by Sarah Bailey
She had to leave. She had to leave him for good. Tonight brought it home. She didn’t deserve any of this no matter what he said. She hadn’t done anything. Where could she go? He’d track her down at Hannah’s. That was the first place he’d look, followed by the rest of her friends. There was only one person Alan didn’t know. How could she go there? Especially after what happened between them.
She got up, pulling out a large bag from her wardrobe. There was nothing for it. He’d be dead to the world for a few hours. It was now or never. There were no guarantees she’d get another chance to get away from him. She dumped a pile of plain clothes in it, not wanting to take anything he’d given her nor any of the outfits and heels he’d bought to please her clients. Stuffing in her hairdryer and make-up along with her two pairs of trainers, she gathered up the rest of her things.
It was bulging at the seams by the time she was done. She wasn’t planning on ever coming back. She hadn’t had that much to start with so her life really did fit into one bag. Kneeling on the floor wincing from the pain in her face and chest, she tugged up the loose floorboard and took out her stash of cash along with her passport and a few other bits she’d kept from Alan. She shoved those into her purse and crept out into the living room with her bag.
She pulled on a hoodie she’d left on the kitchen chair, flipping up the hood before shrugging on her coat. Her shoes were next. She left her keys on the kitchen counter.
The flat was silent, dawn was breaking outside. She opened the front door as quietly as she could, slipping out. She couldn’t move that fast, but she made her way down the stairs and out onto the street. There weren’t many people about at this time. She took a bus, mindful to sit away from anyone else and fiddled with her phone.
When she stepped off, she walked around the corner before stopping outside a building. She stared up at it for a moment. I have no other choice. Someone was leaving and held the door open for her. It was lucky as she’d have had to press the buzzer otherwise. Walking up the stairs, she felt as though her world was crashing down around her. This was the last person she wanted to ask for help. She was exhausted. She hadn’t slept. Her body hurt. The healing process started to takes hold.
She raised her hand, tentatively knocking at the door. Several minutes went by before it opened. Standing there, bleary-eyed and not wearing a shirt was Rex. He took one look at her before stepping into the doorway. He carefully flipped down her hood, wincing when he saw her face. He snagged a hand around her wrist, pulling her into the flat. The door slammed shut. He took her bag from her and placed it by the sofa.
“He did this to you, didn’t he?”
She nodded.
“Are you going to tell me the truth about this guy you live with?”
She nodded again. She knew when she came here she wouldn’t be able to keep it from him any longer.
“Right, you probably can’t talk.”
He led her over to the sofa, making her sit down with him. He looked over her face, gently turning it from side to side. She whimpered.
“I need to reset your jaw and your nose or it won’t heal properly. Not going to lie, it’s going to hurt, but it can’t wait. You can hold on to me if you want.”
He took one of her hands, placing it on his thigh. He started with her nose, adjusting it until it was in place. She winced, pain gripping her face.
“Okay, now for the worst bit.”
He placed his fingers on either side of her jaw, but he barely gave her a chance to think. The crunch of him putting it back in place rang in her ears. Her fingernails dug into his thigh. She whimpered again. It was agony for a moment before it settled into a dull ache.
“Ouch,” she whispered.
“Sorry. It’s probably best you don’t talk yet. Does it hurt anywhere else?”
She pointed at her chest. She knew Alan had cracked at least one rib with a well-placed kick. She let him take her coat and hoodie off followed by her t-shirt. He looked over her torso, frowning at the bruising. He ran his fingers over her ribs. She whimpered again when he touched the most tender one. His eyes met hers. There was anger and sadness in his expression.
“Do you want a shower? You’re still covered in dirt from… you know.”
She nodded. Getting clean sounded like heaven at that moment. She could still smell the scent of sex and blood all over her body. If she could smell it, so could he. She turned her face away. He stood up, helping her to her feet. He showed her where the bathroom was and left her to it.
She didn’t look in the mirror when she stepped out of the shower after carefully washing. She’d tied her hair up, so it wasn’t wet and she wouldn’t have to dry it.
When she walked out into his bedroom in just a pair of shorts and a t-shirt she’d snagged from her bag, he was sitting up in bed. He tugged back the covers for her. She crawled in and lay down, letting him settle the duvet over her. He shifted, laying down next to her. He brushed her hair from her face, gazing at her intently. She expected him to move his hand away, but he didn’t.
“Better?” he asked.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Have you had any sleep?”
She shook her head once. Any further movement was painful.
“Do you want to try to sleep?”
She wasn’t sure what she wanted. She was exhausted and her body was still sore, but being here with him, in his bed, she felt alert. The memory of their shared kiss came flooding back. She knew her cheeks were flaming despite the bruising on her face. She closed her eyes, trying to concentrate on anything else but him. His intoxicating scent was assaulting her nose. Her panther paced, tail whipping.
“Izzy?”
She gave him a nod. She should try and sleep, even if she wasn’t sure if she could right now. He moved away slightly. She cracked an eye open. He’d rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. Her jaw ached. It was uncomfortable. She moved, trying to find a better position.
