Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Somebody is at the front door. Caleb’s voice is hushed but unmistakable. I tiptoe toward the top of the stairs, trying to eavesdrop. The second voice is masculine, with a mildly familiar tone. Logan?
It grows in volume. Definitely Logan.
What’s he doing here this early? The sun has yet to rise fully, the sky currently cast in a haze of yellows and reds.
I try to make out the words exchanged, but I have no luck. The men are too quiet. I could inch closer, maybe sneak down the stairs, but that’s too risky. Their discussion sounds serious, though. Clipped words and the occasional grunt. What are they talking about? Me?
The front door shuts. I slink back into the bedroom and crawl onto the bed.
Caleb emerges a minute later. He crosses his arms over his chest, his shoulder resting against the doorframe.
“I have some bad news,” he starts.
About me? I swallow. “What is it?”
“We’re having some…” Caleb pauses, thinking through his following words. “We’re having some border disputes with HPAW. I need to leave and meet with a few pack members at my office to discuss.”
Border disputes? I was under the impression that HPAW would be lying low for the first week or two of my capture. We don’t want Caleb distracted, not while I’m trying to work him over for information.
“You’re leaving?” I ask.
Caleb nods. “Unfortunately.”
Under normal circumstances, I would be ecstatic. I’ve had no privacy these past few days, and I’m chomping at the bit to dig through Caleb’s things. His home office, in particular, is calling to me. I assume his computer is password-protected, but I’m feeling good about his wooden filing cabinets.
But Caleb is leaving to discuss HPAW. This opportunity might only present itself once.
“Can I join?” I ask.
Caleb frowns. “You want to join me?”
“Yes.” I slide to the edge of the bed. “We’ve been holed up in this house for two full days. I’m ready to get out and explore.”
Caleb worries his bottom lip between his teeth. It’s not an immediate rejection. I push.
“I’ll be quiet. You won’t even know I’m there.”
“You should be resting,” Caleb says. “Greg gave very explicit instructions.”
Fuck Doctor Greg.
Caleb steps inside the bedroom. He’s wearing only a pair of tight, black underwear, and I try not to stare as he walks around the bed, heading toward his closet.
He has a body that human men would kill for, all long limbs and thick muscle. I’ve found myself fantasizing about digging my teeth into his shoulders. And his chest. And other parts I don’t care to admit to.
He’s enticing, and I enjoy being the only woman who gets to see this much of his body.
I’m trying hard to repress those feelings, but I’m failing miserably.
It seems I’m a possessive woman, even toward men I have no right to claim.
I’m here to gather information and, eventually, destroy everything Caleb has ever worked for. And to kill him, I suppose.
Caleb grins, clearly enjoying how he holds my attention as he disappears into his closet. I’m glad we aren’t sharing a bed. The space has been good. It’s given me time to think—to recoup from my injuries and the shock of our bond. I feel in control again.
“I’d like to learn about your pack,” I say. “I’m feeling better. Truly.”
Caleb steps out of the closet, now dressed. The weather is cooling—not that it ever gets too warm this far up north—but the cold doesn’t affect shifters. Not as much as it does humans. Still, Caleb dresses for it with dark jeans and a long-sleeved shirt.
I refuse to meet his eye as I clamor off the bed. My movements are clunky, thanks to my bruised ribs and arm cast.
“You should rest,” Caleb says.
I straighten up and face him. “Take me with you. Fresh air is good for me.”
Caleb approaches, closing the distance between us in four easy steps. The proximity makes my pulse race, which I suspect Caleb can hear. Still, he says nothing about it as he stares down at me.
His gaze falls to my shirt. It’s his, and two lines form between his eyebrows as he rubs the sleeve with his thumb and pointer finger.
Out of pure desperation, I grab his right hand and kiss his white marking. He seemed to enjoy this the last time I did it.
“Please,” I say. “Let me come.”
