The Shifter's Seduction_Shifters of the Seventh Moon

by Selena Scott

  She blushed a little more and started humming to herself as she pulled down Thea’s long driveway. They had to drive through about twenty miles of nowhere just to get to someplace a little less nowhere where they could buy groceries.

  The drive was long and beautiful as they twisted through the hills. Tre couldn’t think of one goddamn thing to say to her. Never a problem he used to have with her.

  She seemed comfortable enough. Humming to herself and paying careful, Caroline attention to her driving. Tre, on the other hand, shifted around in his seat, unable to get comfortable. His button-up shirt felt weirdly constricting. He tugged at the collar.

  “We should pick up some new shirts for you in town,” she said, looking over at him with a faint smile on her pretty face.

  Tre furrowed his brow. Were his clothes really that awful? Was it just a universal truth that everyone knew except for him? He knew his vintage Ts with the logos on them had perhaps seen better days, but what were her complaints about this one? It was just a dark blue button-up! “You don’t like this one?”

  “What?” She laughed, a sparkly little tone that rose up like bubbles from a wand. “That shirt is just fine! I mean, I don’t like it as much as I like your Princess Leia shirt. Or your chicken butt shirt. But that one is nice.”

  So, she liked his joke shirts? “Then what’s the problem? Why do I need new clothes?”

  “Tre,” she looked at him like she was checking to make sure he wasn’t joking. Her expression cleared when she saw he was truly confused. “All your shirts are too small these days. After all your bear practice. You’ve put on a lot of muscle.”

  “Oh.” He couldn’t help the blush that worked its way up his neck and over his cheeks. He knew that were he to unbutton his shirt and look, he’d see the blush sweep over his chest and upper arms as well. He shifted in his seat and couldn’t deny now just how tight the shirt felt. He rolled his shoulders and yup, he was definitely pressing out the seams. “Huh.”

  “You didn’t notice?”

  He shook his head. “I guess not. I don’t spend a ton of time looking in the mirror.”

  “That’s one of the things I’ve always liked about you,” she said, nodding sweetly. “Everyone I knew in Boston was very concerned with image. Peter especially.” She shifted her hands on the steering wheel and gazed out at the mountains in the distance. “When we were first married, he used to come home with presents for me all the time. Jewelry, purses, even shoes or coats. New phones. I thought he was so sweet, even though lots of the things he was getting me weren’t really my style. It took me a year or so to realize that he was buying me all the same things that the other wives at his firm owned.”

  “He wanted you to blend in with them.” Tre had maybe never hated Peter more. Seriously, if you had Caroline Clifton on your arm, why the hell would you want to pretend she was just one of the masses? There was nothing normal or boring about the woman sitting next to him right now. He hated that Peter had made her wish there was.

  “Unsuccessfully.” She laughed a sad little laugh. “It turned out not to matter what I wore or how much I looked like the other wives. They could sniff out my differences from a mile away.” She blushed and glanced quickly across the car at Tre. “In my head I used to call them the hyenas.”

  He laughed and she shook her head.

  “How terrible is that?” she asked him. “It probably should have given me a clue that my situation was so bad if I was secretly thinking of my group of ‘friends’ as a pack of hyenas.”

  Tre shrugged. “Sometimes we don’t let ourselves see how bad things are because we’re stuck no matter what. So why not ignore reality and just make the best of it, you know?”

  “Exactly,” she nodded her head and her chestnut hair fell forward over her shoulder. “I think that’s exactly what I was doing. For years. I had nowhere to go, no way to leave. So I just rode it out and hoped one day it would change for the better.” She shook her head again and sighed. Taking a deep breath, her lower lip popped between her teeth as she glanced across the car toward Tre again. “Do you have experience with that?”

  She’d asked him personal questions before. And he’d always neatly and kindly evaded answering any of them. But, to her mind, the stakes were lower now, because they weren’t going to be romantic. They were just friends. He’d made that clear. So now, maybe she was allowed to press on his personal stuff just a little bit more? She didn’t know the exact rules, but some little voice in her head was telling her to push. She was used to ignoring that voice at all costs. But something about Tre made her want to listen to that voice.

