The Sigma Menace Collection

by Marie Johnston

  “We sense our mates, shifter or human, when we meet them. Human mates aren’t unusual but they aren’t common. We can spend decades looking for our mate, hoping we’ll be drawn together.”

  WTF, did he just say decades?

  He was so earnest, so sincere, and after all he told her, all she wanted to know was about the whole mate thing. “And what does mate mean exactly, in the werewolf world?”

  “Shifters,” he corrected. “We are linked. For life. And Cassie, we live longer than humans.” He stopped to let that sink in.

  “How much longer?”

  A bit reluctantly, he said, “Centuries.”

  “What?”

  “As a human, when you bind with me, you’d share my lifespan.”

  “Share lifespans,” she echoed, her mind reeling. Her rational mind argued with her buzzing emotions.

  Abruptly, she stood up, dropping his hands, losing the warmth of his body, and paced at the end of the table in the tiny room. He stood slowly, but didn’t move toward her.

  “Look, Jace, this is all,” she gestured all around her, “a lot. I need some time, room to breathe.”

  “Cassie, I—,”

  “You need to go.” She kept pacing, hands on hips. “No, you know what? I need to go. Where’s Kaitlyn?” She walked to the door and tried to open it, but they were locked in. She banged on it with her palm.

  “Bennett!” Cassie called through the door. “Open up. I want to talk to Kaitlyn.”

  She was about to pound again when the door swung open. She jumped back.

  Bennett walked in. “Jace, you wanna give us a minute? I’d like to chat with Dr. Stockwell before I take her home.”

  “Where’s Kaitlyn?” Cassie demanded.

  “She’s talking to Master Bellamy. Jace, wait in the hall.”

  “I’m not fucking leaving,” Jace said. He squared off with Bennett. The fair-haired man was only an inch shorter than Jace and not the least bit intimidated.

  Cassie resumed pacing.

  “Look man, give her some room,” Bennett said quietly. “I’m not going to hurt her. You know my life is protecting our people, including human mates.”

  Cassie could just make out what he was saying. Some of the tension eased in the tiny interrogation room. She needed to learn about all of this world, find Kaitlyn, and with Jace next her, all she could think about was the word “mating.” When she heard that word, she remembered what his naked skin felt like on hers and wanted more.

  “I’m okay, Jace. Please wait in the hall for me. I’m sure it won’t take long.” She hoped she hit on his major concerns and he didn’t argue.

  Hurt flashed across his handsome features and was gone just as quickly. He turned to leave and Cassie yearned to go after him, suddenly not wanting to be alone in the room with the other male, craving only to be by Jace’s side. But she needed answers.

  “Leave the door cracked,” Jace muttered.

  “Dr. Stockwell, please have a seat.”

  “Unless you’re my patient, it’s just Cassie.” Unless you’re me. I call myself Dr. Stockwell all the time. Especially when crazy happened—like when a patient breaks down mid-session and breaks her office window trying to escape when she was having him committed. Or when her best friend kills two people, then her BFF and the one night stand end up being werewolves. That’s full “Dr. Stockwell” territory.

  “Cassie it is.” He pulled up a chair on the other side of the table. She sat back down in her chair, crossed her ankles, and folded her hands in front of her on the table. Okay, Dr. Stockwell, get your shit back together.

  “We’d like to talk with you about Kaitlyn.”

  “You’ll have to ask Kaitlyn about Kaitlyn.”

  “Cassie, we want to help her.”

  “Look Bennett, if she wants you to help her, she’ll let you. Other than that, Kaitlyn’s life isn’t mine to talk about.”

  Bennett sat quiet for a while. Then he crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “Just one question, then. Have you ever seen her shift?”

  Cassie barked out a laugh. “That would be no. I knew nothing about werewolves or shifters or whatever you call yourselves, until today.”

  Bennett studied her. She studied him back. He was a real showstopper, with his dirty blond hair expertly tousled to look messy-chic and his dark blue bedroom eyes. His face, with smooth flawless skin, high cheekbones, and strong jaw, could look easygoing and friendly, as it did now, or hard and ruthless like back at the quarry when she first saw him.