“Are you all right?”
“No,” she whispered. “It hurts.”
He got up, leaving the room for a few minutes before returning with a tea towel full of ice. He held it to her jaw where the worst of the pain was.
“There’s no point having painkillers. We metabolise them too quickly for it to be effective for long.”
Great. Another shitty thing about being a shifter. What fucking next? The ice was helping a little. The fact that he was still shirtless wasn’t. There was a scar running across his chest, right above his heart. Given their ability to heal, she wondered what caused it and the one on his eyebrow.
She took the ice-filled tea towel from his hands, not wanting to force him to sit there and hold it for her. Sleep dragged at her now the pain had lessened. She closed her eyes when she felt him settle back down next to her. She hoped she’d feel better when she awoke.
§
Izzy found she could move her mouth when she shook away the final vestiges of sleep. Rex was passed out next to her. She slipped from the bed, checking her face in the mirror. It looked infinitely better, but it still ached. She pulled up her t-shirt, checking her ribs. The bruising was starting to fade.
“You look better,” came a voice from the bed.
She turned, hastily tugging her t-shirt back down. He’d seen it all before, but she felt a little uncomfortable about showing all that skin.
“I feel like shit,” she replied.
“Healing takes it out of you. Let me make you something.”
He got up. She averted her eyes from his chest before her face turned red again. Why does he have to be so damn attractive?
“You don’t have to. I did just turn up unannounced at four thirty in the morning.”
He raised his eyebrow.
“Are you really going to turn down something to eat?”
“Well, no, but I think chewing is impossible right now.”
He smiled before leaving the room. She sat back on the bed, pulling the covers over her legs. In the light of day, h
er decision to leave Alan crushed her. He surely knew by now. He’d have checked her room when he’d found the keys on the kitchen counter. What am I going to do? What if he tries to find me? I can’t stay with Rex forever.
Rex brought her a glass of pink liquid with a straw. She raised an eyebrow in question.
“It’s just a smoothie, Izzy. Not going to kill you.”
She sucked on the straw for a moment. It tasted good. She didn’t try and smile, knowing it would probably make her face hurt even more.
“Thanks.”
“It’s okay.”
He sat down next to her, taking a gulp of his own. It seemed weird that a guy like him would be into smoothies, but she refrained from commenting.
“So… you care to elaborate on why you turned up at my door looking like something the cat dragged in?”
She put down the glass on the bedside table, looking down at her lap.
“I think it’s pretty obvious he beat the crap out of me.”
“Well, yes. The question is why.”
“He’s controlling, manipulative and violent.”
She sighed. There was nothing for it but to be straight with him.
“I don’t think I can call him my boyfriend exactly. I thought that’s what it was in the beginning. When I realised what type of person he really was, it was too late. I had nowhere else to go. No money. Nothing. He took everything I had and turned it into dust. That’s when the beatings started and forcing me into doing things I didn’t want to, like sleeping with men for money. Last night, when he broke my jaw… I got my stuff and walked out when he was asleep.”
She looked up at him, unable to read his expression.
“How long?”
“Two years.”
“And you’ve left for good?”
“Yes.”
He ran a hand through his hair, frowning.
“You can stay here… you know, with me as long as you need to.”
Why is he offering that? I mean I don’t really have anywhere else to go, but I don’t want to be a charity case either.
“I don’t want to impose.”
“It’ll be easier for me to help you with the shifter stuff if you’re here.”
She looked away. It wasn’t like she had a choice. There was no way she could stay with her friends. It would be like putting a huge sign above her head saying, ‘here I am, Alan, come and get me’.
“Look, I’m not going to lie. All that shit he’s done to you doesn’t sit well with me.”
“I was too scared to leave.”
He reached out, putting a hand on her shoulder.
“You’re not responsible for what he’s done. I’m the last person to put any blame at your door. No one should treat you like that.”
His hand was warm. It caused her pulse to spike. Her eyes dipped to his mouth. I can’t kiss him. I can’t. My jaw is still fucked not to mention how inappropriate it is. But I want to. I want to so much. His phone rang. He dropped his hand from her shoulder, turning to pick it up from the bedside table.
“Hey.”
Her ears pricked up. She could hear the other person on the line.
“There’s been another one,” said a female voice.
“Dead?”
“Yes. Where were you last night?”
“I wasn’t out killing some random girl if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Rex, this is ritualistic. Every month without fail. Your werepanther girl is the only one they left alive. Our only lead. Are you sure she doesn’t know anything?”
He looked over at her. If only she could help them further, but that night was still a little bit of a blur.
“I only remember seeing a huge cat-like creature. It didn’t speak to me,” Izzy said, shrugging.
“No. She doesn’t know anything, Dalia.”
“This one is more brutal than the last. Almost like they were making up for not having killed last month. I’ll send you the crime scene photos. Can you confirm it’s a panther attack?” Dalia asked.
“Yes, fine.”
“How’s the girl?”
I’m just known as ‘the girl’? Rude.
