“Okay, then we'll go somewhere else,” Dylan shrugged, dragging her by her ankles to the edge of the couch. “I have another place.”
Getting up, Flora followed Dylan who stopped in the kitchen. “Do you have anything normal to wear?” he asked, gesturing at her wide-legged trousers and blazer.
“What I wearisnormal, for me anyway. You’re going to make me insecure if you keep commenting on the way I dress,” Flora teased, posing one arm on her hip. But really shewasteasing him; not a drop of insecurity about the way she dressed flowed in her veins. She liked to look and feel expensive, period. Nothing anyone had said before had bothered her but for some reason, she hoped Dylan thought she was cute, attractive even. Anger at her previous thought overtook her. Why was she caring about what a man thought of her?
“You know I look cute, Dylan. Do I seem like the type to need fashion advice from someone who wears hoodies every day?” She winked at him for effect. His eyes lingered on her body before the corner of his lip lifted.
“Go change into a t-shirt and sweatpants or something; you're not going to a dinner party,” Dylan teased, leaning against the counter as if waiting for her. The glint in his eye told her they were on playing grounds. She smiled back. Despite his words, his cheeks were rosy.
Normally, she wouldn’t have given his command any thought, but he was sort of right. Deciding it would be better to strip out of loose clothing, she changed into a long sleeve crop top and a pair of baggy sweatpants.
“Better?” she asked, giving him a twirl.
“Very.” He interlaced their fingers before escorting her out the door.
After an hour riding in Dylan’s car, they pulled up to a single-floor house, surrounded by a forest of trees that excited Flora’s panther. Though she didn’t want to bother Dylan, her panther was riling up inside, and pacing back and forth within her mind. Dylan hopped out of the car and led Flora to the backyard.
“This is where I stayed during my assassin jobs. No one but my boss and my crew could find me here. It was perfect. I had a roof over my human head and plenty of room for my animal to run around.” He walked up the stairs of the back porch, settling his lean body on the dirty couch next to the door. His outdoor furniture consisted of a couch and a coffee table, covered in dust and dried leaves, with the metal bits rusting away. Maybe it was a good thing Flora changed her clothes.
“Wasperfect?”
“Was. It was perfect before I started missing my Pack. I needed them and once we put up safety precautions around the house, in case my work ever followed me home, there was no way I would live alone full time again.” He ran a hand through his fluffy hair. “I’ll stay here, and you can run and play and do whatever your animal likes to do.”
Looking around, Flora gingerly took a seat next to Dylan on the couch. Overwhelmed with gratitude, Flora looked out to the open forest, unable to speak freely while looking directly at him.
“I couldn’t live very far from my family either. As a teen, I couldn’t wait to move out of my parents' home, imagining all the freedom it would give me. In the end, being too far away felt worse and I moved closer to home.”
“Where did you go?”
“Not too far. I got an apartment in Detroit. I lasted two months before I moved back to Rainfall Avenue. It’s no secret that I don’t have a lot of friends, but without my parents, I was lonely.”
“Loneliness has claws that dig deep, dragging you to where you need to be.”
“Tell me about it,” Flora sighed. Her time away from her family wasn’t horrible. She worked, went home, and repeated that same routine every day. She was missing one piece to her puzzle that would’ve made her life perfect, and that was companionship. If she hadn't come back, she wouldn’t have her parents around the corner or have met Willow or Luxe, or even Dylan. “Thanks, Dylan, for everything.”
“Anytime, Flora.”
With that, Flora walked toward the forest. Running her hand along the tough tree branches, she appreciated the privacy it gave her. Dylan grew on her like the leaves on a branch; the more she thought of him, the bigger the leaves would grow and one day she’d have to accept that the leaves would fall. There was an immense amount of trust between them. It shocked her to even think about the amount of dependence she had on Dylan, which he seemed to take in stride. Since the attack, she was relaxing bit by bit and Dylan’s normally snarky ass just rolled with the punches. This may have been his first job as a bodyguard, but he was damn good at it.
