She sneered at me and did that weird eye thing once she caught me staring at her. I wasn’t sure if it were the fact that she really hated Gabriella and Chase or she had a genuine love for violence, but I saw the pleasure she gained from torturing Gabriella. It was sadistic.
The teenager looked down at my wound under the torn fabric. “Chase is an ass,” he stated angrily, with a troubled grimace marking his unassuming appearance. I glanced at the young man with the olive green eyes and deep dimples. He held a look of innocence that would dare anyone to think that he was capable of the level of violence I witnessed. Short copper-colored wavy hair and flushed cheeks added to the cute, youthful facade. Standing well over six feet with a slim build, it was hard to think of him as anything more than the cute boy next door whose hair you wanted to ruffle. But the intimidating scowl on his face dared anyone to do anything of the sort without a death wish.
“May I?” Dr. Baker asked. I nodded. He removed enough of the shirt to examine the area and keep me covered. He looked at it for a long time, palpating along it lightly. “It’s just a puncture wound, you’ll heal just fine,” he stated reassuringly.
Maybe it would heal without any problems, but it hurt like hell. Minimally focused on my painful shoulder, I eyed Ethan as he paced heatedly in front. With each step, he seemed to become more infuriated. When he finally wore a sufficient hole in the floor, he turned to face me. His cobalt eyes had shifted to an intense gray, a warning sign that the wolf was in the driver’s seat. If I thought I could have made it to the door, I would have tried to leave the room.
Stone-faced, he leaned into me. “What the hell was that? Weren’t you supposed to stay in the damn house?” he snapped, uncomfortably close to my face. His rage wouldn’t be doused by any answer I could offer, so I remained silent, hoping he would just go away.
He inched closer and the intense emotions that radiated off him made me uneasy. They physically affected me, making me feel queasy and anxious. I wanted him away from me. When he inched a smidge closer, I pushed him. He knocked my hand away.
Joan called his name in an even and calm tone but he ignored her.
“Why would you run when you knew the vampires were after you, especially at dusk? You cannot be this stupid.” He growled, barely holding on to whatever control he had left.
“Ethan,” Joan repeated in a much firmer tone. He whipped toward her, his face pulled tight into a frown, his eyes narrowed into thin lines.
“She chose to leave,” said Joan. “It is an option I feel she should have been given in the first place. She’s been through a great deal today. I don’t think yelling at her like an uncivilized brute is going to make her feel safe in a home in which we are asking her to be our guest.” Her face matched her voice, soft and kind, which just further enraged Ethan.
Ethan took several steps back and waved his hand toward me, inviting Joan to take over. He plowed out of the room.
“Skylar, I would like to ask that you trust us, but that would be useless. I don’t know what I can do to earn that trust. I assure you that we are here to help. But another stunt like today and the ending may not be as favorable,” she stated, guiding me back upstairs to the room I had run away from.
“I shouldn’t have left,” I admitted, shamed by my behavior. I had done the typical stupid B-movie girl mistake, running away from assistance and getting myself into worse trouble. I didn’t want to be that woman.
“No, you should not have run. Let’s try this again. Skylar, I am extending an invitation for you to stay here as the Midwest Pack’s guest and allow us to help you. Will you accept?” she asked gently. She was being very patient with me, but I could tell it was quite the task. The muscles around her lips tightened into a moue as she dealt with her own frustration.
I agreed without hesitation. Joan walked into the room in silence.
“Why is it so important to you that I am safe?” I asked before she could leave the room. I wished I could believe they were just good Samaritans but they didn’t strike me as the charitable type.
She sighed heavily, leaning against the wall. A pleasant smile covered her face but irritation was etched along the corners of her eyes and lips. They really didn’t like questions. “Regretfully, I can’t give you much more information at this time. If this were merely a case of Demetrius or a member of his seethe developing a blood-crush, it would be of little concern to us. We would not have intervened. However, the fact that Josh was notified of the vampire’s interest in you warrants our involvement,” she admitted. “You need reasons for our actions, and I assure you I understand. However, this is all the information I can give you. I hope this comforts your curious mind for the time being.”
No, it didn’t offer comfort at all. Thoughts of Gabriella and Chase flashed in my head. A seethe of people like them wanted me and no one was offering me answers. Extinguishing my curiosity was going to take more than a few soothing words from a kind stranger, as she told me that if it didn’t affect their pack, they wouldn’t otherwise care about my life. How do you find comfort in that?
Joan started out of the room then backtracked. “You may join us for dinner if you would like.”
“I’m not hungry.” I lied. I was starving but I would rather have Chase take another chunk out of my shoulder than dine with them. I would tolerate the hunger pains until they went away.
Her lips curled into a genial half-smile, “I’ll have Steven bring you something.”
Moments after Joan closed the door, the reality of the situation hit me. A compilation of emotions from fear to grief consumed me to the point where I felt suffocated. Tired enough to sleep, I closed my eyes but the darkness only provided the backdrop for reenacting the events of the past twenty-four hours. Grabbing my stomach as it rumbled, I turned on my side and stared at the wall.
