by AJ Merlin
“It’s really okay,” I told her, sympathy worming its way into my gut as I watched her flounder. “Right, Noah?”
When he didn’t speak, I cast my roommate a sidelong glance.
What I saw surprised me.
Noah seemed intent, his mouth parted slightly as he watched the look on her face. His eyes seemed troubled, as if he had a reason to be just as upset as her.
“Noah?” I nudged his shoulder, confused, and he blinked.
“Sure-yeah. Alek’s right. It’s okay, I promise. And I won’t let you pay for anything when there’s nothing to pay for.” He offered her one of his sweetest smiles that he saved for girls he liked and my eyebrows shot upward.
“Can I at least give you my number? So you can tell me if I like-did some internal damage or something?” The woman was beginning to calm down, though she wasn’t attentive enough to notice the way Noah’s gaze was still riveted on her face.
“Yeah, umm-“ he rummaged in his jeans pocket until he could find his phone and handed it to her.
Quickly and efficiently, the woman put her information into his phone before handing it over. “Are you sure you don’t want to call someone? Or-“
“I’m sure.” Noah ran a hand through his light brown hair and stepped back.
I felt like it wasn’t my place to interrupt, and weirder still, it felt like there actually was something to interrupt. Like I was watching some kind of play or movie that I wasn’t welcome to join. Both of their scents intermingled in the air, subtle for all that I figured she was an omega trying to hold back.
Though I’d been a part of much more riveting conversations. Frankly, this didn’t even rank in the top ten.
So why in the world did it seem so intense?
Still quiet, I watched as they exchanged a few more words, until finally Noah had convinced her that we really were fine and he’d let her know if there was actually any damage.
By the time she had walked away and Noah had stopped watching her, I was already in the passenger seat.
He slid in beside me, teeth worrying at his bottom lip.
“What was that about?” I demanded, eyes fixed on his as he shuffled around for the seatbelt.
“What?” Noah barely glanced my way.
I folded my arms.
“What. Was that. About?” I said again.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Bullshit. You acted like she’d descended from a cloud to hit your car or something.”
“She just smelled really good,” Noah admitted. “And she was really pretty. And nice.”
“She was flustered,” I countered. “And probably thought you were going to sue her for tapping your bumper. Which is fine, by the way. Since I’m not sure you tore your eyes off of her for even a second.”
When he still didn’t move to start the car, I tipped my head to the side curiously. “She’s really got you flustered, bro. What the heck?”
“Okay, to be fair.” He pointed a finger at me, some of his usual attitude returning. “You are not one to get all high and mighty this month about someone’s scent hitting you a certain way, or a momentary swoon.”
“A swoon?” I repeated. “You’re now calling what you did out there a swoon? Are you ill?”
“No.” He glanced at me and threw the car into gear. “But you know what else?”
“What?”
“I’m still not going to see those women with you. No matter how much you threaten me with telling Beatrice about this or whatever.” He pulled away from the curb, accelerating out onto the vacant street.
“Oh. I wouldn’t tell her,” I shrugged. “You don’t have to go.” Pausing, I added. “What was her name? She put it in your phone, right?”
“Hayley.”
“That’s a cute name. She was an omega too, wasn’t she?” While her scent hadn’t hit me like a truck the way an alpha’s did, neither was it anything like a beta’s clean air freshener. No, the other woman had definitely been the same as me in the biology regard. “Do you think that’s why you were so worked up?”
“No…I mean yeah, she smelled like an omega, I agree. But I’ve never really cared about scents before. She just…I don’t know.” He shrugged his shoulders.
“Well, you should call her.”
“Why?! She didn’t hurt the car. You even said-“
“For a date,” I clarified, reclining back in the seat and closing my eyes. “You should call Hayley and see if she wants to go out with you. Who knows? Maybe she’s your one.”
“Yeah, just like maybe Roman’s yours?” Noah glanced my way, tone joking but curiosity written all over his face.
I only shrugged, closing my eyes again. We were different, in that regard. Noah had always been a monogamy-seeking guy, who only wanted one mate to cherish and be with for life.
Me? I couldn’t think of anything better than a few alphas of my own. Not just one.
The two women weren’t on their porch, and for a moment I wondered if I had the right stoop. All the buildings here looked similar, after all, and there was a solid possibility that they lived a door or two down.
While I could always shift to see exactly where they were, my maned wolf’s nose was adept at finding whatever I needed-I figured that it probably wasn’t necessary.
Plus, I didn’t particularly want to shift out here on the street in the orange light of the setting sun.
Pulling my hand from the pocket of my hoodie, I rapped twice on the closed, white door in front of my nose.
Someone moved inside. From farther in I could hear voices, then the approaching footsteps of someone in a hurry.
The door in front of me opened quickly, emitting the scents of a group of people and the unmistakable smell of tobacco.
It made my nose wrinkle, though I tried my best to keep the look of revulsion off of my face.
It would be rude to be judge, after all, when I was here looking for a favor.
In front of me, the blonde woman who normally sat here with her friend leaned in the doorframe, jaw moving rhythmically as she chewed a piece of gum.
