Serpentine

by J. Kearston

  Walking through the door, I need to take a few extra seconds to mute everything down to a dull roar, the various perfumes and crowd making me nauseous. After I get it back to a bearable level, I do a cursory scan around the store, hating that I can’t instantly find the others like this and need to actually track them down.

  “I’d rather he does. Hunting him down might piss her off and cause some legal problems, but self-defense is the golden ticket to excuse all murders.”

  “Hard to make that claim with the amount of overkill we’ll be doing,” he argues with a hard glint to his eye. “Because no way in hell is that fucker getting an easy out.”

  We’re in complete agreement on that front. Blake Thompson is going to suffer; it’s just a matter about how much we can cram in before needing to dump the body so we don’t get caught. Vengeance may be sweet, but we can’t very well protect our mate from jail.

  We both stop dead in our tracks, catching sight of Risa. There’s no sign of Bane, and unless he has a damn good reason, it’s entirely possible that after we’re finished getting banned for life from this place, I’ll be kicking his ass next. He had one fucking job, and after the way he had her coming on his face last night, I expected a hell of a lot better from him.

  “Who the fuck is that?” Stryker demands, glaring at the man prattling away as Risa gives him an awkward, dismissive smile and steps away uneasily. He follows her, and only the fact that he hasn’t actually touched her is keeping his head attached to his body.

  As much as it threatens to drive me mad, I tune back into everything so I can pick up on their conversation. He can’t be much older than Bane, with a blonde buzz cut and pompous attitude to match, like he thinks the sun shines out of his ass.

  “-ven’t seen you for a while now. You switch to a new club?” he asks, and I have to take shallow breaths rather than the deep, bracing one I’d prefer. The last thing that I need is for my already tenuous control to snap.

  My long strides eat up the distance quickly as I weave between the racks of bras and underwear, approaching her from behind. Wrapping an arm around her stomach, I pull her against me, kissing the crown of her head. The contact helps take a fraction of the edge off, appeases the bond screaming in the back of my head that thinks the only way to know she’s safe is by having a hand on her for confirmation.

  “Hey, babe, who’s your friend?”

  The jackass looks at me, nostrils flaring before his blue eyes widen slightly, and I freeze. Guard still down from when I was eavesdropping, it makes it easier to get a sense of the man before me; namely, the fact that I don’t have the typical aversion to him that I do with humans.

  “Shit,” he curses, taking a step back. His gaze flicks sharply to Risa and away, brow furrowed in confusion. “Sorry, guys, I didn’t realize.” Lifting his hands in surrender first, he tucks them into his pockets, putting more distance between us. “I’m not surprised she caught your eye at Underground; gods know enough were circling. But you can’t blame me for being disappointed that I waited too long to make a move.”

  He scrunches up his face, risking another quick look in her direction, and I realize with horror that he can tell she’s other. Not human, but not shifter either; something unknown that’s confusing his senses, and new things aren’t kept a secret for long.

  People love a good mystery, especially ones that look like her. Pretty girls make men do reckless, stupid things.

  The temperature seems to drop around us with the cold fury emanating off of Stryker and me with his words. Cringing, the stranger retreats a few more paces, dipping his head respectfully. “I’m fucking this up. Just-“ he glances between us, pointedly not looking in Risa’s direction again “-congrats.” With that, he turns on his heel, walking away.

  I don’t move until he rounds a corner out of sight, and Stryker beats me to the punch before I can speak. “Where the hell is Bane?”

  Risa curls her fingers around my arm over her collar. “He went to buy my swimsuit and underwear so I wouldn’t see how much it was after my reaction last time.”

  Slipping to the side so my arm stays wrapped around her shoulders, I guide her in the path the man disappeared towards the register. “That’s because he’s book smart. He gets hung up on solitary tasks and forgets that the rest of the world isn’t like where he grew up, and people are garbage. Next time, punch first, and ask questions later.”