When three abrupt knocks rattled the door, I went to the bathroom to wash away all evidence of the few tears I allowed myself. The knocks continued and by the time I walked out of the bathroom, the teenager from earlier poked his head in before stepping in, carrying a covered plate. He set it down on the table next to me and handed me the messenger bag I had dropped earlier. He buzzed around, arranging the silverware, laying out the napkins and filling my glass with water. “Steven?” I presumed.
He looked up abruptly and then smiled, his cheeks lightly flushed. “Yes, I’m Steven. Sorry that was rude. ” He extended his hands to shake mine.
He shoved his hands in his pocket and took his time making eye contact with me again. “I hope you’re hungry,” he stated, looking up briefly before focusing his attention back to the floor.
“Starving. The pillow started to look like a giant marshmallow.”
He laughed and immediately his gaze lifted to meet mine, where it stayed. “You really should have eaten with us. The food would have been prepared the way you wish. It’s a porterhouse, rare. Ethan prepared the food today, so it’s probably very rare but it should be good. He cooks for our guests far better than he treats them,” he stated as his cheeks sunk into a dimpled smile. I laughed. I liked Steven.
My mouth watered once I took the cover off the food and the enticing aroma hit my senses. He looked oddly intrigued as he watched me eat. “Does anyone ever call you Sky?” he asked as he took a seat in the chair across from the bed.
Oh great, he planned to stay for a while. “Not if they want me to answer.”
“I like Sky, it fits you. Can I call you that?” Dimpled enchanting smile and cherub good looks probably allowed him to get away with calling people a number of things without consequence. All he had to do was punctuate it with that infectious grin, genial emerald eyes and the lightly veiled Southern lilt, and he could get away with anything.
“I prefer Skylar.”
“As you wish, Skylar” he stated grinning and enunciating every syllable slowly.
I returned my attention to the food, doing my best to ignore his attentive gaze.
“You shouldn’t stay up here the whole fi
ve days. You’ll go crazy. It’s a huge house. We have a game room, library and a gym. You are welcome to use anything you like. Since you are going to be here, you might as well enjoy yourself.”
It was interesting the way he made it seem like I had a choice in staying. If I left, a weird androgynous orange-headed vampire would try to attack me again. If I managed to survive, I would be face-to-face with two very angry werewolves. I wasn’t sure which scenario was the least appealing. “I’ll be fine.”
“Joan won’t allow you to stay up here the whole five days.”
“You all sure have a lot of rules for your so-called guests to adhere to. Can’t I just stay up here and be left alone until this Josh arrives?” I snapped and immediately regretted it. It was pointless for me to take out my frustrations on the one person who definitely didn’t deserve it. “I appreciate the offer but I’ll be fine up here. It’s a really nice room,” I continued in a gentler tone. It would have been unnecessarily cruel to tell him that I didn’t want to be around the were-animals.
“She doesn’t want you to feel like you are being imprisoned.”
“What is Joan, the house mother or something?” I asked half-jokingly.
He didn’t even crack a smile. “No,” he stated tersely as he looked at me with impassive eyes. It was obvious he didn’t plan on elaborating.
“Let Joan know that she shouldn’t worry about me. I am okay.”
“That won’t stop her. It’s just her way,” He admitted with a half-smile.
I shrugged, too engrossed in my food to answer. He was right, the food was very good or either I was too hungry to care. It really didn’t matter; my stomach was speaking to me, and the food was just what it needed.
“Are you the coyote who came to my house?” I asked between bites.
He nodded. A coyote was supposed to be the smaller version of the wolf. Steven’s coyote hadn’t gotten the memo. I vividly remember his massive form ripping a vampire to shreds and I only knew it was a coyote because his nose was slightly longer than a wolf’s.
“Are you the youngest member of this pack?” I asked taking in the full effect of the nonthreatening teen who sat in front of me. Now showered, shaved and groomed, his youthful appearance was more apparent.
“I’m the youngest of primary-ranked members of the pack. I turn eighteen in three months.”
“How do you become ranked?” I asked, placing the empty plate on the table, sitting back on the bed and folding my legs under me to give him my undivided attention. The gentle teenager didn’t seem as reticent as the others. Perhaps I could gain more insight into the Midwest Pack.
“It’s based on dominance.”
“So whoever’s the meanest and the toughest wins,” I stated casually. That would explain why Sebastian was the Alpha and Ethan seemed to be the second runner up.
“Mean doesn’t have anything to do with it. It’s a combination of things: mostly fighting ability, skill and beast control. Were-hyena’s are usually mean—really mean, in fact; but they are rarely ranked. Jackals and lynxes are tough but are not always the strongest.”
“What’s your rank?”
“I’m fifth and new to the position. I transferred from the Southern Pack about a year ago. I’ve been in this position for little over six months.”
“Why did you transfer?”
He shrugged an answer. Good grief they didn’t like giving out information.
“Where is the guy whose place you took?”
“The grave,” he stated in a flat voice.
I snapped my mouth close once I realized it was hanging open. Forcing the look of shock off my face, I searched for a good follow-up question. What was a good follow-up to a response like that?
