn’t look at him, not yet, not for a while. “I’m going to get going. Okay, see you.”

  She didn’t look back and skipped lunch in order to avoid him. Thank God Elle wanted to dance because she needed to get away. Luckily, Jane agreed and after eating a good-sized dinner—Will wasn’t in the Dining Hall, thank God—before heading back to the room to get ready. Sophie saw Brielle and invited her along as well, but the brunette already had plans. Sophie hoped she was going on a date; Brielle deserved to have some fun too.

  Tonight was an excuse to wear one of the dresses she bought at Mamoru’s shop. It was a teal halter dress with a cowl neckline, highlighting ample cleavage provided by a push-up bra. It was sleeveless, formfitting, and ruched at the waist. Her back was left open until the halfway point which prompted her to wear her hair up in a bun. In Jane’s bag, there were strappy black heels and thanks to Elle, her face was masked with makeup.