"Yes, just like that," he confirmed. "My name is Kellen Maratto. I'll leave the clothes outside the door. Dinner starts at five. If you want something earlier, just go into the kitchen and get what you need. I'll let the chefs know so you don't have to worry about them. Breakfast doesn't start until ten."
"I don't know what to say." Oh, c'mon. Tears? Why? Because for the first time in so long someone was being nice to her?
"I don't need your name right now, so you don't have to say anything." Kellen stepped through the door and closed it behind him.
Wiping away the unspilled tears, Samara took another look around the room. First thing first: she locked the deadbolt, then debated with herself about moving the nightstand in front of the door. No, that would be overkill, even in her situation. Mid-morning light spilled through the window, giving the room a cheerier glow, so she didn't bother turning on the lamp. What she wanted was a shower.
The bathroom was as basic as the rest of the apartment, but the water pressure was strong and there was enough hot water to rinse away weeks of dirt and grime. By the time she forced herself out from under the spray, her skin tingled from the rough soap and cloth. There was no blow dryer, but that was fine. Her ponytail elastic was big enough to pin all of her hair on top of her head.
As wonderful as the shower felt, it sapped her energy past her reserves. There was no help for it. Dropping the towel onto the floor, Samara crawled under the blanket, curled up on her side, and fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.
Chapter
Two
The mockingbird singing outside teased Samara out of her dream. Or perhaps it was the woodpecker pounding away at a tree trunk nearby. It didn't matter. Judging by the way the sheets had tangled around her and the sheen of sweat covering her skin, the dream must have had her bouncing around the small bed like a gymnast. At least her brain possessed enough sense to forget the dream. After her escape from the Riverstone Pack, she had expected nightmares, but there were none, which was nothing short of a blessing.
There was nothing about being a wolf shifter that was worth remembering.
That didn't mean she could forget. There was no way to erase her memory. The pack would hunt her until they captured her. If only she knew why they wanted her in the first place, but the alpha had kept her caged and ignorant.
Since it sounded as if neither the mockingbird nor the woodpecker would let her sleep another second, there was no good excuse to resist a second shower.
With sleepy eyes, she dragged herself out from under the covers and toward the bathroom. This time she would keep her hair piled up on her head so she wouldn't have to dry it. A bonus was the natural wave that would reveal itself after she removed the ponytail elastic. Not that the wave was important. She'd already attracted the attention of her new boss. There was no need to push her luck with fancy hair styles.
Besides, if the pack found her, she would have no choice but to run. Creating any ties to Winterbourne, no matter how casual or inconsequential wouldn't be fair to either her or the innocent man who had done nothing but try to help her.
Too soon the water started to cool and with regret, she turned off the spigot and stepped from the tub. Pushing the door open a crack to let the steam escape, Samara found a clean hand towel underneath the sink. She tried to wipe the mirror to see if she looked presentable now that she didn't have a layer of grime all over her.
Big mistake. The first thing she noticed was her bluish fingertips. Disappointment rather than anger overcame her, and she let her head fall forward and clunk against the wet mirror. If her fingers were still blue, that meant her lips were as well, but the mirror still had too much condensation for her to check.
Escaping the pack had meant she'd run with the clothes on her back and whatever cash she could steal. The gas station restrooms she had used had the worst lighting, and all she wanted to do was take care of business and get out before anyone recognized her.
Once she had started freight hopping, she laser-focused on her surroundings, not her body. Now she studied her fingers. To be fair the tips weren't as bad as they had been a few days ago. Taking another swipe at the mirror allowed her to examine her lips, which also showed more pink than she had expected.
Admitting to her new boss that she'd been a wolf shifter would at the very least get her a reputation as a weirdo. Telling him that she'd swallowed a whole bottle of colloidal silver to kill the wolf shadow that had taken over her body would get her committed. Her only comfort was that the colloidal silver had worked. The wolf shadow inside her was dead and she was free of the beast, if not the pack from which it had spawned. Eventually, the side effect of blue skin would disappear, she hoped. As for Kellen...well, he had still offered her a job and gave her food despite her blue fingers and lips. If he needed waitstaff bad enough he would continue to overlook her strangeness. Or he’d decided to keep her around as a curiosity.
Drying herself as fast as she could, she prayed that Kellen had kept his promise of new clothes. The only way to find out if he'd followed through was to unlock the bedroom door while she was wrapped in nothing but a towel.
Oh, what the hell. What is the worst that could happen?
Stupid question. She knew what the worst was, but oddly enough no one in the pack seemed interested in using her that way. Still, she didn’t know if Kellen would be as merciful. Only a fool would unlock a perfectly good door and risk giving her new boss a full-frontal view if he was waiting for her in the hallway.
That was a paranoid thought she crushed with pure logic. He acted completely opposite of the pack, but then he wasn't a wolf shifter. He was just a rare breed of man who had a good-guy streak.
Granted, he was also a scorchingly hot man who could easily make her feel more than just safe, but that was irrelevant. She had no future, so she suppressed her loneliness and locked it away along with her unremembered dreams.
Checking the clock, she realized that she had slept sixteen hours but still had plenty of time for breakfast. The hot shower had washed away any sluggish sleep from her eyes. But she wasn’t overly worried. Naked or not, she had her knife lying next to the bed.
Tucking the towel tight around her body, she grabbed her knife off the nightstand and headed toward the hallway door. She pressed her ear to try and hear if anyone was waiting for her on the other side, but she heard nothing except some faint banging coming from the kitchen. Slow as a slug, she unlocked the dead bolt, keeping the click as quiet as possible. Cracking the door open, she didn't see anyone in the short hallway. On the floor lay a stack of clothing and a tray of food.
No one had ever called her a coward, and she wouldn't give them a reason today. She opened the door just wide enough to reach through, grabbing the clothes first, and tossed them onto the bed. Then she crouched down and carefully lifted the tray. With her left foot, she slammed the door closed—too loud—but there wasn't anything she could do about that now.
She placed the tray on the nightstand with her knife right next to it, quickly returning to the door and twisting the dead bolt until it clicked.
Her heart pounded and she cursed herself three times for letting her fear get the best of her. Her grandfather had taught her better than that. Kellan had done it though. He’d kept his promise to give her food and clothes.
She chose to get dressed first, rather than eat while still naked. Flipping through the clothes, she found two of everything: black jeans, black polo shirts, socks along with a pack of underwear and sports bras. Well, at least the man was thorough and there was no point in getting embarrassed just because she was a woman. She needed the basic items to live, and Kellen provided. What about shoes?
