“There's nothing here for us. Move out,” I shout. The team follows my lead without question, and we load into our nondescript all-terrain vehicles, leaving the ashes of the barn behind. I’ll find out who did this and take them down.
I won't hesitate this time.
The only good supernatural is a dead one.
SHEENA
After years spentalmost exclusively in my own company, you would think I could handle two days by myself. Apparently not. Things are so chaotic in my head I actually regret not accepting Callum’s offer to get me a cell phone to keep in touch.
Ugh. Who am I?
Tossing the remote down on the coffee table, I throw myself back against the couch... aka the scene of the crime.
Time to examine the new Sheena.
She's incapable of being alone for forty-eight hours, panting over not one but two men she barely knows, and prone to dramatic third person internal monologues. I bet this Sheena gives up all of her darkest secrets by the third date, too. Jesus, she sounds like the type of person who takes drinks from strangers and screams ‘yolo’ while straddling a mechanical bull.Oh, no... a chilling thought occurs to me.Is the new Sheena a good time?
I pull the cozy blanket over my face and groan.
Surely a few nights in a comfortable bed and an orgasm didn’t give me a complete personality transplant. I just need to dig a little deeper for the familiar.
I recognize myself in the gnawing fear that things are just way too good to be true. It’s been working overtime since I came here. Also, the prickly sensation skittering up and down my arms since I covered my eyes... That’s all the old me. I yank the blanket down, grimly satisfied, and check all the visible exits. All clear. For now.
With a sigh, I sit up, enjoying how the buttery leather of the couch feels against my bare skin. Physically, I’m okay. My bruises are almost gone, and the scratches from the attack have faded to dim pink lines along my ribs.
I’m restless; what am I supposed to do with all this free time? I consider going down to the gym and getting a workout in, but that doesn’t sound very fun to any version of Sheena. I'm used to working hard to keep enough cash to stay on the run, but I’ve never been a huge fan of structured exercise.
Lying around in this nice ass house is feeding my paranoia.
A car door slams, interrupting my internal ramblings—they're home. I jump to my feet, but stop when I don't hear the thud of a second door closing. I'm probably being paranoid, but I'd rather look like a skittish fool than a dead dumbass.
My fingers feel frozen, but I reach for the small pistol anyway, gripping it lightly like Gideon showed me. With my left hand, I fumble with the remote until it clicks over to the security feed. A blonde man is standing next to an unfamiliar pickup truck.
Who the fuck is this?
He’s surveying the house with an arrogant sneer. Even from the grainy security footage, I can tell he’s eerily perfect. Inhuman. I watch, scarcely daring to breathe as he heaves a sigh so deep it registers on the camera. When he pulls something out of his pocket and marches towards the front door, the icy feeling spreads from my fingers to encase my entire body.
My skin is numb, but my mind is racing.Did Callum and Gideon sell me out?I don't want to believe that, but denial is for the stupid, and I have bigger things to worry about right now.
Fight or flight?Over the years, I’ve learned to run when I’m in danger. No questions asked. The only difference this time... I don't want to leave.Fight it is.Without giving my brain a chance to second-guess the decision, I hurry into the hall, pointing the gun at the front door just as it swings open. Fear and adrenaline threaten to drag me under, but I’m proud to say my hands only tremble a little.
As soon as the blonde guy spots me, he freezes with the key in his hand and stares. His jaw drops. His cold black eyes survey me from head to toe, only pausing briefly in their examination when they get to the gun in my hands. Shaking his head, he kicks the door closed, and his shocked look morphs into a grin I can only describe as triumphant.
“Oh myGODS!I knew they were full of shit. Oh, just wait until I tell the parents that Cal shacked up with some nobody.” He points at me gleefully. “I mean, don't take offense. You're hot as fuck, but I can only assume you're some kind of bunny rabbit shifter with a sob story and shallow pockets.”
Why do people always say ‘no offense’ before spewing the most offensive things they can come up with?
Blood rushes to my face, and I wait patiently for him to shut up. When he finally gets tired of hearing himself talk, I flick the safety off on the gun. In the silence, the click is deafening. Someof the delight fades from his eyes, replaced with a calculating gleam.
“Did you just now turn the safety off? I’m fully in the fucking house, babe. You should have shot me on the porch.”
He has a point there, but it just makes me mad. When he takes a step toward me, I hold my ground and narrow my eyes. He stops and sighs.
“Look, I don't know who you are, but you're pointing a gun at me in my big brother's house. That's a mistake.”
Wait, what? There’s no way.
“You're Callum's brother?” I look him over, searching for similarities as he nods.