“Evelyn…” Caleb squeezes his eyes shut, then gently pulls his hand away. “Everybody said my mate would be outspoken. Persuasive. They teased that I needed a strong woman to match me. I suspect I’m going to find that in you.”
Despite the subtle complaint, he smiles.
I’m not offended. I’ve been told on more than one occasion that I’m a handful. Some of the crueler HPAW members even went as far as to say they hoped the alpha would crush me. That he’d force me to submit. That he’d break me.
It only made me more determined to succeed.
“Would you rather I be different?” I ask. “Quieter? Meeker?”
Caleb shakes his head. “Of course not.” He drags a hand through his morning hair, further mussing it up. “Most women struggle to look me in the eye, which is frustrating. I like the way you are. It’s refreshing.”
I probably shouldn’t really care what he thinks of me. It doesn’t matter. Still, my cheeks turn warm, and I clear my throat as I think of a subject change.
I repeat my earlier question. “So, can I come with you?”
Caleb sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, worrying it between his teeth, before giving a tentative nod.
“I suppose that would be all right.” He rocks his weight from foot to foot, then gestures toward his closet.
“I’m sorry I haven’t thought to get you any clothing yet.
Are you okay wearing something of mine out in public? ”
He’s always asking if I’m all right with things. If I’m comfortable. HPAW didn’t care. I was nothing more than a cog in a machine with them, a means to an end, and Caleb’s concern feels foreign. I didn’t expect to have this much autonomy with the shifters.
“I’m fine with it,” I say.
Caleb finds me a pair of sweatpants, which I have to roll at both the waist and ankles so they don’t drag against the ground. I’m already wearing one of his shirts, but I change into a clean one. It falls to my mid-thighs.
I look ridiculous.
Caleb seems to like it, though. He stares down at me with open desire, every heated thought visible in his dark eyes and bobbing throat. I was worried he’d be turned off by my human status, but that’s seeming to be a non-issue.
“Are you ready?” I ask.
Caleb licks his lips before dragging his gaze away from me. “Yes.”
Joining him at work is an opportunity I didn’t fathom I’d get. I can eavesdrop on him, hopefully even during his meetings. He might not let me sit in on them immediately, but perhaps he’ll grow lax if I establish myself as a regular presence in his office.
He’ll let me overhear. I’ll bring every detail back to HPAW.
“The pack is excited to meet you,” Caleb admits. “I anticipate we’ll have lots of visitors today.”
I force myself to smile. I’m not eager to meet the other shifters. I don’t care to make friends or acclimate, but I need to pretend. Shifters are social creatures. They thrive in their close communities, and Caleb likely expects his mate to join the fold.
Whatever. I can pretend. Caleb has been forthcoming with details, happily answering my probing questions about his land and the shifter way of life. At this rate, I doubt I’ll need to be here for longer than a month or two.
That thought has me feeling two very conflicting emotions, but I shove the newer of the two aside. I have a duty to the humans, and I won’t abandon my mission because Caleb isn’t the heartless monster I anticipated.
I hold my breath the entire way to the front door, nervous that Caleb is going to change his mind about me joining him. He doesn’t. He insists on holding my hand as we walk downstairs, then pauses at the coat closet beside the door.
“A cold spell is coming through,” he says, pulling out an oversized, bright-orange winter coat. It’s ugly. He wraps it around my shoulders before guiding my arms through, careful with my cast. I almost immediately begin to sweat.
This is overkill, but I keep my complaints to myself as we step outside.
There’s no snow, but it’s only a matter of time before the ground is covered in a thin layer of white.
My breath puffs in front of my eyes as we head toward the passenger seat of Caleb’s car.
The van I was brought here in has been replaced with a sleek, black SUV.
“You got a new car,” I say.
Caleb nods. “I usually shift into my wolf form and run into town, but the walk in this form is too long. We’ll have to drive.”
This is perfect. I’ll need a car with which to escape after murdering Caleb, and I was struggling to formulate a plan on how to get one.
