Survivor: A Shifter of Consequence Tale (Shifters of Consequence Book 1) Page 4

  “I stopped shifting for a while after my parents died,” he mused, so open with his loss, I caught my breath. “They said it was shock or something. Went on for years. Then once I did, it was like he was rabid, my wolf, so damned starved for the run.”

  “Your parents are gone, too?”

  He nodded, looking out into the night as though the memory was out there in the darkness, calling to him somehow.

  “Mine, too.”

  He huffed out a breath through his nose. “We’re kindred spirits.”

  I laughed. “And yet, I don’t know your name.”

  He almost hurt himself turning around so fast and jutting out his hand. “I’m Escher. And clearly rusty on the manners-and-talking-to-females thing.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Females. Why do wolves call girls that? My dad used to call my mom female all the time, but she loved it.” I’d just remembered.

  “It’s what you are, right? We wolves revere our women. A female is a person of worth. No matter what, she is to be respected and also feared. Females can be savage.”

  A smile tugged at one side of his mouth.

  “Had your fair share of savage women, have we?”

  His golden stare flicked to me, and all humor was gone as fast as it had come. “There’s been no share of women, female. The only one for me is my mate. Period.”

  I’d leaned down while he spoke, not conscious of the movement until I was but a inch from his face. Puffs of our warm breath coalesced in the cold night between us.

  He closed his eyes and took a long inhale through his nose. “You smell incredible, Wendi. Like the best cupcakes in the whole damn world.”

  I could’ve responded about how he smelled like ashes and smoldering fire, I but didn’t. We weren’t alone anymore. The padding of paws filled my ears.

  The wolves were back from their run, and, as I sat up and squared off my shoulders, Escher was gone.

  Chapter Seven

  The bonfire night had added one further bit of confusion. I’d met four men from the pack so far, and the alpha, of course, though I wasn’t counting him in this equation. The equation wherein I’d felt sparks with each one of the four. Having spent the last many years at home, few eligible guys had crossed my path. None if you didn’t count the youngish delivery guy in the big brown truck. And I was rarely fast enough to answer the door when he came, anyway, so my flirting skills were far below par.

  The lack of experience could well be why I was reacting so strongly to these men. Sure, they were good-looking, each and every one of them. And what shut-in wouldn’t want their attention? I was very likely reading more into their response to me than actually existed. Sure, they were being nice to me, but maybe everyone was like that in a pack.

  Saturday morning dawned clear and beautiful, and I finally settled in to unpack those boxes. Considering this was my first move since I was five, and therefore the first one where I had any level of responsibility, I had begun to think I was not rocking this. Didn’t most people unpack before beginning their new life in their new home?

  Again, not enough experience to have an answer. But I was really tired of hunting for everything I wanted or needed, the daily searches for shoes and hair ties and shampoo. I hadn’t brought everything from my old home, planning to keep the floors as uncluttered as possible, with lots of room to move from place to place. But as I worked one box then the next, I felt as if I’d packed enough for six people. I rolled back and forth from the living room to the bedroom to the kitchen and so forth until I wore grooves in the floor, or felt I might as well. By sunset, I was even more tired than during the week and fell into bed after a quick ham and cheese sandwich and a glass of milk. I was out as soon as my head hit the pillow.

  And I was deep in a dream of rolling my chair after the pack in the forest, crying for them to slow down and let me catch up, when a noise startled me awake. Voices, there were voices outside my window, right outside. I’d drawn the curtains closed, hoping to shut out the light and get a little extra sleep on Sunday morning, so the room was pitch dark, and, hopefully, whoever was out there couldn’t see inside at all. The lack of street light coming through made me believe that, but it didn’t answer why someone would be out there. I reached for my phone on the night table and brought it under the covers to light up and see the time—two thirteen a.m. The window faced the street, so I supposed the speakers could be drunks stumbling home after the bars closed, but why would they have crossed the lawn to stand so near my home? I couldn’t make out what they were saying, unfortunately.

