Stalking the Others

by Jess Haines

  Walking and breathing were pushing me to the limits of my endurance, but I still managed to make my way to the shower. This felt far too close to how badly I’d been beaten after the fight with David Borowsky. Similar to how I had felt after the belt had used up all my reserves and I’d gone looking for the White Hats earlier this month. Perhaps some of this was just a holdover from the belt’s using me up like a battery during the battle with Chaz, draining me to the point of no return.

  Lying down in a bath would have been amazing if I could have bent at the waist. Instead I gave the tub a longing look before making do with a shower, peeling the borrowed clothes off and stepping into a spray that was almost too hot to stand. It washed away the dirt and the ash, but no matter how much soap I used, Chaz’s musky scent clung to me.

  There was something dark and earthy there, underneath it, like the simple act of touching me had woken something dormant under my skin. It took a while for me to realize that it didn’t matter how many times I washed or scrubbed—it wasn’t coming off.

  Was this another sign of me turning? Was I marked by the pack somehow? Turning into a Sunstriker?

  Feeling queasy, I stayed under the spray until my skin wrinkled. I couldn’t keep my arms above my head long enough to work shampoo or conditioner into my hair, so I had to make do with a few quick swipes of liquid-covered fingers and hope for the best.

  When the water was off, I attempted to wring my hair out, but by then lifting my arms that high was unbearable. I couldn’t even wrap the heavy mass in a towel. The clothes I’d been wearing were too soiled for me to wear again, so I’d have to find something to change into outside the bathroom.

  Resuming my zombie-shuffle, I went to the room down the hall that had the dresser with my clothes in it that Keith had brought from the house on City Island, and shut the door behind me. The belt was on top of the dresser, left there for me in a neat coil. There were signs that other people had dropped their things off in here as well. Bags and backpacks, mostly. The smell of Were was overpowering in the enclosed space. I wondered where they were all sleeping.

  One thing I hadn’t considered was how hard it was to pull clothing on without help. It had been many months since I’d had to try that after having been beaten to crap. I had the added pain of my spine injury to go along with it this time, too. The more I thought about it, the more I was surprised Dr. Morrow wasn’t hovering over me, and that I was on my feet at all.

  The doc hadn’t been around for a while, actually. Maybe he had something to do with whatever that other project was the White Hats had been working on concurrent with dealing with my problems. The project nobody had yet seen fit to tell me about. I had the feeling they never would.

  Placing the towel on top of the dresser, I selected another T-shirt, some underwear, and a pair of jeans. The bitch of it was, I couldn’t bend over or put my arms up high enough to put any of it on. Wherever I’d found the strength to get my clothes off before the shower, it had deserted me now.

  Tears of frustration pricked behind my eyelids as I leaned against the dresser, balling up the clothing in my fists.

  There was a click, and the door opened behind me. I barely had time to grab the towel to cover my nakedness before Chaz walked in.

  He shut the door behind him. I snarled at him, clutching the towel closer. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing in here? Get out!”

  Expression set, he approached me, reaching out. I grabbed for the belt, yanking out a stake and holding it before me in warning, though every muscle in my body protested at the sudden movements.

  He stopped. Closed his eyes and took a breath. Exhaled and opened them again, some of the harsh lines easing out of his features. “Relax. I heard the shower.” Spreading his hands, he nodded at the pile of clothes at my feet. “You’re in no shape to handle that yourself. I knew you’d need help. So here I am.”

  I lifted the stake a bit higher, protecting my modesty with the towel as best I could one-handed. Energy of some kind buzzed against my fingertips through the leather. The belt was awake, and it wanted to be used—but Chaz would be able to stop me long before I managed to put it on.

  “Don’t you fucking touch me,” I hissed. “You haven’t got the right.”

  “No? Who do you think changed you? Cleaned you up after the fight?”

  Heat suffused my cheeks. I hadn’t wanted to think about it before. Having him throw that in my face was enough to prompt a wish for the floor to open up and swallow me—but I didn’t give any ground.

