She hopped up from her warm layers of blankets, hurrying into the shower before her aunt could hog it. Sure, there was a second one downstairs, but this one was nicer in Poppy's opinion. All of her mom's shower gels and lotions and things were up here. The downstairs bathroom held only the bare basics.
Poppy climbed in under the warm spray gratefully, and soon she smelled of vanilla and apples. Feeling much more alive and awake, she wrapped a towel around herself and padded barefoot back to her room to dry her long hair and get dressed. On her way, before closing her door, she hollered to her aunt that the bathroom was free.
She shuffled through the clothes hanging in her closet, disregarding her usual choices of sweatshirts, t-shirts, and hoodies. She wanted to look at least halfway decent, if this doctor Jasmine had described was really THAT hot. She decided on a soft, long-sleeved shirt in pale pink with creamy white lace across the shoulders, and a pair of pale, nearly white jeggings. There. Now she looked feminine, but hopefully badass too, once she put on her combat boots. She chose long socks that she ruched above her boot tops, and finally shrugged into the leather jacket her grams had given her the year before. Tying her hair up and glancing at herself in the mirror, she added the tiniest bit of makeup before judging herself "boy-worthy". She shook her head. That doctor was probably fifty, anyway. No way he could be as hot as her aunt insisted.
There was a scream from down the hall, followed by several loud thumps and an even louder cracking sound. Poppy flung open her door and scrambled toward the bathroom, coming to a screeching halt at the bathroom door. She grabbed the door jamb to hold herself steady as she looked in past the rolling steam, searching for Jasmine at eye level but not seeing her. She cast her gaze downward and let out a small scream and a gasp, covering her mouth with her hand.
Jasmine appeared to have slipped in the tub. Her still form lay beneath the running shower, blood trickling from her forehead where she must have hit the faucet, turning the water red as it swirled toward the drain. Her left arm rested over the side of the tub at a very odd angle, the bone itself poking out in at least two places.
Poppy raced across the room, turning the shower off and grabbing a towel to cover Jasmine with. She noticed as she did these things that her aunt was still breathing, that she was, in fact, still conscious as she whimpered and moaned with every touch of Poppy's careful fingers.
"Hold still, Aunt Jasey," Poppy said, her voice quivering on the edge of panic. "I'm calling the hospital. They'll be here soon but you have to stay still."
Jasmine moaned in response, but it was, at the very least, a response of some kind. Poppy had no idea what to do if her aunt lost consciousness. She carefully pulled her aunt's long black hair out of her face as they waited for the ambulance, holding a second, much larger bath blanket in her lap where she sat on the toilet lid, her leg nervously jiggling up and down as she gnawed on one of her manicured fingernais.
There was movement from the tub, and Poppy looked into her aunt's face. Jasmine grimaced, seemingly attempting to sit up, and Poppy reached toward her. But then, quickly, she drew back as though faced with a viper. As she watched, the gash in her aunt's forehead began to close, knitting itself back together as though healing in fast forward. Her arm began emitting creaks and pops as the bone rearranged itself. Poppy's eyes were as wide as saucers, and she leaned away from Jasmine as she watched the broken bone knit and regrow before her very eyes.
Just then there was a banging on the door as the ambulance arrived. Poppy hurried down to let them in, still in shock.
"I...I guess we don't need help after all," she told them as they checked her aunt over, cleaning the blood away from both the completely smooth forehead and the perfect arm, finding nothing of course. They asked Jasmine several yes or no questions: Had she gotten dizzy before she fell? Did her head hurt? Was she dizzy now? How many fingers am I holding up? Jasmine answered all of them succinctly, and apparently the EMTs were satisfied. They packed up their med kits and left, nodding to Poppy and telling her in no uncertain terms to call them again if her aunt's behavior changed. Poppy agreed and closed the front door, leaning her forehead against the cold wood and taking a few deep, centering breaths before returning upstairs.
As she entered the bathroom, Jasey was standing on the purple-grey bathroom rug, wrapping the bath blanket around herself with slow, pained movements. She looked up, her dark eyes wide, and her mouth opened a little. The movement was oddly different from the way her mouth usually moved, and after gazing at her aunt for a moment it struck Poppy what exactly was so different in it.