  Moving as quietly as possible, I sat up and reached for my robe, drew it around my shoulders, dropped my phone in the pocket, and stood. My destination lay only a dozen feet away, and I would have been happier in my chair, but a whole lot noisier, too, so I took careful steps. My legs wobbled by the time I arrived at the window and sank to the floor. I’d rejected the rocking chair in favor of kneeling. The chair creaked in the most comforting—but in this case revealing—way.

  From this position, their conversation became clear.

  “We should come back in the morning and explain the situation.”

  “No, the alpha sent us now. Do you want to go back and say we let this female finish her beauty sleep and will return at her convenience?”

  The first voice said, “Yeah, you’re probably right. He told us to bring her back.” Alpha? So were these pack members? Ones I hadn’t met?

  I sent a text to Brandon. Are you or any of your pack brothers on my lawn? If your alpha wants to see me in the middle of the night, why not just call? Not that I could think of any reason I’d be summoned at two something a.m. It wasn’t as if I was significant to them in any way other than trespassing by moving in without permission—and I believed that had been addressed.

  “So should we knock?” The second one sounded uncertain.

  “How about if I knock and you stay here so she doesn’t escape out the window.”

  Holy hell. If they thought I could climb out windows, they had no idea who they were dealing with.

  Wendi. Is someone on your lawn?

  Torn between the anxiety raising my heart rate and annoyance at the stupid question, I replied. Yes. And they don’t know I’m in a chair, which everyone who was at the run is aware of. But whoever it is, they don’t want me to escape. If I’d been speaking aloud, it would have been in a shriek.

  Does your bathroom have a window?

  Did it? Panic was coloring my thoughts, and I had to get it together. A small one. High. Above the tub.

  Go in there and lock the door, block it with anything you can, and I’ll be right there.

  The conversation outside had stopped, and that scared me even more. They were probably splitting up and getting ready to try to force their way in. My breathing was loud in my ears, and the bathroom door looked a million miles away. Did Brandon know who was out there? Maybe. I rather thought he did.

  There was no possible way I could walk from my current position to my destination. At least not with my legs shaking the way they were. And my chair sat on the other side of the bed, most of the way to the bathroom, anyway. With no alternative, I crawled on hands and knees over the old, shaggy carpet, halfway there swearing I’d have it torn out and the floor underneath either refinished or replaced. Finally, just as a knock came on the front door, I placed a palm on the cool tile floor and then a second.

  I crept the rest of the way in and closed the door, reached up and locked it. The only thing in the bathroom besides the fixtures was a bamboo clothes hamper. It would do nothing to stop someone from entering, so I used the only thing I had. Me. I plopped down, bracing my back against the door, and prayed Brandon brought enough of his brothers to deal with however many of these intruders were out there. I’d heard only two identifiable voices, and it sounded like there were no more from their conversation, but for all I knew a van filled with marauders was now parking on my quiet, tree-lined street.

  The knocking became banging, and I w
as torn between being glad the window was too small for anyone to fit through and wishing it was a little lower so I could try to get a peek, but even on tiptoe, it would be a foot above my head. Plus, after all the work the day before, the walk to the window, and the knee-knocking nerves, I’d not be climbing upright under my own power anytime soon.

  Then the banging cut off suddenly, and I heard shouts and thuds. Were they breaking down the door? My heart beat in my throat, my breathing rasped, and I got dizzy. I couldn’t keep them out, not if they were determined to get in. If they got this far, they’d have no trouble smashing through the bathroom door, which I just remembered held a full-length mirror. If anyone broke through, I’d be cut to ribbons. Since my body stood little chance of slowing them down anyway, I reached for the towel hanging on the rack and crawled to the tub, over the side, and yanked the curtain closed. I curled into a ball and covered my head with the towel. I might not be able to stop them from entering and doing whatever horrible things they had in mind, but maybe I could limit the amount of glass piercing my body.

