by T. S. Ryder
He hadn’t realized that she was awake. Now it was his turn to stutter, embarrassed and uncertain of what to say. It was hard enough curbing his swearing around Elena. There was so much more he had to watch around her. Having a kid around was hard, even though he loved the way she laughed when he swung her around or the image of her and Marguerite sitting on the sofa reading a story.
“Lingerie is something that adults wear,” Marguerite said quickly. “Are you hungry? I’ve got some pancakes ready.”
Elena’s eyes lit up. “Yum!”
Marguerite set a plate and fork on the table for Elena, then placed a pancake that had a smiley face on it. Everett moved past them to get a glass of water as he checked the time. He had six hours before he had to get to work. Enough time to hit the gym and work off some of the excess energy that the change brought as well as go to his favorite rib place for some extra protein.
“Do you want to join us for breakfast?” Marguerite slid a full plate of pancakes onto the table. They smelled delicious, and the butter she’d used to fry them in glistened off of their browned tops.
“I should—”
Elena interrupted him. “Mommy says that breakfast is the most important meal of the day. You have you eat a good breakfast, otherwise you’re hungry and grumpy all day.”
Everett couldn’t help but smile at that. He hesitated a moment, then got himself cutlery and sat down. Elena stood on her chair and poured him a glass of orange juice, then quickly sat at Marguerite’s stern look.
“Well, don’t we look domestic,” Everett said, chuckling nervously.
Marguerite laughed softly, the nerves apparent in her own voice. “That’s one way to look at it.”
Her robe was gaping open, showing off that cleavage again. Everett tried not to stare but snuck a peek every once in a while. He remembered what it was like to hold those breasts in his hands while they made love. Then they had been a bit smaller. Now, they’d overflow in his grip. Would they still taste the same? Were they still as firm, her skin as taut—
His cell phone rang. Everett jumped, the sound rather loud and obnoxious. He quickly rose to his feet and walked to the other side of the room. “Hello?”
“Hey, baby,” a sultry voice crooned. “I was wondering if you had some time to come over and help me with my plumbing.”
Everett glanced at the table, but neither Marguerite nor Elena seemed interested in his call. He recognized the voice, though. It was Ginny, one of his ‘friends with benefits’ from the last place he had worked. It had been a while since she called.
“Uh . . . ” His eyes wandered to Marguerite, and for a moment, he was tempted to ask if he could bring a friend. That would anger Ginny enough that she’d just hang up. But that was unnecessary. All he’d have to do was say he had to go to work. But really, if Marguerite and Elena weren’t here he’d be out the door already. It wasn’t as though they were a real domestic unit. He might have a daughter now, but that didn’t mean he was in a relationship with her mother. “Yeah. I can do that. I’ll be there in half an hour.”
He hung up and Elena twisted around to look at him. “Where are you going? Can I come, too?”
“It was work,” Everett lied swiftly. “I got called in early.”
“Can I go to work with Everett, Mommy?”
Marguerite smiled as she glanced at her daughter. “No, sweetie. Not today. We’re going to go to the park and then we’re going to get some math workbooks. You don’t want to fall behind in kindergarten, do you?”
Elena clapped her hands. “Yay! I love math.”
“I’ll be back . . . later.” Everett grabbed his leather jacket and shoved his feet into his shoes. He owed them nothing, and it was best that he didn’t get too attached. He wasn’t the kind of guy who made commitments, and sooner or later, Marguerite was going to bring home the perfect guy to be Elena’s father.
It didn’t stop the leaden weight in his stomach, though. As he drove, he kept thinking about what it would be like to have a family. Not being alone when the change happened in the devil’s hour. Not being alone most of the time. He enjoyed his network of friends with benefits, even if there were more benefits than friendship, and when they didn’t cut it, there was always a woman at the bars looking for the same thing he was.
Still, by the time he got to Ginny’s, he wasn’t really in the mood. He rolled his neck as he knocked on her door. Ginny greeted him in a frilly pink thing and pulled him in, giggling.
