“Meek—”
“Explain.”
“Shit. Okay, so when a shifter mates, even if it’s not Fated, they do a few things. Scent mark, which is what Bear did against his will when we met you. That starts the heat, although not entirely. A touch pushes that into full gear, and if a female should be accept, then a male will take her to bed, blood her, and then bite her right at the moment of, um, climax. If a male injects his essence while he’s, you know, then it can lead to a female breeding. If he doesn’t bite but just comes, well, then they don’t breed.”
“But Nick told me that mates sometimes use protection to stop conception until they want children,” I say, thoroughly confused.
“Yeah, because most males are driven by the instinct to bite and claim. The bite is a marking, an irrevocable stamp of ownership that most guys can’t resist. They usually always bite; at least that is what I’ve heard from my father. I wouldn’t know since I haven’t ever had that urge.”
“He didn’t bite me,” I say slowly, the knowledge hurting me.
He didn’t bite me, so whatever he was ranting about or whatever he wanted me to think, nothing is different.
“Meek.”
“No, you know what, good. Good. I don’t want any of that, and I just…don’t want to talk about this anymore. Tell me about work. Are there still strange tracks and people being hurt?” I ask, thinking about the reason that Logan has been working so much lately.
In the last week, there has been a spate of strange invasions that see shifters being attacked randomly and left for dead, in most cases at the point where it’s a miracle they survived.
The enforcers have been out in full force for days, patrolling twenty-four hours a day, looking for intruders and in some cases following scents until they lose it near the lake.
Logan and Banner have been pissed off that they haven’t been able to track whoever is doing this, and I heard Banner grouch that even Bear, the best tracker with the most sensitive nose can’t keep the trail for longer than five miles.
That is a long way to go in the woods, and it’s in places that most humans can’t traverse, so I know this is serious. The last few days Logan has been so paranoid that he’s had his friend Flame send his wife Gretchen over to keep me company.
Not that I mind much, I like her. She’s sweet and not at all prejudiced, and she’s three months pregnant, so I get to talk babies for the first time in my life.
She doesn’t always stay long since Flame only does a half shift now that he’s nearing paternity duty since wolf females only carry for five and a half months.
That was something interesting that scared me as well as fascinated me. A fast pregnancy would be so much better than nine months of horror, but Gretchen explained that it’s hard, even for shifter females, because the babies are big and very active.
Now that Logan is home though, I am again focused on the fear I feel about these invasions and the feeling I have that things are going to go very wrong soon.
Nothing makes sense though or adds up. If it was crime, they’d steal stuff, but so far it’s been random attacks on both males and females alike. Mostly at night, except for two cases where a teenage female was beaten while she was shifted and running through the woods. Her parents found her still in wolf form and struggling to walk.
When she shifted, she was so injured that not even the change could heal her rapidly enough. She had a broken arm, a shattered knee, and a concussion, along with two black eyes.
The other victim, an old lady, was attacked in her home after her mate left to go take food to their son on patrol.
“Yeah. Nick has doubled patrols and a few of the junior enforcers are being buddied up with a senior so that we can cover more ground. For the next little while, I’ll be working twelve-hour shifts, four days on, until we can figure this out. It’s so crazy even the Seers clan have sent the two eldest sons to lend a hand. Brig and Blain may be assholes but they’re excellent trackers in their own right. I’m hoping that with more feet on the ground, we’ll catch someone in the act and get answers.”
“Still no motive? What about other shifters? This does not sound like humans to me, Logan. We’re not that aware of smells and minute noises, so whoever is doing this, and is so aware, is definitely a part of this world,” I say, handing him a frosted cupcake that makes him grin and moan his thanks.
“Bear said the same thing to Nick yesterday. We’ve been focusing on the more immediate area that is populated by humans, but even I have to admit that it’s not humans. Not after old Mrs. Jacks woke up this morning and told us she saw flashing blue eyes before she passed out. Poor female. She’s a hundred and ninety-two. She’s way too frail to defend herself at this age.”
