Chapter 3
Chapter
Three
EMMA
I shriek, throwing myself against the leather seat of the truck. Instinctually, I cower into Carter’s side, because even though he’s a stranger who manhandled me into this vehicle, he’s a hell of a lot better than that.
The monster stands at the bottom of the porch steps, illuminated by the headlights.
It’s holding an armful of firewood, its wolfish head turned in our direction.
Its tail twitches, a wag that stills when I scream again.
The monster’s ears perk up, then it drops the firewood onto the porch steps and stalks toward the truck.
“No,” I gasp, “no, no! Help! Drive!” I smack the back of my hand hard on Troy’s chest. “What are you waiting for?”
“Ah, shit,” Troy says softly.
Carter, the fucking idiot, throws open the door on his side and jumps from the truck, rounding the front to intercept the monster.
“Noooo,” I moan, unable to tear my gaze away. He’s about to die, ripped apart by those white teeth glinting in the bright headlights. “What’s he doing? Please, Troy, please, we have to go—we have to help him—God, why?”
I’m babbling, but my body unfreezes enough for me to find my phone in my purse. I don’t have any illusions about being able to hurt that monster with my little pocketknife, so I don’t even reach for it. Instead, I swipe the screen to open up my camera app and point it toward the monster.
If I die, at least the world will know what killed me.
But before I can so much as focus the camera on the monster, Troy’s big hand comes up. He cups the phone and my hand and gently brings them down to my lap.
“Wait,” he says. “Watch.”
A sob tears itself from my throat as Carter stops in front of the monster and puts a hand to its furry shoulder.
He speaks to it in a low tone, and the monster—the wolf man, because that’s what he must be—jerks to attention, then squints against the headlights as if he’s trying to see into the cabin.
I cower down and lean against Troy. He puts his arm around my shoulders and draws me into his warmth, and some of my fear dissipates.
Whatever is going on, he’s not afraid. Concerned, maybe, judging by his reaction earlier.
But not scared in any way a rational human would be when confronted with a monster.
The wolf man leans into Carter now and drags his snout over his neck. I bite my lip, so sure he’s about to rip Carter’s throat out with his teeth, but instead, he just grins, his wolfish features lighting up. Behind him, his tail wags in earnest, swiping left to right.
It registers then that the monster is wearing sweatpants. Black sweatpants with an elastic waistband. His hands and bare feet are more human than wolf, despite the claws.
This evening is getting weirder by the minute.
The wolf man puts his clawed hands on Carter’s shoulders and hangs his head as if he’s winded. His entire body shudders. Then the tail disappears, his claws retract, and when he lifts his head, a handsome human face appears beneath a shock of messy, curly brown hair.
“What—?” My words freeze in my throat.
Troy tightens his hold on me. He presses his lips to the top of my head and breathes me in, then murmurs, “That’s Sebastian.”
Sebastian. As in—
“Your roommate?” I breathe.
“Yep,” Troy says. “He’s the third member of our pack.”
Their pack. I glance up at him to find his blue eyes focused on me.
“So you’re all…?”
I don’t finish the sentence, but then I don’t have to. He knows what I mean and simply inclines his head. And I don’t flinch away from him. Just a minute ago, I instinctively sought shelter in his arms at the sight of Sebastian’s monstrous form, so shying away from him now seems…ridiculous.
“We won’t hurt you, Emma,” he tells me. “We could never hurt you. Just as you couldn’t stab Carter or me.”
I don’t know what to make of that declaration. They don’t know me any more than I know them, so how can he be so sure of this?
Outside, Carter speaks softly to Sebastian, who flicks another glance in our direction, then takes off through the snow, barefoot, and bounds up the porch steps. Carter lets out a long breath that mists in the air in front of him. Then he returns to the passenger-side door and offers me his hand.
“Come on, let me help you down.”
I accept his help. There’s nothing else for me to do but trust that they won’t make a meal out of me.
His warm fingers close around my hand, and he steadies me as I jump on the ground.
