by Maria Lima
I resisted the urge to stick out my tongue at him. “I’m utter crap at directions and maps,” I said. “Still am, even after the Change. Geolocation isn’t one of our talents. That’s why there are lovely things like this GPS and smartphones with Internet service.”
Adam only smiled at the exchange.
“SERIOUSLY?” I gritted my teeth. “There’s six adults in here with better than human senses and yet we still managed to waste more than an hour getting lost?”
“I thought you relied on the GPS,” Tucker teased. “You were the one who said to ignore it.”
“Yeah, because it was trying to take us on a road that’s not yet completed,” I reminded him. “Pull in the damned lot, will you. Park close as you can.”
Stupid fucking satellite thing. We’d gone well out of our way and had finally admitted we were wrong after the GPS kept whining at us to take the next exit that didn’t freaking exist. Luckily, I’d spotted the glow of the giant sign and somehow, we managed to get there without killing one another on the way. Gregor, poor kid, didn’t complain once. This delay had to be hard on him.
The vast parking lot was practically empty of cars. Not a surprise, since it was now nearly eleven thirty. A couple of cars parked to one side, a pickup truck near the entrance on the left, and another truck farther down were the only vehicles there other than ours. Employees must park out back, I mused.
I opened the passenger door as Adam slid open the side door. “Niko, why don’t you and Tucker go for the popsicle things. Adam and I will head to the pharmacy section and pick up the meds.” I turned my head to address the three wer. “You three—stay in here. We won’t be long.”
Mark began to protest, but a glare from Dixxi shut him up. “We’ll stay,” he said.
The overbright lights of the store assaulted us, along with the godawful piped-in music. At least there was no artificially friendly greeter. Perhaps they didn’t think they needed one at this time of night. Niko looked like a kid arriving at the gates of Disneyland for the first time. His eyes widened, taking in the overwhelming insanity of it all. Though the store was empty of shoppers, the piles upon piles of colorful displays, sale signs, and merchandise were enough to turn anyone off shopping in person. The fluorescents turned both vampires’ complexions an odd shade of greenish pale. Tucker and I didn’t fare so well, either; our own fair skins were a sickly yellow.
“C’mon, let’s do what we need to and get out of here,” I said. “I hate stores.”
Tucker took Niko’s hand and led him off in the direction of the signs proclaiming “Summer is HERE!” in bold red lettering. I glanced around the ceiling signage as I tried to find the pharmacy. “There.” I pointed to the far left. “There’s where we need to go.”
We found the first aid aisle fairly quickly. I’d picked up a handbasket from the end of the aisle and loaded up with gauze, Ace bandages, ibuprofen, first aid tape, and Bactine. As I was studying one of the shelves, Adam wandered down the aisle and picked up a box of alcohol wipes. “These might come in handy.”
“Thanks, love.”
Two women passed us, both wearing the typical store apron, each carrying a box. They were deep in conversation and didn’t even notice us.
“Damn, it was hot today,” one of them said. “You get any a/c out at your place yet?”
“Fuckers couldn’t come again,” the other answered. “I’ve got three fans going in the living room just to keep the air moving. Was going to send the kids tubing, but they came back right away. That river raft place shut down.”
I grabbed Adam’s arm and motioned for him to be quiet. They were talking about Mark’s place.
“Yeah, I heard about that a couple of days ago. River’s too low, on account a no rain.”
“Serves ’em right, though,” the second woman continued. “Them weird-ass religious cultists got it coming to them.”
“Don’t know anything ‘bout them being weird, Martha, they just homeschool, like lots of folks do now.”
“Public school was just fine for my kids, and yours, too, Betty. Why can’t they just send kids to school like we did?”
A pause and a grunt. “Hell if I know. C’mon, help me with this shelf. I wanna get done so’s we can take our break.”
Silently, Adam and I exited the aisle from the other end and walked back toward where we’d last seen Tucker and Niko headed.
“They were talking about Mark’s people,” I said. “You think that’s the impression of the entire community?”