“It’s a bit early for this, isn’t it?” he asked as he let her lead him into the kitchen.
“It’s never too early. Besides, the sink’s broken.”
Everett sighed and shook his head. “I don’t think I’m in the mood for roleplaying. Sorry. I shouldn’t have come.”
Ginny looked shocked for a moment, then pulled her frilly robe open. “Not even for this.”
He allowed his gaze to trace down her form but shook his head. There was too much going on in his head. “I’ve got some emotional baggage going on right now. I found out a couple of days ago that I have a five-year-old daughter and . . . well. You can understand.”
“Wow.” Ginny tied her robe again. “Wow. And the woman never told you that she was pregnant? The bitch.”
“It was a one-night stand and we never saw each other again. She only tracked me down because . . . My daughter might need a kidney transplant and she isn’t a matching blood type,” he lied quickly, running a hand through his hair. “I thought I needed a distraction, but you’re worth more than some half-assed sex.”
Ginny sighed. “Only you could make a rejection sound so pretty. Ugh. It’s too late to call anybody else. You sure? I mean, it’s not a reason to deny yourself, right?”
“I’m sure.” Everett kissed her cheek. “Sorry. I’ve got to go.”
She showed him to the door and Everett drove away again. His brow furrowed heavily. Why had he done that? Yeah, there was a lot to think about, but Ginny was right. It wasn’t a reason to deny himself. So why did he feel guilty about even the thought of turning around and going back to her?
***
Halfway through his shift, Everett got a call from Marguerite saying that she needed to talk with him urgently. Even though he couldn’t see what sort of disaster might have happened since that morning, he told his boss he was taking the rest of the day off and headed home. He returned to his apartment to find her pacing, hair a mess.
“Where’s Elena?”
“I took her to a drop-off daycare. So, first off, do you change at any time besides at night?”
Everett frowned. “I can change if I concentrate on it, but there have never been any accidental changes, if that’s what you mean. And it’s only at three in the morning. There was this once when I drove west across the continent, staying ahead of three. Didn’t change until it caught up.”
Marguerite let out a deep breath and nodded. “Okay. Okay, then I can calm down about Elena being at the daycare, right? I mean, even if she tells them, they’ll think she’s just being a child with a vivid imagination.”
“Is there something urgent you actually need to discuss? Because I left work and—”
“Yes, there is. Where was the lab that you escaped from? And why did you need to escape? Obviously, Simon Bell did something, but was he torturing you? Did he actually do this, or are you like a . . . a werewolf? An actual werewolf? They’re featured in myths all over the world. It makes sense that they could actually exist, right?”
Everett growled in his throat. “Okay, this?” He gestured between them. “This isn’t urgent. You’ve been living with me here for days now and we have talked about Simon Bell. And I will tell you what I have already told you. I don’t know. I don’t remember anything from before waking up in that lab and quite frankly I don’t want to know. I just want to live my life with some semblance of normalcy.”
“And I want answers for my baby girl!”
Everett turned away.
“Okay, I get it. The only tim
e you actually pay attention is when you’re ogling my breasts like you were doing all through breakfast this morning.”
He turned back. “There is no call for you to be this aggressive. I am doing everything I can to help you and Elena. You think you’re freaked out? I’m freaked out too, and guess what? I’ve been living with this for six years. If there were answers to be had, I’d have found them. Now, I am going back to work unless you really do want to get naked.”
A look crossed her face that made him think she might actually do it. Heat flared in his body and he actually took a step closer in anticipation. To feel her body close to his, the taste of her mouth, the smell of their sweat mingling. But she averted her gaze and turned away. Everett opened his mouth, but there was nothing to say, so he closed it again. It was for the best. The situation was already complicated enough.
Chapter Five – Marguerite
Ten o’clock.