I look up at Carter. He seems wary and more than a little tired.
Snowflakes have settled on his thick black hair.
He runs his fingers through it, making it stick up on one side.
I stifle a grin because nothing about this situation is funny. The reality is that I’ve been caught by monsters, and escape is impossible.
So I step past Carter and follow Troy to the house.
He has shut off the engine and is striding toward the front porch.
On the way, he picks up the scattered pieces of firewood that Sebastian dropped earlier and stacks them quickly by the entrance.
Then he opens the door for me and lifts his eyebrows.
“Welcome to our home,” he rumbles.
As I walk up to the door, I take a moment to appreciate their house.
From the outside, in the dark, I didn’t get a good look at it, but it’s a newish, large log cabin.
The air wafting from the entryway is warm, and it feels so nice after the biting cold that I’m over the threshold before I can really make a decision about it.
I trace the warmth to a large wood-burning stove with a glass front in the corner of the big living space.
A fire crackles inside, creating a cozy atmosphere.
The living room, dining corner, and kitchen are all a part of this space with a tall ceiling and exposed wood beams. What surprises me isn’t the neat, clean order, which is at odds with what I imagined a bachelor pad to be like, but all the Christmas decorations.
In the corner opposite from the stove stands a ten-foot real Christmas tree, decorated with adorably mismatched ornaments, and pine branches hang from the rafters, along with tinsel and mistletoe.
And wafting through the room is the unmistakable scent of gingerbread, spicy and sweet.
The front door closes behind me. I glance over my shoulder to find Troy and Carter in the entryway behind me, waiting—for what? For another freakout from me? For my judgment?
Embarrassed by their scrutiny, I drop my gaze to my boots and hiss at the sight of the clumped snow that’s already melting into small puddles in the warmth. I inch back, leaving wet footprints on the wooden floorboards.
“Sorry.” I hop on one foot, trying to tug off my left boot. “Just give me a mop, I’ll clean up after myself.”
I wobble, and Troy is there in a flash to catch me before I tip over to the side.
His hands come to rest on my hips, the pressure barely there because I’m still wearing my puffy winter jacket.
I think of squirming away from him, then decide to take the offered help instead and quickly pull off my boots.
“Thanks,” I throw over my shoulder.
Carter appears in front of me with an old towel in his hands, but instead of handing it to me, he crouches and wipes the floor himself, stealing glances at me. He and Troy have already toed off their boots by the door, and he motions for me to step farther into the room.
In my damp socks, I cross over to the Christmas tree, peering at the ornaments.
It’s the safest thing in the room, and I feel like Christmas decorations say a lot about a person.
Theirs are all different, or nearly, as if they’d cobbled together several old sets and added plenty of eclectic choices of their own, like a small carved wolf and a sparkling purple eggplant.
Movement to my right catches my attention.
A door opens, and Sebastian comes through, his gaze finding me immediately.
He has put on a t-shirt, an old college one that’s been washed so many times it’s no longer blue but that indeterminate shade of gray that speaks of years of use.
His expression wary, he steps forward but halts several feet away from me.
“Hi,” he says, then clears his throat awkwardly. “I’m, uh, so sorry about earlier. I didn’t think— I mean, I’m sorry you had to see that. I’m Sebastian, by the way. But you probably know that already.”
He goes to reach forward as if he wants to offer me his hand, then snatches it back and tucks it into the pocket of his paint-splattered sweatpants.
His fair, freckled skin lights up with a blush, and my heart melts at his awkwardness.
He’s a head taller than me, and older by several years, most likely, and yet he’s blushing like a schoolboy and stuttering over his words.
I think he’s embarrassed over his wolf form. And I didn’t help things what with all the shrieking I’ve done.
Then I remember Troy’s words from earlier. We could never hurt you. Just as you couldn’t stab Carter or me.
A glimmer of recognition sparks inside me. I could no more reject Sebastian’s heartfelt apology than fly. So I do the only possible thing.
I step forward and extend my hand to him. “Hi, I’m Emma. Sorry I screamed. You, um, you scared me. A little.”
