by Amelia Jade
Or at least, that was what the internet had told her.
“Is this going to take much longer?” she asked the nearest shifter. The man had taken her request, spoken to another shifter who had disappeared inside, and then steadfastly ignored her.
“The captain is a busy man, ma’am, and he wasn’t expecting you. So it could be a little bit before he can see you.”
The entire time the shifter hadn’t looked over at her, his eyes constantly scanning the street.
“Expecting trouble?”
“Always, ma’am. That’s why we’re out here.”
Typical military reply. She tried not to roll her eyes.
“Can I go inside at least? I’m cold.”
The shifter adjusted his weight before responding, the first reaction of any sort she’d seen from him. Stephanie very carefully did not allow her surprise to show.
“I’m sorry ma’am, but no.”
He’s avoiding the question.
Her eyes focused on the motel, trying to discern anything from the distance she was at. She could see shifters moving around in the lobby. Quite a few of them actually, now that she paid attention. One of them stood up, having seemingly been bent over, and threw a towel over his shoulder.
There was a dark stain on the beige towel.
Then it hit her as she realized what she was seeing. They were cleaning up after something.
The front door opened and a person emerged into the night. He paused in the air, looking around. She could see his body language change when he noticed her, and then he headed in her direction.
Her first impression of him was his size. While the two shifters who had halted her outside the motel had been big, this man was huge. His hulking form moved easily through the evening toward her, and as he drew closer she could see he easily had several inches on the man she’d just been talking to.
The second thing she noticed was that he was covered in blood.
“Umm, if this is a bad time, I can come back,” she said uneasily, retreating several steps.
Was it blood I saw on the towel? Were they cleaning up after him?
“Yeah, I can definitely come back,” she said, turning to go.
“You wanted to talk to me?” The man spoke at last, and his voice was like a fishing lure.
Gravelly enough to reach out and hook her, but full of enough steel and iron that she knew she had no chance of escape. Stephanie felt her steps slow and she turned back around. He was standing at the edge of the border of metal barricades that surrounded the front of the motel.
She thought for sure he would have followed her out into the night, but apparently he wasn’t one to chase after people. Part of her was mildly relieved. She clamped down on a sudden surge of irritation at the idea that he didn’t think she was worth chasing. That was nonsense. He didn’t know her—why would he come after her?
“You’re the one in charge?” she asked, stepping closer, trying to keep from staring at either his handsomely muscled form, or the blood stains on his white T-shirt.
There were some bars and chevrons on his sleeves, a lot more than the other shifter had on his. Perhaps they were rank insignia? It wasn’t a formal uniform compared to any military outfit she’d ever seen before, but they all seemed to wear the same gear, so perhaps this was all shifters needed?
“In charge of what?”
“Of whatever you are,” she returned. “Whatever this, this…group is!”
Stephanie was flustered. She should have done more research before coming over here. All she’d done is ask the lovely lady who ran the bed and breakfast she was staying at where to find shifters. The answer had been at the old motel. A quick internet search had shown her where that was, and she’d marched right over and demanded to see the man in charge.
“You summoned me for this?” the man said, glancing over at the other shifter.
“Well, technically I didn’t summon you, sir,” came the response. “I stayed here to guard, right?”
The big man snorted softly and gave the smaller shifter a pat on the shoulder. Stephanie saw his knuckles were bruised and split, and dried blood covered his hand as well.
“What the hell happened in there?” she pried, gesturing at his hand and shirt. “Are you okay? That looks like you lost a lot of blood.”
“I’m fine.”
Stephanie wondered why she felt a sudden relief at hearing the confidence in his tone, that he would be okay and wasn’t badly injured. Why did she care? She didn’t even know him.
“I’m looking for the person in charge.”
“Well, the commandant of the Green Bearets is in Cadia,” the man said tiredly. “So you’re sort of in the wrong place.”
Green Bearets. Interesting. Play on words, but matches up with the military nature of the place. So these men are all warriors.
No. Not men. Shifters. Stephanie had to force herself to remember that. They might look and talk like men, but they weren’t, not truly. They might be male, and judging by the look of it, they were very male, but they were not human.
“I meant the head of the garrison here, smartass,” she said, proud of herself for remembering a military term that she was positive applied.
The shifter’s powerful head rose sharply as he fixated her with a stare. The nearby light reflected off a pair of forest-green eyes that regarded her with an intensity that made Stephanie uneasy. She shifted her weight slightly from one side to the other, but that was her only concession to the power behind the gaze. She was small and used to having to stick up for herself, to get others to treat her seriously. This was no different.
“That would be me,” he said, his voice dropping an octave as he spoke, letting her know she was treading on thin ice.
“And you are?”
“The commander of the Green Bearets in Cloud Lake,” he replied. “Who the hell are you?”
She eyed him up and down, taking in his smooth cheeks, devoid of much in the way of facial hair. He had a strong, sharp jaw that was working its muscles slowly as he gave her the same look. His hair on the sides and back was short, almost to the scalp, with a slightly longer covering on the top, in a very traditional military crew cut.
