Bitten Drawn Bound (Shifter Awakening: Shadow Huntress)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

My butt was going numb again. Shifting to the left, I tried to relieve the feeling without looking away from my reader. I would willingly sacrifice my butt to finish the book before my alarm went off.

Pulling another all-nighter wasn’t smart, but it couldn’t be helped. I was so close to the end. Ninety-five percent, to be exact. The hero was so yummy. The heroine...well, I’d toss her off a bridge solely to get the hero’s attention.

“Clarity,” Mom called half a second before she opened the door, giving me no time to hide what I was doing.

Mentally cringing, I looked from the reader as my mother’s soft brown eyes narrowed. I had her eyes. Her dark hair, too, but mine had some curl to it. It would have looked so much better straight, like hers.

“Did you stay up all night again?” she asked.

“Maybe?”

Her frown deepened. “You’re going to school and no leaving early.”

Crap.

“Fine.” The need to finish those final few pages had me dropping my gaze.

“No, Clarity.” She crossed the room and plucked the reader from my fingertips.

Self-preservation stopped me from taking it back. Barely.

I scowled as she laid down her terms.

“Shower, dress, and eat. Then I’ll give it back.”

Hopping out of bed, I grabbed clean clothes at random, a granola bar from my dresser, and dashed to the bathroom. Mom didn’t try to stop me, even though showering while eating weirded her out. She knew I used it as my timer for my conditioner.

Five minutes later, I was pulling on my socks.

“Done! Where is it?” I called through the cracked bathroom door.

“Kitchen table,” she called back. “I love you and will see you tonight.”

The front door closed before I realized what was happening. She’d left early. I’d need to walk to school.

The urge to kick the tub was overwhelming. The idea of a broken toe and the last few pages of my book helped me resist.

I found my reader on the table, along with the pile of foil chocolate wrappers that had been under the covers with me…

…and a note.

I packed your lunch for you. You can walk home too.

Love, Mom.

Shaking my head, I sat at the table and fell into the last pages of my book—he was saving her from a super creepy crush turned stalker. Oh, to have that girl’s problems. Two hot guys who both wanted her and a whole school of guys flirting with her. Sigh.

Each time I turned the page, I glanced at the clock, knowing I’d lose my reader for a week if I showed up late to first period.

Twenty minutes before the first bell, I began my slow walk on autopilot. Reading while walking was another skill I’d perfected, like eating and showering, to survive the boredom of my life.

Reading was my escape. Especially the old romances.

The final words had me sighing as I took my seat a minute before the bell, and I settled in for another long day at school—a place drastically different from the ones of my mom’s youth. Zero fun, low enrollment, and guards at the entrance.

Most families chose to homeschool, which made sense. It took a fraction of the time to do the same work at home. Three hours of school and nineteen of reading? Sign me up.

I’d begged my mom several times to homeschool, but she said I needed in-person classes to socialize.

I glanced at the six other students in my first period class and mentally scoffed, since I had nothing in common with any of them.

My best option was during fifth period, when I sat next to Mirae, another girl with a book obsession close to mine.

Before class started, we usually talked about or traded books.

Unfortunately, I didn’t make it in time to claim the seat next to her. So, I half-heartedly listened to the teacher hablar some Espanol and watched the clock.

By the time the final bell rang, I was ready to escape.

The walk home was just as brisk as the walk to school had been—October in Wisconsin was unpredictable.

But without a book to distract me, it was more noticeable.

So, I started visualizing what I’d do when I got home.

Dinner first. Homemade pizza. If I started it before Mom walked through the door, she wouldn’t try to force-feed me another salad.

I’d barely gotten it into the oven when I heard her car.

Predictably, Mom let out a disappointed sound when she came in.

“Pizza, Clarity? Come on.”

“What? The carrot and celery sticks you packed for lunch weren’t going to hold me over till breakfast. Where was the protein?”

“If you didn’t like your lunch, you shouldn’t have eaten your daily calories in a bag of chocolates.”

“You know, this kind of criticism weakens my already shaky teen self-image.”

She rolled her eyes. We both knew my weight didn’t bother me. I was at the top end of normal for my height. Okay, a little over the top. But I was still close to normal.

“It’s not your image you need to worry about, sweetie. It’s your health. You’re beautiful, and your weight doesn’t define you. However, excess weight does lead to health issues. I just want you to be happy and healthy.”

I refrained from snorting. If she wanted me happy, she’d stop nagging about me being healthy. But I understood her concern came from a place of love due to her sister’s struggles with food and depression that eventually led to her death a few years ago.

“So you want me to throw this away?” I gestured to the fully loaded pepperoni pizza in the oven.

“Of course not. We don’t waste in this house.”

Nope. We didn’t. Thank goodness for that.

While the pizza baked, I cleaned my room and scanned my book feeds for my next read.

“Maybe you should call the girl from your Spanish class and see if you two can hang out or something after dinner.”

I glanced over my shoulder and saw my mom hovering in the doorway.

“I have other plans.”

“A book isn’t plans. It’s a distraction from making any. Don’t you have homework to do?”

“You know better. I did my homework at school. And what’s wrong with a book? Most parents would cheer to see their kids read a book a week.”

“I am glad you read, but that’s all you do. You need diversity. Some friends.”

