Serpentine

by J. Kearston

  Gripping her hip as Crystal wraps a leg around Risa’s back, Risa supports her as she bends backward, my mate dipping her head to bite the fabric at her friend’s hip and untying it with her teeth. It falls to the ground on top of the small amount of bills tossed up there so far, but it picks up quickly with each additional scarf that Risa peels from Crystal’s body, no matter if it’s with her hands or mouth.

  “A dollar, seriously?” Stryker demands, briefly drawing my eye away from the stage as he smacks the arm of the guy standing beside him. “Do you have any idea how much effort it takes to pull that move off? You want them to keep doing these shows or not, cheapskate?” The man nervously tosses up a ten, Stryker nodding and clapping him on the back. “Smart man.”

  Turning away from them, a nagging in the back of my head has me pausing, scanning the crowd surrounding me for a solid two minutes trying to figure out what has my hackles rising. Pressing the tip of my tongue against my sharpening tooth to try and keep myself in check, I glare at the shifter from the clothing store hungrily watching the stage. Despite recognizing Risa and knowing we’re likely around after the prior confrontation, there isn’t an ounce of fear on his face, just blatant lust and longing.

  I miss the lawless wilderness, where people are wise enough to be afraid. Here, they put far too much stock in the safety of numbers, using it to get away with far more than they ever could outside of the city, and this bastard is well aware of how eye-fucking someone’s mate would end back home.

  On that train of thought, as much as it makes me nauseous, I drop the block on my senses to get a solid feel of the place. Scents and sounds slam into me with all of the subtlety of a bull in a china shop, but I try to sift through them as much as possible. While we can’t sniff out our own kind in a direct approach, if we focus, we can lean on the sense of danger that comes from being surrounded by humans, noting the absence of it to find our own kind.

  My mouth parts in surprise as it becomes clear that nearly a quarter of this place is shifters, and it damn well wasn’t the first night Risa worked when we were on high alert the entire night. Which means that even if they aren’t after her blood, they are still drawn to her presence like we were afraid of. It’s an amplified version of how we decided to take a different route home on a whim the day we found her, like our subconscious was shoving us in her direction.

  A stabbing pain lances through me that I fail to subdue. Even if we hid her away in some underground fortress, people will always be able to find her no matter what we do. We can go toe to toe with the best of them, but good intentions and loving someone with every fiber of your being isn’t enough to change the world. We’re just... not enough. I’m not enough.

  Spiraling, the sharp pain reappears tenfold, and I shove through the crowd, cursing. I make it to the bathroom in the nick of time, locking myself in one of the stalls. My shift is more painful than I can remember ever suffering though, simply because of how hard I’m fighting against what should be as natural as breathing. Coiled on my pile of discarded clothes within the stall, I’m tempted to head over to the wall to bang my head against it, but honestly, I don’t even want to touch the floor in this place, let alone the wall behind the toilets.

  Thankfully, Stryker storms into the room a few seconds later, chasing after me to see what was up. The bathroom’s empty, everyone out there enjoying the show, so it doesn’t take him long to crouch down and see me using my shirt as a nest.

  “And here I was worried I’d come in here to find you unable to take it anymore and jacking off.” Hooking a finger on the belt loop of my jeans, he slides me and my clothes out from under the locked door. “You have more control than any of us, so what gives?” Obviously unable to answer him, he brings me up to his face, trying to lighten the mood. “You don’t need to worry about hiding your boner in public, nobody else is.”

  Hissing at him in response, annoyed, he laughs. “For real, though, is everything alright? I imagine if she were in danger you’d have hauled ass back out there instead of pouting in a pile of laundry, cum stained floor or not.”

  The best I can do is hold his gaze, attempting to convey my hopeless frustration before lowering my head, defeated. Using my shirt to cover my body, he walks towards the door.

  “We’re all scared, B,” he murmurs. “Seeing the way she lit up out there?” He shakes his head. “I know being the center of attention makes her uncomfortable, but when she forgets about everyone watching her, she lights up like she was made for the spotlight.”

