by J. Kearston
Taking a drink simply for the courage, I wait to see how they react. “Cage dancer at a club. Well, used to be, I suppose. Now I’m a jobless bum mooching off of you three.”
There’s no judgment in their eyes, or skeevy looks. Stryker simply takes his shot and waits for me to ask someone a question. Mulling it over, the alcohol acting as liquid courage, I turn to Mason, sensing that he’ll be the least likely to jerk me around and avoid answering, more inclined to give blunt truths.
“Are fated mates a thing for shifters?”
He gives me a sly look before smiling, leaning an elbow on the table and resting his chin on his fist. “Depends on who you ask. Since we tend to only turn our mates, the sire bond sure makes it feel that way.”
“But that isn’t in place until you turn them,” I argue, and his grin only grows.
“You’re right. But there’s got to be a reason with our aversion to humans that we’re still drawn to them enough to risk trying to manage relationships. We only turn them when we’re sure, but it isn’t like female shifters are rare, and the thought of venturing into a city will make anyone cringe. Yet still, we end up braving them and meeting the loves of our lives, knowing that trying to turn them might result in their death, but taking a leap of faith anyway, and it almost always works out. You ask me, there has to be a reason, like instinctually we can sense the change will take. It’d just be ten times easier if we could tell by their scent that they were destined to be our mate and leave no room for doubt on the topic to sway the nonbelievers.”
Licking my lips, I take my shot before sliding the glass across the table, the room starting to sway around me. “Take turns asking me some stuff, I need a break before I end up getting blackout drunk.”
They exchange a devilish grin before all slamming back a shot in tandem. Stryker takes the lead, steepling his fingers in front of him like a low-grade villain. “Favorite color.”
“Purple.” His responding, self-satisfied smirk has me rolling my eyes.
Bane rests his back against the foot of the recliner behind him. “City you were living in before we so valiantly came to your rescue?”
“Kingstyn.” My gaze automatically swivels towards Mason since they’re going around the circle.
He taps a finger to his lips, deliberating. “What did you want to be when you grew up?”
Tongue in cheek, knowing they’re going to laugh at me, I contemplate taking a drink so that I can pass. “The next tooth fairy. Took me until about thirteen to accept that it wouldn’t happen.”
He snorts. “And then?”
Shifting position as my leg starts to fall asleep, I’m unable to hide my smile and start laughing at the irony. “Zookeeper. Ended up on the wrong side of the cage, though, as it turns out.”
Chuckles surround me as I turn to Bane. “What do you guys do? Somebody’s got to pay the bills around here.”
Bane cracks his neck. “Super uninteresting, but we pretty much rely on the stock market and investments. I sunk most of my inheritance into it and float off of a combination of monthly stipends to cover the bills and pick up random odd jobs for extras so that we don’t pull out too much unnecessarily.”
“Parents?”
He gives me a sad shrug. “I don’t even remember them.” Pursing his lips, he reluctantly adds, “Car crash when I was a toddler. Grandfather raised me, and he passed away a few years back.”
My stomach twists with his declaration, the words not sitting right, likely because they hit too close to home and yet he’s so nonchalant about it. “I’m sorry.”
He waves it off like it’s no big deal. “Don’t be. What about you? Parents or siblings? Because we can work on figuring out your miraculous escape from your abductor so you don’t need to fake your death. Probably should anyway, if only to make things easier so you can keep your driver’s license, credit cards, and all of that headache.”
Folding my arms on the table, I rest my chin on top of them, riding a heavy buzz. “Only child, and left home about six months before my eighteenth birthday. Lived in my car until I was old enough someone would rent to me. Fast forward a few years, met Blake, moved in way sooner than I should’ve, and now here we are.”
Stryker takes a swig straight out of the bottle. “Why’d you leave home early?”
