by Lola Gabriel
They were shaking, even though they were spent, and Sarah gasped as she tried to catch her breath.
Ever gently dropped her legs to the ground, and then they both immediately collapsed to the ground, Ever’s arms around her and Sarah’s hands resting on his chest.
Sarah remembered how anxious she had been, thinking that Ever and Lexa were together and that she was getting between them. She would’ve saved herself so much suffering if she had only thought of asking rather than jumping to conclusions, and she couldn’t help laughing at her own stupidity.
“I feel like an idiot,” she mumbled, but Ever grabbed her hand and tipped her face upward to look at him.
“Don’t,” he told her, knowing what she was referring to. “Because there is something you should know before we let this go any further.”
Sarah’s heart fluttered at the ominous words, but she could not deny that she was tickled he was considering a future with her.
So, he does feel the connection between us, too, she thought, relieved.
“You can tell me,” she assured him. “I can handle it. I would prefer if we were truthful with each other, rather than me running around making up things in my head.”
Ever stared at her for a long moment before slowly rising to his feet, his hand still around hers. Without a word, he helped her up, guiding her toward the front door, and Sarah glanced back at her discarded outfit.
“My clothes—” she started to say, but Ever shook his head, smiling.
“You won’t need them where we’re going,” he told her, and a combination of fear and excitement hit Sarah as he looked into her eyes. “Are you sure you’re ready?” he asked.
Sarah nodded, although she was not sure she was.
He opened the door, and she cried out, taking a step back.
The yard was filled with wolves in various colors and sizes, their eyes glowing like hot coals against the night.
“Would you like to come with us?” Ever asked, and when Sarah turned to him to ask him what he meant, she watched in awe as he transformed into a wolf like the ones before her, his black fur gleaming against the pale light of the moon.
A grey and black lupine stepped forward from the pack, slightly bowing its head. With only a glance, Sarah realized that she was staring at Lexa, and she was no longer afraid of what awaited her if she went with them.
It is true, she thought, her mind going back to the words Sylvie had spoken in MJ’s room. They do exist.
Come with us, Sarah, Lexa called out, but her voice was only inside Sarah’s head. We will bring you back.
Sarah glanced back at Ever and slowly nodded her head.
It looked like she would have a story to tell her sisters at Kappa Mu Pi, after all.
THE END
Click Here to Read the Entire Shifter Pursuit Series
Part VII
Brother’s Best Friend
1
He had no reason to be excited as the car pulled off I-95 and made its way through the cedar-lined backroads.
They were closer to their destination than he realized, and his apprehension was mounting.
I shouldn’t have come back here, he thought angrily, eyeing Branson with disgust.
As if sensing his annoyance, his best friend turned to him, removing his starch white hat from atop his blonde head, and grinned disarmingly.
“It’s only for three weeks,” Branson said optimistically. “What else were you going to do while we were on leave?”
“I don’t know, Bran. Maybe go to Europe? Maybe Vegas? Maybe anywhere but back to the trailer park in Scarlet Oak, Georgia where I’ll be scraping my mama off the floor when she’s passed out from too much bourbon again.”
Branson half-smiled and shook his head.
“Ah,” he replied with understanding. “Does she know you’re coming home, or did you conveniently fail to mention it again?”
Rocco scoffed and turned back to watch as they fell further into the country with each passing mile.
“What’s the point of telling her? She would only forget, anyway.”
“Good,” Branson said, clapping his best friend on the back. “Then you can stay with me. No need to tell her anything. She won’t leave her trailer long enough to hear that you’re here, and even if she does, she’s apt to forget, anyway.”
Rocco glanced back at Branson, a spark of hope growing in him for the first time as he considered the offer.
Do I really want to stay with the Carringtons? Rocco asked himself. Don, Cindy, and Zoe watching my every move?
The Carringtons had been like a surrogate family to him since he and Branson had attended grade school, but they were still exactly like family. Rocco was not sure that he had the energy to endure the platitudes and small talk.