Jasmine's lower jaw was extended slightly, jutting forward from her face almost like a bulldog's, though her bottom teeth still looked normal. Her upper teeth, however, particularly the canines on either side, had elongated and grown much sharper. The rest of the upper teeth were strangely shaped, irregular and dingier in color than their usual, almost pristine whiteness.
"Aunt Jasey?" Poppy asked as she approached slowly. "Your teeth...."
Tears filled Jasmine's eyes as she began to tremble. She groaned loudly, falling to her knees on the floor, clasping the towel tightly in front of her breasts. She crouched there, shaking, as the softest squishy shushing came from the region of her averted face. When she looked up again, her face had returned to normal except for the pair of lonely tears trailing a path down her cheeks.
"What the hell is happening to me?" She asked Poppy, her voice hoarse. The younger girl helped her to her feet and brushed her tears away, shaking her head instead of immediately responding.
"I don't know," she finally said, pulling Jasmine's hair away from her face and soothing her with long strokes of the hairbrush through her aunt's long black tresses. "Hopefully the doctor will have an answer." Jasmine nodded sullenly before offering Poppy a halfhearted smile and pushing her out the door with promises that she was fine and would be out momentarily.
Poppy leaned against the wall outside the bathroom, arms crossed over her chest, and settled in to wait. Just in case.
CHAPTER FIVE
When Jasmine finally emerged, her features were completely free of the strange transformation from earlier, with not even a hint that anything out of the ordinary had happened at all. She wore a hoodie which partially concealed her face in shadows, and Poppy understood the desire to hide. She, too, wore a dark, oversized hoodie, her hands even pulled up into the sleeves as her fingers grasped the edges of them tightly, twisting them into little knots that she could worry at.
They drove to the hospital in silence, each of them thinking over what had happened, neither of them sure how to broach the subject. It was decided somehow, by silent agreement, to bring it up to the doctor and otherwise completely avoid any mention of it.
"Well, the good news is that there is nothing inherently dangerous or deadly in your blood," said the doctor. His voice was soft, a raspy tenor that was utterly calm and soothing. He had introduced himself to Poppy with a lopsided grin and a firm, warm handshake, his bright blue eyes twinkling at her mischievously as he told them that his name was "Isaiah. Doctor Isaiah...um. Uh, Doctor Isaiah Laecanius."
Poppy had cocked a bemused smile as he maintained his grasp on her hand and continued shaking it up and down slowly. "Laecanius? That sounds almost...noble...."
Currently, he perused Jasmine's medical file, his lips pressed together in a firm line as his eyes scanned each line of type. He flipped a page, flipped it back, made a grunting noise, and returned to the second page. Finally Poppy rolled her eyes and chuffed, crossing her arms.
"Well?" She asked gruffly. "What is it, if she's not dying."
The young man (possibly as old as forty but maybe as young as twenty-seven or so, he had one of those faces that could be any age) glanced up at Poppy with a twinkle of humor in his eyes and slapped the file closed, setting it aside and leaning a hip against the edge of the side table where he had placed it, crossing his long arms across his slender chest.
"You'll never believe me."
She quirked an eye at him, her dark grey eyes with their amber flecks meeting his Caribbean blue ones in abject challenge. "Try me," she said sotto voce. In the hospital bed, her legs hanging over the side, Jasmine cocked her head as her brow furrowed. Isaiah's gaze flashed from Poppy to her aunt as he carefully considered whether they could handle the information he was about to offer.
With a shrug, attempting nonchalance he did not feel, he pushed away from the table and began to slowly pace. "You see, Miss Jameson-"
"Jasmine," the patient interrupted with an anxious smile, twisting her fingers in her lap. "Or Jasey. You can call me either one, it's fine."
Isaiah smiled at her indulgently and patted her hands before gently applying a little pressure in order to still them.