  Pausing with his hand on the handle, he sighs, sounding pained. “She’s been stuck in the shadows her entire life and convinced herself that she belongs there. And yet, she has to remain trapped there if we want to keep her alive. No matter what we do anymore, it feels like the wrong move.”

  Heading back out into the chaos, Stryker weaves through the crowd, but instead of making a beeline for the exit, he heads back to Mason like he can read my mind. I haven’t had an involuntary shift since I was an awkward teenager, and the only thing that will give me a shot at being able to shift back is using the bond to let her proximity sooth the turmoil I can’t seem to quell even in this form. While I know that secrecy should always be a shifter's top priority, it’s not mine. Risa is, and she always will be.

  After a few more minutes, I can’t stand it anymore, slipping my head free of the fabric covering my body. Once I see her up there, instinct takes over and Stryker barely manages to lunge forward in time so that I don’t fall to the ground and wind up trampled. Slithering over the crumpled bills and around the discarded scraps of fabric, my tongue flicks against Risa’s ankle.

  Her eyes widen as she glances down, Crystal startling and taking a cautious step back, terror pouring off of her like a perfume. Coiling around my mate’s leg, I work my way up her body, over the thin straps at her hip, her underwear peeking out from the last, translucent scarf tied around her waist. She recovers quickly, acting like this is part of the show and carrying on with the routine.

  Crystal isn’t as convinced, her movements stilted at first, heart beating a mile a minute. I slip beneath the crisscrossed string lacing the front of Risa’s bra together, sliding between her breasts to coil around her throat, draping my body over her shoulders. It serves a dual purpose. One, I get to feel her pulse against my body, the blood rushing through her veins, and assure myself that she’s right here. That no one is going to take her away from me. The other? Not a shifter in this place won’t see the movement for the warning that it is.

  There aren’t any natural vipers with our coloring or size, so there’s no mistaking that I’m one of them, bold enough to flaunt it in their faces even surrounded by humans. And with as uncommon as we are, only a handful of known nests on the continent, stories spread like wildfire, doing half of the work for us.

  Strike first, because we don’t care enough about anyone beyond our own kind and families to bother asking questions.

  As the show ends, the crowd is split between lewd catcalls, roars of drunken praise, and applause. The DJ slides a duffle bag across the stage for them so Crystal and Risa can collect their money, since they have nowhere to hold it.

  Heading straight for the locker room, Risa lifts me off of her shoulders only to set me down on the bench while she changes. Crystal gives me a wide berth, but my attention is wholly focused on my mate.

  “Do I even want to ask what in the actual fuck is going on or where that thing came from?” Crystal asks from the far end of the long bench.

  Risa fastens the button on her shorts, acting like it’s no big deal. “Can’t bring guard dogs into the club, but there’s no rule against snakes. And honestly, you can’t tell me that it didn’t look hot as hell.”

  She scoffs incredulously. “More like scared the fuck out of a good chunk of the crowd. They emptied their pockets so quick, you’d think they were convinced you were going to sick that thing on them.”

  Risa claps a hand over her mouth to hide her amused snort, failing miser
ably. “Hey, you’re the one that begged me up there, so you don’t get to complain. Besides, haven’t you ever read any good enemies to lovers books? Fear is practically foreplay, so you’re welcome for the unconventional bonus.”

  Now dressed, she uses two fingers to gently caress from the top of my head, halfway down my length. “How was I supposed to know my pet would get jealous seeing my hands all over someone else?” Carefully lifting me up, she helps me onto her shoulders before lightly running a finger beneath my jaw, down my throat. “As needy as a puppy, this one. I should have guessed Mason would smuggle him in after as restless as he seemed earlier today so we wouldn’t have to leave him alone.”

  As she helps Crystal divide the money into separate stacks, I coil my tail around her upper arm. While they count and stuff their purses, I simply soak up her presence, enjoying the brief time I get her to myself.