Instantly a mental picture of his mother’s bloated, tearful face popped into his mind.
“Shouldn’t you check with your folks first?” he asked, and Branson laughed.
“Nah,” the slightly smaller man replied, extending his fingers to examine his nails. “The family is so happy that I’m home that they wouldn’t care if I brought the enemy to stay at this point.”
Rocco wondered what that was like, having a family who missed him after being gone for three years.
He reasoned that the Carringtons would be happy to see him, too.
It had been the appeal of joining the military to Rocco, leaving behind the oppressiveness of Scarlet Oak and the pack, putting his natural killer instinct to good use.
But he couldn’t deny that a fire burned inside him, a longing for something more than shifting and war.
What it was, he couldn’t say exactly, but as the years passed, the conflagration grew hotter and Rocco did not know how to calm the flames.
“Lieutenant Carrington, Lieutenant Burnaby, we will be in Scarlet Oak in twenty minutes,” the driver announced, and Branson turned to him expectantly.
“So? What do you say? You coming to stay with me?”
Rocco found himself nodding in agreement. What else could he say? Neither of his options was appealing, but at least staying with Bran would be the lesser of two evils.
“No need to stop at Burnaby’s location, Bryce,” said Branson. “Just straight to Pine River Drive.”
2
“The balloon fell, Zoe! Pick it up!” her mother screeched, and Zoe rolled her blue eyes skyward.
“Mama, this is unnecessary,” she moaned, but she leaned forward to reclaim the fallen red orb, taping it to the streamer against the Roman column.
The front of the colonial-style house looked as if America had thrown up on it, red, white, and blue assaulting Zoe’s eyes from every angle.
“Shush,” Cindy Carrington retorted. “Your brother hasn’t been home in three years! The least we can do is show that he was missed.”
Zoe did not respond, although several thoughts crossed her mind.
Branson doesn’t want a production, she thought, stifling a grunt. He just wants to come home and relax. And he certainly doesn’t want a faux-patriotic display to remind him that he’s on leave right now. This is a terrible idea. I can’t wait to see his face and then tell him I was against the decorations the whole time!
It didn’t matter how long Branson had been gone; Zoe still felt she knew her brother better than anyone else in the world.
And she knew he would hate the gesture.
As if on cue, a black sedan pulled up along the long, pine-edged drive, and Cindy squealed in delight.
“Don! Don, Branson is home! Branson is home!” Zoe’s mother shrieked into the house, clapping her hands together like a small child.
Again, Zoe swallowed a groan and watched the vehicle approach, flopping indifferently onto the front steps to put her chin in her hand, a short blonde strand of hair resting at her wrist. She had no interest in bombarding her brother with the theatrics her parents had prepared, but she did want a front row seat to his disdainful expression when he arrived.
Unexpectedl
y, she realized that there was someone else in the car with her brother. Zoe lifted her head with interest, her cornflower blue eyes widening as she took in the second body exiting from behind the passenger seat.
Her breath caught slightly in her throat as she recognized Rocco Burnaby.
He just gets hotter and hotter, she thought, rising to her feet without noticing she was doing it.
The marines had matured him, the slight boyishness of his face gone entirely. In its place was a firm, structured jawline, intense green eyes, and thick, dark eyebrows.
It seemed to her that he was almost bursting out of his uniform, even though he was not—it was only her perception of his impossibly large shoulders and lumbering frame.
Did he grow? Zoe wondered, her eyes admiring him as she fixated her gaze on her brother’s best friend. He certainly seemed larger than the last time she had seen him.
Inadvertently, her eyes traveled down toward his crotch. Zoe gnawed on her lower lip, leaning against the column, her arms folded over her chest as she watched the scene with renewed interest.
Rocco had basically grown up in the Carrington household, trying to run away from the drunken escapades of his mother, Yvonne. If Zoe claimed she had not been in love with Rocco throughout her childhood, she would have been lying.