  Black cargos seemed to be the team’s uniform with a black shirt that stretched across his broad shoulders, chest, and biceps. He no doubt had washboard abs like a gym rat hooked on protein shakes. The amount of weapons strapped between shoulders and ankles definitely led to the “don’t fuck with me, but I’ll fuck you” appeal.

  Yet for all his masculine appeal, he didn’t do it for her. She felt no stomach flutters, no inclination to flirt (like she ever did), and no breathlessness when she looked at his handsome face. All of that happened only when she thought of Jace, and he didn’t have to be in the building.

  Bennett’s lips spread in a sympathetic smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Gave you quite a shock, I imagine. You handled yourself well, staying calm, keeping quiet.”

  Cassie nodded, encouraging the praise. It was Psych 101—sympathize and acknowledge the subject’s feelings, and she wanted to see what angle he was playing. He searched for information, but was it to help Kaitlyn, or use against her? Cassie wanted information, but instinctively knew Bennett didn’t plan on sharing.

  “I suppose you got pretty street savvy once you became part of the system, going into foster care. You and Kaitlyn bonded pretty tightly, each with your own tragedy so you could understand each other.”

  Did he really think this was going to work? She nodded again.

  “You fostered with her family, right? Her adoptive parents hoping an intelligent, mature girl could mentor Kaitlyn through the teenage years, which are rough enough for girls who haven’t lost their loved ones in unimaginable ways.” Bennett folded his hands on the table, leaning slightly forward like she was. He lost the smile, but kept the sympathy in his eyes.

  The situation was absurd. Here was a guy, strapped head to toe with knives, more probably where she couldn’t see, at least two guns, and are those throwing stars? and he’s trying to Dr. Phil her into telling him about Kaitlyn.

  There was nothing to tell. They seemed to know the two girls’ history together but unless they wanted to hear about first heartbreaks and embarrassing tampon stories, she didn’t know what they were looking for and she wouldn’t tell them if she did. She and Kaitlyn bonded over their past tragedies, beyond that they were normal women who had each other’s backs. They could ask Kaitlyn about her past. Good luck with that.

  “I don’t know what to tell you,” Cassie said, “unless you want to hear about the time the cops were called to a frat party when we were nineteen and we both bailed out of the window onto thorny rose bushes. It hurt, but we got away. The whole thing was a real pain the ass,” she deadpanned.

  Bennett laughed with her. The sympathy replaced by determination.

  “Cassie, help us understand how an adult shifter can live without transitioning, without anyone seeing her shift or knowing anything about her parentage.”

  The hormones were ramping down with Jace out of the room, the adrenaline from the morning had worn off, and breakfast had burned off long ago. Hungry, tired, and pretty fucking irritated at the way Bennett was trying to play her—this is what she did for a living, dammit!—she sat forward a little more.

  “Bennett, you seem cool—when you want to. You seem like you want to be my friend, someone safe in the land of big, bad wolves, someone I can tell my secrets to—if I had any. I bet you’re the responsible one, second-in-command it appears. You want to be seen as easygoing, dedicated, dependable. Am I right?”

  Not waiting for an answer, she continued, “But
don’t forget, Bennett, I’ve seen you at the club, coming out of the dark hallway, turning that country boy smile onto a woman looking for attention. I’ve seen your face after she takes the bait. It’s not delight. I’ve seen your face as you pass the jelly girl off to her friends after you’re done with her. It’s not satisfaction. Even more, I’ve seen you when you weren’t in The Den, sitting at the bar nursing a warm beer, lost in thought. If you were human, do you know what I’d think? That you’re broken inside.”

  Bennett’s face lost all color, fading to a shade that could have been cut from stone.

  “Someone destroyed you and you haven’t recovered,” Cassie said. “You’re all duct tape and super glue, being what everyone wants and expects you to be. Inside though, you’re falling apart. Worried how much longer you can do it and what happens when you can’t anymore. I’m here, if you want to talk. Otherwise, I, one, don’t know anything and, two, wouldn’t tell you anyway.”

