Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Caleb sleeps, his slow, even breaths filling the silence. I lie awake, mentally cataloging everything I’ve learned.
Alpha Knox’s pack is roughly twenty-five miles from the cabin HPAW scouted. Judging by the clustered buildings and roads, it’s in what once must have been a populated human city. I’ll see if I can get the name of it out of Caleb.
There appears to be only one pack doctor.
There were several nurses, but Doctor Greg was the only one I encountered.
Everybody there was clearly trained, though.
There must be universities here. The shifters aren’t nearly as wild as I assumed them to be.
They’ve scorned several facets of the human society that once made up this land, namely vehicles and democracy, but they remain civilized.
The alpha title isn’t passed through the bloodline.
Shifter reflexes are quickest in their skin form. That’s a particularly interesting revelation. I was under the impression their wolf forms were the most threatening, but perhaps not. I’ll need to learn more about the differences between the skin and fur forms.
How many packs are there? We know Caleb leads the largest one, and we’ve heard rumors of a few others that rival its size, but nothing has been confirmed. Alpha Knox, and apparently his father before him, has always been the main point of contact between the humans and shifters.
Who are Caleb’s direct reports? I’ll kill Caleb before returning to HPAW, but I should know who is next in line before doing so.
Something heavy lands on my ribcage. I exhale, shock and pain rendering me silent.
Still, something must alert the shifter sleeping beside me. Caleb jolts awake, removing the arm he threw across me as he sits upright. So, he’s a light sleeper, then. Not ideal.
“Evelyn?” he asks. “What’s happened?”
I take a moment to catch my breath. “You threw your arm over my ribs.”
There’s some shuffling as he slides out of bed, and then the overhead light flickers on. I wince, my eyes adjusting. Caleb stands by the door, staring. Always staring.
“What?” I snap, then I force myself to calm. “What are you doing?”
He raises a brow, the corners of his lips twitching. “I’m listening to your breathing. Give me a big inhale and slow exhale.”
I gulp, doing just that. Caleb nods. “Good. Again.”
I do it again.
“Good.” He flicks off the light. “I’ll be sleeping in the guest bedroom until you’re healed.”
“What?” I sit up, my arms shaking. “Why?”
“You’re vulnerable, and I’m too big. Don’t worry. I’ll just be in the next room over.”
He leaves, and I carefully lower myself back down. I suppose I should be relieved. I don’t want to share a bed with a shifter, anyway. Fucking disgusting.
I wake up to Caleb carrying in a tray of food.
I rub my eyes, unable to do much else. My pain medication has all but worn off, and every movement hurts. Even breathing is agonizing, which Caleb seems to recognize as he sets the tray on the edge of the bed and plucks two pills off it.
He brings them to my mouth. “Open.”
He doesn’t need to tell me twice. I’m reasonably certain he’s not going to poison me, and I greedily swallow down the pills. It takes almost twenty minutes for them to kick in. Caleb spends that time beside me, patiently waiting until I give him the go-ahead to help me sit up.
I look at the breakfast tray. Oatmeal. I’m tired of soft food, and I’m going to lose my mind if I don’t get a crunch soon.
“You said you were a server at the Chickie Dickies in Dell Rapids,” Caleb says, handing over the tray of food.
I nod.
“There’s no Chickie Dickie in Dell Rapids.”
Well, fuck. There was one six months ago. HPAW crafted my entire backstory, and Daniel and I have been rehearsing the contents of the file they gave him over the summer.
I roll my shoulders, refusing to panic. I’ve trained for this.
“You don’t believe me?”
“That’s not it.” Caleb shakes his head. “I thought your co-workers might appreciate knowing that you’re alive. I had someone reach out to the restaurant, but I was informed this morning that it shut down almost two months ago.”
I shrug. “Okay. So I’m unemployed and embarrassed. Is that what you’d like me to say? I’ve been trying to find work, but it’s a small town and there aren’t many opportunities. I was on my way home from a failed job interview when I was abducted, okay?”
Caleb stares at me, his expression blank, before he purses his lips and gestures to my right hand.
“Is it hard to find work with a mate marking on your hand?”
He’s offered me an excuse on a silver platter.
I look away, then awkwardly nod. “I wouldn’t say it’s been easy. I cover it with a second skin, but sometimes it’s noticed. People don’t know the design of it, so they don’t know you’re my mate, but just knowing that I have a shifter mate is enough to make people uncomfortable.”
Caleb clears his throat. I continue. “I don’t care to talk about myself. My family is dead. I don’t have friends. I didn’t graduate from high school. I’m between jobs. I just…I’m not proud of it, and I don’t want to talk about it.”
I shove food into my mouth. I don’t bother chewing. I don’t need to. It’s oatmeal, and I swallow it whole before scooping in more.
Caleb says nothing, but I feel his gaze on the side of my head.
Only once I’ve finished eating does he speak up. “Would you like a tour of the house?”
“Yes.”
He holds my elbow, helping me hobble out of bed. I’m happy he isn’t trying to carry me, but we move slowly out of the bedroom. He shows me the spare room where he slept first. It’s bland, a bed filling the center of the space but not much more in terms of furniture.
There’s a small third room that’s been converted into an office.
A large desk takes up a good chunk of the room, a monitor resting in the center.
There’s a computer here. Perfect. Several wooden filing cabinets sit behind the desk, practically calling to me.
I need unmonitored access to this room. I can only imagine the information stored in here.
Caleb leads me downstairs. I saw the living room last night, but today, I notice a television.
“Shifters watch TV?” I ask.
“Sometimes,” Caleb admits. “It’s not a big pastime for us, but I like sports.”
“You…” I pause, struggling to wrap my mind around this. It feels entirely too human. “You like sports?”
Caleb nods. “Shifters aren’t primitive, my mate. We have different customs, but we live in the same modern world.”
He guides me into the small dining room, then into the kitchen. Everything is so normal. It’s not what I was expecting.
“Your house is modest,” I say.
Caleb chuckles. “Is that meant to be an insult?”
“No.” It’s the truth, and I hate to admit that I respect Caleb more for it. He’s not living in excess. “I’m just surprised, is all. Most people assume you live in a sprawling, gaudy mansion with a large pool and dozens of concubines.”
“Concubines?”
I shrug. “Humans think you’re a whore.”
“Of course.” Caleb turns, facing me directly. “You understand that I’m not, correct? There have been no other women.”
It wouldn’t bother me either way. At least, that’s what I’m telling myself. I’m going to be in and out of here. Collect information, then kill Caleb and get the fuck out of here before the shifters learn who I really am. That’s all that matters.
Caleb doesn’t pry into my background again. He asks about my favorite colors and the things I enjoy eating, but nothing deep. It’s a relief.
The day passes by in a blur of scheduled medication refills, frequent awkward silences, and a shit-ton of wincing.
I learn that Caleb likes the color green.
He’s twenty-nine years old and stands at six-feet-three-inches.
I’m not sure how much he weighs, but I’d estimate about two hundred twenty.
He’s not big on sweets, but he’ll eat a chocolate chip cookie if offered.
He also dislikes cats and he hates being likened to a dog.
Fun facts, I suppose, but useless.
He cooks, too, the man surprisingly adept in the kitchen. I’m continually surprised by how self-sufficient Caleb is. I assumed shifters would be waiting on him hand and foot, but he’s done everything himself.
I refuse to let a single fact soften my feelings toward him.