“Old age?” I asked, trying to pull off blasé and failing terribly. I wasn’t prepared to react to a statement like that.
He shook his head slowly; his face, for a brief moment, lost that childish innocence as the predator within peeked through. “No; I killed him.”
Please leave.
Blinking several times a placid look became my mask as it hid my horror. He considered my reactions, studying me keenly. I wasn’t sure if he were trying to shock me or determine how comfortable I was with the level of violence they seemed to encounter regularly. He chose his words carefully as he spoke. “He was killed during a challenge for his position.” He added as though that would make things better.
“We are responsible for the safety of the pack. The strongest survive. When a challenge is made, the challenged can choose whether it’s for position or death,” he continued in a gentle methodical voice. I assumed it was for my benefit, to calm me. My heart raced, realizing that I was sitting in a room with a teenager who was just as dangerous as the others. “He perceived my age an insult. He could have declined the challenge and accepted lower rank or even transfer to another pack. We all understand and respect the importance of the strength of the pack. He was foolish to allow pride to influence his choice.”
“And Winter? What is her rank?”
“She’s third and Ethan’s beta.”
“Where’s the fourth?” I asked.
“Gavin’s not here.”
“Where is he?”
“Not here,” he repeated firmly. He seemed disconcerted by the mention of Gavin but the tense look on his face dissuaded me from asking any further questions about him.
Steven stayed in the room for several hours. Even after our conversation turned to mundane dribble about television shows and books, he still stayed, seemingly interested.
“So you got the job as the babysitter to make sure I don’t leave again.” I finally stated when he continue to hang around even after I started watching a show that was too estrogen imbued even for me.
He smiled guiltily. “No, I am enjoying your company. I haven’t met many female wolves. In this pack, most of them are much older than I am and aren’t nearly as interesting as you are.”
I looked at him suspiciously. He was probably lying through his teeth, but he was as cute as a button and could tell you that it was raining candy and look convincingly enough to make you believe it. For that very reason, I believed I was sitting in the room with one of the most dangerous pack members in the house. With his charming ways and innocent features, you could never prepare yourself for the level of brutality he was capable of.
“If you get to know me, you’ll find that I’m not that interesting. I play the flute and hate peanut butter. That is about as interesting as I get.”
Smiling, he shrugged, and then he made a face. “The flute? Why? Were you assigned to be the school’s nerd?”
I laughed. “It’s a cool instrument … ”
“Yeah, it is if you want to make someone cry during a chick-flick.”
“When I play, it relaxes me. In the past, I’ve had problems preventing my animal from emerging when I get too upset. Playing the flute helps me stay in a calm state," I admitted.
He nodded. “That happens a lot in the beginning, but it gets better,” he stated with a sympathetic smile. “I never had too many problems, but Gav … some of the other were-animals have.” What was it with him and Gavin?
He grinned, “You are still interesting enough. It beats the hell out sitting in my room watching television or hanging out with people I already know. I’m stuck here too until Josh returns. I might as well get to know the woman who has single-handedly sent both Ethan and Sebastian into fits of rage and still lives to tell the tale; most don’t,” he stated with an amused grin.
“Fits of rage? No, I sent them past rage. If Joan wasn’t there, Ethan was going to yell until his head exploded, or mine. I thought he was going to strangle me.”
He shook his head. “He wouldn’t have done that. We are not allowed to kill you, yet,” he admitted, sliding in the “yet” almost unnoticed. “Yeah, you really rub him the wrong way,” he admitted, shaking his head and running his fingers through his hair.
“In my defense, it seems like there are few
things that don’t rub Ethan and Sebastian the wrong way. They are a bit high strung,” I stated.
He grinned but looked uncomfortable with this conversation.
“I didn’t mean to enrage them; I just wanted to go home.” Or anywhere other than here.
“Whether you intended to or not, you really pissed them off. Try not to do that often—okay?” he advised, and though he was still smiling, his voice held a very serious undertone—a warning.
I nodded.
Steven stayed until my yawning, though unintentional, became contagious. He excused himself for the night.
I couldn’t sleep that night; instead, I decided to take my own personal tour of the house. It had come to a noticeable calm as I walked quietly in my fluffy purple print socks that matched my shirt and blended with my plum fleece pants. I rarely wore pajamas; in fact, I only owned four pairs and they all paid homage to an obsession with my favorite chocolate treat wrapped in a hard shell, M&Ms. They were comfortable and utterly ridiculous—I loved them. I usually wore them the night before a full moon. It gave me something to smile about before I had to go to that place of darkness.
The flashlight on my phone lit the way as I tiptoed down the midnight hallway, down a different set of stairs, at the other end of the hallway. Joan brought me back to the room this way but I wanted to explore some of the rooms we passed. The house was huge. Eventually, I came to the kitchen. Beautiful, dark, ceramic tiles covered the large open space. Stainless steel appliances, large double oven and an island that was larger than our dining room filled the spacious room. To the left of the eat-in kitchen was a large dining area that comfortably seated twenty. How many people did they keep hostage—or “guests” at one time?
Moon Tortured (Sky Brooks Series Book 1) Page 4