After all, his dark, brooding nature and smoldering good looks made him a natural attraction for any woman with hormones. And Zoe’s hormones had been raging for as long as she had known him.
Unfortunately for her, she’d not only the disadvantage of being Rocco’s best friend’s sister, but she had also been unbearably unattractive.
I’ve since rectified the latter part, she thought.
“Branson!” Cindy yelled, throwing herself into her son’s outstretched arms. “Oh, how we’ve missed you, baby!”
Branson embraced his mother and grinned in embarrassment, setting her back slightly.
“Hey, Mama,” he said, his southern drawl almost shy as he looked around at the decorations. “You didn’t need to go through all this trouble.”
“Nonsense, son!” Don announced, making his way out of the house toward his oldest child. “This isn’t nearly enough for an American hero!”
Zoe almost laughed aloud at the crimson in her brother’s face.
“I tried to warn them,” she called out, and Branson turned to look at her, his cerulean eyes wide with amazement.
“Zoe!” he cried, rushing toward her. “You look amazing!”
She laughed and hugged him, but her gaze was still locked on Rocco.
“Oh, Rocco!” Cindy exclaimed. “Are you staying with us, too?”
“Yes, Mama,” Branson replied for his friend, who seemed uncomfortable as he remained by their bags. “I invited him to relax in la casa de Carrington while we’re on leave.”
“If it’s an inconvenience, Mrs. Carrington—” Rocco started to say, but he was instantly cut off.
“Nonsense!” Don interrupted. “Our home is always open to heroes!”
“And you know full well that you’re always welcome in this house, Rocco. You’re like a second son to us, and always have been,” Cindy added, her light eyes filled with warmth.
Zoe knew she was speaking the truth. Her parents had always loved Rocco like another child.
“Come inside, boys. You must be famished. I’ve got the barbecue all fired up. People will be here soon.”
“People?” Branson echoed. “What people?”
“Your family, Branson. They’ve missed you. You’ve been away for three years, in case you’ve forgotten.”
Branson stifled a groan, and Zoe could see he was not looking forward to a family reunion on his first day home, but he was far too good a son to diminish their parents’ good humor.
Rocco glanced back at Branson, as if masking his friend’s silent anguish, his stare falling on Zoe for the first time.
His mouth parted slightly as Mr. and Mrs. Carrington made their way into the house, the pained look disappearing from his face almost instantly. In its place was an expression of keen interest as his head moved up and down to take Zoe in from head to toe.
“Come on, sis,” Bran encouraged, grasping Zoe’s arm. “Save me from the confetti.”
“Sorry about this,” she laughed, nodding at Rocco approvingly. “They never listen to me.”
The siblings joined him, the three mounting the steps to enter the home.
“Hi, Zoe,” Rocco breathed. “You got your braces off.”
She stifled a smile, glancing at him gravely. “And I got contacts. No more coke-bottle glasses for this mouse,” she answered coyly.
“You were never a mouse,” Rocco muttered, but Zoe knew he was lying.
She had always been slightly awkward growing up, and she’d always been painfully aware that the boys she liked never looked at her twice. Yet it seemed like almost overnight, she had blossomed from a gawky high school sophomore to a gorgeous college freshman, her grades seeming to reflect how good she felt about herself.
Branson chuckled. “I almost didn’t recognize you,” her brother commented. “My baby sister is all grown up and ready to conquer anything!”
“Yes,” Zoe breathed, locking gazes with Rocco. “Yes, I am.”
There was an unmistakable electricity passing through them as the words were spoken, but Branson didn’t seem to notice as he clapped his friend heartily on the back.
“Sorry about the family affair,” Branson chirped. “I had no idea. You can hide out in the guest room if you want.”
“I like your family affairs,” Rocco replied, his sincerity undeniable.
Zoe blushed slightly and turned her head. He is gorgeous, she thought wistfully. Too bad he’s leaving in a few weeks. Who know when I’ll see him again?