Sensing that she was deep enough in the forest, she undressed. It was finally time to let her panther out. Flora’s panther takes off as her human consciousness gave her panther full control.
She started with her favorite activity, climbing up a tree. Jumping from branch to branch, she climbed up another tree and ran to do it all again. Flora’s panther was playful, but unfortunately, she had to play by herself since Flora didn't know any other panthers in the area. She tried to play with forest animals when they were younger, but due to her size and strength, she’d accidentally kill them. Doesn’t stop her from letting out a whine or a sad roar when she gets into one of her moods. Knocking into trees and swiping at bushes, she could be vocal sometimes.
Flora’s panther caught a whiff of another Shifter on the property, and a protective curiosity overtook her. She slowed down, weaving through trees to spread her scent around the area. Scent-spreading worked as a warning that if her panther crossed paths with another Shifter, shit was going down.
8
DYLAN
Dylan relaxed on the outdoor couch of his old house’s back porch. Playing a mindless game on his phone, he tried to waste as much time as possible. Thanks to his bodyguard job, shifting into his wolf to scout outside Flora’s apartment every day gave his animal enough time to run and wear out the constant energy that all Shifters have. Due to the comeback of non-Shifter wolves in Michigan, it wasn’t rare for a human to spot one, so Dylan’s wolf being out didn’t upset the humans who saw him. Flora, on the other hand, didn’t have that luxury. From the random scratches he found around her apartment, particularly on the couch and table legs, Dylan could tell she used to shift inside her home. Shifting inside a confined space was not the same as being able to run free outside. Seeing that she didn't get the opportunity to run free often, he made it his mission to provide it for her.
The wolf in him howled at the satisfaction of caring for another. Dylan’s wolf was a protective motherfucker. He loved to fight for his own. It didn’t matter the person, the animal, whatever — his wolf would fight anything if it meant protecting his family. Flora had snuck her cute little ass into his atmosphere and while he wasn’t sure if he’d consider her family yet, she damn sure was getting close. He was as attached to her as his wolf was and that would bite him in the ass when the job ended. The number-one rule in his line of work was to never get attached. You can’t save everybody; you can’t rescue or repair every broken down or injured creature you come across. Not getting attached saved him from the heartbreak that could have followed literally anything going wrong. He wasn’t perfect, but subconsciously he held himself to that standard.
Providing space and time for Flora’s panther to run free gave him a sense of pride. Protecting and providing is the Shifter way — always had been. It was ingrained in their DNA to do so. It came naturally and so, when a Shifter felt they weren’t doing their best to protect and provide, their mental health would take a dive. Anger and restlessness would build and build until they eventually went rogue. Going rogue was a mindset more than it was a physical change; a biological way of a Shifter feeling they failed at life.
Dylan had begun to feel that way. Beside his urge to kill, he was terrified of going rogue. Before Flora, he felt his mind slipping at times and that’s when he started applying for jobs again. He began to find peace within himself while hanging around Flora. As independent as she was, he still found ways to take care of her and that satisfied him more than he would’ve thought. He couldn’t find that satisfactory feeling with his Pack. They always did things for him, saying "Oh no problem, I’ll do it" or "Relax Dylan, you’ve done enough for us." He was supposed to be second in command to Jackson, not them. It weighed on Dylan; he always felt as if he was walking on eggshells, and one day his Pack was going to snap and kick him to the curb.
Dylan’s assassin days weighed heavy on the other Pack members. Maybe they felt as if they owed him for the sacrifice he made with every mission he went on. He wasn’t sure but they covered everything, from bills to dinner each night, and even when Dylan would offer to do anything, he was shot down. The problem was that he loved his job. He got to choose which assignments he’d take. Which people he’d kill. Dylan often chose jobs where he was saving someone; often someone about to be traded or trafficked into the SBM. With the life-saving part he tacked on his assassin role there was a motivation, something deeper, making Dylan take every job he could. He enjoyed the act of taking a life. The Pack was babying a sadistic killer and didn’t even know it.