  Silence.

  Finally, Bennett ran a hand through his hair and stood. Walking to the door he held it open for her.

  “Why don’t we see what’s going on with your friend.”

  Chapter 6

  Kaitlyn felt human after her shower. But that was only temporary as she remembered that she may, in fact, not be as human as she thought. She hated lying to her friend, seemed like she’d been doing it for months. Lying by omission, if anything. She told Cassie everything, they were closer than sisters. Since Cassie spent her days listening to mental patients talk about their deepest secrets Kaitlyn was safe from any judgment for the way she lived her life. Lately, the pressure building in her each month, the need for extreme intercourse to release it, it wasn’t something she wanted to face herself, much less unload on her BFF. The last couple of months, she released it and crossed her fingers that was it, end of story. Until the uneasiness inside started again, like having butterflies, until it became so uncomfortable she could hardly walk. The worst case of lady blue balls, on steroids, times ten.

  She didn’t exactly lie to Cassie when she relayed events from earlier this morning. And it wasn’t as if Cassie didn’t find out eventually about the main event Kaitlyn had left out of her story; that she felt her transformation, every millisecond, when she turned and killed those men. She was aware that she became a wolf even though she didn’t have a mirror to confirm. Flowing into another form was exhilarating, an awakening, like the most natural move in the world. Ripping into bodies matched the rush of her shift. The acrid blood tainting her taste buds should disgust her. She didn’t want to know what it said about her that it didn’t.

  The transformation sparked vague memories. Images from past nightmares that she always chalked up to being just that—nightmares. Kaitlyn spent the morning hiding from those images more than the memory of the two men she ripped apart early this morning. The guys were convenient and it wasn’t until it was almost permanently too late that she sensed any danger from them. Up until that point, it’d been raging hormones and sexual need, and the temporary fulfillment that would only last days to weeks. She should feel torn up about those men, wonder if they had family. She killed, but remorse remained an unattainable emotion. Her intuition screamed that if she hadn’t destroyed them, they would’ve kept hunting women. Despite her lack of regret, she wasn’t ready to pat herself on the back. She didn’t just kill them, she’d decimated them.

  Kaitlyn switched her disturbing train of thought from translating the images and possible memories from her past and inexplicable killing instincts to dwelling on her guilt about Cassie. She started dragging her to Pale Moonlight to check the place out after she heard about The Den from one of her martial arts clients. It had taken several visits before she mustered up the courage to actually participate in Den festivities. But she’d taken to ditching Cassie to leave with a candidate to help her release. It was unlike her. Not being known for being traditionally responsible as a grown young lady, she’d never taken chances with her body and well-being. Having a good time, dancing on bars? Yes. The occasional police call to get bailed out when she couldn’t flirt her way out of public intoxication? Yes, but that was totally unjustified since it was a street dance. But driving off with unknown men, not just for a quick lay, but to hunker down somewhere and get it on for hours. Every time she ditched Cassie, she didn’t end up with her clothes off and that somehow helped her feel less guilty. Cassie wised up and started bringing Grant when Kaitlyn asked her to the club.

  Kaitlyn couldn’t help the groan when Grant came to mind. He was a good guy. Anyone would be lucky to pair up with that one. He was good-looking and he tolerated Kaitlyn and her behavior around Cassie. He was just so nice. And that was the problem. Kaitlyn wanted more than nice for Cassie. She needed someone who’d bring her out of the safe, comfy life she’d built for herself. Her predictable, quiet, uneventful life. They used to stay up all night talking about what they’d do once they turned eighteen, had a diploma, and were free to go anywhere and do anything. Kaitlyn was still trying to figure out what anywhere and anything was, but it sure didn’t include settling down and working Monday through Friday, nine-to-five. Her foster sister might have thought that was what she desired most in life, but Kaitlyn knew it was wrong for both of them.