"Jasmine," he said softly, and something in his tone of voice made her visibly relax. Poppy could even see the pulse in her throat begin to slow to a more normal rate. "There is nothing wrong with you. You aren't dying, you don't have some mysterious disease. What is happening with you is a simple matter of genetics." At this Poppy's eyes widened slightly, and as though something were just now occurring to her or perhaps tickling at the edges of her mind, she sank down into the chair near the bed in a semblance of shock. Isaiah spared her a concerned glance, then continued his explanation.
"It is a genetic mutation, Jasmine. One which lay dormant in your blood for your entire life, up until the very week when you first came to have your blood drawn at the insistence of your niece here," he motioned to Poppy, who stared at him through eyes full of wonder. He could practically feel the questions simmering beneath the surface, and he held up a finger as though to say she could voice them quite soon. "This mutation will not hurt you in any way, do you hear me? It isn't harmful. But you may begin experiencing even stranger things than, say- dizziness and dental reorganization. Your senses will grow vastly more acute. Your body will, eventually, begin to change in drastic and fantastic ways...although there's no telling what your final form will be until the next full moon, which is still, thankfully, nearly a month away."
"Why 'thankfully'?" Poppy asked. Her voice was small, as though she were a child far younger than her actual age.
Isaiah turned to her slowly, flicking his tongue out to moisten his lips before answering her. "Because...?-"
"Poppy," she whispered, "my name's Poppy."
"Poppy," he answered, crouching before her and taking her cold hands in his and rubbing his long fingers gently along hers to warm them. "A longer length of time before the full moon means that your aunt will have a greater chance to learn how to control...well. Whatever her inner creature turns out to be."
"How do you know all this? I mean, it almost sounds like...-"
"-Like...I'm one too?" He asked, nodding along as he said it when Poppy and Jasmine began waggling their heads up and down. He shot them a sheepish grin full of beautifully white teeth with unusually sharp incisors and scritched the side of his head. "That's probably because I am. I mean...obviously I can't drop on all fours right here and now and show you." He uttered a sharp, barking sort of laugh as Jasmine and Poppy glanced between each other and him, their faces caught somewhere between amusement and disbelief.
"So...what happens now?" Jasmine asked tremulously. Isaiah offered her yet another comforting smile and a wave of something swept through the room, immediately calming them like the soothing scent of lavender and chamomile and vanilla.
"I would like, if I may, to take you to see some friends of mine. Well, honestly more like family. I call them my father and brothers, actually. Our Pack has been together for a very long time." He said "Pack" with a capital P, as though it were the name of an elite organization.
Maybe it was.
Jasmine was nodding and Poppy stood, approaching her in a few quick strides and grasping her aunt's hand between her own. Two pairs of brindled grey-and-amber eyes met Isaiah's blue ones, a pair of stubborn chins lifted, and a double set of lungs filled shakily with sterile hospital air.
"Okay," Jasmine agreed. "As long as Poppy can come, too."
Isaiah studied them for a long moment, then, finally, nodded.
"I think that would be a very good idea."
CHAPTER SIX
"This is their house?" Jasmine asked. Poppy nodded slowly from the passenger seat, her mouth agape as they stared through the windshield (and the sleet) at the huge house at the end of the shell-covered drive. The car slowly rolled closer to the big stone-and-brick building and, as they got closer, more details emerged.
The entire lower one-third of the house was comprised of a raw-cut, quartz like stone which sparkled even in the low light offered by the stormy day. The upper two-thirds were smooth red brick, stacked together with clean white mortar evenly spaced between each brick. The roof was crafted like that of an old Italian villa, with multicolored clay tiles, and the windows all had beautiful shutters on either side, painted a light green that complemented the lower part of the house, almost like moss. The overall effect was as though they had stepped back in time, even to another country. The house was surrounded by a thick evergreen forest. The drive, paved in small, smooth seashells, was pristine. It was indeed "pretty as a picture".
Poppy stepped out of the car first and practically bounded up to the front door (tall, wide, knotty-pine with iron fixtures and a gargoyle head knocker), then turned to watch Jasey approach hesitantly, clasping her tiny red handbag in front of her like a shield. Exasperated, Poppy grabbed her aunt's arm and yanked her up the three shallow steps to stand beside her as she rapped her knuckles on the wood, neglecting the ugly little knocker out of principle.