But it was the eyes, underneath his thick but not overly bushy eyebrows that kept catching her eye. The verdant orbs seemed to capture her and haul her in, even if she found her attention wandering. It was a very powerful thing, and one that she realized was perfect for someone in command.
The sheer weight of his gaze seemed to lower on her as she went longer without speaking, without answering his question. They engaged in a battle of wills, and this was something that Stephanie could usually win. It had nothing to do with his shoulders, as wide as a truck, or the fact that his biceps were probably the size of her legs.
His muscles and physical stature had nothing to do with the battle they were currently fighting, the two of them staring one another down, not bothering to hide it as they gauged the other, trying to decide how they felt.
But to her surprise, he never gave in. The man simply continued to give her his thousand-yard stare, and didn’t react. Eventually it became rude for her not to answer, as he had, in a way, responded to her question, albeit with an answer he knew she already had.
“My name is Stephanie Holmes,” she said at last, never tearing her eyes off of him. “I’m from Channel 22 News in Morgantown.”
She wondered if he knew where that was. The city was three hours west, and shifters were rarely allowed out among humanity, she knew that much. More often than not humans were allowed in, true, but to the best of her internet research, they were not a widely traveled group.
“What do you want?”
“Um, I’m with the news agency,” she repeated, having thought that made it clear.
He just looked at her blankly.
Stephanie snapped. “Look, mister whatever your name is, I’m here because I was sent here. I don’t want to be, but I’m supposed to report on all the goings-on ou
t here. So it’d be a little bit helpful to me if you could give me a few minutes of your time, and maybe even your name if you’re feeling so gracious, and help me out a little here.”
“No.”
She glared at him even as she sighed in frustration. “Listen, I was given permission to talk to you and your men. So let’s get it over with.”
That was a bit of a misdirection. She was given permission by her boss to talk to them, but she was making it sound like someone had given her permission to talk to him. As if he had to listen to her.
The shifter snorted, his jade eyes growing flinty and hard even as he rolled them. “No you didn’t. We don’t do interviews.” He turned to the other shifter. “Private, escort this woman out of here, please.”
“Yes sir!” the younger shifter said, slapping a fist to his chest and turning to face her. “Come with me please, ma’am.”
Stephanie glared at the back of the retreating commander, noting the rear of his shirt wasn’t covered in blood.
She’d learned a decent amount, but not enough to make it a story. She’d have to be more persistent, and come up with a way to talk to these shifters, to find out why they were all fortified and looking ready for the apocalypse.
Chapter Four
Gabriel
He turned to look behind him when he heard her shoes scrape on the pavement and begin heading away.
Why are you stopping? Go back inside. Make sure that the injured from the patrol are being treated properly, and that the front lobby is cleaned of blood. And finish your paperwork.
That’s what he should have been doing of course. But Gabriel wasn’t. His feet stopped moving and he regarded the short, spunky human with her bouncing red hair and cerulean eyes that had commanded far more of his attention than they should have. He hadn’t noticed them at first, hidden as they were behind glasses that seemed to stay perfectly in place on her head.
But when she’d challenged him to a battle of wills, he hadn’t been able to look away. She’d pulled him in and used them to beat him down. If his voice had been working, he would have said something earlier. But as fate would have it, she must have thought he was playing hardball and had responded first.
Gabriel wasn’t sure what it was about the woman, but she both irritated him in her obvious hunt for information, but also intrigued him with her drive and passion for what she did. It was…an odd combination, and one he didn’t know how to react to.
“What the hell does a human news agency want with us?” he mused aloud.
“I don’t know, but I don’t see it being a good thing.”
He half-turned as Luther came up alongside him.
“Me neither. They probably want to portray us as some sort of bloodthirsty savages,” he said unhappily. “I don’t like this sort of attention, Luther. We’ve been here in force for months now. Why is it that the news teams are just now getting involved, just as we’re having more and more problems with the human government? I don’t like it.”
Luther made an agreeable sound, but didn’t verbally respond. “That her?”
“Yeah,” Gabriel confirmed as they stood together, watching the private try to get her to move along.
“What’s she doing?”
He took in the scene, frowning. “Being stubborn. I think.”
“What did she want?”
“To talk to the commander in charge of this garrison.” He snorted. “But she didn’t even know that we’re the Green Bearets. Clearly she needs to do more research. Half the town, at least, knows who we are. A few simple questions before coming over here could have told her half of what she needs to know. Besides—”
He broke off abruptly as the woman—Stephanie, he recalled—pulled away from her escort and plopped herself down on the sidewalk, pulling out a pen and notepad.
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” he muttered as Luther chortled away next to him.
“Well, commander of the garrison,” his friend mocked, clapping him on the back. “Have fun!”
And with that Luther retreated back inside.
