But Merlin was different. He was young, even younger than Carter. His bright eyes and hair matched his sunny nature. Surely he would recoil from…
…but he wasn’t recoiling. He was examining Carter with cheerful curiosity and interest, as if he’d discovered some fascinating and distracting object.
On second thought, that made sense. Merlin was interested ineverything, from sea slugs to obscure Japanese soft drinks to the world’s most horrifying sports mascots. It obviously took more than a grotesque monster to scare him off.
The other Defenders had gathered round as well. Carter made himself look up at them. Ransom had once been repulsed and horrified by his own inner beast, so he’d surely be repulsed and horrified by a creature far worse than a hellhound. Natalie’s rainbow hair and beautiful Gabriel Hound matched her joyous nature; she’d be naturally repelled by something as disgusting and monstrous as Carter’s true form. As for Pete, he had a teenage daughter he protected from all dangers, so he wouldn’t want anything to do with a rampaging horror…
…but even as Carter thought all that, he was looking at their expressions. To his bewilderment, not one of them looked horrified or disgusted or afraid. They looked concerned. Worried. Annoyed. Frustrated. Curious.
If he had to sum up the emotional atmosphere of the entire group, Fen included, he’d have thought it like people watching their daredevil friend wipe out on a dangerous stunt they’d warned him against.
He didn’t believe it. Hecouldn’tbelieve it.
“Hey!” Fen said sharply. “What about that shirt? He needs to get some clothes on. He’s hurt. He’s dazed—see, he can’t track a conversation. He needs to stay warm.”
The swamp was as hot as ever, but Carter appreciated the thought. He was about to point out that he was neither hurt nor dazed and he was tracking the conversation perfectly well, but Merlin spoke before he could get a word out.
“We brought a whole set of spare clothes,” Merlin said. “Just in case.”
“I’ll get them,” said Natalie. She ran lightly to the boat, took out a backpack, and brought it to Carter. “Here you go.”
“Give me that.” Fen seized the backpack before Carter could even reach for it. “And turn your backs. Can’t you see you’re embarrassing him?”
The Defenders politely turned their backs, though Carter caught half of them grinning as they did so. Fen removed the clothes and placed them on the backpack so they wouldn’t get muddy. She lifted the black shirt and was starting to put it on him when his mind finally caught up to what was going on.
“Why are you still here?” he asked.
She gave him a look like he was an idiot, then seemed to remember something and replaced it with a kinder one. “We’re on an island. But we’re going to leave soon. Once you get dressed.”
“Fen. I don’t have a concussion. You can talk to me like a normal person.”
She shot him a dubious glance as she buttoned up the shirt. “I will if you want, but you’re sure not acting like it.”
“What I mean was, why are youright here?Sitting down here, next to me?” He took the boxers from her hand, got up, and pulled them on himself.
She stood up with him. “Because you were hurt. It wasn’t like I could run and get a doctor.”
“A doctor?” Carter echoed, baffled.
“It was obviously painful for you to turn into whatever that was that you turned into. I thought you might be stiff.” She paused, her eyes flickering as she replayed what she’d just said, and hissed, “As in ‘stiff and sore.’ Not… you know. Are all men twelve at heart, or what?”
He couldn’t help smiling. “Yes. We are. But I wasn’t even thinking of that. You’re the one with the dirty mind.”
“Dirty mind, I like that coming from a man who—” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “A man who promised to make me the world’s greatest vibrator.”
“You’re the one who’d be using it,” he retorted.
“Right, put it on me. NOT LIKE THAT. Anyway, don’t distract me. I’m trying to be mad at you.”
He felt his eyebrows rise. “You’retryingto bemadat me?”
“Yes,” Fen snapped. “You told me you weren’t a shifter anymore, you liar.”
He bent and put a pair of black pants on. Then socks. Then shoes. He had the irrational feeling that if he avoided her gaze for long enough, she’d forget the question or disappear or something. When he finally straightened up, she was still there, her dark eyes fixed on him like lasers, her arms folded across her chest.
“Well?” she demanded, then inflated her lungs. Her voice rang out like a cross between a foghorn and a bugle. “LIIIIIIIAAAARRRR!”
Stung, he snapped back. “Of course I lied! I couldn’t say I was a shifter because you’d ask me to prove it, and it wasn’t like I could shift to show you…that.”