  “Yeah, definitely not going to do that,” she declares, tucking an arm around my lower back. “I hate confrontation. Now if he’d actually tried something, I’d have shouted, but I’m not about to make a scene unless it’s justified.”

  Stryker steps into her path, tucking a finger beneath her chin to tilt her head up, forcing her to see the conviction in his eyes. “You were literally kidnapped before we found you. You know better than anyone how quickly things can change in the blink of an eye, so by all that is holy, please don’t suffer an uncomfortable situation for the sake of not wanting to draw attention to yourself. Do you have any idea what it would do to us if something happened to you?” She pauses, blinking up at him.

  Dipping his head, he presses a quick kiss to her lips. “Let’s not find out, okay?”

  Her breath leaves her in a rush. “Where did you guys run off to, anyway?”

  Rather than let her change the subject, I counter, “Who was that asshole?”

  She sinks closer into my side. “Just a regular at the club. I recognize faces more than names, but he was there nearly every weekend with the same group of friends. Tipped well; especially for the fact I wasn’t a topless dancer and most people don’t bother since cage girls don’t give out lap dances.”

  Tongue in cheek, I keep myself from saying anything, because I guarantee it’d come out wrong right now. I’m not pissed that she was a dancer. Hell, I’m beyond proud that she held on to that despite the asshole she was dating likely giving her hell for it. And from the way her face changes when she talks about that place, it’s clear she enjoyed it. No, I’m pissed to hear that there were people frequenting enough to notice she was missing, but never thought past their dicks long enough to actually look at her and see she was clearly suffering.

  Any of them could have tried to seduce her away from her boyfriend, upgraded her from an abusive relationship to a regular, disappointing one. Instead, they just left her there, week after week, too much of cowards to approach her. He doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air as her anymore, not after that sort of failure.

  Bane glances behind him as the stranger that bypassed him disappears down another aisle, headed for the exit. When he faces us again he’s frowning, as if he sensed there was something off despite his block still being in place. Upon seeing the murderous looks on our faces, he quickens his pace, risking one more look to memorize the man’s features in case he needs to hunt him down in a second. “What?”

  Stryker growls, “Some prick cornered her in the underwear section. Only backed off when he realized we were like him and assumed she was mated; still picked up that something was off, though.”

  Bane’s eyes widen slightly at that tidbit, not used to running into many shifters out in public towns since we always have our sensory blocks up. His attention whips to Risa. “Are you alright?”

  Tapping my side, she slips out of my grasp to approach him. “You guys make way too big of a deal out of little things. You do realize that ignoring annoying men is par for the course for women, right? Plenty of practice over the years, it’s not like I was shot or something.”

  My scowl is reflected on Bane and Stryker’s faces. “That doesn’t make us feel any better.”

  She turns to me, raising an eyebrow. “It isn’t supposed to, it’s just an unfortunate fact.”

  Lips pursed in annoyance, Stryker takes her hand, lifting the back to his mouth before interlacing their fingers together, leading her towards the exit. “Fact of the past, maybe, but not your reality anymore. Some jackoff hits on you or follows you around like a creep? Punch him in
the throat. He tries to retaliate? Stab him in the eye or cut his dick off; dealer’s choice on how you want to kill time until one of us can get to you.”

  Bane growls in agreement. “Don’t worry about making a scene or the fallout, we’ll handle it. You just focus on keeping yourself safe, because in absolutely no situation should you force yourself to tolerate some creep’s bullshit for the sake of not wanting to bother anyone.”

  The summer heat blasts us in the face as we exit the building, but she stops on the sidewalk before stepping foot into the parking lot. Whirling around, she flicks her gaze between all three of us to make it clear we’re all included as she angrily retorts, “Have you looked in a damn mirror lately? You give off the air that you’ll shank a man in broad daylight without giving a shit. You scream blood money and power, and have the builds to back it up. Of course you think it’s so easy to scare someone off.”