Sebastian blinks at me, his green eyes widening. “Oh, gods, no, I’m sorry.” He closes the distance between us and wraps my hand in both of his. “Of course you freaked out. I mean, who wouldn’t—” Then he stops and frowns down at my hands. “You’re freezing. Guys, she’s freezing.”
He turns to glower at Troy and Carter who are still standing near the front door, watching us with near identical expressions of worry…and hope?
“Why didn’t you make sure she was warm?” Sebastian barks at them as he tugs me toward the large, butterscotch-colored leather sofa. “What is wrong with you?”
He gently unwraps my damp winter jacket and nudges me until I sit, then immediately covers me with a soft cashmere blanket. With a disgruntled huff, he stalks into the kitchen and throws open a cabinet filled with coffee mugs.
“To be fair,” Troy says as he removes his jacket and hangs it by the door, “we did find her kneeling in the snow, trying to put the snow chains on her car.”
He comes to sit on my left side, throws his arm around my shoulders, and pulls me into his warmth. It’s delicious, and I let myself inhale his scent for just a minute.
“What?” Sebastian bangs a mug on the counter. “She could have died in that storm.”
“She was very determined to stay away from us, too.” Carter sits on my other side, lifts my feet, and puts them in his lap. “So it’s not entirely our fault she’s a human popsicle.”
“Hey,” I protest weakly, even though neither of them is lying.
Carter holds my left foot and plucks off my wet sock, then repeats the same on my right.
I try to cringe away. I spent a whole shift in the diner on my feet, and I’m sure they can’t smell nice.
But he doesn’t let go of my ankle. Instead, he cups my foot in his big, warm hands and presses his thumbs into the arch.
I gasp at the sensation, every nerve ending in my body waking up with a start.
It feels amazing.
“Here,” Sebastian says, thrusting a mug of coffee in my hands. “I made it with milk before I thought of asking—sorry—I don’t know how you take it?”
He says all this very fast, tacking the question at the end with a worried gaze. He sits awkwardly on the sturdy coffee table in front of me and hovers there, a bottle of whiskey clutched in his hand.
“This is great,” I say. “You guessed right.”
“Oh.” He seems relieved. “That’s good. Uh.
Would you like some of this? Might warm you up faster.
I don’t—I’m not sure if this is the correct way of thawing hypothermic humans.
I think I read something about a warm bath somewhere?
We don’t have a bath, just a shower, but maybe that’ll work in a pinch? ”
I reach out to touch his knee, and he stills immediately, his hazel eyes widening. He takes in the sight of my pale fingers on his sweatpants.
“No, thanks. I’m okay,” I assure him.
He glances up at me, skeptical, but he puts away the booze. “You are?”
I dip my chin in a nod. “I’m not hypothermic. Just chilled, and see, I’m already warming up.”
I turn my palm up, offering it to him. He clasps my fingers, then intertwines them with his. He brings my wrist up to his nose and drags in a long inhale. His eyelids flutter, and his ragged, hot exhale fans over my skin. My arm breaks out in goose bumps.
“Fuck, you smell incredible.” His heavy-lidded gaze meets mine. “I knew you would.”
“Seb,” Carter barks. “Slowly, remember? Slow-ly.”
He enunciates the words carefully, as if dealing with a wild animal. Which…he is, in a sense? I remember the rough features of Sebastian’s other form, his freaking tail, for God’s sake.
I tug my hand from Sebastian’s, and I don’t miss the flash of disappointment in his eyes. To play fair, I pull my feet from Carter’s lap, too, even though he gives a killer foot massage, and slip from under Troy’s heavy arm.
“So.” I clutch the coffee mug with both hands, and for a moment, I regret refusing the whiskey. I could use a shot right now. But something tells me I need to be sober for this conversation, because otherwise, I won’t believe any of it.
The guys all sit up, alert. I glance from one to the other, trying to figure out how to breach the subject. But there’s no subtle way of going about this.
So I simply say, “Werewolves?”