Holding his gaze, I steal Bane’s shot and take it despite already being well into ‘hellacious hangover’ territory. My head might threaten to split in half when I wake up in the morning, but this is one story I’m not prepared to dive into yet; too much baggage to unpack in a single night when the entire point of this was trying to ignore the hard things for a little while.
His eyes harden, but he doesn’t push the subject, remaining silent.
“Why isn’t there a door to your room?”
Lifting the bottle to his lips, he takes a huge swig without so much as flinching. Sitting up, I press the tip of my tongue into my incisor, conceding. “Fair.”
Reclining, I rest the back of my head on the edge of the couch cushion. The ceiling fan sends a wave of nausea through me and I clamp my eyes shut tight, waiting for the room to stop spinning. It doesn’t take long before I start to drift off, struggling to stay awake. I can’t bring myself to get up though, too drunk and choosing to pretend that I’m comfortable on whatever surface is the closest simply so I don’t have to move.
“Come on, let’s get you to bed.” Stryker slides a hand under my legs, the other wrapping around my back as he lifts me up off of the ground.
With a groan, I shamelessly press my cheek against the cool skin of his collar. “I hope you have a gallon of water and some pain killers handy for breakfast.”
My stomach roils as he climbs the stairs. “Shifter healing has its perks; you’ll sleep off the worst of it.”
Traces of pine and rain surround me as I sink into Bane’s bed, soothing some of my nausea as I roll onto my side, burying my face in his pillow. As Stryker’s footsteps start to grow faint, I try to catch him before he leaves.
“I’m sorry. About the door thing; I was being overly defensive and lashed out, but it was a dick move.”
He scoffs dismissively. “You asked and I didn’t answer. Really nothing to apologize for, Risa.”
Closing my eyes a bit tighter, I release a heavy breath, defeated and run down simply from the memories. “Yeah, I do. There are certain things that don’t need an explanation, and like recognizes like. Might not know the specifics, but it’s not my place to ask, either. So I’m sorry; not just for being an asshole and prying, but for however long it took you to get out.”
He’s silent for so long that I assume he left, and I start to fall asleep, feeling like shit. They’ve bent over backwards to try and help me; hell, saved my life in more ways than one. Yet here I am, being ungrateful and spitting on their kindness. When the bed dips behind me, fingers gently running through my hair, I groggily try to turn over, only to fail miserably.
His voice is a low whisper, the timbre as soothing as his cool touch. “And I’m sorry that I didn’t know you needed us to find you sooner.”
Chapter 8
Stryker
“Ugh, you lied.” Risa groans, clutching her head.
As she takes her seat at the kitchen table, resting her head on the wood with her eyes closed, Mason, Bane, and I exchange a nervous look. With our advanced healing, a hangover should be impossible unless she tore through half a distillery. Add in the fact that it took her so much longer to come to after being bitten, and that she hasn’t shifted yet? We’ve gone from uncomfortable territory, to seriously worried, trying not to let panic set in.
How did I fuck up the process? Maybe I didn’t give her enough venom. Her heart had technically stopped when I bit her; maybe I got to her too late and it didn’t work throughout her system enough? Sure, Bane and Mas tried, but that was days later, after the damage was already done. It can’t be too late to fix this, she’s just a late bloomer. It’ll be okay... it has to.
“Here.”
Placing a bottle of water in front of her, I head back for another when she guzzles it down greedily, downing half of it in one pull.
Bane finishes up breakfast, sliding a plate in front of her that we have to coax her into touching. There might be some sort of glitch with her transition, but she clearly gained advanced healing, if nothing else. There’s no way she would have survived the accident otherwise, and without a mark to show for it. Running on that theory; food, blood, and rest speed up the healing process for us. The same facts should apply to her, even if she requires more time for them to take effect, so we’re pretty much struggling not to shove the food down her throat as she slowly picks at it, giving her stomach a chance to settle.
By the end of breakfast she’s looking better, but I can’t help overanalyzing everything. It was weird enough that her golden skin paled so much during the course of her transition, and though it has a healthier glow to it now compared to how she came downstairs, it’s still not returned back to the way we found her. Her eyes haven’t either, and I’ve never once heard about someone’s features changing upon being turned more than muscle tone.
