by Selena Scott
“So, I’m gonna take this to mean that you’re gonna try and get this thing you want without me even knowing I’m giving it to you?” he asked.
She lifted one shoulder in acquiescence and he chuckled again.
“Fair enough, I suppose,” he said, lacing his fingers behind his head. “But you should know what I want, then.”
“What’s that?”
“I want to disappear. And never catch the government’s eye again. I don’t need much. Just a place to get out of the rain.”
“And three square meals a day, apparently,” she said with a wry arch to her eyebrow.
“I ain’t asked for that. But if you’re giving it, I’m taking it.”
“Fair enough,” she responded, and rose to clear their plates.
***
A few days later, Seth bowed to a completely empty room. He held his hands up for the imagined applause. And then he turned a circle and surveyed his masterpiece. Sarah’s house. The first floor and her attic bedroom had been painted, cleaned, and furnished. This morning, Sarah and Kaya had ventured off to find the archery range downstate and Seth had stayed behind.
He’d told Sarah that he just wanted to be here when the deliveries arrived. He hadn’t told her that he was going to shove the furniture around until it was in the exact right place. He didn’t tell her that he was going to hang the mirrors and the empty-for-now picture frames. He didn’t tell her that he was going to put the brand-new sheets and blankets on her brand-new bed, or that he was going to build the bed frame himself. He didn’t tell her that he was going to set up her dining room table and chairs and hang the light fixtures he’d ordered online and had rush-shipped.
Sarah thought that she was going to come home to a house that was still in pieces, wrapping still on the furniture and cardboard boxes strewn about. She didn’t know that he’d gotten her a bouquet of bright pink peonies to put in the vase he’d also bought for her.
Seth felt like a kid on Christmas, anxious, excited, and honestly starting to get a little grumpy.
He’d expected her back half an hour ago and now he was at loose ends. He could go back to his house, but then he’d risk not seeing her reaction to all his hard work. And he was really, really curious about what her reaction was going to be.
Considering how low her enthusiasm had been for the entire process, he figured he’d get a big smile, two thumbs up, and a genuine thank you. She wasn’t going to make a big deal out of it and he shouldn’t either.
But that didn’t stop his heart from leaping when he heard her car door slam in the driveway.
The front door opened and he heard her toss her keys in the dish that he’d just placed on the side table there.
“Whoa,” he heard her mutter. “Seth!”
He stepped into the hallway where she stood and went still as he took in her frozen expression.
She was staring into the living room, where the couch was fluffed with pillows and there was a spray of magazines on the coffee table. And then she was sort of floating into the room, one hand over her mouth.
Her other hand slipped along the back of her new armchair, along the bottom edge of the ugly flat-screen she’d insisted that she needed and refused to hide away in a TV cabinet. Without turning, she touched the corner of each soft, colorful pillow he’d picked out. Then she drifted through to the kitchen, making a peeping sound when she observed all her coffee cups hanging from their hooks underneath the cabinet.
He followed quietly after her, only wincing a little when she left fingerprints on the glass-front cabinet that he’d arranged all her glasses in.
She took two steps into the dining room and stalled out, her eyes on the peonies.
“You bought me flowers,” she whispered.
“I also completely redecorated your entire house,” he whispered back, hoping to make her smile and bring her out of her stupor.
She just floated toward the vase, slicking her hand along the dining room table. She leaned forward and plucked one petal off and held it to her nose, stroking it between two fingers.
“It looks like a real dining room,” she said, and when she turned, he was surprised to see that she almost looked confused. Her eyes trailed to the mirror he’d hung over the sideboard along one wall.
“It’s to reflect light and brighten the room,” he explained. “Because the peacock wall ended up absorbing a bit more light than I’d expected. So, I hung the mirror…”
He trailed off because she was already heading toward the stairs.
“The second floor still needs a lot of work,” he warned her. “We didn’t really talk about getting your guest bedroom together. So, you know, another project for another time. But your bedroom is all set.”
He didn’t know why he felt the need to warn her that her bedroom was all put together and fluffed and camera-ready. Maybe because he wasn’t exactly sure how she was taking the rest of it. He couldn’t tell if she was happy or what and he really wanted her to be happy.
She bounded up the creaky attic stairs and straight into her room. She made a small sound that he could barely interpret.
He didn’t come all the way into her room. Though he’d spent two hours in there just this afternoon, somehow, being in there with her felt way too intimate.
Instead, Seth just kept his feet on the fifth step down and leaned into her room, his elbows on her floor.
Sarah was turning a slow circle, taking in the dancing, colorful reflection of the light through the stained glass window as it patterned itself over her new comforter. She stared at herself in the full-length mirror he’d hung on the far wall. And then kept turning to gently stroke her fingertips over the little dishes he’d set out on top of her dresser. He’d organized her hair ties into one of them, her bobby pins into another. In the third dish sat a single pair of small silver hoops that he’d found sitting on her dresser but he’d yet to see her wear.
The room was perfect in his opinion. It was welcoming and put-together, colorful and cozy. It was truly a place where she could relax while still being grown up and just a bit sophisticated. The angled walls gave it an interesting look. It was unique. Just like Sarah.