They waited for only a moment before the door opened, revealing not only Isaiah but two other extremely handsome men. Isaiah smiled and stepped aside, waving the two young women in. Poppy took Jasmine by the hand, pulling her into the house along with her when her aunt hesitated and seemed ready to bolt back to the car.
They entered a vast kitchen area, and even as Poppy gazed around her wide-eyed, she first noticed the smell of the place. It smelled of pine forests and snow, of apples and green grass, of fallen oak leaves and herbs. It smelled like...home. Or what home should smell like. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, and by doing so she completely missed the look that passed between the men standing around her, a look that said I wonder.
"So, um...welcome," Isaiah said softly, spreading his arms in an awkward little half-bow. He motioned to the other two men in the room. "That's Legend, over there in the bomber jacket-" The man with the chiseled face, sexy full lips, and greenish-gold eyes tipped an imaginary hat to them, and they both giggled behind their hands. "-and that one by the coffee bar is Owen. He's...well, more of a father figure."
Poppy eyed Owen appreciatively. He was a bit older than Legend and Isaiah, as well as a few inches shorter. He had neatly trimmed facial hair framing a slightly heart-shaped face, and his eyes were a dark amber speckled with tiny brown flecks that made her think of sunbeams shining through root beer. The corner of his mouth lifted, and she smiled back at him.
"Y'all want anythin’ to drink?" Legend asked, his deep voice absolutely dripping with a Texas drawl. "We've got pretty much anythin’ y'all could want."
"Um...I'll have a soda, if you have any," Jasmine said nervously, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Poppy nodded. Legend swung a long leg over the bar stool upon which he was perched and strode to the refrigerator, pulling out two glass bottles which he brought over to them.
"Sarsaparilla," he said with a cocky grin. "Twist-off caps. We keep it classy around here."
Poppy closed her eyes appreciatively as she sipped, savoring the taste of the soda as she swished it across her tongue. As she drank, Isaiah approached and offered his arm to Jasmine.
"Let me show you around, and you can decide whether to stay and let us help you with your furry little problem," he said, humor bubbling beneath the smooth tone of his voice. Jasey placed her hand on his arm and allowed him to lead her through
the house, pointing out the various rooms as he spoke quietly to her about the things she would be learning. It was almost like an apprenticeship, he explained, which once completed she would be perfectly able to continue with life as usual, her daily schedule almost entirely unaltered. The only exception would be her unfailing consumption, three nights of every month, of an herbal concoction of his own creation which helped with the more intense "issues" around the full moon.
Jasmine stared at him as though he had sprouted two extra heads. "The full moon? You're joking, right? I thought you were just joking when you said that at the hospital.Please tell me you're joking...you mean, like a werewolf? Awoo, howling, trying to eat people...no. No way!"
Isaiah bit his lip and nodded almost sheepishly. "Yeah, I'm afraid so. But listen, it's not quite that bad. Most Shifters only feel a greater desire to drop to all fours and run really fast during the full moon. Well, unless you're one of the ones that sprout wings...or scales...um, which you aren't. Poppy's seen that you have fur, so...."
Jasmine managed to glare at him wide-eyed. He loosened his collar with a finger and gulped, then continued showing her around in near complete silence.
The house was two stories, the lower level consisting of a huge living area, an equally large kitchen with a long butcher-block table situated by a sprawling bay window, two spacious bathrooms with garden tub AND shower in each, and a large media room. The floors were a grey-stained river birch material, with extremely unique patterns in the wood like nothing Poppy had ever seen before. She followed Isaiah and her aunt around, looking at everything with immense curiosity, sometimes touching a wall (in the case of the textured wallpaper) or stroking a fabric (the silky curtains in what would become her aunt's bedroom upstairs). All of the bedrooms were upstairs, six of them in fact. And two more bathrooms. The place was massive.
Bound to Change: A Limited Edition Spring Shifter Romance Collection Page 87