  I’m not much for solitude, always finding comfort surrounded by my nest as opposed to most vipers that branch off on their own as soon as they’re able. It’s why I was so fucking miserable until Stryker moved in; first my parents left me, and then grandpa chucked me out of the house the day I turned seventeen.

  I can’t stand being alone, and my friends have always been two steps away from self-destructing, would leave me behind if it meant escaping the pain that they struggle to live with. Now Risa’s here, healing them in a way that I never could, and the world wants to rip her away from us, from me.

  So for just a moment, I pretend that she’s solely mine. That if I hold on tightly enough, she won’t disappear the moment I blink. I imagine what it would be like to rest easy, wrapped around her so no one can take her away.

  I let myself pretend that the universe will eventually forgive me for being too needy as a kid, forcing my parents to drive off of that cliff just to escape being around me.

  It’s the one and only time I’ve ever lied to my mate; I wasn’t a toddler when they killed themselves, I was six. I still remember the blank look on their faces as they dropped me off with a suitcase on my grandfather’s doorstep. They didn’t even say goodbye, just got in their car and never looked back.

  I’m cursed; I’ve pulled Mason and Stryker back from the brink of no return, time and time again, all the while wondering if it’s being around me that keeps pushing them back to the ledge. Yet I’m selfish enough to keep them close, because I’m terrified that if one more person leaves me, I won’t be able to deny the truth anymore. I’m either too much or not enough, but for all that I preach about loving them until they figure out how to love themselves, I’m a hypocrite.

  I hated myself the day I tried to drown myself in my grandfather’s lake, and I continue to hate myself every day that I wake up, unable to tell the people I love to run before I end up suffocating them too.

  Risa says her goodbyes and heads out to find the others, still riding the high from tonight and full of fire in a way I’ve never seen her before. Then there’s me, who literally sucks the life out of her, using her so that I can actually feel alive for once, to be happy.

  And all the while, I remain wrapped around her throat, her living noose that tightens more with each passing day.

  Chapter 21

  Risa

  Setting my empty glass in the sink, I head out of the kitchen to get dressed and see if I can con the guys into going to the bookstore today. While we shouldn’t go crazy stocking up on things during our temporary stint here, I’m bored out of my ever-loving mind. Hell, we could spend the day at the library so we don’t need to buy anything and I’ll be thrilled.

  Pausing, I glance back towards the front door, changing direction. A small corner of a manila envelope is peeking out beneath it, and I slide it the rest of the way inside without opening the door, already assuming the worst. Carefully opening it, I reach inside, frowning.

  “Oh, now that’s disgusting.”

  I promptly drop the photos back inside the envelope and wipe my hand on my shirt. Internally, I’m cringing, because I already know nothing I say is going to keep the guys in check after they see this.

  Goodbye, bookstore.

  “What’s disgusting?” Stryker asks, cracking his neck and stretching, finally waking up, but at the worst possible moment.

  “You’re not going to like it,” I warn, but pass it over nonetheless.

  Not like I’m trying to protect the asshole; the only reason I was in favor of doing things the way we have been, was to make sure we could stay in town as long as possible. We’ve been trying to draw my parents out for weeks now, though, to no avail. We were hoping to avoid going on the run and starting over, but over the last few days, I’ve accepted that this plan just isn’t working out like we hoped it would.

  Stryker’s face becomes a cold mask as he withdraws the photos from the envelope. They’re from enough places that it’s clear he’s been stalking us since the day after Mason threatened him, all zoomed in on me, cropping the guys out of the pictures or scribbling them out. The nail in the coffin, though?

  The dried cum stains.

  Mason walks into the room and snatches one of the pictures from Stryker’s hand. There’s a heavy beat of silence before he tosses it back at him, grabs the keys to the truck off of the end table, and slams the door behind him without a single word.

  Stryker palms the back of my neck, kissing my forehead before quickly chasing after him. “Stay with Bane, pack a bag.”

  “Yeah, no.” Hollering over my shoulder for Bane, I follow Stryker out the door, climbing into the truck with them. “I’m not going to try and stop you, but at least make sure you think this through.”