Night had fallen heavy outside, bringing with it a fog that pressed in against the windows. Elena had been extra cranky, so Marguerite had put to her bed early, although she knew it was only going to be a few more hours before she was up and wanting to tear through the streets howling her head off. Keeping her quiet in the city was the hardest part. But if Elena was loud and noisy, it would only bring attention to them.
We’ll need a nice farm, far away from anybody else, so she can have her freedom at night. Especially once she hits those teenage years.
Ten-oh-one.
Marguerite turned away from the clock, realizing she had been staring at it, waiting for Everett to come home. Back to his apartment, that was. Which was silly, considering. After all, he had made it clear that he didn’t have any answers for her. So why was she so anxious to have him home?
Maybe it was because she needed to apologize. She had been out of line earlier that day, calling him off work just to rehash things they both already knew. And her comments had been unwarranted. In truth, she had been upset that he had left that morning when it was obvious that he wasn’t going to work. Which was ridiculous, because he had his own life, and just because she showed up didn’t mean that he shouldn’t be answering booty calls. It wasn’t like his life should be put on hold because she was there.
He had been more than kind already, letting them stay in his spare room. The whole mess would be far more terrifying if they were in a hotel and she had to worry about being kicked out during the wee hours of the morning because of Elena’s noise. This was as safe a place as they could be, with his special soundproofing and everything else he had put into place to make sure nobody ever found out about him.
And she wasn’t going to sit around like a jilted lover. Nope. With everything that was happening, she was letting herself slip up. She was going to brush her teeth, braid her hair, and go to bed. Then, when three o’clock rolled around, and it was all fun and games with two werewolves, she would have the energy and mental stamina to keep going. She wasn’t going to think of Everett anymore.
But as she was hunched over the sink, scrubbing her teeth, the sight of her cleavage deepening as she bent over reminded her of the way he looked at her that morning. She wanted to be angry over it. It wasn’t appropriate for him to be eyeing her the way he had. But she really should have closed her robe more so that he couldn’t.
It had been so long since she had allowed herself to run headlong into an affair. Before Elena was born, Marguerite did it all the time – fell hard and fast in love and into men’s beds. She always told herself that she was in love, but the truth of the matter was that she never really knew them. And being so close to Everett brought up all those feelings that she’d had when she first saw him in the bar. Only it was worse, because now she was getting to know him.
He was amazing with Elena. Even if he didn’t have experience, he was exactly like the father Marguerite had always hoped she’d one day have for her little girl. And maybe with enough time, Everett would be a permanent fixture in their lives . . .
And what would he be to Marguerite? There was already so much emotion wrapped up in this. She rinsed out her mouth as she considered it. Best to keep it in the background. Until things were figured out she just had to make sure that she didn’t let her hormones take over her good judgment.
Still . . . She toyed with the top of her jeans. Remembering that night isn’t going to hurt anything, is it?
She had just unsnapped the top button when she heard the door to the apartment open. Quickly, she buttoned her pants again and hiked the neckline of her shirt up a couple inches before she stepped out of the bathroom. To her surprise, it wasn’t Everett that stepped in.
The woman was tall, muscular, with a perfect hourglass figure. Her hair was buzzed – a brilliant scarlet – and her blue-green eyes widened as they landed on Marguerite. The woman wore a spaghetti-strap summer dress and had a backpack with her.
“Who are you and what are you doing here?” she snapped at Marguerite.
“I’m . . . a friend of Everett’s. Who are you?”
“A friend?” The woman looked her up and down. “Huh. Funny, I don’t see him around. Everett never leaves his women clothed for more than five minutes. So, what? He ran out to get condoms?”
She slammed the door and Marguerite winced. She glanced over her shoulder, hoping that the noise hadn’t woken Elena.
“Look, I’m not Everett’s woman and you need to keep your voice down, whoever you are. I have a little girl sleeping in the next room and I’d really like it if she could sleep for a few more hours.” Marguerite huffed out an annoyed breath as she looked the redhead over again. A frown crossed her face. Why would Everett give a random woman a key to his apartment? “Wait, are you Kristen?”