Within two hours, the barbecue was in full swing, with family members and friends coming from miles around. Branson and Zoe claimed the comfortable Adirondack chairs on the deck that allowed them to look over all the activity in the back yard.
As the siblings sat chatting pleasantly, Zoe wondered why it mattered that Rocco was leaving. Three weeks is plenty of time to get to know him, she thought. We can have our fun and he can be on his way, and I will go back to school.
Instantly, she was ashamed of her thoughts, lowering her eyes as if she was afraid that everyone in the vicinity could read her mind.
Anyway, she knew she would never be able to let Rocco Burnaby go once she’d had a taste. In her youth she had spent many hours fantasizing about the way Rocco would feel and taste as she writhed beneath him.
Most importantly, Rocco Burnaby would never entertain the thought of being with a former mouse like her, even if he wasn’t her brother’s best friend… would he?
“Why are you so quiet?” Branson asked her as she rested her head against the chair, watching as more family members filled into the yard. “Are you hating this as much as me?”
“Maybe,” she replied, grinning. “But probably not as much as Rocco.”
She gestured with her head toward where Aunt Belinda had cornered him, undoubtedly explaining her incontinence issues, judging by the expression on Rocco’s face.
Branson laughed. “I’ll go rescue him,” he said, but Zoe raised a hand to his arm.
“Allow me,” she replied, slipping away before Branson could question her motives.
She pretended not to notice her brother’s blue eyes boring into her as she sat herself at the table next to Rocco.
“Oh, Zoe, honey!” Aunt Belinda cried, her voice too loud. “I was just telling Rocky about the mass on my—”
“His name is Rocco, Auntie Belinda,” Zoe interjected, not wanting to learn about where her mother’s aunt had an excess growth. “And I doubt he wants to hear about it.”
“Huh?” Aunt Belinda called, cupping her good ear to hear Zoe’s words better. “Rocky needs a beer?”
“Yes,” Zoe yelled. “Rocky needs a beer. Come on, Rocky!”
She clasped his large hand, a sma
ll shiver of excitement coursing through her as she made contact and winked at him. He looked at her gratefully, rising from his spot, and they both waved pleasantly at Aunt Belinda as they raced back into the house, giggling.
“Don’t mind Auntie Belinda,” Zoe told him apologetically as they entered the empty kitchen. “She doesn’t mean to be…” Zoe trailed off, searching for the word.
“Such a fountain of information?” Rocco replied, grinning, and Zoe laughed.
“Exactly,” she said, opening the fridge and withdrawing two beers. “She’s old.”
The rest of her family was outside, but Zoe was grateful for the privacy indoors, and she intended to take advantage of it. She leaned against the fridge, her eyes following Rocco’s every movement.
“You didn’t want to go home?” she asked, and Rocco’s smile instantly dropped. Zoe immediately regretted the question. “Sorry,” she said quickly. “I shouldn’t have asked that.”
Rocco shook his head as if trying to roll the query off his shoulders. “No, it’s fine,” he replied gruffly. “I didn’t want to see my mother.”
Zoe pursed her lips together, her light eyes studying his face closely. “She doesn’t know you’re back in Scarlet Oak?” she asked, somewhat surprised. She had always known that the relationship between Rocco and his mother was strained, but she had no idea it was so bad that he would not mention he was home for the first time in three years.
“She wouldn’t know the difference,” Rocco snapped, but Zoe could tell he wasn’t angry with her.
He’s probably not even angry with Yvonne, she thought to herself. The entire situation likely has him in turmoil.
“I’m sorry,” she repeated, placing a pale hand on his bicep. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
He stared down at her hand and then back at her face, like there was something he wanted to tell her, except that he didn’t know how.
Zoe wasn’t sure who made the first move, but suddenly they were in each other’s arms, their lips pressed together.
She gasped lightly as his tongue darted out, touching hers and filling her with excitement. Tighter he grasped her, and Zoe felt the growing hardness beneath his military-issued pants, the realization he was in uniform only adding to her arousal.