“Thought you might still be locked up,” she said, a small smile on her lips.
“Got out on good behavior,” I replied, hand going back into my pocket. “Weird to not see you out here on the porch around now.”
“Weird that you’re knocking on my door,” the woman countered, her eyes brightening just a touch in warning.
I lifted my hands in surrender, figuring that she was a territorial bitch who didn’t want me here uninvited.
“I’m not here for a fight,” I promised.
“Maybe not. But that doesn’t tell me why you’re here,” she pointed out, drawing herself up to her full height that nearly rivaled mine.
“Would you rather me step back?” I didn’t mind, if it meant putting the territorial shifter at ease. “I can talk to you just as well from all the way back there at the steps.”
She hesitated, looking thoughtful. “No,” she said, her posture relaxing finally. “It’s thoughtful of you to offer, though. So what do you want, neighbor?”
“Alek,” I introduced. “And my roommate is Noah.”
“Caroline,” she replied without preamble.
I wouldn’t admit it, but she surprised me. Normally, her and her friend sat on the porch to catcall Noah, and they’d never gone much further than making jokes about his ass to either of us.
I’d expected that same loose, joking attitude when I knocked on her door. Not a protective woman who blocked the door as if I might barrel in and do something unseemly.
A loud cry made me blink, and some of the tension left my body.
There was a baby in there with her.
Now the porch sitting and the silent threats made sense. She was protecting her family from strangers, I figured, not just mad at my existence for no reason.
“I can wait, if you need to go take care of something?” I offered, scenting the air subtly. She was a beta, and seemed all over
the place with stress.
I couldn’t blame her, and I could absolutely sympathize.
“Cynthia can get it,” Caroline said. “What do you need?”
“Can you tell me who that man was? The bear shifter from last night?” I asked without wasting words. I’d thought to maybe chat with her, in an attempt to get her to be more sympathetic to my cause.
I realized now that was not the way to go about this, when she was so itchy about having strangers here.
“Why?” Curiosity glittered in her dark eyes and she leaned against the door again, her posture more at ease.
“Because I just want to talk,” I lied, a small, humorless grin on my face.
“Sure you do. Anyone ever tell you it’s not too healthy for an omega to go picking fights with an alpha like Mike?”
Mike. I had a first name, or at least part of one, but that wouldn’t do me any good.
There were a hell of a lot of Mikes in Atlanta.
“Lots of people,” I assured her. “All the time.”
“Doesn’t your mama have something to say about it?”
My grin didn’t falter, but I didn’t respond right away.
The immediate response that bubbled to my lips was, my mother is probably the cause of why I’m like this, but that wasn’t a conversation I was willing to have.
Just like it hadn’t been one I’d been open to with the enforcer looking at my record.
“Guess not,” I only shrugged, my tone and words carefully aloof.
“I shouldn’t tell you. It’s pretty obvious that you don’t just want to talk,” Caroline went on, eyeing my posture and finally my face.
“I just want to talk so long as that woman is okay,” I amended. “And that’s why I want to know who he is. Surely you care about her? Even just a little?”
“No,” the woman informed me. “Sorry, neighbor. But I’m not in the habit of taking on the problems of people I don’t know. Besides, if she really wanted out, she’d find a way.”
Ah yes. The victim blaming.
My tongue itched to fire off an unfriendly explanation of how it wasn’t so easy to leave someone that was hurting you. Instead, I shrugged carefully.
“Well, I’d still like to go visit. I won’t tell him that you’re the one who told me. Hell, I’ll tell him I’ve been following him around. I can make myself look like a crazy stalker. Promise.”
She hesitated, still considering it. “You really won’t tell him it was me who told you?” she asked, a hint of uncertainty in her tone.
“Never in a million years,” I promised without hesitation.
The woman surveyed my face, making me wonder if she was trying to spot a lie before she answered.
“His name is Michael Fairfield.” She said slowly, and recited an address I wasn’t familiar with. At my puzzled look, continued, “It’s not that far. About six blocks toward the Old Heights.”
“I’ve never been there,” I admitted, barely knowing where the Old Heights were at all.
“And you shouldn’t start tonight. You know what’s in the Heights, don’t you?”
I hesitated, surprised that she acted so afraid of what was clearly just a rumor.
“There are no such things as dire wolves,” I told her firmly. “Maybe over in Europe or something, but not here in America, for sure.”
“You really want to find out?” Caroline countered. “I know I don’t. Even if the stories about dire wolf shifters are only half true, that’s half too much for me.” She shook her head. “Friendly neighbor-to-neighbor warning. Don’t go to Mike’s house, and don’t go anywhere near the Heights.”
“I appreciate the concern,” I said, leaning on the railing of the porch. “And the information. Can I ask…?”
She’d started to go back inside, then paused. Her eyes flicked to mine impatiently.
“Did you call the enforcers?”
“No,” she said. “Don’t know who did, either. They don’t come down to this side of town on their own, so someone had to call ‘em.”