Bastards deserve to die! Who would hurt a defenseless old lady and a teenager without conscience? It makes me so angry I have to force myself to calm down before I start that storm again.
“Well, I think it’s a shifter, which doesn’t narrow it down, but at least you guys know now. And the scent trails… I spoke to Jules about it yesterday on the phone, and she said that everyone leaves a scent trail, and it’s weird that it just disappears and that you guys can’t tell what breed it is.”
He sighs tiredly, scrubbing at his eyes and leaning back with a groan. This last week has been hard on him and all the guys, and I wish to hell I could help in some way. While I haven’t been here all that long, it’s been long enough to know that no one can keep up at this pace, not even shifters with healing and superpower senses.
Eventually, the guys are going to crash, and if that happens, we’ll all be defenseless. I take for granted, as do many civilians in the town, that we’re all safe because the enforcers are out there patrolling and protecting our community, but what happens when they’re too exhausted to keep going?
“I wish I could figure this out. Nick is going crazy, and even refuses to let Prissy out of the house without him being present or at least sending two escorts to guard her. Thank God Jules is gone to Cali to take those classes of hers, or it would be worse.”
I agree. I haven’t spoken to her much since she’s always busy, but Jules is not a sit-at-home-and-cower kinda girl. She’d probably try to go out there and confront whoever is hurting our people.
For me, I am just antsy—even if I know that I’m safe in this house with the alarms and all the weapons Logan has taught me to use.
“So are you done for the day?” I ask while frosting cupcakes and keeping an eye on the rolls.
Thank God they’re the last items to make, or I’d be in serious trouble. As it is, I only realize that it’s eight at night when I catch a glimpse of the microwave and realize I’ve been at this for hours, with Logan keeping me distracted.
“Yeah.”
“Oh Logan, honey, why did you stay down here and not go to bed? You must be exhausted.”
“I am, but I’m wired, and I don’t want you standing in the kitchen alone after dark in full view of anyone lurking in the woods,” he confesses.
“Dammit, you should have said! I would have stopped.”
“Don’t sweat it, Meek. I like watching you bake and listening to you pretend you hate Bear. It gives me something to tease him about at work.” He laughs.
“That’s not even funny, and besides, who’s pretending. Now come on. Help me put these in containers, and then I’ll heat up some leftovers while you shower. Don’t argue, I’ll be fine down here for a few minutes, and then I’ll give you a back rub and share your bed, so I can watch Housewives.”
He grins and salutes me before helping me and sidling off with a swagger. While he’s gone, I heat up some spaghetti I made too much of last night and think about a way to not think about Bear.
If that makes sense.
By the time Logan comes back, dressed in a pair of grey basketball shorts and nothing else, smelling like soap and hot water, I feel a little calmer, hungry, and ready to be done with today.
“I hope you and Bear will be okay,” I
say, as we walk upstairs, Logan pausing when I rush into my room to grab a pair of sleep shorts and a shirt.
“We’ll be fine, Mika. We’re males, not babies. We have a problem, we beat each other up, and then we move on. Don’t worry. Now come on, I wanna see what Theresa is gonna do next on Housewives. That bitch is nuts.”
The next hour is spent with us eating spaghetti and arguing about the merits of New Jersey over Orange County with me weighing heavily for Orange County because I love that blonde who looks like she’s had enough Botox fillers to embalm a whale.
Logan laughs at every reason I give him, sordid as they may be, for loving reality shows, and I listen to his love affair with old Baywatch reruns while I massage him, laughing maniacally when he admits it’s not Pamela’s boobs that got him hooked but that he used to have a bro-crush on the Hoff.
I did too, so I eventually stop teasing him and settle down for the night after he falls asleep mid foot rub. I can’t sleep though, not for a long while, and I just lay there, watching the trees sway in the breeze, the limbs starting to shed leaves now that the weather is turning.
By the time I do fall asleep, cuddled into Logan’s side with his blonde head resting on my shoulder and his arm over my middle, I feel at peace and yet unsettled.