“So what’s on the agenda for today?” she asks, violet eyes less dull than when she woke up, brightening as she recovers.
“I was thinking maybe tonight we’d try walking you through the steps to shift. That way when the time comes, it’ll be easier.”
She gives me a wary look, but Mason interjects to try and soothe her unease. “It’s a bit harder on turned ones the first few times, since humans tend to naturally fight against the unknown. By coaching you through the process ahead of time, you’ll be more prepared for when it happens, leaning into the feeling rather than freaking out.”
Finishing off another bottle of water, she takes her plate to the sink and automatically starts cleaning up. Her movements are stilted, voice devoid of emotion. “So we’re meeting the rest of the neighbors first, I take it?”
Her tone instantly sets me on edge. The desire to resolve whatever’s upset her drives me to my feet, needing to be between her and the unseen threat that’s making my muscles twitch. “If you want to, we can, but honestly, we’re not very social. We’re on good terms with everyone, though, so it’s not a big deal if you want to reach out and introduce yourself, make some friends. If not, I was thinking we could take it easy today; hang out and watch some movies. There’s a better atmosphere in the forest at nightfall, so we can have a lazy day and head out at dusk.”
“Yes, random woman, come into the woods with three men at night; you’re much more likely to drop your guard, then,” she quips with a sarcastic roll of her eyes and a small smile, moving on to the rest of the dishes.
I lean a hip against the counter, crossing my arms and canting my head. “What’re you doing?”
Her hand stills in the soapy water. “Dishes?”
“Voluntarily? Why would you do that?”
She turns to face me with confusion painted all over her face, speaking slowly. “Because you guys are feeding and housing me, so I need to do something to earn my keep? And Bane cooked, so it wouldn’t be fair if he had to clean up too?”
I face the guys, the two of them still sitting at the table with equal surprise. “My gods, she’s perfect. We can’t ever let her go, now.”
Mason snorts. “You’re such a kiss-ass.”
Bane, on the other hand, completely agrees with me, addressing Risa. “I will pay whatever you want to take over my part of helping out around the house.”
“Fucking cheater!” Mason and I object in tandem, but he talks over us, jumping at the golden opportunity.
“We have literally gotten into fistfights over bets to pawn shit off on each other because we hate chores so much.” He folds his hands, pleading, and gives her a pitiful look that has Mason kicking him under the table. “Please let me give you a job so I never have to touch the stupid washing machine again.”
Chuckling, she grabs a towel to dry her hands. “Are you serious, you big baby? You literally just dump the clothes and soap in, then hit a button; it’s not even hard.”
His eyes dart to the side as Mason and I lose it. Between fits of laughter, I manage to explain, “Bane’s wrecked three washing machines in as many years. Couldn’t tell you for the life of me how he does it, but the guy’s cursed when it comes to laundry.”
Mason rocks back in his chair, still snickering. “Set a full load in the dryer on fire my first few months here, too.”
“That was an electrical short, it wasn’t my fault!” Bane snaps, and even Risa joins in, devolving into laughter.
“I mean, I sort of figured helping out around the house was par for the course if I was going to be staying here. You’re saying that you not only want to let me live here rent free and feed me, but pay me, too? Hate to tell you, but I’m definitely getting the better end of this deal. You really hate housework that much?”
“Yes,” we all state definitively, leaving no room for confusion on the topic.
I brush my fingers down her arm, compelled to touch her as if possessed. “Not to sound dramatic or anything, but I would literally cut off my left arm to never have to touch another dirty dish again so long as I live.”
Mason simply scoffs. “You say that because it’d grow back.”
“Yeah, but it’d hurt like a son of a bitch, and I’m still willing to make that sacrifice.”