  Shifters healed quickly, as a rule, but I did not.

  As a shifter, I made a pretty average human.

  I cowered in the bathtub, waiting for death or maiming, kidnapping, my mind offered endless possibilities, while the crashing and shouting outside rose then died back. I heard footsteps in my bedroom, and a soft knock on the door. “Wendi? It’s Brandon. Are you all right?”

  My breath released in a sob. “Yes, are you?”

  “We’re fine. Come on out, okay?”

  I whimpered, and tried to climb out of the tub, but my legs were at their weakest and refused to give me any help at all. “I-I don’t think I can.” Not without a rest first. “I’ll come out later. Thanks for helping.”

  It sounded beyond lame even to me.

  He muttered a curse. “Wendi, don’t play around. I’m coming in.”

  “Wait, no! There’s a—” I buried my head in my arms as the door splintered and the mirror crashed to the floor. “A mirror.”

  “Oh gods!” His footsteps thudded and crunched over the glass. “Don’t move. There’s glass everywhere.”

  “I sensed that,” I muttered. “I tried to warn you.”

  I heard the shriek of the ancient rings as he tugged my shower curtain back, and then the towel was lifted off my head and I was scooped out of the tub. “Just hold on to me. The shower curtain managed to keep the glass from getting to you, but I don’t want to put you down in here.”

  “Thanks. Can you set me in my chair?”

  But he strode to my bed and sat down with me on his lap. “No. I want to check you over.” He patted me down as if I might have broken bones or something, and given the situation, I probably shouldn’t have gotten so tingly from the process. “Does anything hurt?”

  “No,” I told him in complete truth. “I’m good.” I shook off the desire to curl into his arms and let his hands roam me for hours. “Who were those guys? Not Midnight Alder obviously.”

  “No, they were our neighboring pack. Come to welcome you in their own sweet way.”

  I struggled to sit upright, but he had switched to rubbing my back in circles and I went limp. “It’s an odd time to visit.”

  “They stated your home is on the line between our packs and they should have an opportunity to invite you to choose them over us.”

  “And why didn’t they come during the day?” None of this made sense.

  “Oh, they planned to kidnap you in case you refused and make sure you joined. That was better accomplished when your neighbors weren’t around to notice or call the police. Speaking of which, I’m glad you texted me, but did you call 9-1-1?”

  “Holy hell, I never thought of it. What’s wrong with me?”

  He kissed the top of my head and cuddled me close. “I guess you knew the right people to call. I’ll ask the alpha to make sure someone is outside your house from now on at night so you can sleep peacefully.”

  “What about the guys who were out there? Did I hear fighting?”

  He spoke close to my ear, warm breath melting me. “You don’t have to worry about them. We’ve refused their invitation on your behalf.” He held me away and studied my face. “You don’t want to join them, do you?”

  “No. I don’t think they are my people.”

  Brandon smiled, but it was fiercer more than happy. “They aren’t. But we are.”

  Chapter Eight

  The next morning, a man I didn’t recall seeing before paced back and forth outside my door, not in the expecting-something way, but more like the looking-for-danger kind of way.

  That was right. Brandon said there would be someone outside from then on.

  It wasn’t like I was made of gold. They didn’t have to put rent-a-shifters on me.

  “Good morning,” I said, a little bit concerned since I didn’t know him, but clearly, he wasn’t from the other pack as he stopped his pacing and dipped his chin at me in acknowledgement.

  Thirty minutes later, I blew out a breath in front of the library doors before opening them and rolling in. I’d made it perfectly obvious on the online application I was in a chair, but they’d hired me anyway. Some of the percentage of my pay went straight to tuition, so it was a good deal.

  “Good morning, you must be Wendi,” an older woman with spiky gray hair said, sticking her hand over the counter to greet me.

  “I am.” I accepted her handshake.