“Thanks,” he called sarcastically, leaning forward slightly and using his body weight as momentum to carry him down the sidewalk and just past the outermost barricade wall.
“What the hell are you doing?” he demanded, stopping several feet short of where she was sitting.
“Sitting.”
His teeth ground against each other.
“And why are you sitting right there?” he asked patiently, doing his best to contain his anger.
“Because I’m on public property outside of your defenses—which by the way are on public property. I hope you got permission from the city to do this. I’m surprised nobody has filed a formal complaint about you blocking the sidewalk yet.”
Gabriel knew a hidden threat when he heard one.
“And what do you plan to do while just sitting there?” he asked, leaning up against a nearby lamp post. The metal groaned slightly as he settled his bulk against it, but didn’t give way.
Stephanie didn’t respond right away, giving him more time to look at her. She was short, as he knew, and thick all over. Big thighs and large breasts that she tried in vain to hide beneath a billowing shirt, but any time she had to adjust it the material pulled tight around her chest. He almost felt sorry for her; she had to receive all sorts of stares like the one he was giving right now.
Feeling lewd and inappropriate, Gabriel tore his eyes away from her body with a powerful mental effort and focused on her face as he waited for her to speak. She had extremely pale skin, and in the light afforded by the overhead streetlamp, he could make out a heavy dusting of freckles on her face. It made him wonder for a moment if her hair was naturally red. He’d thought it was dyed, but now he wasn’t sure. A longer glance at her scalp told him it was, in fact, colored, but he thought she could easily have passed it off as a natural.
That’s probably why she colors it that way, because it looks normal against her pale…soft, skin.
Stop it. Gabriel had to control himself. She wasn’t a trophy to be won, dammit. Besides, she was an annoying newsie. He didn’t like journalists at all. Or reporters. Or whatever the hell they preferred to call themselves. Either way, he disliked them majorly.
He wondered what the deal was with the giant penguin on her T-shirt. It certainly wasn’t very businesslike, not what he’d expect a reporter to wear when trying to interview someone. Odd. She wasn’t wearing sweatpants though, so that was a point in her favor. They were either very dark jeans, or dress pants of a sort. He couldn’t tell without touching them, and just then he was fairly positive she wasn’t interested in that sort of attention.
“I’m going to sit here, and talk to people,” she said. “See what they have to say.”
Gabriel cursed silently. He knew he couldn’t move her, because as she’d pointed out, not only was it public property, but if he did, she would report his defenses via a complaint to the town hall, which would likely result in them being forced into action. So far the town had basically looked the other way. His men were mostly well-behaved, and they were injecting a lot of cash into the business of Cloud Lake.
Nearly four hundred shifters ate a lot of food, and drink too. The strip club in particular was doing booming business, and they were bringing in girls from out of town now, and paying for them to stay, that’s how well it was going. But the local grocery stores, restaurants, bars, and especially the ice cream stores, were making a killing. In fact, one enterprising young man had gone out and bought an ice cream truck. He came by the motel twice a day, to catch both shifts of Green Bearets. All he sold were tubs of ice cream.
To Gabriel’s knowledge, not once of the dozens of times he’d come by had he left with any remaining stock, and the prices he charged meant he must be raking in a pretty profit.
So all in all, the arrangement had been beneficial for the city. They were getting the cash, but they also got the protection of his soldiers from their enemy. Fenris had invaded Clou
d Lake in the opening move of the war, and during the month it had taken Cadia to get its shit together, had wreaked unholy terror on the occupants. Many buildings had been destroyed and burnt to the ground.
But all that would go away in an instant if humans started complaining, he was sure of it. So he had to tread carefully here. Not only was Stephanie a human that could cause him trouble locally, she was also a news reporter, who could make trouble for him on a much, much larger scale.
Unfortunately his men were not always the best at keeping their mouths shut. If she stayed here and simply talked to them all, it would be bad, bad news. She would likely hear things taken completely out of context, and it could form an inaccurate picture of his men.
“I’m going to ask you to please leave,” he said, trying a polite approach.
“No.”
“Please,” he said tightly, angered by her immediate and rude dismissal of his request.
“I’ll stay right here, thank you very much.”
Gabriel snapped.
“No you won’t,” he growled, squatting down, scooping her up into his arms—gently of course, he didn’t want her to accuse him of hurting her—and began to walk down the street.
Stephanie sputtered and remained frozen for several long moments as she tried to comprehend what was going on. That was plenty of time for Gabriel, his swift steps taking them dozens of feet before she even said a word.
“Put me down,” Stephanie commanded.
“No,” he said, mimicking her earlier tone.
“Put me the fuck down right now!” she screamed.
He shook his head and kept walking. Finally she began to move, and in his effort not to hurt her she was able to worm her way free of his grip.
“Don’t ever touch me again!’ she said, and hit him in the arm.
“That’s a bit ironic considering what you just did, don’t you think?” he asked, looking at his arm.
“You…you…pig!” she exclaimed, hitting him again. And again.