“Yeah…that’s what I thought too.” Shaking it off, I gave her one last smile. “Thanks a lot, Caroline. I appreciate it.”
“Sure,” she told me. “You tell your roommate that we miss his cute ass swaggering by.”
“I will,” I promised, my words cut off by the firm closing of her door.
Her words tugged at me as I left her porch and walked back towards the apartment. Did she really believe in the stories of a dire wolf shifter that called the Old Heights home? It wasn’t a great part of town, that much I knew, and was full of old dive bars and questionable businesses. Some rumors stated that shifters could only move in if the dire wolf gave his approval, but that had to be a load of crap.
If there really was someone dictating the actions of shifters in Atlanta, the Ahlleron clan would’ve stomped them out a long time ago, I was sure. That was the case with any ruling shifter clan whose authority was challenged.
Besides, I stood by what I’d said to Caroline. If there were any dire wolf shifters left in the world, they’d be across the ocean where they’d originated. Not here in Atlanta, getting their rocks off in some badly lit strip club in the Old Heights.
Chapter Fifteen
In the dark, I wasn’t so sure about what we were doing.
Night had fallen some time ago, though the drive from our apartment to the address Caroline had given me could have lasted anywhere from ten minutes to thirty.
I was just that wrapped up in my own thoughts that I hadn’t really noticed.
“We’re here,” Noah said, parking along the curb opposite the house.
I glanced at the mailbox, verifying the address before letting my gaze slide to the unassuming, white washed house with its little yard and chainlink fence.
Nothing about it screamed to me ‘an abusive man lives here,’ but I supposed that being covered in blood splatter or having help me painted on the window would’ve been a bit too easy.
The lights inside were on, though even with the window down, I couldn’t hear anything coming from inside.
Were they here? Had the man come home to hit his wife for all of the times he’d tried to hit me and failed? Or maybe just because that was what people like him did?
My stomach sank and tried its best to twist into intricate knots.
“What do you want to do?” Noah asked quietly, shifting uncomfortably behind the steering wheel.
“I don’t know,” I admitted, not willing to tell him that in my bravado and promises, I hadn’t really gotten this far in my planning, except to think that we might need gloves and rope for our criminal deeds.
I’d hoped that the answer would have presented itself. That maybe they would’ve been outside and the situation would’ve been obvious.
But for all intents and purposes, this was just another house on another street in a neighborhood full of houses that for the most part, looked alike.
“Do you want to leave?” he went on, trepidation coloring his tone. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.”
Maybe he was right. In-the-moment bad decisions were easy.
This was planned out. Premeditated, the cops would say.
Not to mention, Roman would know I’d planned this.
Would he come to my rescue? Or come to drag me off again?
“Lets…” I trailed off before I’d really started, the window I was looking at darkening as a large shape filled it.
Michael Fairfield.
His familiar shape blocked much of the light, though I was still able to just see his squinted, beady eyes and the bulge of his arms that pressed to the window.
“I’m going in,” I announced, unsure where the words or the sudden decisiveness had come from.
Noah didn’t speak, and when I got out of the car he was slow to follow.
Thankfully, Michael Fairfield had moved away from the window and didn’t see either of us as we approached the house.
My heart thudded a staccato warning in my
chest, reminding me of all the ways that this really was quite stupid.
I refused to listen, instead bringing my hand up to rap hard on the door.
Once.
Twice.
Once more for good measure.
Then I waited.
Nothing moved within the white-washed walls. A streetlight buzzed, too loud in my ears, and the crickets continued their symphony around us.
But neither Michael Fairfield nor the woman answered the door.
I knocked again and saw Noah jump out of the corner of my eye at the sudden noise.
No one came to the door. Try as I might, I couldn’t hear anyone inside, even though I’d seen the man through the window.
Scrubbing my suddenly clammy hands on my leggings, I tried to think of what we should do. Something tugged at my brain, telling me that things were not okay inside, and more than that, I found that I didn’t want to go in.
“What do you want to do?” Noah whispered, putting words to my indecision.
“I’m not sure,” I admitted, banging on the door again.
“Okay, well, maybe stop that. Or someone’s going to call the enforcers on us. Again,” he pointed out, tugging me away from the door.
“Let’s go around the house. Quietly. Maybe we can find a window to look in or something,” I suggested, glancing over to catch his reaction.
The usual joviality was gone from his tone, and in the dim glow from the dirty torchlight by the door, he looked pale.
“Okay…,” Noah agreed, going ahead me around to the side yard and keeping close to the shadows, as I did behind him.
Noah hesitated at the first window, prompting me and my racing thoughts to take the lead. I did so, barely sparing him a glance as I looked in through the glass.
Only an empty hallway lay on the other side. A table sat against the window, the ceramic bowl full of keys and other small objects.
I moved on, listening again for any signs of movement.
Where was the woman from yesterday, I wondered, if she couldn’t come to the door?
The next window was close to the back of the house, and part of me expected the same view of a hallway.
Instead, the room that lay on the other side was the kitchen. White appliances gleamed under the lights, the linoleum floor and table scrubbed until they seemed to glitter like in some old cartoon.