  “I’m Iona. Welcome. Come on around. Let’s get you started while I check these students out.”

  The place was starch and minimal, the same as the public library in my previous town. The cream-colored walls and basic-brown chairs almost guaranteed you wouldn’t be distracted by anything as far as atmosphere, and since this was a college library, there was no kids’ section or crafts going on within hearing range.

  Just quiet and peace for studying.

  I thought it was damned near perfect.

  The counter had a piece in it that flipped up, and I rolled right through, sticking my bag in the cubby Iona pointed to while she joked with the kids about pop quizzes and hiding in the back of the library to make out.

  She wasn’t your typical librarian, not by a long shot.

  As I waited for her instructions, I took in her fashion sense. She had hot-pink leather pants on with leopard-print heels and a chain linking one of her belt loops to her wallet in her back pocket. The only thing librarian about her was the polo shirt I assumed they made her wear with the school’s logo over her left breast.

  It made me think she ripped that sucker off as soon as she could.

  “Okay, here are the books to be returned to the shelves. If some are too high for you to reach, leave them for someone else. Fiction is over there; non-fiction is back there. Questions? I’m assuming you can find your way around since your application mentioned you were a reader.”

  She wasn't wrong. Libraries were generally all the same.

  “I’ll get the hang of it.”

  She winked at me. “I knew you would. I can tell a smart girl when I see one. Now, get to work. Earn that minimum wage.” Her laugh tittered through the place and was almost magnetic; I wanted to lean into it.

  The hardest part of this whole reshelving books thing wasn’t the finding stuff and knowing where things went.

  It was trying to roll the cart and my chair at the same time.

  I made myself crack up about a dozen times.

  “Hey there, Stephen King. Look at all your tattered books. Good. People need to read scary,” I spoke to the worn copy of Eyes of the Dragon before putting it on the shelf with its kin.

  A girl with long, flowing brown hair, like mine but lighter, was walking up and down the rows, and I decided helping students was part of my job. “Can I help you find what you're looking for?”

  She smiled. “Just something to read. I’m one of those readers who tends to have a hard time finding something interesting and ends up reading the same book over and over bec
ause I know the ending is satisfying. Got any recs?”

  “Um, sure. Let’s visit the vampire section.”

  She did a silent clap. “Oh, good. I love me some hot vamps.” I rolled toward the J.R. Ward section and waved my hand over the titles. “Have you read her? No? Start with this one, and you’ll never stop. I guarantee it.”

  “Oh, shit. This looks hot. Thank you. I’m Christie, by the way.”

  “I’m Wendi.”

  “I know. I’m pack. I saw you at the bonfire. I wanted to talk to you that night, but well, my wolf had other ideas about what I should do. But I had no idea you worked here.”

  I shrugged one shoulder. “It’s my first day.”

  “Oh, it looks like number three is missing. Shoot. I was going to borrow the entire series. Or should I just buy them?”

  I laughed. I liked this girl already. “I have them all in hardback, signed. So yeah, if you trust my taste that much, buy them. You will definitely need a re-read.”

  “Well, I’m going shopping tomorrow anyway. Do you want to join me? I mean, I’m sure you have school and work, but I don’t have classes tomorrow so I’m pretty free.”

  I pushed away the knowledge she was pack and focused on having a friend. “I would love to go. I have one class in the morning and then I’m off for the afternoon. I only work three days a week here.”

  That was all I needed to survive on since my house was paid for and so was my car, thanks to my parents’ insurance money, and I still had a good bit in savings.

  “Okay. Well, here. Put your number in.”

  I pulled out my phone as well and we exchanged numbers.

  “I’ll see you at about three tomorrow?” she asked.

  “Yep. And you should really borrow the books one and two, just to get you hooked.”

  She hugged the first two paperbacks in the series. “I’m so excited. Thanks, Wendi. I’ll see you.”

  First day of work, and I made a friend. I felt like that should be some kind of tick off the bucket list.