  She slips her hair tie off of her wrist and pulls her hair into a ponytail to get it off of her neck as the heat starts taking a toll, her cheeks tinting red between the weather and her tirade. “Look at me and what do you see?” When none of us answer, she scoffs. “Exactly. That macho, intimidating bullshit might work for men, but not for most women. We’re either prey, or a challenge; there are plenty of men that fighting back would just excite them more and escalate things. And if we manage to kick a guy’s ass for bothering us? We’re suddenly ‘crazy bitches’, and it only serves to piss them off, not make them look at us with respect or fear like you think.”

  Her voice rises with her vehemence. “They don’t just move on, either. Plenty of them become obsessed with the idea of getting revenge, of regaining their power by putting us ‘back in our places’. They stalk us to work, follow us home, and wait for a chance to jump us with some of their friends so they can beat the shit out of us or rape us.”

  Her violet eyes are hard enough to cut diamonds as she glares, trying to drive the point through our thick, oblivious skulls. “I wish it were as easy as punching someone in the throat and them leaving me alone because they were scared of me, but that’s just not the world we live in. So excuse the fuck out of me for trying to keep a situation from escalating by suffering through some lewd jokes and offering placating smiles while subtly making my way to a safer place. Stabbing your problems in the face might work for you three, but I don’t get that same luxury, so maybe skip the lecture unless by some miracle, I magically wake up with fangs.”

  Releasing Stryker’s hand, she storms off towards the truck, leaving the three of us behind in awkward silence. I’ve never stopped to think about any of that before, because... why would I? It’s a problem that’s never affected me, never had to give any thought to, until Risa brought it up. And now that the double standard’s been brought to light, my mind starts wandering, trying to figure out what else I’ve been woefully oblivious to my entire life.

  I condemned that stranger inside for ignoring an unknown woman’s suffering, but aren’t I just as guilty? The only reason I was even pissed is because it had to do with the woman I’m in love with, otherwise it never would have crossed my mind. How many people have I passed on the street that were mentally screaming for someone to notice them, for anyone to care that they were slowly dying, barely able to breathe through the pain?

  How many people have I stood next to, thinking I was utterly alone in my suffering, only for them to feel exactly the same?

  “I’m pretty sure we’re going to have to lock her in the house,” Bane groans. “Everything feels ten times more dangerous than it did five minutes ago, especially since she can’t shift.”

  Can’t shift, not hasn’t shifted yet. At least he’s started to accept it, too.

  Stryker’s attention is rapt on Risa’s retreating form that hasn’t once looked back. “No. She’s smart; she knows she comes off as vulnerable, so she’s twisted that into an armor that makes people want to protect her instead of take advantage of it. She’s the sort that would seduce someone so she could slit their throat when their guard is down, knowing she can’t land a hard enough punch when cornered. Honestly, we might want to take a page out of her book instead of going on like we’ve been. Look how well the direct approach worked out with Marcus’ brothers.”

  I cringe, unable to argue the point. “Hatred spreads like a cancer if you don’t catch it early; it’s how you end up with grudges passed down through generations. Hell, look how a handful of rabid wolves made the humans turn on all of us, slaughtering us on sight and lumping us all into the category of monsters like we weren’t people anymore. It took decades to get us to the point we’re at now, and even then, it’s only because they think we’re myths, not because they decided to coexist.”

  Bane nods absentmindedly, lost in thought and his speech distracted. “Might be better to cut ties and start over, anyway. Everyone in the clearing knows she can’t shift, and the rumors will start spreading. They respect what we’re capable of, but that doesn’t equate to loyalty. And if anyone we’ve pissed off over the years wants revenge, they’ll realize Risa’s the perfect way to get it. Our reputation is the only thing that might keep her safe at this point.”

  I hold up the keys. “Come on, she’s going to get even more pissed off when she’s left standing outside of the truck having to wait for us. We can sit down after dinner and figure out a long-term plan, but decisions made in the heat of the moment never seem to end well.”

  A bit of amusement creeps into Stryker’s tone as he boasts, “I beg to differ. Biting Risa was the best thing I ever did.”