  He said nothing and it took a good kick with the old courage boot to get Caroline to prompt him again.

  “You seem like you have experience with that,” she said quietly.

  Tre sighed and rolled his head to one side to look at her. The afternoon sun was playing angles across his lap, drawing a stark line of heat across the backs of one of his hands, resting on his knee. Caroline could see the dry skin at his knuckles that she always wanted to rub lotion into, the coppery catch of light of the hair on his arms. He always looked so warm to her. It was because of his coloring, she knew, but she would have sworn it was something else she was seeing. Like some sort of natural energy emanating out from him. As closed off as his habits and insecurities made him, he couldn’t help but bring her into his glow. Sitting there in the passenger seat, one elbow resting on the open window, his arm crooked up and tapping a rhythm on the roof of the van, the wind ruffling his hair, his button-up scrupulously buttoned all the way up, like so many Brooklynites did, well, she saw all of that as she glanced at him. But she also just saw his inner light. This red-gold glowing that she couldn’t explain. It made her want to curl up next to him, like he was a fireplace in the winter time. Caroline had spent so much of the last eight years married to a man who was categorically, systematically, naturally cold. She’d learned to take warmth where she could get it.

  Now, on the other side of her divorce, she’d found a man who had warmth in spades, only he didn’t really want to give it to her. Caroline’s eyes pricked. That’s why she’d given up on Tre, she reminded herself. That’s why she was going for Arturo now. Because Tre didn’t want her and she was never going to attempt to convince a man into loving her again. It had almost destroyed her to do that with her husband. And Arturo didn’t necessarily have warmth. But he had heat. A sort of zinging, white-hot heat. She didn’t not like it. She was going to take it. She was tired of being alone. She was tired of being cold.

  Tre didn’t answer her questions. And neither of them spoke again as they pulled into the Safeway.

  Well, it stung, his inability to open up to her, to invite her into his warmth. But it was also exactly what she needed. Any of her remaining hope that Tre might change his mind was firmly booted out of the club. Caroline pictured herself as a bouncer, grabbing Tre by the scruff of his shirt and tossing him out onto some rainy sidewalk. She was done attempting to dig down to the heart of him with a teaspoon. She clearly didn’t have the right tools to get into Tre’s heart. And that was fine. Some woman would someday. He’d made himself clear. He didn’t want her. And that was fine. She had a man who wanted her. And she was gonna take him.

  Tre was quiet as he followed her into the grocery store. He’d characterized the silence at the end of the car ride as companionable, but the way she was marching into the store and leaving him in the dust made him wonder if maybe he should have at least tried to answer her questions. He was extremely unused to anyone asking personal questions about him.

  The automatic doors slid open and a burst of freezing air conditioning raised goosebumps over the exposed skin of her arms. Tre found he had a little trouble looking away from that pretty sight. “I think there’s a sweater in the car.”

  She looked up at him.

  “You look cold,” he told her when she just continued to stare at him.

  Her eyes widened and she laughed, in what seemed to b
e a sad way. She just shook her head. “I’m always cold.”

  He couldn’t help but feel like they were talking about two different things. She dropped those honey eyes of hers and held up the grocery list, tearing it neatly into two. She handed him one half of the list and a grocery cart.

  “You do this half and I’ll do the other.”

  “Oh.” She was trying to get rid of him? Tre swung his gaze up to her but she was already wheeling her own cart away, briskly striding into the store in a very un-Caroline-like way. “Alright,” he said to no one.

  They met back around the same time at the checkout line and Tre was inordinately relieved that she stood next to him instead of choosing a different line. But his relief didn’t last for long when she turned to the older woman behind them and immediately struck up a conversation about the tabloid headlines.

  The older woman laughed, clearly charmed by Caroline, and Tre found himself jealous of yet another person. He knew that distance was essential to preserving Caroline’s heart. He understood that. He couldn’t allow himself to hurt her. But he really missed the days when it had been his ear she was chatting into. He liked listening to her chatter and hum and ask questions and wonder.

