17. Shane
Chapter 17
Shane
K aycia handled my story—well, my abbreviated story—better than I expected her to. The memory of watching Ethan’s death and the subsequent retaliatory killing of Logan Ross is a dull ache. The loss of my best friend, then being torn from my family and my pack in one ruinous evening, and the fear and loneliness I’ve felt in the years since, is something I don’t dwell on often anymore.
I wouldn’t survive if I did.
I wish I could tell her more, tell her about my wolf form, about Raquel and Max’s other forms, and the joy of running free with them at my cabin. I hope to, but not yet.
Humans don’t always take the news of the supernatural well. It’s why we keep to ourselves, our packs, it’s safer to stay hidden.
When Raquel fell for Jamila, it took her more than six months before she finally confessed everything to her, and that was difficult enough without having a dangerous past looming over her. How am I supposed to explain that not only am I a wolf, but that it wasn’t just some childhood prank gone wrong that forced me to flee? That it was a bullshit threat against my best friend by the cocky son and heir of a rival alpha that started everything. A challenge we all ended up paying for—them with their lives, me with my standing in the pack. And maybe my soul.
Holding Kaycia against me as the sun shines over the skyline I force the memories back down, inhaling her scent and memorizing her skin with my fingertips while she kisses me and offers to make me breakfast. Of course, as soon as I let myself hope for a future with someone besides a platonic raccoon or falcon, my demons would resurface. Instead of focusing on the worst-case scenario, I turn my attention to Kaycia’s lips, drowning in her eager kiss.
When our coffees have gone cold and my stomach growls too loudly to ignore, Kaycia finally peels herself out of my embrace to head back into her apartment. I stay on the balcony for a few more moments, reveling in the greenery surrounding me. It reminds me of the woods and almost blocks out the city. The scent of bacon pulls me into the kitchen where Kaycia scrambles eggs and makes toast to the tune of the bacon crackling and the low music she seems to always have playing.
“Need any help?” I ask, leaning on the counter and watching her, still pleased she’s wearing my clothes so I can admire her bare legs.
“You can cut some fruit if you want. But I’ve got the rest,” she replies.
After slicing strawberries and adding them to a bowl with blueberries and blackberries, I wander around the space she’s separated as her studio. Paintings in various stages of completion rest against any available surface. The one of the sunset still sits on the easel, with more hues layered on to give it more texture and depth. She’s outlined a masculine profile against the oranges and pinks. Her portraits aren’t detailed, you can fill in the blanks of the subject’s expression and features, but this one is decidedly familiar. I fight a grin as I call over my shoulder, “Hey, does this mean I’m your muse now?”
“What? Oh!” Kaycia laughs, a pretty blush spreading across her cheeks. “You caught me. I guess after last night I don’t have to be shy about my crush anymore.”
“Mmm… tell me more about this crush,” I tease, stalking back across the room to cage her in with her back against the countertop, my arms circling her hips.
“Oh, just that my neighbor is super hot and I’d hoped to have an excuse to paint him. Or talk to him. Or get into his pants,” she replies, tugging me closer by my belt loops.
Leaning closer, I nip at her ear and whisper, “I don’t think he’d have any objections to any of the above. But first, let’s eat.”
One leisurely breakfast—and a not-so-leisurely encore of last night—later, Kaycia untangled herself from me and hopped in the shower. We agreed to get together Wednesday evening for dinner and that I would help her take some of her finished pieces to the gallery over the weekend. She was incandescent with happiness when I told her I could borrow Max’s truck to transport them instead of having to carry them by hand or on public transit. It’s worth the price of the whiskey I’ll owe him just to see her that happy.
Back in my apartment, I realize that for the first time in a long time, I feel content. Hopeful even.
Despite the shadow of the unknown shifter at the bar, the restless tension that always coils through me and makes it harder to keep my wolf contained has relaxed after this weekend. I knew it had been a while since I’d been with a woman, meaningless hookups included, but something feels different with Kaycia. There’s an ease with her. I want to know her—what she likes, what she doesn’t; her dreams and desires; and how I can be a part of them. The urge to protect and please her is equal to the physical desire I feel when I’m near her.
I smile and shake my head at the thought of her having a crush on me for the past few months, especially knowing she’s watched me in secret as much as I did her. I wonder if we would have still been circling and stealing glances had she not bumped me on the stairs that day, or if fate would have still nudged us together somehow.
* * *
“O kay, buddy, spill the details!” Raquel demands with a knowing grin when she walks through the roll-up door on Monday, removing her helmet and shaking out her ponytail. “Did you spend all weekend in bed? Did you tell her everything? Was it sickeningly romantic?”
“Calm down, nosy,” I reply from where I crouch beside the bike I’m working on. “I’m a gentleman.”
“Bull-fucking-shit. Gentlemen don’t smell like pussy when they walk out of the bathroom with their girlfriend.” She crosses her arms over her chest with a pointed look before bursting into laughter at what I assume is my shocked expression.
At my continued silence, she gasps, “Oh, shit. Don’t tell me she called it off once you talked to her.” Quel’s glee fades for a moment as she considers the possibility things didn’t go well. “Seriously, what happened, Shane?”
“It went fine. I just explained that I have a rough past and that you spotted someone that may or may not be involved. I don’t want to scare her for no reason, we need to be cautious and keep a lower profile. Maybe they were just passing through. It’s possible they don’t know me and were just curious about another wolf.”
“That sounds awfully optimistic for the Shane McKinley I know.” Raquel gives me a sideways glance. “Did you tell her about… us ?”
“No. I didn’t tell her that we can shift. Not yet. It took you months before you told Jamila.”
“Yeah, but that was different. I don’t have anyone out sniffing around to drag me back home for retribution,” she mutters, snagging a file folder from the wall rack. She turns quickly to face me again at the sound of metal hitting the floor when I drop my wrench and growl low in my throat.
“Stop pushing, Quel. I’ll tell her, okay? I just… I couldn’t tell her that I turn into a fucking wolf and that my lack of control killed someone. That was a long time ago. I’m not like that anymore and I don’t want her to think I am. Just… let me handle it on my terms. Let me finally have something good for just a little while.” My teeth ache at how hard I’m clenching my jaw, the heat of angry tears building behind my eyes and burning in my nose.
I’m not going to fucking cry over this bullshit. That night has haunted me for years—I’m over it. I’m not letting my past ruin the potential for a good thing that’s presented itself to me now. Not anymore. “Now, get to work.”
Raquel holds her hands up in defeat, even if her flattened lips and flared nostrils tell me she’s not remotely ready to drop the topic. But she does. She stays shockingly quiet for the rest of the morning and through lunch as well, earbuds securely in place while she works, only taking them out to ask about one of the bikes a new customer brought in late in the day.
When I’m finished for the afternoon, I tap her on the shoulder to get her attention. “I’m heading out. We good?”
“Yeah, we’re good. Watch your back okay, Shane? I mean it.”
“Yeah, I know. ‘Night.”
“‘Night,” she answers quietly. I can feel her dark eyes on my back as I get on my bike and fasten my helmet. I can deny it all I want, but I know she’s right and I dread having to tell Kaycia the whole truth.