  “Would you prefer I get Nikki? Or maybe Jack—”

  “No!” I practically shrieked it. He didn’t seem overly impressed by my outburst. I repeated myself, quieter this time, but no less emphatic. “No. Nikki hates me, and I don’t ever want Jack touching me. Just leave me alone. I’ll deal with it.”

  The one raised brow was answer enough.

  “I’ll handle it. Just fuck off. Find some other girl to feel up.”

  “Christ, what do you take me for? I’m not here to feel you up. I know you need help. Stop acting like a brat and let’s get this over with.”

  God, I hated him. Hated this whole situation.

  As badly as I wanted to use the stake on him, I couldn’t handle getting dressed by myself. Chaz had helped me with that mundane task, along with a million others, when I’d been recuperating from the fight against the mad sorcerer. He’d managed to keep his hands to himself all those times, waiting patiently until I was ready to do more.

  This would be no different. I kept telling myself that as I reached out with a shaking hand to drop the stake on the dresser next to the belt.

  He took the towel away—tugging a little, since I’d gripped it with both hands so hard that my knuckles went white—and set it aside. As I stood there, naked, I looked anywhere but at him while he arranged the clothing I’d selected. He helped me balance, not saying anything when I was forced to grab his shoulder as he knelt to lift my feet so I could step into the panties. His grip on my ankles was hot enough that it burned against my skin, even through the heat of my embarrassment.

  His fingertips skimmed against the outside of my calves, then my thighs, tracing a scalding trail. The scent of him was thick enough to choke on and only made me feel sicker than I had been in the shower.

  He repeated the process with the jeans and then stood, carefully doing up the zipper and button for me. His voice, when he spoke, was cold and unmoved, though there was something under the surface that I wished I couldn’t smell on him.

  “Is there a bra? There’s only the shirt here.”

  Desperately avoiding his eyes, I swallowed. Hard. “No. I don’t think... no.”

  With a detached nod, he reached for the shirt. As gentle as he’d been dealing with the rest, he helped tug it on over my head and maneuver my arms until I was able to tug it down myself over my breasts and stomach. Only then was I able to look at him. He was staring at my chest as though he was still seeing what was under the cloth.

  He said something, but I was too rattled to get it right off. “Excuse me?”

  “You need socks? Or are we done here?”

  “We’re done.” I’d scream if he touched me again.

  Without another word, he turned and walked back to the door. As much as it hurt to think the thought, let alone say it aloud, I opened my mouth.

  “Wait.”

  Hand on the knob, he looked over his shoulder at me. There was no warmth there. No desire in the way he looked at me, though I could smell it as strongly as the apple-scented shampoo I’d dumped in my hair.

  “Chaz, I—thank you.”

  That forbidding expression remained, his blue eyes gleaming with whatever plans were roiling through that head of his. With a nod, he turned away and continued out the door, leaving me alone with my own thoughts and regrets.

  He hadn’t touched me inappropriately, but the memory of his skin on mine was going to haunt me for days to come. If I survived for days, that was.

 
Warmth trickled down my upper lip. I pressed my fingertips under my nose and was unsurprised when they came away bloody.

  I glanced at the belt, lying inert on top of the dresser. Spreading my fingers, I held my hand out, red-speckled digits splayed a few inches above the coiled leather. Energy buzzed in a prickle over my skin, marching along my palm until it reached my wrist. A throbbing sensation built in my bloodstream, pounding along in time with my heartbeat, felt strongest in that hand.

  Curious, I closed my fist around the leather, right over one of the runes branded behind the buckle.

  ‘I thought you were dead.’ The belt’s voice was a faint whisper, much like it had been the first time I’d worn it. Barely penetrating my consciousness, but still there, a reassuring and familiar presence. ‘You were gravely injured. I’m surprised the beast dragged you out.’

  “Me too, Isaac,” I said, keeping my voice low. No telling what the Weres might overhear.