Something bad is going to happen. Soon. I just hope that whatever it is, God will protect those I love. I can’t lose anything more. Mom is there but gone. Bess is there but not.
All I have is Logan and the Kilter and Silverton family, and I plan to keep them.
Even Bear.
Chapter Thirteen
Meek
“What is that divine smell?”
I hear the high-pitched female voice from behind me in the grocery line and turn to see a short blonde with a curvy figure and golden eyes looking up at me, her full mouth curved in a smile that I would find suspicious if not for the fact that I haven’t ever seen her before.
She’s not anyone I’ve had to duck and dive around town in the last few weeks to avoid gossip and accusations, and neither is she one of the weirdos who used to follow me around until Nick issued a restraining order that struck the fear of God into everyone.
She’s shorter than me, something I didn’t think was possible in the shifter community, and this chick is definitely shifter, I just can’t pinpoint her breed.
“Bob cat,” she says, laughing when I stop sniffing at her and blush. “Well, half and half actually. My daddy is a wolf, and mama is a bobcat, and yeah, I know, it is weird that dogs and cats would mate, but that’s just Fatehood, or so I hear.”
I smirk, thinking that it’s hilarious that this woman’s parents aren’t around to chaperone her, no matter what breed, because she looks too defenseless to protect herself against a gnat.
“Sorry, it’s just that I don’t know every breed by scent, so when one’s different, it throws me off. Hi, I’m Mika Blithe. The half-blood human,” I say just in case she’s already heard of me and hasn’t caught on yet.
“Barbie Kendall. I already know who you are, Mika, in case you think I scare easily, and I don’t care if you’re half cyborg under that skin. It’s nice to meet you.”
She takes my hand as she says it, pumping her arm enthusiastically and long enough that by the time I get my hand back, my arm is tingling and vibrating.
“Sorry, I just like to warn people from the outset. The first few weeks I was in town I met a little old lady who didn’t have much smell left and spoke to her for a good few minutes before someone told her I’m the big bad bogey human. It was not pleasant, and I am still not happy that she won’t give me her apple pie recipe.”
Barbie laughs, shaking her head ruefully and tilts her chin when the cashier snarls for me to check out.
“Don’t mind Bronwyn, she’s just mad because you live with that hot thing Logan Kilter, and she has a super-crush on him. Mom says these females should know better. If Logan isn’t swayed by a pretty face like Hannah’s because she’s a bitch, then they don’t stand a chance.”
I like her.
“I like you,” I blurt out, making her giggle and stick her tongue out at Bronwyn.
“I like you too. I’m pals with Gretchen, so I’ll probably see you around sometime or other, but I will definitely get her to arrange a little get together so we can hang out.”
“And Jules.”
“Hell yeah. I adore Jules Silverton. Those two, plus you now, are the only people I actually like in this town besides the Kilter mother and Prissy. The rest are either too male to bother with lil ole me, or bitches who need to be neutered.”
I agree but am stopped from replying when Bronwyn clears her throat loudly and sticks her hand out for the money. Today is the first time I am buying food with my own money because—glory of glories—I made enough after paying Mom’s care bills to have something left over.
It’s not much, but I have groceries covered for the next two weeks, enough ingredients to bake Logan more cupcakes, and I even managed to buy some stuff at the drug store to make the lotion I have always worn.
“So what is that smell? I swear, sugar, you smell divine, and that is saying a lot coming from a girl whose Mom wears Chanel despite Daddy’s protests.”
I chuckle and remove the half full tube of homemade body lotion from my bag, giving Barbie a sniff before replacing it. In the beginning, Prissy bought me a whole bunch of stuff to make myself lotion because the stuff she bought me gave me a rash. This recipe is the only thing Mom has ever found that didn’t make me break out in hives, and I have used it forever.
Even with my super-healing, I still struggle with that and sensitive skin, so this is—
“Oh wow, what is that?”
“Just something I whip up every now and then for my skin. It’s coconut oil and a few other things that are good for sensitive skin.”