Risa shakes her head, amused. “Fine, you guys have a deal. I’ll handle taking care of the house-“ at my hopeful look, she snorts “-for all of you. Basic chores though, so if anything breaks, that’s on you because I can’t fix jack shit; gutters and lawns are out, too. I’ll take care of the normal stuff, but since I was planning on doing it anyway, you can pay me whatever.”
She squeaks in surprise as I wrap my arms tightly around her, kissing her cheek enthusiastically. “Yep, we’re keeping you. We were hoping to wait until after your first few shifts to take you into town to get some new clothes and stuff, but we’ll just be extra careful. Or if you’d rather not, you can make a list and one of us will go.”
“Is there a particular reason to wait until after the first few shifts?” she asks, still trapped in my unyielding embrace.
Mason’s gaze heats, envious. I get what he’s trying to do; not overwhelm her as she becomes acclimated. But as far as I’m concerned, the sire bond is there exactly for this reason. We help ground her while she processes everything; through our scents, our touch, and presence. We’re here so that she doesn’t feel alone, and while I know humans have a very different ideal about personal space and customs, shifters are raised connecting to each other to form communities.
Snakes tend to live independently when they’re grown, but as children, we’re rarely ever alone. Most sleep in our shifted forms, tangled with others and leeching off of their body heat for a sense of comfort before our venom comes in as adolescents. Hell, Bane and I have been crashing together since Risa took over our beds upon her arrival. It’s not weird to us the way it might be to a human, and while I get Mason is our best connection to understanding where her head is at in all of this, he didn’t exactly have a normal transition. Even after all of these years, he still keeps his distance, forcing himself to always remain on the outside looking in.
I’m determined not to let her fall into the same trap, especially when she already treats affection like she has to earn it, as if no one would touch her without an ulterior motive.
Her old way of life is dead; there’s no changing that. The more she tries to transfer human ideals to this place, the more miserable she’ll be. Casual touch is good, and I think it’ll help her embrace her other half, to cave in and listen to her new instincts that are urging her to seek us out as if she’s known us her entire life rather than under two weeks. She’s not human anymore, and the sooner she accepts that, the easier everything else will be on her, hopefully far more so than it is on Mason.
Mason clears his throat. “Being around humans will have your instincts raging and on e
dge. It’s incredibly likely that if you’re startled or feel threatened, you’ll shift involuntarily in public as a defense mechanism. After you’ve shifted a few times, you’ll be familiar with the sensation as the process starts and can hopefully get to an isolated spot in time.”
Releasing Risa when she starts squirming, she carries back on with the dishes while we talk. “What happens if you reveal yourself in front of a human? Do we kill them to keep the secret before anyone finds out and sends us to shifter jail?”
Chuckling, I hop up to sit on the center island that separates her from the guys at the kitchen table. “Oh, you’re going to fit in around here beautifully, angel.”
Bane grabs his and Mason’s plates, heading over to Risa. Waiting to see if it’s going to piss her off, he slowly slides them into the soapy water, watching her face for a sign. When she doesn’t react, he beams, happier than he’s appeared in ages.
“Case by case basis. There isn’t an actual government; that’d be impossible to manage when so many of us live in hiding. Instead, we have an agency that helps us integrate into human society, remain under the radar. They help with documentation, temporary aid for those struggling or lost their home, those sorts of things. People deal with stuff as it comes up, but most issues are over territory, resources, or women, like you’d expect. Natural borns have enough control that exposure isn’t an issue, and turned ones usually jump right to the honeymoon stage, not leaving their new mates for well over a month. By then, they’ve been through the shift several times.”
He grabs a lock of her hair, toying with it while she continues scrubbing. “We’ve spent so much time making our existence seem like a fantasy, that even if a person saw you and talked, no one would believe them. It’s more of an issue if it’s caught on video or in a crowd. At that point, if the shifter escapes without being captured or killed, they end up moving after alerting any communities in the area to be on alert until the heat dies down,” he finishes, letting the silken strands of her hair slip through his fingers.
