Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
No more dillydallying. I gave myself yesterday to rest and heal, but it’s time to lock in. HPAW is waiting, and every day I procrastinate is a day the shifters have to plan and prepare for an attack.
I slink downstairs, following the sound of shuffling into the kitchen. Caleb stands in front of the sink, his shirt sleeves rolled up his forearms as he scrubs the pan he set aside last night to soak.
He spares me a quick glance as I step into the room. “Morning, Evelyn.”
I grunt, taking a seat in the connected dining room. I’m not a fan of mornings.
Caleb smiles, his lips twitching. “Are you hungry?”
“Not yet.”
I cock my head to the side, watching him work. I’m trying to appear nonchalant, but I’m interested in his cleaning. I’ve never had to wash my own dishes. An HPAW soldier would bring me a tray of food during mealtime, and they’d take it from me once I finished eating.
Caleb seems content, and he disappears momentarily beneath the counter as he sets something in the dishwasher. I’ve never used a dishwasher, either.
“What do you do for fun?” he asks as he pops back up.
Random question. I suspect he has created a checklist of things to ask me. I’ve done the same, but my questions are less about him and more about his pack’s dynamics.
“What do I do for fun?” I repeat his question. I don’t have fun. “I enjoy exercise, I suppose.”
Caleb hums. He turns off the sink, then kicks the dishwasher shut. I don’t miss the way he scans my body, silently evaluating my frame as he leans against the kitchen island separating us.
I do the same to him. It’s impossible not to. Caleb is intimidating, and it’s no wonder the shifters respect him as their leader. I sure wouldn’t want to get on his bad side. He’d crush me like a bug, and no amount of my training would help. I can only imagine how terrifying his wolf form must be.
I caught a glimpse of it when he rescued me from the cabin, but I was in too much pain to truly admire it. I’ll need another look before I leave.
Caleb unrolls his sleeves. “You like to exercise?”
I nod. “Yes.”
“What kind?”
“Running, primarily.” I also enjoy sparring with Daniel, but I intend to keep that to myself. I don’t believe it’s common for human women to enjoy fighting, and I don’t care to draw attention to my years of training. I need Caleb to think I’m weak and defenseless.
Caleb clasps his hands together. “I enjoy running, too.”
“You run in…” I pause, gesturing to his body. “This form?”
Caleb nods. “Sometimes. I enjoy exercise in both forms, but I find running to be more challenging in this one. Maybe, when you’re healed, we can run together.”
I force a smile. “Maybe.”
Caleb will be long dead by the time I’m healed. At least, I hope so. It will take weeks for my ribcage to fully recover. I have no interest in being here for that long. In and out. That’s the plan.
I should probably ask Caleb a question now. I’m not sure what to ask. I’m not a great conversationalist, a painful fact I’ve come to realize about myself. I’ve never had to be. Daniel is the only person I ever really converse with, but he’s not much of a chatterer.
He prefers to communicate through grunts and sharp looks.
The occasional conversations we do have are HPAW related. When I think about it, I don’t know anything about that man. He doesn’t know anything about me, either.
“What else do you like to do?” Caleb pries, breaking the silence.
I shrug. “There isn’t much else. I live a boring life.” It isn’t a lie. “What do you do for fun?” I ask, turning the conversation around on Caleb.
He purses his lips. “I fear my answer is similar to yours. I work a lot. I’ll adjust my schedule now that you’re here, of course. Shifters are social creatures, though, so I spend a lot of my free time with my sister and her mate. I occasionally attend the bonfires, too.”
“The bonfires?”
“Yeah.” Caleb waves a hand, dismissing the topic. “It’s a popular recreational activity among the shifters. I’ll bring you to one when you’re all healed up.”
We fall silent. It’s not necessarily uncomfortable, but it’s noticeable.
I ask the first question that comes to mind. “How many shifters live here?”
“In this town or in my pack?”
“Both.”
“There’s about a hundred thousand in the area and about eleven million total in my pack.”
Eleven million? I must have misheard him. That’s so many shifters. Too many. When Caleb and the other alphas decide to attack, they’ll demolish us. It’s a terrifying thought.
Sweat pebbles along my hairline, and I hope Caleb doesn’t notice as I tuck several strands behind my ear.
“Where does most everybody live?” I ask.
Caleb shrugs. “The large cities you’re probably familiar with still exist. Toronto, Ottawa, Montreal. Most of my pack members live in and around those areas.”
“How many shifters are there in total?” I ask.
I’m not sure I want the answer.
“About twenty million.”
I’m going to faint. We know the shifters have a healthy population, but twenty million is beyond even my wildest assumptions. Even if I manage to kill Caleb and return to HPAW with useful information, we’re in no position to fight twenty million shifters.
I clear my throat. “That’s so many.”
Caleb beams, visibly proud of his numbers. “It is. The lifestyle we were forced to maintain before the exodus wasn’t ideal for shifters, and we’ve been thriving since separating and forming formal packs.”