“Perhaps. I’ve found that places like this tend to reflect the feelings of the community as a whole.” He motioned with his hand, indicating a display of tacky religious tchotchkes—Jesus clocks, sappy plaques with the “Footprints in the Sand” poem, gilded picture frames with angel wings tacked on. Next to it, another display touting the upcoming hunting season—three months off, but still “Just Around the Corner.”
“Maybe there’s someone or someones here who are unhappy that Mark’s buying more land,” I ventured.
Adam nodded solemnly. “Or they were spotted as wolf, as you said before. This is a land of hunters.”
“That it is,” I agreed. We’d reached the summer promotion aisles. No sign of Tucker or Niko.
“Where the hell could they have gotten to?” This was one of those superstores, many thousands of square feet of merchandise, including groceries. “Maybe they decided to go buy food? I mean, it’s been awhile since we had snacks at the game. I’m a bit peckish, myself.”
“Could be. Shall we?” Adam offered me his arm and I took it. How fucking odd, I thought to myself. Wandering the aisles of middle American retail with my vampire.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
I HATED THE FACT THAT retail stores arranged their aisles in such a way that a person had to maneuver in and out, rather than in a straightforward direct pattern. Yes, I understood merchandising theory, but right now, I just wanted to find my brother and his purchase-happy sidekick and get out of there.
As we made our way through the linens, Adam stopped. “There are some nice sheets here,” he said. Amused, I watched him as he bent to pick up a sheet set, a beautiful dark dusky purple. Intensely, he began to read the label as if this were something fascinating. Perhaps it was. I doubted that Adam did much shopping for himself, though I had wondered who stocked his house—his towels, bedding, etc. They were all the best money could buy.
He stood there in the aisle, head bent and concentrating. The light above shone on his dark hair, his skin so pale against the black of his clothing. A sudden ache in my chest as I caught my breath. How beautiful this man is, I thought. How amazing my need for him. This want inside me that I’ve never felt before. This I must have, and then knowledge that I do have it. It was suddenly overwhelming. The walls and lights of the store faded, and everything in my being concentrated on the person in front of me. Oblivious, he continued to peruse the label, as if thread count and laundering instructions were of supreme importance.
I nearly reached out for him right then and there, the low hum of arousal clenching deep inside me. A breath, then another, to calm, to focus. I was in fucking Walmart, where Ma and Pa Kettle shopped—though not so much at this time of night, but still. This was the home of the “Save money. Live better,” not the up-against-the-linens-shelves quickie.
With a slight turn of his head, Adam’s gaze fell on me, a ponderous weight that I welcomed. You own me. His unspoken words were as loud as if he’d announced it over the store’s PA system. I blinked, my eyes unable to take in the intensity. Could I handle this depth of feeling? This knowing? He knew everything I was and everything I could be with him.
I swallowed and steadied my own gaze. You own me, I returned, just as silently. An admission I’d made to no one—not even my Clan. They might claim me, but they never owned me. Despite the venue, the godawful green cast of the overhead fluorescents, the funky plastics and floor-wash smell of the store, I could only see Adam, smell his subtle vanilla and nutmeg sce
nt. I reached up a hand and placed it on his cheek, his cool skin balm to my ridiculous agitation. Without a word, he turned his face slightly and leaned into my touch, lips passing softly across my skin. Acknowledgment and equal agreement that what we were becoming was more than either of us had bargained for. Love? He spoke of it often with me. A word I rarely used. I loved him, yes, but until right this second, it was a love like I loved Tucker and was growing to love Niko. Protective, belonging in a group, filial and familiar with the added bonus of lust. Somehow, in this ridiculously incongruous place, surrounded by racks of cheap bed linens, I began to realize the extent of our bond.
“Shall we find the boys, then?” Adam said softly as he took my hand from his cheek and gave it a quick squeeze.
I nodded, still silent, unsure of how my voice would sound.