  ‘It will speed the healing process if you wear me. You still can. There are changes going on in your body, but it’s not yet to the point where you can no longer use me.’

  “Tempting as the idea is, I don’t think the Weres in the house would take kindly to that,” I replied.

  I filled the belt in on what had happened since I had woken. About the Sunstrikers in the apartment and the deal they had made with the White Hats. How I was going to be sitting out on the fight against the Ravenwoods and spending the night of the full moon locked up in a cage in case I turned.

  The belt mulled that over, not responding for a while. I didn’t do anything to rush it, leaning my hip against the dresser and resting my hand on the leather while I waited.

  ‘Take me with you tomorrow.’

  That response surprised me. “Why?”

  ‘This could go one of two ways. You will either turn, in which case you no longer wish to survive, yes?’

  I didn’t answer.

  ‘You can use one of the stakes to end it if you must. It would be preferable to being at the mercy of the White Hats. They will prolong your death.’

  My tongue felt thick in my mouth, making it hard to speak. “You can’t be sure of that.”

  ‘I’ve seen enough through your eyes to know that you would not be treated with mercy by the White Hats. Bo is your ally, yes, but he will wish you dead as badly as the others already do if he sees you turn into a monster. And Jack only sees you as a tool to use to achieve his own ends. If, by some chance, you do not turn, you will need me.’

  “Not that I see that happening, but why?”

  ‘To destroy the vampire.’

  I stilled. A sudden, intense desire to hunt Royce burned in my blood, seared in my mind like a brand.

  ‘He must be stopped. Before he hurts you again. Hurts your friend. You must rescue her.’

  Sara. Oh, my God, Sara.

  She’d been in the hands of the vampires for too long. They could have done anything to her. Anything at all. She had no legal recourse. No way to go to the cops if something went wrong. And I’d left her with them.

  They could be feeding on her. Using her. Manipulating her, the way Royce had manipulated me.

  ‘Yes,’ the belt whispered. ‘Yes. You will stop it.’

  “I will,” I said. My voice shook, but new purpose gave me strength. I had to make things right. “I’ll stop him. For good.”

  Chapter 23

  (Days left to full moon: 1)

  I spent most of the night following and the next day trying desperately to avoid Chaz. Every time I turned around, there he was.

  Nikki seemed to delight in my discomfort. She followed me around, too, though at a more discreet distance, watching how I jumped and swore and flinched every time I ran into him. Every time I caught her watching, her crystalline irises were sparkling with pleasure and malice. If I hadn’t respected her brother so much, and hadn’t still been in so much pain, I might have called her on it.

  As it was, there wasn’t a chance I was about to come to blows with her over something so stupid.

  It wasn’t like Chaz or I had much choice in the matter, either. The apartment just wasn’t that big. Everyone was feeling a bit cooped up and restless, particularly the Weres. Tomorrow was the first day the moon would wax full enough to start the werewolves’ cycle of forced shifts that came three days out of every month. Every one of them would have to change into their half-man, half-wolf form.

  The suppressed energy of a half dozen Weres close to their change combined with the fear of the White Hats was a recipe for disaster in the making. Frankly, it seemed a miracle no one had tried to shoot or beat the crap out of anyone yet.

  The White Hats really didn’t like the proximity of the Weres. Though they’d never bothered before, now every one of them, except for Jack, was armed at all times. The White Hats stayed grouped by Jack’s cot, standing as an unnecessary honor guard. Avoiding crossing paths with anyone who wasn’t human enough for their tastes, including me.

  As for the Weres, they prowled around, exploring every inch of the apartment until the whole damned place smelled like a kennel. They didn’t make any overtly threatening moves toward the White Hats, but I think that was mostly because Chaz beat the snot out of Simon when he started getting too confrontational with Bo.

  Their behavior made me wonder—in truth, a bit snidely—whether some of the males might not start marking their territory if the pressure contained in this place didn’t let up soon.

