HOTSHOT BROTHERS: Coyote Shifters

by Hunt, Sabrina

  Was I another sacrifice? One he didn’t even recognize he was making because he was damn thoughtful and kind? The more I thought about it, the more it made sense and the more I spiraled.

  Burr was full of love and worry for others. He cared more about them than himself. In spite of being a clown with a penchant for pranks and dares, Burr was gentle.

  It was why animals came to him before he even became a shifter. He’d even considered going vegetarian, but Aspen had talked it over with him seriously, explaining the cycle of life and the give and take. How to be grateful and good to Mother Earth.

  He had to be doing this because he knew how badly I was hurting. With my father, Aspen, and Santana gone, Burr felt he needed to step up and take their place. To watch out for me and my family. To protect me.

  More evidence seemed to pile up, convincing me. The one and only night I'’ cried over the deaths of my uncle, aunt, and father, Burr had appeared in my room. He’d laid down with me and held me when I’d sobbed and told him to leave.

  And it was sometime after that, in the following months, I slowly came to grasp that my feelings for Burr had changed. I knew I must have felt this way for a long time without even realizing. Our friendship was still there and stronger than ever, but I knew I wanted more.

  I started noticing things about Burr I never had before. The broadness of his chest, the tightness of his sleeves over his biceps and the way his grin made my chest hitch. Or the light behind his green eyes and how good he smelled. Sometimes I had to stay away from him because I was convinced I’d give it away.

  Burr, being kind, sharp-eyed, and with an uncanny sense about me, must have sensed it anyways. Thus, he’d offered to date me.

  Burr couldn’t love someone like me though. How could he?

  Even now the question tormented me and more tears spilled down my face. Now I was recalling the last time we’d been together and how horrible I’d been to him. I’d meant to do things gracefully and sweetly. Instead, I’d looked down my nose and shoved him away.

  We were on our third date. Burr had gone all out, taking me to a nice restaurant, dressing up and spending money he didn’t have. I was miserable. Barely eating or talking. But instead of getting annoyed, he’d spent the whole time trying to cheer me up and make me laugh.

  I was trying so hard to enjoy our time together that I’d spoiled it for myself. I was too caught up in what was coming. What I had to tell him and kept putting off. Finally I’d blurted out, between dinner and dessert, “I think we’re moving to Alaska for a few years, Burr.”

  My mother had wanted to move back to Alaska for a while. We’d been spending more time there since my father had died. Now that two years had passed, she’d said she needed to get away from Montana for a while. We needed a change and to be with her people.

  I’d readily agreed without thinking. Anything to make her happy. My brothers had as well. It wasn’t like we couldn’t visit.

  No one had realized there was something fragile and new blossoming between myself and Burr. Nor would I realize, until years later, how I’d used Alaska as a chance to smash it to pieces.

  “Okay,” Burr had said, grinning. “Should have gotten Baked Alaska to celebrate.”

  “I don’t know how often we’ll be able to visit,” I murmured, bowing my head.

  “Oh.” Burr had been quiet for a moment. “Why don’t I go with you guys, Lolo? I can take a break from school, help your mom and your brothers. And you.”

  My head flew up and lips parted. “You’d do that?” I’d breathed.

  “Of course.” Burr had smiled at me, putting his chin on his hand. “I’d do anything for you.”

  The indecision of that moment had torn me apart. Every fiber of my being told me to say yes. Somehow, I’d shaken my head and said no, he needed to finish school.

  But outside on the street, I’d forced myself to end things. Standing there in the pouring rain, cold with the coming fall, I’d broken things off. Pretended to be uninterested and bored.

  “It doesn’t make sense to keep this up. I’m moving away, anyways, like I said. And we’d never work out, Burr,” I’d said, turning away. “You have to know that.”

  All these years later and the lie still burned on my tongue. I pressed my forehead into the table and choked back a sob.

  Now he was here and angry with me. I couldn’t blame him. In my shame at being so cruel and lying, I’d ignored him for years. I’d even been too afraid to apologize or say goodbye that last summer. I was afraid of what might come pouring out of my mouth. Burr had always had this way of getting me to say things I never meant to say. Just like how he made me laugh.