“HEY, ISN’T that the assistant coach?” I whispered to Adam as we headed up the back aisle, still trying to locate Tucker and Niko. A blond man in shorts stood in front of a display of ammunition, placing several boxes into his shopping cart. “I’m going to go talk to him, hang on a sec?
“Hi there. You’re Coach Miller, aren’t you?” I greeted him as I approached. “Guess we’re all doing a little late-night shopping.”
Startled, the man dropped one of the boxes of ammo back onto the shelf. “Umm, yeah, hello,” he said. He looked at me, a frown on his face. “Football game, right?”
“Yes, we were with Mark Ashkarian,” I reminded him. “Game ended already?”
“Yeah, short one tonight. Last half went by fast.” His frown got deeper, and he began to rummage through the boxes in the cart. Something was making this guy very nervous. I smiled at him and released my shields a little, trying to read him. Anxiety, nerves, jittery; an annoying background buzz interfered. I pulled back and nodded my head at him as if to take our leave, realizing the buzz was the sound of the overhead lights, but magnified.
“I saw those guys that were with you at the game. That one pale one and the other long-haired redhead. Back over there.” He motioned with his head behind him. “Up by the toys.”
“My brother?”
His eyes grew wide, then narrowed. “They your brothers?”
“The ‘other long-haired guy’ is,” I said. “Niko, the first guy, is his partner.”
“They in some sort of business?”
“That, too,” I said. “They’re married.”
“Can’t do that in Texas.” He grunted out as if his mouth found it distasteful.
“You can in Canada,” I said. “We’re citizens there, too.”
He got that expression on his face like we were something on the order of aliens mixed with rotting trash, but he was too polite to say so to our faces. He picked up another box of ammo and dropped it into his already full cart.
I could see at least one item in the cart was a riflescope. Another box had the words “lure” and “urine” prominently highlighted. Ick. Whatever floated his boat. As wolf or other predator shape, I was lucky not to need that sort of equipment to hunt my prey. Then again, hunting by setting up feeders and blinds wasn’t my idea of hunting.
“Urine?” I remarked. “What’s that for?”
“I’m training dogs,” he said. “It’s a training tool.” He still seemed distinctly uncomfortable with me around. Hell, maybe his wife didn’t like the fact he hunted. I had no clue, nor, frankly, did I care at all. What these good ol’ boys did in their spare time, as long as it didn’t involve me or mine, was beyond my need to explore. “I gotta go,” he said suddenly as he checked his watch. “See ya then.”
“Nice to see you, too,” I muttered as the man scurried away.
I rejoined Adam, who’d wandered over to the camping food section and was reading a dehydrated food package label. “You know these are mostly salt?”
“Yes,” I said. “Which is a problem for humans, not us.” I took the package from his hand and placed it back on the shelf.
“You read him?”
“Tried to,” I said. “Too much interference from the electricity in here. Something’s off, though. He seemed awfully nervous.”
“He is buying ammunition,” Adam said.
“Nothing unusual for around here. Urine for lures, too.”
“Lures?”
“He said he was training hunting dogs,” I answered. “It’s fairly common: lures made of some material are soaked in a scent that dogs are then trained to spot, flush, and retrieve. I’ve seen it done with bird dogs but don’t really know all that much about it. Hunting season’s in a few months, so I suppose Mr. Miller wants to have time to train.”
“Unusual,” Adam said. “I’d not heard of this method of training. I could see where it would work, however.”
“Yeah, hunting season may be rather iffy this year, though. If this drought doesn’t end soon, we may be euthanizing a lot more game at the ranch.”
“Niko’s been worried about it, as well,” Adam said. “He’s having to work through Tucker with the Texas Parks and Wildlife people to help us handle our herds. The exotics are doing well, since they’ve been under special management, but he tells me the local whitetail herds and other indigenous species are in trouble.”
“Yeah, I know deer are coming farther and farther into developments to find water. Maybe Mr. Miller is doing some off-season hunting. Not something he’d want to be found out for, being a coach at the school and married to the sheriff.”
“Makes sense. Shopping at this time of night doesn’t, however.”