The woman slung her pack to the floor and rolled to the balls of her feet. “Who are you?”
Marguerite shivered at the growl in the woman’s voice. This had to be Kristen. Everett’s ‘sister’ who had the same problem as he did. She shoved her hands into her pockets to try to stop from looking threatening. “My name is Marguerite Ward. I’m . . . my daughter is also Everett’s daughter.”
Surprise flitted across Kristen’s face, but it hardened again quickly. “You just said that you aren’t one of his women, and yet you have a daughter with him?”
“We had a fling six years ago and my daughter just started exhibiting the same . . . ” Marguerite struggled with how to phrase it. “The same behavioral traits that Everett has due to his . . . condition.”
Kristen stepped back. Her eyes widened and she ran a hand over her buzzed hair. “You mean the change. Holy sh—” She cut herself off and let out a deep breath. “Okay. Well. That changes things. Yeah, I’m Kristen. You have a kid that changes? Wow. I told him he needed to be more careful. What sort of shitty life is this for a child?”
The redhead stalked to the alcohol cupboard and pulled out a bottle, which she drank straight from. Even though Everett had told her that alcohol didn’t affect them the same way as humans, Marguerite couldn’t help but wince. She wasn’t certain what she was supposed to do. Kristen clearly had issues. Anger issues, at least. Probably PSTD, like Everett, if her initial reaction was to try to get drunk when she knew she couldn’t. Marguerite really couldn’t do more than have a few stabs at a diagnosis without proper testing.
“So . . . I’m a psychologist,” she started hesitantly. “I can tell with Everett that this is really hard on him. If you want to talk—”
“A psychologist. Really?” Kristen gave her a weird look. “You think you can shrink me? I’ll tell you what exactly is wrong with me. I turn into a monster ever night. Where’s Everett?”
Marguerite shook her head slightly. “We had a fight earlier and he hasn’t come back from work. I was about to head off to bed.”
“Without him? Oh, darling, you really shouldn’t.
Heat rushed to her face. “It’s not like that between us.”
“Why?” Kristen glanced at her and grinned. “You a lesbian?”
“I—”
Marguerite counted to ten. “My sexual orientation is none of your business, and there are plenty of reasons why I’m not sleeping with him that don’t—”
Kristen snorted, though her eyes still glittered. “Maybe I was asking for myself.”
Marguerite didn’t reply. She recognized it for what it was now. Oftentimes, patients who weren’t ready to talk about their problems would use sarcasm and try to get a rise out of her to avoid talking about their issues. Well, if she wasn’t ready to talk about this . . .
But the mother side of her wasn’t about to give up, and the professional side retreated. After all, Kristen wasn’t her patient. She was a source of possible answers when Marguerite had no other leads. As the other woman started rifling through Everett’s fridge and pulled out various food items, Marguerite inched forward.
“Do you remember anything from the lab?”
Kristen froze half in the fridge. Her hand shook and then she straightened with a chicken leg in his hand. She slammed the fridge door shut and turned on Marguerite with narrowed eyes and a clenched jaw.
“You mean that hell-hole where my life was destroyed? Yeah, I remember. It’s something I’ve tried very, very hard to forget and I don’t need some head-shrinking quack coming along and poking and prodding memories that are best left buried in the dust. Got it? Whatever Everett’s got you here for—”
“He doesn’t.” Marguerite kept her voice low and calm. “Everett hasn’t told me much about you, except that you and he escaped together.”
Kristen narrowed her eyes, clearly disbelieving.
“Like I said, my daughter has inherited the change that you go through. I’m asking because I want to find out what is going on. What happened to you two to make this happen. To know how it is going to affect my daughter.” Marguerite searched Kristen’s face. “Everett doesn’t remember anything, so anything that you can tell me – anything that might lead to some answers—”
“No. There are no answers.” Kristen turned away for a moment before she sighed and turned back again. “I’m sorry. I can only imagine how terrifying this must be, being a mother and not knowing what was happening with her daughter.”