  What really surprised me was that nobody made any effort to come near me. Jack spent a lot of time studying maps and stuff on the computers with Keith. Chaz studiously avoided me, save for when our paths crossing was unavoidable. I hadn’t been able to bring myself to try changing my clothes or showering again since last night. Even Bo didn’t come by to wish me well or see how I was doing.

  Nikki brought me food at mealtimes, but she didn’t stick around, and no one came to visit me while I lounged on the couch.

  I got up now and then to stretch, walking despite how much it hurt to get up and move around. With every hour, the pain became less. However, I’d noticed a low-grade fever. Yet another sign of the impending change. My appetite roared to life within hours of Chaz’s dressing me last night, and hadn’t abated since, no matter how much I ate. Even with the fever and the queasy reaction my stomach was having at the smell of the Sunstrikers, I was always hungry. Oddly, I craved sweets and carbohydrates instead of meat, as I had that morning I’d woken up from my bender at the other hideout a few weeks ago.

  Chaz was in the kitchen sipping at a cup of water when I went to scrounge in the fridge. I ignored him as much as I had every other time I’d come across him in the house. With a few savage moves, shifting things around, I found a tub of cream cheese and set it on the counter, digging around in the cabinets for some crackers or bagels to spread it on.

  He watched the whole time, his butt propped against the counter, and a calculating gleam in his eye. I knew the look. He was planning something that involved me. Not that I cared overmuch. His thoughts had always been fairly transparent and straightforward—other than the lies, that was. And I wasn’t interested in playing his games anymore.

  He set the glass aside as I found a box of Ritz crackers and grabbed the cream cheese, intending to hightail it back to my couch.

  “Shia?”

  I stopped, not looking at him.

  “There’s a place for you in our pack. Whether you turn or not. You have a place to go.”

  That sounded way too much like Royce for my peace of mind. With a snarl, I rushed out of there, not wanting to face him or have to consider that too closely.

  Simon was sitting on the couch when I finally reached the top of Mount Stairwell. I nearly wept. Exhausted from the effort it had taken to get back up the stairs by myself without collapsing or toppling backwards, all I’d wanted was to sprawl on what passed for my bed.

  He’d settled right in the middle, his arms over the back, and gave me a smirk when I came to a swayi
ng halt in front of him.

  “You mind?”

  He arched his brows, giving me a faux-innocent look. “Not at all. Why?”

  Simon always had been an asshole. His dark, slanted eyes watched me with a mischievous glitter; he knew he was being a dick and that there was nothing I could do about it.

  It was a very Were thing to do. He was challenging me.

  Dredging up the nerve from somewhere deep down, I dropped the containers on either side of him and circled behind the couch. He turned his head to follow my movements. Though my gait was unsteady, I didn’t falter.

  I braced my hands on the back of the couch, on either side of his narrow shoulders. He started to twist around, his expression suddenly shifting from cocksure to wary, regarding me with suspicion. This was really going to hurt.

  I bent at the waist and pecked a kiss on his cheek.

  With an explosive growl, he practically leapt to the ceiling, vacating the couch and plastering himself against the opposite wall. His hair, a lovely sable color, had been combed flat moments ago, but was now standing on end, and his eyes were a bright amber color similar to my own.

  I grinned, maintaining the pose, though it was making my eyes water. “Thanks. Appreciate your keeping the couch warm for me.”

  He loosed another thunderous growl and stalked off, highly offended.

  With a groan and a crack, I straightened my back, pressing the small of it with the heels of both palms. Though I couldn’t maintain the position for long, I couldn’t have done that at all last night. Whatever was going on in my body was healing me much faster than was normal.

  Tired and sore, I moved around to sink into the cushions, no longer interested in the food.

  The doubts about whether I’d be turning Were were almost nil at this point. There was no other explanation for the healing, the heightened senses, the way my stomach had been rebelling, or the fever. I’d been putting off deciding how I’d deal with the moment when it came. All month, I’d been doing my best to deny it. Now that the time was at hand, and I was no longer distracted by my need to hunt Chaz to the ends of the earth, there was plenty of time to consider my options and make a decision.