She kept turning all the way back to finally face him. He was still leaning on his elbows into her room, most of his body leaning against the stairs.
After ten minutes of her dazedly absorbing her new house, her sudden, intense eye contact was startling to Seth.
“Sarah,” he started.
She strode across the room to him and he levered himself up from his elbows so that his palms rested on her floor. She took the opening. To his immense surprise, she slid her legs down into the space he’d just created and planted her ass at the top of the stairs. Their faces were not more than eight inches apart.
Neither of them spoke.
For the first time, he let himself notice what a lovely shade of brown her eyes were. Warm, baked. He could clearly picture himself getting caught in the amber of her eyes, like the bones of some primordial animal.
Her hair was wispy and messy from her day of activity, pulled into a loose ponytail at the base of her head. She wore not a stitch of makeup and one of her tank top straps was tangled up in the strap of her sports bra. All the colors of her clothes clashed and one of her athletic shoes pressed, firmly, into his shin, most likely leaving dirt on his new jeans.
He’d never in his life been more attracted to a woman.
This wasn’t a possessive, adolescent lust, a desire to get what he wanted. This was full-bodied attraction. His feet wanted to press against her feet. His fingers wanted to tangle with hers. His five o’clock shadow wanted to scrape against her cheek.
“Sarah,” he said again.
Her eyes on his, neither of them blinking, she slowly lifted her mouth.
Their lips touched and he kissed her with his eyes open, his fingers spreading on the floor on either side of her hips.
Seth, he asked himself, what the hell are you doing?
But that didn’t stop him
from gently teasing her lips apart. The moment her mouth came open for him, her eyes fell closed, as if the two things were connected on some inner, passionate level. It fascinated him. He pulled back, so that their lips were a centimeter from touching.
Her mouth closed and her eyes opened.
He leaned forward again, opening her lips under his, and her eyes fell closed again. A little, triumphant grumble sounded deep in Seth’s chest. He’d figured out one small piece of the mystery of Sarah Moyer and it filled him with victory.
But then his tongue, with thoughts of its own, slicked over her bottom lip and all coherent thought just sort of drowned out in the rising buzz of arousal. One of her cool, firm hands found Seth’s cheek, the scent of the peony petal still clinging to her fingers. It filled his mouth along with her flavor and it took him a second to piece apart all the different, complicated nuances to Sarah’s taste. She was so strong, so confident, that he’d expected her to be tart, intense. But her flavor was light, smooth, with an organic, earthy edge to it.
Her tongue met his at the entrance to her mouth and Seth’s mind started slowly spinning. He was dimly aware of letting some of his weight down on one knee between her legs. They weren’t quite lined up, so it was the bottom of his ribs that settled against the cradle of her hips as he leaned up to kiss her.
He wondered if she could feel the slow-motion tornado that was spiraling them off into the beyond. He bet she could, considering she slid one hand up over his arm, over his shoulder and to the back of his neck, where she gripped him like she was hanging on for dear life.
But as tight as her hand clutched him, their kiss remained light. Their faces shifting, re-positioning in a dance that was as fluid as it was arousing. Their tongues glanced off one another and Seth felt as if he could have kissed her like that for a hundred years.
She made a noise and he felt it in his mouth. It wasn’t a feathery little moan. It was a note of arousal, of pleasure, of desire. Her knees raised, one and then the other, clasping him at the waist.
Seth could feel his breath start to come faster and he realized that at some point, he’d slammed his eyes closed. He tried to coax them open, to see her face again, but he was lost in the sensation of her teeth at his bottom lip, her tongue tasting him over and over again.
Her mouth pulled away from him and in an instantaneous, uncontrollable response, his hands slid over the floor, to her lower back where he yanked her forward another inch, holding her close. He hadn’t meant to do that.
“Seth,” she said.
He grunted, his eyes still closed, her warm heat gripped tightly in his arms.
She kissed him again, but it was just lips. Firm, like a greeting. Like a good morning kiss.
“Seth.”
This time he forced his eyes open, but he could look no further than her mouth. Her lips were pink, as if she wore lipstick, but when he leaned forward and took another taste of her, there was nothing but Sarah there.
“Seth!” This time she tipped her head back and laughed. She lifted one of her hands and snapped her fingers twice. He turned and dazedly looked at her hand. “Your phone is ringing. It’s been ringing for, like, three minutes straight.”
He shook his head, as if that would help her words make more sense to him, and then he registered the tinny, twinkling sound of his ringtone.
“Oh,” he said in a voice he barely recognized as his own. He sounded like he’d been dragging his voice down a dirt road for the last hour. He cleared his throat. Shook his head again and then moved back to kiss her.
She laughed again and took him by the chin. “Aren’t you going to see who is calling you? I swear, they’ve called four times in a row.”
“Right.” How the hell was she thinking so clearly? Seth felt like he was on drugs or something.
He shifted his weight to one side and fished in his pocket for his phone. His other hand he kept firmly around Sarah’s waist, refusing to pull away from her.
He pulled out his phone and sure enough, saw five missed calls in the last ten minutes. He frowned. They were all from Jackson.