  She was still chatting to the woman behind them when Tre started loading their groceries onto the conveyor belt. He could barely believe how much food it took to feed their group. Eight was a lot of people. Though Arturo barely ate anything. Tre supposed Jean Luc more than made up for that. The dude ate enough for three people at any given meal. He supposed it took a shit-ton of calories to keep a person of that size running. It was like the difference between gassing up a Honda and gassing up a 747—

  Tre’s blood froze solid as he realized what he’d just tossed from Caroline’s cart onto the conveyor belt. He’d unloaded three cartons of orange juice, a pack of paper towels… and a box of condoms.

  He knew for a fact that they weren’t for Jack or Jean Luc because he’d been with them when they’d stopped at that gas station outside of Omaha and both men had picked some up. He knew they were sexually active, but there was no way it was humanly possible that either of them needed re-ups in less than a week.

  Tre threw a few more items onto the conveyor belt before he couldn’t help himself. “Caroline,” he said woodenly.

  She turned to him, pausing her conversation with the woman behind them.

  “Can I see your half of the list real quick? I just wanted to check something.”

  She handed over the list and Tre held it in one hand, scanning over it. His eyes flung to the back of Caroline’s perfect head. Condoms were not on this list. Which meant that they were a personal addition. Caroline’s personal addition. Which meant that she was planning on having a reason to use them.

  “Coming or going, child?”

  Tre jumped and looked up confusedly at the cashier who was impatiently waiting for him to continue loading up the belt.

  “Right!” he shook his head, which did absolutely nothing to clear it. The rest of the transaction was a blur. Tre found himself loaded down with grocery bags and following Caroline out to the parking lot. His brain seemed incapable of processing, understanding, or moving on from one progression of information.

  Caroline had bought condoms.

  To use.

  With Arturo.

  Caroline. Condoms. Arturo. Caroline. Condoms. Arturo. Caroline. CONDOMS. Arturo.

  Tre slammed into the passenger seat and sat like a rock.

  “Tre!”

  He jolted and turned to look at her. She was gorgeous and smiling and strangely fuzzy around the edges. Her vanilla scent wafted across the cab of the van and laid itself against him like a head on his shoulder.

  “Seatbelt,” she reminded him, her head cocked to one side. “What are you thinking about? You’re completely lost in your own world.”

  Tre buckled up and shook his head. Caroline. Condoms. Arturo. “Nothing. I’m—I think I’m just tired.”

  “I can understand that. You guys put yourself through some pretty grueling exercise. Not that we girls haven’t been working out, too.” Caroline chatted the whole way back to Thea’s homestead. Tre couldn’t help but realize, with yet another jolt, that she seemed light and excited. Much more like her old self than on the drive there. He had the sneaking, sinking suspicion that she was relieved and looking forward to something. Like she’d shed a heavy backpack and put on some brand new running shoes. She was sunny and light and very much peaceful. Like she’d made her mind up about something.

  Caroline. Condoms. Arturo.

  Tre felt sick.

  He helped carry the groceries in a daze. The only thing that brought him out of his daze was Caroline leaving the kitchen. He couldn’t help but follow her down the hall. He was immensely, incredibly relieved when she went to her own room and not Arturo’s.

  Tre sagged against the wall, pushing up his glasses to rub at his eyes.

  “Dude. What’s going on?” Jean Luc asked from behind him.

  Tre whirled and saw Jack and Jean Luc both standing there, eyeing him carefully like he was a bomb that might go off at any second. Well, they could, after all, read his emotions. Tre could only imagine what the hell he was putting out at that particular moment.

  He glanced over his shoulder back at Caroline’s closed door before he strode the opposite way down the hall toward his own room. The two men followed him. Tre closed the door after them and watched as Jack flopped down on his bed. Jean Luc took his post leaning against the wall and Tre paced over to the window and back.

  “Caroline. Condoms. Arturo.” Tre finally choked out the three words that had been circling his head like stars in a roadrunner cartoon.

  “What?” Jean Luc stood up straight off the wall.

  “You were right,” Tre growled, pushing at his eyes again. “She’s gonna sleep with him.”

  Jack put the pieces together. “She bought condoms at the grocery store?”

  “Yeah.” Tre spit out the word like it tasted sour. “And then she was all happy and bubbly on the ride home. Like she couldn’t wait to get home.”