  ***

  Bane slams on the brakes and I toss an arm out across Risa’s chest as we lurch forward in the backseat. Kayla’s long, blonde hair is a windswept mess obscuring her face as she bends over to clutch her knees, catching her breath. Rising up, she approaches Stryker’s window that he’s rolling down, chest rising and falling heavily with a fearful look on her face.

  “What’s wrong?” Stryker asks, hand on the buckle of his seat belt.

  Kayla’s eyes flit between us all, biting her lower lip before rushing out. “Grayson and Victor. I overheard them talking and hoped that I’d cut you off in time.”

  I tilt my head to the side. “Why didn’t you shift then?”

  Her eyes meet mine, the harsh afternoon sun brightening their normally dark brown color. “Seemed disrespectful when your mating was so new, and after what happened to Marcus, we’re all trying to be extra careful.”

  Bane gets her back on topic. “What were they saying?”

  She cringes. “Planning an ambush, got a few others on board. They’re waiting at the drive entrance to the clearing, using the store to stay out of sight. Figured they stood a better shot hitting you there than breaking into your house.”

  Stryker’s face becomes devoid of emotion, knowing what we’re going to have to do. It’s a shame, but peace crafted from fear never lasts forever.

  Kayla seems to be the only smart one left, trying to spare herself the fate everyone else is setting themselves up for. “I can stay here to keep an eye on your mate so she’s out of the blast zone while you handle it.”

  Bane and Stryker start quietly murmuring plans, but after the incident at the store, the thought of leaving Risa alone with anyone other than us is just going to mean my head won’t be concentrated on the fight. “That’s alright, I’ll stay with her. Bane and Stryker and more than capable of handling things without me.”

  If I hadn’t been looking for it, I’d have missed the tiny flicker of panic that skates across Kayla’s irises, there and gone in a blink. After the fact she ran all of this way instead of shifting into her fox to get here quicker, when she could have carried her clothes in her mouth, I already had a bad feeling. Since I don’t trust anyone outside of those in this truck, I was willing to concede I was being paranoid.

  Before the second strike, that is.

  Kayla reaches into her back pocket, and I shove Risa’s head down. “Gun!”

  With a curse, Stryker reacts in
stantly. Instead of going for cover, he snaps his hand out of the open window, grabbing Kayla’s wrist and making the shot go wide. He disarms her easily, tossing the gun to Bane. Releasing her for a fraction of a second, he slams his door open, sending her sprawling.

  From this angle, with the door left open as he climbs out, my view is blocked. It doesn’t stop me from envisioning it though; her strangled gasp, Stryker likely stepping on her throat. “I’d ask you how many others were in on this plan,” he purrs, “but I couldn’t trust a word out of your mouth anyway, so I’m not going to bother.”

  Kayla manages a wheeze. “Please.”

  Bane has reached the two of them by now, and though the immediate threat is gone, I don’t let Risa sit up yet in case there are any more hovering nearby in the trees, using Kayla as a decoy. “You said that to us once before, do you remember?” he asks, as easily as if they were discussing the weather.

  I wrap my arms around Risa, hugging her while keeping her pinned in the awkward angle. Her racing heart is starting to slow back to a normal rate, as if the sound of Bane and Stryker toying with their prey is a comfort, convincing her through their confidence that she’s safe.

  Stryker increases the pressure, slowly crushing her throat with a sickening sound. “We didn’t care that you were wanted for arson, so long as you appreciated the mercy we extended you. But the second you thought about hurting her, you sealed your own fate, so I don’t even feel bad.”

  A moment later there’s a crack as he snaps her spine. The next instant, Bane drives his pocket knife into her heart, ensuring there’s no way that she’ll be able to heal. We can survive a hell of a lot, and a broken neck in itself isn’t necessarily a death sentence. We’re never that careless when it comes to kills, but with someone that tried to kill our mate? The desire to drag it out is an impulse both of them are clearly struggling with before wisely moving on to sweep the surrounding area.