  To help stave off her conscience when her life started to jumble up into a hot mess, Kaitlyn threw herself into her maid of honor duties for the upcoming nuptials. It wasn’t enough to pay back her friendship and now it was all for nothing. When Cassie called her last night, upset and in disbelief that Grant called everything off, Kaitlyn played the part of sympathetic friend and talked her out of the house to go to the club.

  Then she hung up and danced around.

  But yet again, even before walking into the club last night, the urge got to be too much. Tyson had a fast car, a friend, and privacy. Entering the world of shitty BFF again, she dreaded leaving Cassie. Until she saw how the bartender looked at her. She knew her friend was oblivious to Jace’s interest. Kaitlyn had been to Pale Moonlight enough to know that while the staff may not overtly fraternize, they kept any sexual escapades with their clientele on the downlow, heavily utilized The Den and only chose any who were also looking for quick, forgettable hookups.

  But not Jace. Kaitlyn noticed him only because he looked through anyone at the club. He watched for empty glasses to refill, customers needing service, and trouble brewing. He didn’t watch the bountiful breasts on display. He never noticed the women with short skirts and sprayed on pants who accidently dropped something in front of the bar. Kaitlyn saw some bend over shows put on that would make any strip club ask for lessons. Kaitlyn’s first thought was that he was gay, but nope, men didn’t turn his head either.

  The only thing that turned his head was Cassie. And the look he saved for Grant when he thought no one would see… that man was into her friend something fierce. Kaitlyn would’ve fueled that fire, but Cassie had too much respect and loyalty for Grant to ogle other men. Anytime Kaitlyn tried to lure Cassie close to the bar to order drinks, she’d get flustered and flag down another server.

  Nope, she had no guilt leaving Cassie in the large, strong hands of the mysterious bartender.

  Then they showed up together this morning to rescue her sorry ass out of the gravel pit. If she hadn’t been so freaked out by the shit in her head and the bodies in the warehouse, she would’ve whooped and chest bumped both of them.

  Aaaaand, that thought brought her back to the locker room and the borrowed sweats she was sitting in. The sweats must’ve been from one of the guys. She was tall, muscular but slender, and they hung on her. Did they even have any women out here? And where was here?

  A knock on the door startled her out of her thoughts.

  “Are you decent, Miss Savoy?” Master Bellamy asked through the door.

  “Uh, yeah. Come on in.” The nerves constricted in her belly, not knowing what was going to happen next. Nothing the men had done, except for when they scared the fuck out of her appearing almost from thin ai
r and she turned furry again, had given her any indication they meant harm. That made her just as nervous as waking up and hearing that she had to be put down.

  In Kaitlyn’s experience, life was about bargaining. There was nothing given for free. If they wanted to help her, then what would she have to do for them in return?

  Master Bellamy walked in. He was a handsome man, older than the others, and it was obvious he was in a leadership position from the way Bennett referred to him. The master conveyed an air of quiet confidence in the way he carried his body; he reminded Kaitlyn of all her dojo masters. They had years of training and experience, years of teaching inexperienced kids and adults who thought they knew better only to be proved wrong, and they had no need to show off their abilities. No one would mess with them, and if any idiot wanted to try, it was their wasted energy.

  “How are you feeling, Miss Savoy?” he asked.

  “Please, call me Kaitlyn. I feel fine. For now. Just a lot of questions.”

  “I can imagine. We have a lot of questions for you, because Miss Savoy—Kaitlyn—we’ve never encountered one such as you.”

  Kaitlyn gave a nervous chuckle, “I’m sure you haven’t.”

  “Not in the way you think. We’re like you, the men you’ve met today: Commander Fitzsimmons, Bennett, Mercury, and myself. Even Jace. Kaitlyn, in my world you are normal. No, what we haven’t encountered is a full-grown adult who seems to not know she can shift into a wolf.”

  Kaitlyn blew out a breath and shrugged. Master Bellamy was sympathetic, his green eyes filled with concern.

  “Did you really not know you were a shifter?”

  “Nope,” she replied. They sat in silence and Kaitlyn shifted in her chair. What did he expect her to say?