“How long of a drive is it?” I ask.
Caleb waits for me to click my seatbelt before answering. “About fifteen minutes.”
Good to know. I try not to look too observant as Caleb begins the drive. This place is eerily similar to what I suspect a small human town would look like—minus the wolves moving about.
We drive past two wolves jumping on a young man in his skin form. They’re circling him, occasionally nipping at his legs. The young man winces, his knee buckling as one of the wolves lands a particularly hard bite. Are they fighting? Nobody around them looks concerned.
I watch, unable to look away as the two shifters rip out the man’s calf. It’s sickening, and I rub at my throat as the man falls to the ground with a hoarse cry. Why are the shifters letting this happen?
This is behavior I expected, but my few days alone with Caleb lulled me into a false sense of security. The shifters may be able to walk and talk like humans, but they’re animals.
Caleb looks over, following my line of sight.
“The Dawson brothers,” he says, acknowledging them. He snorts. “They’re at it again.”
This is normal. Expected.
“What are they doing?” I ask.
Caleb spares them a glance. “Playing.”
“It looks like they’re hurting him.”
“They are.”
I press my lips together. If this is how they treat their own, I can’t imagine the damage they will inflict on humans. I’m the best advantage we have.
“Do you lose yourself when you transform?” I ask. I’ve been looking for an opportunity to bring this up.
Caleb furrows his brows. “No.” He pauses, then continues. “We don’t have two streams of consciousness. I know some humans believe that, but it’s not true. I share a mind with my wolf. He’s a part of me. My mind remains the same in both forms.”
People are looking at the car. I hope they can’t see me through the window tint.
“Your heart is pounding,” Caleb says, drawing my focus. “What’s wrong?”
I swallow. “You can hear my heart?”
“Yes. I find that listening to your heart brings me comfort.”
Caleb’s cheeks turn red. I don’t focus on that. HPAW knows the shifters have good hearing, but I didn’t realize it was strong enough to hear a heartbeat from the opposite side of a car. It’s no wonder we have such trouble capturing them. They must hear us coming from miles away.
“How well can you hear my heart?” I ask, prying. “How far can you hear it?”
Caleb shrugs. “From this distance, it’s as clear as day. In an unobstructed location, I could probably hear it about a hundred feet away.” He presses his lips together. “I can hear it from the room I’ve been sleeping in.”
Well, that’s not at all creepy.
“Our hearing is a blessing and a curse,” Caleb continues.
That captures my attention. “A curse? How so?”
“My hearing is enhanced in this form, but even more so in my wolf form. High-pitched noises can make it impossible to focus, and they can even block transformations. It can be incredibly painful.”
Interesting.
I turn back to the window, watching the buildings fly by. The fighting wolves are far behind us. I try not to think about them.
Despite the public fighting, it’s surprising how similar the lives of the shifters are to those of humans. I suppose it shouldn’t be. Shifters lived among us for thousands of years, each blending in and acting as if they were one of us.
Life as we knew it was shattered when they exposed themselves.
There were more shifters than anybody could have ever guessed, and most of them held positions of power.
They were in our government, our military, our technology.
Every sector was compromised, and when they retreated into Canada, humans were left to pick up the pieces.
We struggled. We’re barely surviving.
Some shifters were living in other countries, but the majority resided in America. We took the biggest hit. The shifters did this to us, and we know they’re just waiting to attack. They’ve already begun.
I drag my hands down my thighs, remembering the images of that innocent family in the file Daniel shared with me. All of them murdered. Men, women, children. Nobody is safe.
Caleb drives up to an unsuspecting, three-story brick building in the center of town. It’s nestled between identical-looking buildings and is utterly indistinguishable. Is this where he works? There’s no way.
“We’re here,” Caleb says.
He kills the engine and exits, and my car door is pulled open a heartbeat later. Caleb extends a hand, and I hope he can’t feel my tremor as I take it. Here we go.