“Who knows, maybe he’s hiding from his wife. She’s a piece of work.”
“Definitely a chip on her shoulder,” Adam said.
“More like a mountain,” I muttered. “C’mon, let’s get out of here and get Gregor back to Bea’s so he can sleep. I’m sure it’s way past his bedtime. Besides, I’d like to get a little sleep sooner than later. I need to go have a chat with Bea in the a.m.”
“About what? She knows they are wer, correct?”
“She does, but I don’t want her making a decision without all the pertinent facts. Dixxi knows, by the way.” I crossed into the toy section and peered down an aisle. No guys.
“Knows what?”
“About Bea’s pregnancy. I did interpret that look from you at the game earlier, right? Before you and I went to talk with Dixxi.”
“You did,” he said. “Then the conversation with Dixxi was not solely theoretical.”
“Nope. Dixxi twigged to Bea’s condition either at the game or even before. That’s the part I need to talk to Bea about. Their family has some really fucked-up genes.”
“You are correct,” Adam agreed. “Bea needs all the data.”
“Best time to catch her is either post breakfast rush or post lunch,” I said. “I’d rather do it sooner than later, just in case she comes down with a case of the honests and spills the beans to Lev. He seems to be a nice enough guy, but it’s her body, her decision.”
Adam nodded. “There’s Niko and Tucker,” he said, motioning down an aisle.
Niko was bent over the blow-up beach ball bin in the pool/party area, his ass on display as his cotton slacks pulled tight across it. My brother, never one to let an opportunity by, stood behind him, admiring the view. Next to Tucker, a man wearing a tight T-shirt and faded jeans stood, holding a handbasket. The back of his shirt advertised a trucking firm.
“Sure a pretty bahoonkas on your girl there.” The guy made a circular motion with both hands, outlining what could only be his interpretation of an ass. He whistled and gave Tucker that “we’re all boys here” look, accompanied by a wide grin. Tucker bared his teeth, a growl growing under his breath.
“He sure is pretty,” I said and joined my brother as Niko stood up holding a bright purple beach ball and turned around. The trucker guy’s face went a deep red as he realized he’d been ogling a man. With a mutter, he quickly left the aisle.
“Pool toys?” I asked as I studied the overflowing shopping cart.
“We go
t all the popsicle molds they had,” Niko said. “Then Tucker got the idea that we could perhaps use the community pool at the Bar-K at night.”
“Any way to do that, sis?” he asked. “I know it’s usually closed at dusk.”
“Possibly.” I shook my head at the two of them. “C’mon, let’s buy all this crap and get out of here. I can talk to Carlton tomorrow, or you can, Tucker. He’s on the board of the community center. I’ll tell him something about y’all being allergic to sun and needing the pool for therapy or something.”
Adam cocked a brow at me in disbelief.
“What?” I threw up my hands. “Niko’s right. A pool would do wonders, since we can’t swim in the lake. You could always build one, but that takes time.”
“We can always get one of these aboveground things,” Tucker remarked. “They sell them here.”
“Oh for—let’s go before you two buy out the entire store,” I said. “We’ve got an injured boy in the car and too many damned people to deal with. You can order the pool thing online.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
OUTSIDE, WE PASSED Coach Miller sitting inside his truck—a brand-new Ford F-250 with the fancy Cabela’s trim and fully loaded for bear—or deer, or whatever. He must have spent a fortune on this puppy. The truck was rigged with those obnoxious round hunting lights on top of the cab, a brush grill on the front, and special hunting chairs mounted in the back. Adam, who until now had kept his counsel, whispered to me, “The smaller the penis, the larger the accoutrements.” I slapped my hand over my mouth and raced over to our van, avoiding breaking down in pure laughter.
“Huh,” I said as we drove by Miller’s truck on our way out of the store parking area.
“What?” Tucker asked.
“When we passed Miller earlier, walking, did you see that there was a person sitting in the passenger seat?”
A chorus of “yeses” came back at me.
“And did y’all notice what I just noticed?” I prompted.
