I hesitate, not wanting to tell her anything but feeling like I owe her something. “He suffered more than any of us.”
She winces. “I’m sorry I threw pudding at you. And slapped you. Twice.”
“I’m sorry I said what I said the way I said it.”
She sighs. “The storm will be here soon, and we’re going to be stuck together in the house for days. Just…let’s try to get along. You can stay in either form; I don’t mind.” She walks away, pausing near the door. “Goodnight, Khaos.”
I stare at the spot for a long time. Have any of our previous owners said goodnight to me before? I can’t recall a single time. But there’s something different about this one. She’s as flighty as Angel, as aggressive as Wrath. Her mysteriousness rivals Riot’s, and yet, she plays so much like Hazard. She’s treating us as people, not objects.
People…not slaves.
Angel slinks into the house and inhales deeply. He barely glances at me as he disappears down to our makeshift room.
She’s still the enemy. She might be a kinder enemy, but I must not forget what she is. The woman who holds our freedom in her hands.
Casey
I walk out ofthe bathroom in a towel, thinking about the storm and mentally going over all my prep. Have I stocked up enough wood, food? Are the candles ready? Torches, blankets? Is everything tied down? I’m so distracted I forget about the shifters until I bump into a hard chest and get hit with the scent of cinnamon.
I look up into the feral gaze of Wrath. That silver is so mercurial, I can feel the weight of his fury and disdain in just a glance. For a single moment, he stares down at me, and I’m frozen, then I let out a squeak and race past him, slamming my bedroom door shut.
I lean against the wood, my heart thumping. I press my hand to the area and try to breathe. His steps are soft, but I hear him retreat, and I’m grateful he gave me the courtesy of letting me know he was leaving; he didn’t have to.
The wind starts to howl, and I jump for my clothes. Within minutes, the silent world and my humiliation erode away until all that’s left is a familiar routine and rigid focus. The storm front is well on its way.
I’m still tugging on my boots when I go racing past the kitchen and outside. The skies are black; the pines shifting in the winds. I run around checking and securing as best I can. I put the axe away and lock the shed, bolting it from the outside so the doors don’t come open.
“Need help?”
“Can you grab some wood?” I shout over my shoulder and finish tying down the shed doors.
I turn around and find Hazard lifting an enormous amount of wood into his arms. It doesn’t even seem to phase him. For a moment, all I can do is stare as the red-haired wolf flexes but lifts it like it's nothing.
He’s as beautiful as his twin, maybe more so because he is so joyful.
“Where do you want it?”
I jolt out of my staring. The wind whips my hair around me, tearing it loose from the bun I put it in.
“Uh, inside the back door, there’s a small room.”
He trots off, while I grab another load. It takes us three trips, but we get all the wood inside, stacking almost the entire wall with cut wood. I hold the door for him while he comes in. He passes me, sliding past, and I look up. I swear, the world tilts when his gold eyes twinkle as he slows until we’re just staring up at each other.
What is this madness? Why can’t I look away? Why does he smell of sandalwood? And worse, why does that smell excite me?
“Thanks, darlin’.”
Hell. That’s what this madness is. It’s hell. Because all I want to do is lean into him, put my hands on his skin, and feel how warm it is. Find out if his muscles are as hard as they look. Is his hair really that soft, and what do his lips…no! Do not go there. That way lies danger.
Hazard slides past me, leaving a cloud of regret and bad choices to disintegrate on their own. I close the door behind him and trudge to the kitchen. Khaos is flipping bacon, while Angel butters toast, and Riot cooks eggs. I take a step back and into another hot wall of man flesh.
“Good morning, O beautiful one.”
I sneer. “Wrath, if you want to earn yourself a mate, try speaking with less I-want-to-fuck-you-with-a-sharpened-bone.”
“Ah, but the heart wants what the heart wants. And I would so love to stab a sharpened bone through any person who deigned to think they could be my mate.”
His aggression is so politely stated that I am absolutely speechless. Just this one thought that I would love to see him in the same room with Cindel.