  “This is worse than I thought.” Jean Luc dragged a wide palm over his face. “Do you think she has feelings for him?”

  “I have no fucking idea.” Tre paced from one side of the room to the other. He’d never felt so trapped in his life. Pursuing Caroline would only lead to her heartbreak. But if he didn’t, she might end up with Arturo. Which was so horrifying it was almost inconceivable.

  “I can’t believe she’s gonna sleep with that… that…” Tre couldn’t come up with a word bad enough for the living slime that was Arturo. A mushroom cloud of fear and rage rose up within him. He turned toward the men. “Do condoms even work on demon semen?”

  There was a weighted half second of silence before all three men burst out laughing. The rising tension that had been building in the room splatted like a water balloon on a hot sidewalk.

  “Wow.” Jack wiped his eyes. “Demon semen. Sounds like the name of a high school punk band.”

  “A bad high school punk band,” Tre corrected.

  Jean Luc chuckled into his hand. “Really never thought Arturo could make me laugh that hard.”

  Tre, buoyed after that laugh, flopped down on the bed beside Jack. “God, I hate that jackass.”

  “That makes three of us,” Jean Luc grumbled.

  Their chuckles quieted and Jack turned to Tre. “So, you wanna tell us whatever it is that you think is so bad about yourself?”

  Tre was silent.

  “Because I’m pretty sure we’re gonna be able to tell you it’s complete bullshit and that you shouldn’t worry about it,” Jack finished.

  “Yeah.” Tre sighed. “I’m just… I’m built differently than you two are. And Caroline? Man. She deserves, like, a crazy love story, you know? She deserves real love. And romance. Not some fucked-up dude who’s just gonna hit it and quit it.”

  Jean Luc’s eyebrows raised. “You’d hit it and quit it with
Caroline?”

  Tre shrugged. “I hit it and quit it with everyone I sleep with.”

  “Huh,” Jack said, narrowing his eyes at his friend. “Huh.”

  “What?”

  Jack and Jean Luc looked at one another for a second. Jean Luc was the one who dove on the grenade. “Are you, like, not good at sex or something?”

  “Jesus Christ.” Tre pressed on his eyeballs under his glasses. “The number of times I’ve had to defend my fucking manhood over the last few days…”

  “I think it’s a fair question,” Jack said, poking his tongue into his cheek and trying not to let his inner bastard show through too clearly.

  “You two are such assholes. And you’re clearly enjoying this way too much.” Tre ran a hand through his too-long hair. “I’ve never had any complaints. I’m not selfish. I do my best to pay attention in bed. I don’t know. The end. I refuse to give you two pervs any more details on my sex life. My skills aren’t the reason there aren’t repeat performances.”

  “Tre,” Jack said slowly. “You’re into Caroline, right? I mean, I know you’re saying that you aren’t gonna get with her. But we’re not all nuts, right? We haven’t been imagining all those googoo eyes, have we?”

  Tre was quiet for a while. “Of course I’m into her. What man in his right mind wouldn’t be into her? She’s, like, the perfect woman. Which is why I can’t ruin her. I couldn’t handle being the one who ruins Caroline Clifton.”

  “God.” Jean Luc shoved his hands in the pockets of his athletic shorts and pulled himself up to his full height. He towered over the two men lounging on the bed. “I’m gonna say this one more time: Get your motherfucking head out of your motherfucking ass. I’m so fucking sick of people not understanding what they have to offer. Of lowballing themselves. Tre, you aren’t seeing yourself clearly. And that’s fine. If you were the only one this was hurting, then that’s fine. But your dumbass blindness is gonna get Caroline hurt anyways. She bought condoms to fuck Arturo. All because your head is up your ass.”

  “It’s not that simple,” Tre snapped, his frustration rising again. Why couldn’t they just trust him that he knew what was best in this situation? Why did everyone need every single sordid detail? If they knew what kind of house he’d grown up in, if they’d seen the way his dad was after his mother died, then neither of them would be pressuring him about shit. But they didn’t know and they didn’t trust him enough to just trust him that this was actually the best plan. Not fucking Caroline was noble thing here. But they were making it seem like he was taking the coward’s way out.