“Teenage friends are overrated. Way too much emotional baggage. I’m holding out till I’m twenty-three.”

“Clarity...”

“Mom...”

“If you don’t find something else to do other than reading until the pizza is done, I’m taking away your reader for a week.”

I slowly turned my chair and arched my brow at her. “I thought we were adults in this house. No curfews, shared responsibility, and mutual honesty for mutual respect. And, I just cleaned my room.”

She narrowed her eyes at me.

“Fine. I’m going for a walk. Yell out the door when the pizza is done. And don’t burn it, or you’ll be eating the leftovers for a week.”

Grabbing my jacket on the way out, I considered what I would do to keep myself busy for another fifteen minutes. It would have to be something good, or she wouldn’t ease up on the reading. Thoughtfully, I tied my shoes then grinned.

“Mom, keep a few pieces warm for me. I’ll be back in a while.”

A while included a walk across town, an hour at the library, and a triumphant walk home.

I had two new books in my arms. However, by the time I got home, I was exhausted.

In hindsight, staying up for thirty-six hours hadn’t been the best idea.

I only ate a single slice of pizza and then shuffled off to my room.

My reader waited on my desk, but I was too tired to even try.

I crawled under the covers and went to sleep.

A thump in the hallway woke me. I lifted my head and blinked at my mom. She stood in the hall, highlighted by the moonlight from my window. She wasn’t looking into my room, but toward the front door.

She was holding her shotgun.

“Mom? Are you high again?”

“Shh.”

She hadn’t even glanced my way when she’d shushed me. I started to freak out.

“What is it?” I whispered.

“I thought I heard something. Stay here.”

“Stay here?” I echoed. People who stayed behind rarely lived. Okay, fine, it was fifty-fifty in most thrillers I read.

She shushed me again and started to creep toward the front door.

I sat in dark silence, straining to hear her movement, and mentally followed her as she checked the house. Hallway. Kitchen. Living room.

Front door.

Crap. Was she really going outside?

“Mom?” I called in a hushed voice.

A whisper of noise outside my window sent my pulse flying. I twisted around to see Mom creeping across the lawn with her shotgun.

“She needs a keeper,” I said with a shake of my head.

I reached for my blankets, when the floor in the hall creaked.

It never creaked.

Slowly, I turned.

A huge dog filled my doorway, moonlight glinting in its gaze.

It let out a low whine.

The pizza I’d eaten hours ago wanted to make an appearance. I swallowed hard, panic scrambling my thoughts. Hide? Throw something? I had nothing that would distract it. Dammit. Why did I eat all my chocolate?

A small sound of despair escaped me.

Its whine turned into a growl.

I screamed.

Mom yelled my name from somewhere outside.

A loud boom rattled the windows.

The dog lunged.

Its weight slammed me onto my back. I sucked in another breath. It pushed my face aside with its muzzle. Hot breath brushed my skin. My eyes went wide at the feel of its tongue a second before pain exploded as its teeth clamped down on my neck.

The sound that tore out of me was inhuman.

Another bang—more deafening than the first—rang out.

The dog yelped, released me, and launched off my bed, straight through my window. Glass shattered into the night.

I clamped a hand over my neck. The skin was warm and wet. Tremors started to rock through me, and I looked up at Mom. Her face was pale as she fearfully stared out the window.

“Mom?”

She didn’t react, and it felt like my hand was getting wetter.

“Mom,” I said louder.

She looked down at me.

“Is it bad?” I briefly lifted my hand so she could look.

Her troubled gaze sent a fresh wave of panic through me.

“I’m bleeding out, aren’t I?” My eyes started to water.

“Clarity, stop. It’s not bad. It’s a few puncture wounds that won’t even need stitches. Just some antiseptic and some bandages.”

“What if it had rabies? Don’t I need to go in for shots or something?”

“No, sweetie. You’ll be fine. I promise. Get up and lock yourself in the bathroom. I need to board up your window. Then we’ll get you cleaned up.”

Woodenly, I did as she said, fumbling to lock the door before backing away and weakly settling on the edge of the tub.

Where had it come from?

I’d never seen anything like it—huge—not anywhere.

Mom was right there. Outside. With it.

Why had it come inside? Why bite me?

I didn’t look in the mirror to see how bad it was. I trusted Mom not to lie to me about being hurt. Being dramatic about calorie intake? Yes. My well-being? No. Never.

By the time she knocked on the door, my shaking had eased, and it only took two tries to unlock the door.

“Sorry, sweetie. I had to board the window. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

She set a fresh T-shirt on the tub for me and leaned the shotgun next to the door before grabbing a washcloth. As she cleaned my neck, she didn’t ask if I wanted to see it. I didn’t. Looking always made it hurt more.

Three adhesive bandages later, she stepped back and handed me the shirt.

“Someone’s coming in the morning to fix your window. For tonight, you can sleep with me.”

Nodding, I swapped tops then followed her to her room. She locked the door behind us and set the shotgun next to the bed. Her room had two windows.

“Do you think it will come back?” I asked as she lifted the covers and motioned for me to get in.

“No, sweetie. I got it.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

She didn’t sound sure. She sounded scared. She crawled under the covers next to me and held me like she used to do when I was little.

It was both a comfort and a warning that things weren’t as fine as she was saying they were.