He meets my gaze, his eyes narrowing. I level my expression, hiding my horror, but it’s too late. Caleb saw it flash across my face.
“What is it?” he asks.
My years of training are the sole reason I’m able to remain calm. I can be damn good at lying when the situation calls for it.
“Nothing,” I start. “It’s just intimidating to learn I’m the mate of a man who leads eleven million people. Why do you live here instead of in one of the big cities?”
Caleb takes a moment to respond, his narrowed eyes flickering all around me before finally relaxing. “The quiet helps me focus,” he eventually says. “I travel when needed, but I prefer to conduct my business from here.”
I’d love the opportunity to see one of the larger cities, but I’m not going to push the topic. It’s ideal that Caleb chooses to live in a less populated area. It will make my future escape easier.
“And what’s my role within the pack?” I ask.
“Right now, your only job is to relax, heal up, and acclimate to life here,” Caleb says. “I can only imagine how much of a change this is for you. We’ll discuss your position within the pack once you’re settled.”
I won’t be here long enough for any of that.
“Are you in any pain?” Caleb changes the subject.
I shrug. “A little.”
Caleb opens a cupboard and pulls down my medicine. I wanted to save a few pills for HPAW to analyze, but I’m not sure there will be any left when I’m done with them. I refuse to feel guilty about that. They were excessive with their injuries. This is their fault.
“Here.” Caleb hands me a pill and a glass of water.
I down both.
“Can you help me bathe again?” I ask.
Caleb swallows. “Of course.”
He follows me upstairs and into the bathroom, and he looks away as he helps remove my clothing.
I wouldn’t mind him touching me. If anything, I actively want him to.
Caleb has never been with a woman, and I’m willing to bet that sex will be a great way to draw him in and earn his trust. I’m not above using my body to get what I want.
Besides, it’s not as if it won’t be pleasurable. I’m reasonably certain he’ll make it good. He seems the type to care deeply about that.
I step into the bathtub, groaning as my cold feet sink into the warm water. Caleb kneels beside me, quiet as I rest my head against the lip of the tub, my eyes fluttering shut as he runs a washcloth over my skin. He folds it several times before quickly dragging it between my thighs.
I’d laugh if I weren’t such a professional.
“You can touch me,” I say.
Caleb hums. “We’ll wait until you’re healed.”
“It’s not as if you haven’t touched me already.”
“I lost my composure,” Caleb admits, “but it won’t happen again. I know you were in pain afterward. Your hands were shaking, and you could barely draw in a full breath or walk for the remainder of the night.”
“Maybe that’s because my orgasm was strong. You left me jelly-legged.”
“That’s quite a compliment, Evelyn.” His lips press against the side of my head. “But my answer remains the same.”
He pulls the bathtub plug, letting the water drain as he helps me dry off and redress. By the time he brings me to bed, I’m half-asleep. It’s the medicine. It makes me drowsy.
The bond doesn’t help. It acts as a warm blanket, keeping me calm and content whenever Caleb is nearby. Still, I refuse to succumb to sleep as I follow Caleb back downstairs. I intend to observe him today.
He does nothing interesting. He meanders around the house, tidying things that don’t need to be tidied and making useless small talk with me. It quickly becomes clear that he has no idea what to do with himself when he isn’t working.
I’m hoping that means he’ll return to work sooner rather than later. I’m eager for some alone time in this house. His home office is too tempting to ignore, and I fully intend to sneak inside the moment he’s gone.
Surely there are important files located in there—something, anything I can share with HPAW. I won’t risk trying to communicate with them through the computer, let alone try to share files with them digitally, but I have a good memory. I’ll memorize any and all important information I find.
Although, if there are truly twenty million shifters, I highly doubt anything I find will change our outcome.
Maybe killing Caleb will cause enough of a stir to postpone the shifter’s inevitable attack, but I don’t believe it will permanently dismantle them.
I’m still willing to give it a try, but I’m discouraged.
It’s hard to hide my sour mood, but I manage.
Caleb’s constant chatter helps. He always has a thought to share or a question to ask. It’s overwhelming. He asks questions I’ve never been asked before, most of which I don’t have an answer to.
HPAW didn’t think to help me prepare a list of favorite animals or cooking spices. They deemed it useless information. I did, too.
Caleb evidently doesn’t.
I try several times to change the topic, to turn it around on him.
I’m usually skilled at doing so. People love talking about themselves.
If you ask them just the right questions at just the right time, you can have them talking for hours without realizing they haven’t learned a single thing about you.
They leave feeling like they had a wonderful conversation. I leave with the upper hand.
Caleb doesn’t take the bait. It’s infuriating.
I give up shortly after lunch, choosing instead to mope on the couch.
When he offers me another dosage of medication shortly before bed, I jump at the opportunity to take it.
He hasn’t brought up sharing a room with me again, and I don’t offer.
I enjoy having my personal space. It’s time to think. To plan.
I need it.