“Well, it smells great. Every female wants to use beauty products but with shifter smell it’s not easy to do it respectfully. Don’t tell my mama, but she stinks to high heaven with all that perfume she wears. This is nice though. I could use this and my daddy wouldn’t kick up a fuss.”
“Um, well I could make you some if you want. It’s easy, and I was going to make more for myself anyway,” I offer, ignoring Bronwyn’s sniff as I take my change and shove it into my purse.
Barbie grins and claps excitedly, her blonde curls and big hair bouncing with her when she dances on the spot.
“Oh, that would be awesome! I’m gonna use it, and maybe mama will like it so much she’ll use it instead of her perfume. Lordee, that stuff sure gives me a headache.”
I shuffle, not knowing what to say, and opt for a nod and friendly smile.
“I’ll let Gretchen know when it’s ready for you. It was nice to meet you, Barbie.”
“Oh pshaw, the pleasure was all mine. Tell Logan I said hi and he owes me dinner.”
I’m still grinning at the way she starts laying into Bronwyn when I walk out to Logan’s truck and load it up with the groceries. By the time I pull out and head home I am convinced that things are going to look up.
Oh, how wrong can I be.
********************************************************************
“Gretchen, I really don’t think this is a good idea.” I mutter, glancing around anxiously the deeper we get into the woods.
She came over about an hour ago after Flame dropped her off and went on duty, and she’s been craving something the whole time. We finally narrowed it down to pie which would have been easy enough for me to whip up in no time, but the darn woman insists that she needs it to be made using some freaking wild berries that grow in the woods between Logan’s house and the Silverton place.
A few weeks ago, I would have walked out here no problem. Hell, I took this path when I went over to visit Jules before she left town, but today I feel creeped the hell out and ready to jump out of my skin at every noise I hear around us.
The ground is covered in fallen leaves and broken twigs so every breath o
f wind or squeak that I hear makes me jump and scan around us, the danger alarms in my head screaming with every step we take further from the house.
“Oh, Mika, relax. This part of the town is patrolled regularly. We’ll probably run into one of the boys on the way there and get escorted back,” she derides, walking on without a care in the world, her pregnant belly making her waddle more pronounced as the weeks wear on.
Logan would kill me if he knew I was out here—even if I am carrying one of his guns and a potent dose of pepper spray. The man doesn’t even let me sleep in my own room anymore, saying that he needs me beside him so that he knows I’m safe.
It’s not a hardship because even if we’re just friends, he smells good, he’s good looking, and he holds me as if I mean something to him, something I haven’t had in a long time. Most nights, I cuddle him and make sure he’s sleeping peacefully while I lie awake and try to piece this puzzle together.
Just two days ago we had another attack, this time on a female who was at home, safely locked away in her home with her two-year-old son. Thank God she was on alert and heard someone coming soon enough to grab her son and lock them both in the basement, where her mate keeps guns and a walkie talkie.
The enforcers got there in under two minutes and surrounded the house, their response so rapid I am still not sure how anyone manages to get passed the boundaries without being spotted.
That scares me though, a lot because if whoever this is can outsmart the pack enforcers and someone like Nick, they are more than dangerous.
“Gretchen, slow down. We need to be careful out here and stay alert. Please. You have more to think about than your own safety right now, and you can bet the men are going to ream us both for being out here,” I say, my tone firm because the last two days she’s been out of sorts and hard to deal with.
Gretchen finally stops and turns to me with a sheepish smile, her light blue eyes filled with remorse when I come up beside her and take her elbow to keep her from tripping.
“I’m sorry, Meek. I know we shouldn’t be out here, and I know I’m being impossible, it’s just that the longer I go into the pregnancy the worse the cravings become. You should see how Flame stocked the pantry—just so he doesn’t have to go out at night to satisfy my cravings and it still doesn’t work. Last night, I wanted apples and mustard, and we were out of mustard. Poor Flame was frantic when I started crying, and I tried to stop, but my emotions are so out of bounds right now that I go crazy if I can’t get what I need,” she explains, sighing when I pat her hand and keep her walking.
Greyriver Shifters Page 15