“She has a name.”
“Fine, how is Isadora?”
Izzy flinched. She hated being called that. Alan had utterly ruined her name for her.
“As well as can be expected under the circumstances.”
“Keep it that way.”
The line went dead. He tossed the phone on the bed, frowning.
“She sounds pleasant.”
“She’s a raging bitch, but whatever. Say… you fancy going out later?”
“Um… where to?”
His eyes twinkled for a moment.
“I think it’s time you met some of your fellow shifters.”
Chapter Eight
Izzy looked at the name of the bar with a frown. When Rex had asked her if she wanted to go out, she’d been a little sceptical. Especially about meeting other shifters. This didn’t look like a bar she’d typically hang out in.
“It’s seriously called ‘The Werehouse’?”
Rex shrugged.
“Gareth thought it was funny. Humans are clueless anyway, they think it’s just a joke.”
She followed him through the door. It was dimly lit with dark wooden furniture. The walls were painted black and peeling slightly. There were several shady looking people dotted around. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. The scents of a few different animals made her nose itch.
“Rex,” called a man from the bar on the left-hand wall. “I was beginning to think you’d disappeared for good.”
He walked over to the bar, Izzy trailing behind him. She dug her hands into the pockets of her coat to hide the fact she was trembling.
“Been busy,” Rex said, pulling out a stool for her before he leant against the bar.
She sat down, staring at the bartender. He had sandy brown hair with grey eyes.
“Who’s the girl?” the bartender asked.
“Izzy, this is Gareth, the owner,” Rex said indicating the man.
“Hi,” she said.
She was thankful that her face had just about returned to normal, although her jaw still ached slightly. Gareth sniffed the air, his nose wrinkling.
“Is she…?”
“Yes, she’s my kin,” Rex said.
“Well, shit. Never thought I’d see the day you found a girl.”
“That’s not what this is. Just helping her adjust to her new life.”
His words stung far more than she expected. They hadn’t talked about it, but clearly, the kiss they shared meant nothing to him. She tried to keep her disappointment out of her expression.
“Wait… You mean this is the girl who survived?”
“One and the same.”
“Does Miss High and Mighty know you’re here with her?”
“I’m sure she’d have your head if she heard you talking like that.”
Gareth chuckled, shaking his head.
“If you can’t make fun of your Alpha behind her back from time to time, life’s not worth living, man.”
Rex hadn’t told her what Gareth was, but from their conversation, she presumed he was a wolf. She took a deep breath, inhaling his scent. Wet dog. She wrinkled her nose. At least I know what werewolves smell like now, but gross! She noticed Rex was eying her with amusement in his eyes.
“What do you want to drink?” he asked.
She looked at the back bar. A whole lot of whisky and not much else. She wasn’t sure why she was surprised.
“Um… Jack and coke, please,” she said.
Gareth nodded at the two of them and moved away to snag a bottle from the back shelf. Rex leant over to her.
“Don’t like the smell of wolf?”
“Wet dog isn’t on my list of favourites,” she replied.
“You get used to it.”
Gareth returned, placing two glasses down in front of them. Hers was filled with coke and Rex’s w
as whisky, neat. He handed Gareth some money. She wanted to protest about him paying for her, but she kept her mouth shut. He had done enough for her already. She had enough saved up from tips from clients, which she never gave to Alan, but that wasn’t going to last. She’d need to find work somehow, not wanting to impose on Rex forever.
“So, hope Rex here isn’t leading you astray, he’s always in trouble for one reason or another,” Gareth said, giving her a wink.
“Says the man who goes home with a different chick every night,” Rex replied.
“Perks of the job.”
Another man sidled up to them with a woman in tow.
“Rex,” he said, nodding.
The woman gave Izzy the once over, her face a picture of irritation.
“Evan, Portia,” Rex said.
“Who’s the new pussycat?” Portia asked, pointing at Izzy.
She didn’t much like the woman’s tone nor the way Portia was looking at her. What is her problem?
“Izzy, the girl who survived.”
Evan raised a red eyebrow.
“Well, well, I was going to ask where you unearthed a female panther,” he said.
She breathed in the scent of the two newcomers. Evan smelt like wet dog, but Portia was something different. Feline.
“Portia is a cat, Izzy,” Rex said.
He must’ve noticed her frowning.
“Not a big cat like you, mind. Siamese,” Portia said, giving Izzy another dirty look.
Seriously, what is her problem? Izzy was done with her attitude. Portia was a little Asian girl with short, dark hair, hazel eyes and dark red lipstick. Portia’s eyes flicked over to Rex, her expression turning saucy. Is that why she’s annoyed with me because she likes Rex? Izzy rolled her eyes. Portia was welcome to him.
A stab of jealousy gripped her heart. She shifted on the stool, taking a gulp of Jack and coke. She didn’t like that feeling. There was nothing between her and Rex, so why did the thought of him with another woman make her feel like ripping said woman’s hair out?
“What are you doing bringing her around this dump for?” Portia asked.
Gareth gave her a dark look.