  Oh, he was infuriating.

  So time kept passing and I kept putting off fixing things until it seemed an insurmountable expanse of time stretched between us.

  Occasionally my brother Juniper had asked me to fix things, but I’d always make a feeble excuse. He’d get angry and push me away for a few days, then quietly forgive me. Aunt Sil had also tried to patch things up, using tricks to try to force us together, but I’d sidestepped them all so far.

  In the back of my head, I’d always told myself that Burr was fine. I’d convinced myself he’d moved on. He would find some girl and be happy with her. Then we’d be friends again.

  Now I was starting to think that might never be the case.

  I couldn’t deny though, that under all this wretchedness, my heart was still glowing with happiness that he was alive. Seeing Burr standing there in the snow – I’d thought I was hallucinating. Then I’d thought he’d die in my bathroom.

  He’d grown up a lot in those lost years. It was strange to think he’d ever been shorter than me, especially now that he loomed over a half a foot taller. Burr had always been a big and strong guy, but now he was a giant, corded with mountain ranges of muscle.

  Laying my cheek on the table, I bit my lip as I thought about the way his hard back had felt under my hands. Or the way he’d looked in that ridiculous periwinkle towel patterned with seashells, a broad chest, that V dipping down, and the dusting of hair across his stomach.

  Finding out he was a shifter too, seeing that silvery tattoo on his chest, wasn’t much of a surprise. Burr was a knight in shining armor. Of course Akba Atatdia would choose him.

  Shaking my head, I stood up and cleared off the table. It was now early afternoon and I meant to take a shower, but I was too tired.

  With the early start to this morning, the fight with Sorvang which now seemed like ancient history, and all that cleaning, I just wanted to crawl into bed.

  Dragging myself down the hall, I opened my door and stopped short.

  A throb went through me. Burr was fast asleep in my bed, his face peaceful and breathing even. Walking over, I entertained a split-second daydream that this was nothing out of the ordinary, that I could crawl in with him and he’d smile down at me when we woke up.

  Heart stuttering in my chest, I fixed the blankets and then let my fingers brush across his cheek. Asleep, I could see the boy he’d been. Tears spilled down my face again. God, I’d missed him. I hadn’t realized how much. While I’d made a life for myself, it hadn’t filled the hole in my heart.

  The hole I’d torn out, which gaped and mocked me now.

  Leaning down, I whispered, “Burr, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Then I held my breath.

  But he didn’t stir. Choking down a sob, I left quietly, not even glancing back once.

  Skritch.

  Jerking awake, I glanced around the living room, hands tightening on the blanket. But nothing was amiss and after listening hard, I decided it must have been the wind.

  Going to stand up, I immediately sat back down. Everything in my body was heavy and my head reeled. Curling my knees back up, I rested my cheek against the back of the couch and held up my hands. They were shaking and I clenched them into fists. Stop, I told them.

  I am stronger than this.

  Again I tried to move, but now it was as though I were
pinned into place.

  Wind rattled around the house, banging on the shutters and walls like a demon seeking entry. My nerves began to stretch thin.

  Had I locked all the doors and ensured the protections were still in place? I couldn’t remember. Looking around the room, I saw the shadows were deeper and wilder, dancing with the storm.

  Skritch, skritch.

  The back of my neck prickled and I slowly looked up.

  A face was in the skylight. A terrible, inhuman face with two red eyes staring right at me. I froze in absolute terror. I couldn’t even scream.

  A gnarled fist slammed onto the glass. Fissures appeared, sprouting and spreading.

  But that’s impossible! my mind screamed.

  It slammed a fist down again and a shard of glass fell into the room.

  Burr.

  With a cry, I leaped to my feet to run when another noise came. Turning, I saw red eyes in every window. The shriek and whine of glass cracking under pressure filled my ears.

  Suddenly there was a shattering of glass and cold air and snow swept over me.