  Bane slides into the truck beside me a second before Mason pulls out of the driveway, hair still dripping from the shower and clothes clinging to his damp body. “What the fuck is going on?”

  In lieu of answering, Stryker tosses the envelope at him. The confusion disappears in a puff of smoke, his jaw clenching as he sifts through the pictures. I hastily buckle my seatbelt as we pull onto the road, unable to catch Mason’s eye in the rearview mirror.

  “You know it’s a trap. He wouldn’t have tossed an insult like that in your faces without being confident you wouldn’t be able to kill him for it. Whether it’s a hidden camera or he’s going to try and shoot you in the face when you bust into his apartment and claim self-defense.”

  When none of them respond, I sigh. “I’m not asking you not to do anything, I’m asking you to not be stupid about it. Rushing in pissed off isn’t going to end well.” Though it’s a low blow, I add, “What if something happened to you guys, if you wound up dead or arrested? I’d be left alone with that psycho on the loose, let alone everyone else.”

  The truck slows down a bit, Mason easing his foot off of the gas. We carry on another few minutes before he slams a hand on the dashboard, cursing, and pulls over to the curb. After throwing it in park, he turns around in his seat to face me. “Call your cop buddies and tell them to meet us there. Either they do something, or I will, but I’m not dropping this, consequences be damned.”

  Thatcher picks up on the third ring and I rattle off the situation quickly, hanging up as soon as he starts in with the speech about going home and letting them handle it. I don’t want to hear it any more than the guys do, especially since I’m starting to get through to them a bit.

  “This isn’t working,” Bane finally states, staring stoically out his window, watching the people meandering on the sidewalk. “If her parents were going to show, they would have by now; it’s been weeks. Hell, she’s drawing every other shifter in the vicinity her way. Now that bastard is not only still alive, but he’s fucking stalking her, and we didn’t even know it?”

  Jaw clenched and finger tapping against the doorframe, he looks... like he’s starting to break under the pressure. And it’s my fault. I wreck everything that I touch.

  “I hate the city; I can’t pick up jack shit with all of this chaos. And when I try, it’s so overwhelming that I shut down. I’m constantly pissed off, c
onsciously trying not to let that spill over to you guys.” Bane sighs, Mason and Stryker slumping a bit in their seats like they’re in full agreement. “I want to go home.”

  Mason pulls back onto the street, keeping within the speed limit this time. “Where would we go, B? We haven’t found somewhere to settle down after we managed to pull this off, let alone where to go if we failed.”

  Stryker clucks his tongue. “I would suggest a deserted island, but unless one of you can figure out a way to run an ethernet cable that far, I’m pretty sure we’d kill each other within six months. Seclusion is great if you have shit to keep you entertained; not so much when you’re stuck doodling in the sand.”

  As Blake’s apartment building draws near, my stomach twists with nerves, not sure how to keep everything from falling apart. “If we dip out now, our only other lead to finding my parents is the agency, and I can’t imagine that any address they have on file is valid.”

  Stryker braces an elbow against his door, propping up his cheek. “Or that they’ll even give out employee info in the first place.”

  “Especially since we can’t tell them why since we don’t want people knowing about me. Causing a scene at a place as important as that in the shifter world is a stupid idea if we’re trying to disappear. We’ll just have to move around instead of picking one place to settle; for now, at least.”

  Parking across the street from the building, the guys tense up, wanting to work out all of their frustrations by beating the living hell out of Blake. With countless problems thrown our way, this is one they could actually solve, erase him from existence and feel like we’re making progress. A police cruiser pulls up behind us shortly after, Ryker and Thatcher climbing out looking pissed off; at us or Blake, I’m not even sure.

  Mason and Stryker get out to fill them in, slamming the truck doors behind them and leaving me trapped in awkward silence next to Bane. I watch their lips move in a silent fight, Ryker and Thatcher taking a look in the envelope and saying something placating to the guys, which results in muffled shouting. I strengthen the block that I have up to keep the onslaught at bay, knowing full well that I’m being a coward.