His stomach dipped hard. Jackson rarely called him. And never this many times in a row.
Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.
He sat up the rest of the way, still in between Sarah’s legs. As he called Jackson back, he felt her straightening out the collar of his shirt, smoothing the shoulders down. If he hadn’t been so anxious to find out what was going on, he would have arched up into her welcome touch.
“Seth.”
“Jacks, Jesus, what the hell is going on?”
“Everyone is fine, but you need to get your ass to Mom’s.”
“Why?”
There was a beat of silence and Seth heard the ambient sounds of his brother driving. “We all need to be together right now to figure out… to figure this out.”
“To figure what out?” Seth’s heart was banging in his chest, but not in the pleasurable way Sarah had made it go crazy. This had a metallic panic behind every beat.
“Haven’t you seen the news today?” Jackson asked, a pained, fearful note in his voice that Seth had never heard from his older brother before. “They found a body out by the reservoir. Been dead for a little over a week. Attacked by something.”
Seth’s stomach clamped down so hard he thought he might be sick. He knew what his brother was going to say next without even having to hear it. But he couldn’t bring himself to say it. He let Jackson fill in the words.
“They’re saying a shifter did it.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Jackson paced the length of his mother’s living room and waited for his brothers to arrive. This was a nightmare.
He couldn’t let himself think about the ramifications. About all the what ifs. But that didn’t stop the guilt from pouring in.
He was barely breathing, half-crippled as he was by visions of their now-mutilated future. He couldn’t believe this had happened. He’d been too soft with his baby brothers. He couldn’t bear to see them in chains, he wanted them to be free. But what a colossal mistake that had turned out to be. If he’d just been willing to be the bad guy, to insist that they chain themselves up the way he did, then this would never have happened.
His mother came into the living room again. Right after he’d arrived, she’d disappeared in a hurry, tending to something she had to do. But now, apparently, that was taken care of. She looked infinitely more put-together.
“Jackson, sit down, you’re going to wear a hole in my rug.”
“Ma, I can’t sit. I’m going out of my mind.” He scowled out at the dark driveway. “How long does it take to drive across town? They should be here by now.”
“It’s been five minutes since you talked to them on the phone. Give them a minute to encounter a few red lights. And while you’re waiting, I’ve been wanting that end table assembled.”
She nodded her head toward an Ikea box that sat leaning against the wall. Jackson couldn’t help but chuckle to himself, breaking through the wall of his anxiety for just a moment.
“Sometimes I swear that you buy this shitty furniture just to give me something to do when I’m freaking out,” he grumbled, striding over to the box and yanking his sleeves up.
His mother didn’t respond. She just shoved a glass of iced tea in his hand a few minutes later and picked up her paperback to sit down and wait for Seth and Raphael to arrive.
Seth got there a few minutes before Raph did, and without a word, sat down to help Jackson assemble the end table. They didn’t speak, but Jackson could see that Seth was worried. There was a line between his eyebrows that wasn’t usually there. And his color was high, as if he’d been running or working out before he got there.
Raphael arrived a few minutes later, a six-pack in his hands.
“Hi, family,” he said in as somber a tone as a man like Raphael could manage. He passed around a beer to each person as they went to sit on the couches, Seth arranging the newly assembled end tabl
e in perfect right angles to the wall.
“I listened to the details on the radio on the way here,” Seth said, setting his beer down without taking a sip of it. “Animal attack by the reservoir, but no signs of… eating. Purely aggression. I guess that’s why they think it’s a shifter.”
“And the fact that it was done over the full moon,” Raphael cut in, picking at the label of his beer. “God. Anything happens over a full moon, they blame it on shifters. A tornado could take down a neighborhood on a full moon and they’d find a way to chalk it up to shifter violence.”
Jackson happened to agree with Raphael, but he’d looked thoroughly into the details of the murder by the reservoir, and this time he agreed with the authorities. “I think they’re right. I think it was a shifter.”
“There’s no need to jump to conclusions,” Seth reasoned. “I think—”
“Was it one of you?” Jackson asked, his deep voice hushed. He looked back and forth between his brothers, because he needed to see their faces, needed to see the truth of their answers. He hated himself for asking, but he had to. He was as close to a father as any of them were going to get and he needed to man up and ask the hard questions.
“Jackson!” Elizabeth said in a hard tone he hadn’t heard her use since childhood. As if she were half a second away from grounding him.
Seth went white and Raphael went red.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Raph griped.
“Jacks,” Seth started.
“If it was one of you,” Jackson said, talking over everyone, “we’ll need to figure out a way to cover our tracks. We can still do it, but we have to move now. There’s no reason to keep it a secret from us if—”
“Oh. This is rich. This is just great.” Raphael, lit up with anger, rose from his seat. He was a happy-go-lucky type of person. It took quite a lot to get his temper ticking. But when it did, he was a sight to behold. “I knew this was going to happen, Jackson. I just fucking knew it.”
“You knew what was going to happen?” Jackson asked, trying to hold on to his own temper, knowing that he’d only make the situation harder if he yelled back.