  Looking up, I saw the creature was in the room. It was a fast, blurring mass of shadows that gave me a contemptuous look and then darted by me.

  A scream tore free. “Burr! No!”

  I tried to race after it, but shadows were lashing around my arms; more of the creatures had broken in and were pinning me down. I screamed and kicked out, thrashing, trying to fight. All the while I screamed for Burr, hoping he’d wake, praying he’d be okay.

  This is all my fault, I didn’t check the wards, I didn’t lock up…

  All my fault.

  I was trying to fight my way out of the shadows still when I thought I heard someone say my name. But I couldn’t be sure, as darkness filled my eyes. I was drowning in it.

  The light was gone and tears slipped free as I gasped for air.

  “Burr!” I screamed with my last breath. “Run.”

  Now the shadows were gently shaking me and becoming edged with gray.

  And I heard my name again, clear, strong and sure. “Willow!”

  Light seemed to burst upon me liked I’d surfaced out of a dark sea and I gasped.

  “Lolo, wake up,” Burr was saying as he stared down at me. Blinking, I saw his hand move and smooth back my hair. “You were having a nightmare. Everything is fine. I’m fine.”

  Sitting up, I put a hand to my spinning head. Then I touched Burr’s wrist to reassure myself he was okay. It was warm, but I could feel his pulse and hastily withdrew.

  “Are you okay?” Burr asked. I didn’t respond. “Say something. Please.”

  “I’m okay,” I whispered, trying to wake up completely. It was dark outside and I could hear the storm beginning to quiet in the distance. I opened my mouth to say something then closed it.

  My mind was utterly blank. I didn’t know what to tell him. Not when Burr was giving me that searching, concerned look of his, brows furrowed and posture radiating protectiveness.

  “You don’t look okay,” Burr said bluntly. “Was it – do you want to talk about it?”

  Yes. “No, it’s okay. I don’t even really remember it,” I said, looking down at my hands. They were steady and I sighed in relief.

  “Really?” Burr asked, sounding like he either wanted to laugh or break something. “You woke me out of a dead sleep, Willow. I thought–” he paused abruptly. “You called for me.”

  I flinched. Damn it all to hell. “Fine,” I snapped. “I had a dream you were being attacked. Probably just from the stress of earlier. I’m–”

  The scraping sound from my dream went through the room and I grabbed Burr’s arm while staring up at the ceiling. But no faces were staring back. There were no red eyes at any window. The sound came again and I realized it was snow sliding off the roof.

  “You’re what, exactly? White as a ghost? Clearly terrified?” Burr’s voice was had an unusually harsh note to it. “Crying in your sleep? You never cry.”

  I looked at Burr as I let go of him and touched my cheek. It was wet.

  “Seeing those demons couldn’t have been easy, Lolo,” he said. “There’s no shame–”

  I scrambled to my feet and shoved past him. “I’m not ashamed! What are you talking about?” Swiping at my cheeks, I proceeded to stomp through the house, checking the windows and doors. Finally I went into the kitchen and stared out the window. As far as I could tell, the wards were in place.

  “What are you doing?” Burr asked. He’d been following me quietly the whole time. “Everything is fine. We’re safe.”

  “Hmph. Never hurts to double check,” I muttered.

  “I would sense if anything was wrong, Willow.”

  “Good to know. Well, thanks for waking me up, but you can go back to bed now.” I marched back into the living room and lay down on the couch. “Good night.”

  I heard the floorboards creak near me and I rolled over to glare at him when suddenly I was being picked up in one fluid motion, huge arms pinning me against a hard chest.

  “Burr! What the hell!” I shouted at him as I stared up at the side of a set jaw.

  He didn’t say anything, just carried me, shouting and squirming, through the kitchen and into my room. Kicking the door closed behind him, he strode over and dumped me on the bed.

  Immediately I sat up and went to hit him, but he caught my wrist. “Don’t even think about it.” Burr’s face was set and his gaze was unreadable. “If you’re going to have nightmares, you can sleep right here. This way I don’t have to drag myself through a freezing house to wake you up.”

  I tried to push him with my other hand but he caught that wrist as well. Squirming angrily, I glared at him. “I’m not sleeping with you. You can go into Juni’s room.”

  “Juni hates other people sleeping in his bed. And who knows when Fox’s bedroom was cleaned last. There’s probably old pizza under the pillow.” Burr gave me a superior look. “No, I think I’ll stay right here. What’s the big deal?”

  Now he was smirking at me, his big hands warm on my crisscrossed wrists and I could feel my lips twisting up as I tried not blush or laugh. The absurdity of the situation was hitting me.

  Wrenching myself free, I rolled over, moving as close to the edge of the bed as possible, but Burr pushed me over towards the wall and climbed in. Glaring at his back as he pulled the blankets up, I resisted the urge to kick him or push him out of the bed.

  Suddenly his shoulders began to shake as he chuckled to himself.

  “What is so damn funny?” I snapped, sitting up.

  He rolled over and half-grimaced, half-grinned at me. “You. You’re such a pain in the ass.” With a yawn, he shut his eyes and snuggled into the pillow. “Good night.”

  A retort rose to my lips and then I let out a huff of air. Rolling over, I stared at the wall, folding my arms over my chest. At first I was determined not to fall asleep, so as to not have any nightmares and be a bigger pain in the ass, but I was soon nodding off.

  Burr’s breathing was even and regular beside me. He’d fallen asleep in moments. Ugh. Not fair. In spite of myself, I silently rolled over. Yup, fast asleep.

  I wondered if he’d sprawl out like he used to do when we were younger. Then, as though hearing my thoughts, he shifted and rolled on his side towards me.

  Tracing my eyes over the familiar lines of his face, I was suddenly conscious of an embarrassed gratitude lurking behind my heart. It seemed to be dancing alongside the irrepressible glow of knowing Burr was alive.

  My body started to relax and a thought drifted through my mind that I should move.

  In a minute. I’ll just lie like this for now.

  Chapter 7

  I’d woken early, already intent on leaving before I opened my eyes. But when I opened them to Willow’s sleeping face inches from mine, I’d frozen in shock.

  Over the course of the night, we’d moved together to the center of the bed. She was so close I could feel the warmth radiating from her skin. In sp
ite of myself, I gazed at her, noting how her lips were curving into a tiny smile. God, I want to kiss you so badly.

  Then, after the first shock came a second and greater one.

  Not only were we facing each other, peacefully sharing a bed, but we were holding hands. Fingers intertwined, they rested together between our chests as though we’d fallen asleep that way.

  Such a pain in the ass, I thought to myself, trying to convince my body to move, but a long-suppressed memory rose up.

  Another time lying with Willow, in a pool of late June sunlight.

  And I closed my eyes, breathing in her familiar, clean springtime scent, unwilling to let this moment – or her – go too soon.

  I had no idea how much time had passed, but I knew it was getting on in the morning. And I knew once Willow woke up, this fragile illusion would implode. She’d pull away from me, as always, even if her sleeping self had betrayed her.

  I knew the longer I stayed, the harder it would be to leave. Especially with how weird things were between us. The bathtub thing had been heart wrenching, but funny and enjoyable at the same time. However, waking up to Willow screaming had been a special kind of hell.

  Immediately my fingers squeezed her hand tighter. I’d all but leaped out of bed, running through the shadowy house, her calls for me twisting my insides. When I’d found her, curled into a ball, tracks of tears glinting through the darkness, our shared childhood had come rushing back.

  What if I can’t wake her? had come the terrifying question as I called her name over and over to no avail. I’d felt like a lost little kid as I’d shaken her, wishing Santana was there.

  Then she’d opened her eyes and I’d gone limp with relief. Old instincts had kicked in and I’d brought Willow back to her room for her sake as much as my own.

  Opening my eyes, I watched her sleep on blissfully, and a warm, tired feeling spread through my body. Maybe a few days of rest and recovery would be ideal. I’d earned it.

  Then I shook my head. Who was I trying to fool? I wanted to stay because of Willow.