The Inescapable Hound (The Shifterverse #5)

Chapter 1

Cara

It’s barely ten p.m., and I’ve already seen two people throw up.

The poor girl didn’t pull her hair back in time, and the guy next to her power-puked a spray that might have been impressive if it wasn’t so disgusting. I’m not sure if they’re together or just sharing the same bush.

I’m all for having fun but getting that fucked up isn’t for me.

Even as a rebellious teen, I was never much of a party girl.

Sure, the primping with girl friends is always fun, and I’d get drunk with Reagan any day, but it’s the going out that always puts me off.

I’d rather stay in to drink and dance with people I trust than make small talk and mingle with strangers.

The evening air is chilly as I walk up the steps to the party house with my friends.

I’m wearing an outfit I’d never be caught dead in otherwise.

I can thank my best friend, Reagan, for the hot clothes, light makeup, and slightly uncomfortable wedge heels.

Her boyfriend, Carter, is the designated driver tonight because, as they were both so keen to tell me, I need to let loose.

We’re one semester away from graduation, which means entirely different things for us.

For Reagan, it means the start of her engineering career, but for me, it’s the beginning of the end.

Once I graduate, I’ll have to go work at my family’s law firm.

Not as a lawyer—because according to my mother I don’t have the fortitude for it—but as the Controller. A job I never wanted.

Sure, finance is interesting. I’ve always liked math and numbers and formulas, but I’d rather do pretty much anything else than work for my family.

Reagan takes my hand, pulling me from my thoughts as she guides me toward the booze.

We each grab a fresh vodka seltzer from the cooler, crack it open, and then tap the cans together before taking a sip.

I’m not normally one to like these sparkling water concoctions, but the peach one isn’t too bad.

If I drink, I prefer something sweet so I don’t have to actually taste the alcohol.

We mingle a little, and I offer a little wave to the friends I recognize as we stroll around the house. It always amazes me how effortless it is for Reagan to socialize. Where it drains me, it invigorates her. The more people we see, the more energy she has, until she’s practically buzzing.

“Let’s go dance,” she says, pulling me and Carter to the group of people already dancing.

Our other friends, Melanie and Gemma, are already swaying their hips and waving their arms to the beat.

Reagan twirls me around, making me laugh.

The song changes to some electronic dance song that has the entire party jumping along with the thumping bass.

I can’t help but join in. Maybe this really is what I needed all along.

When the song changes again, it’s got this heady rhythm that has everyone gyrating with one another.

Melanie and Gemma each have their arms looped around the neck of a different guy.

Carter pulls Reagan against him, and I try to escape, but Reagan doesn’t let me.

With her hands on my hips, she brings my body flush with hers until we’re this strange three-person grinding pile.

It’s a little weird, but I don’t hate it.

Strong arms replace Reagan’s, and I peer over my shoulder at the tall, brown-haired boy dry humping my backside.

He’s cute in a fuckboy kind of way, but that’s not really my thing.

Still, I keep swaying my hips until the song changes, and then I bolt, offering to get Reagan another drink as an excuse.

As my best friend, she sees right through my charade.

I squeeze around various people until I’m free and move to stand in line for the bathroom. When it’s finally my turn, I lock the door behind me and rest my head against the smooth wood. While it’s not exactly silent, it’s blissfully better than the chaos just outside.

Given the lineup in the hall, I quickly use the toilet and wash my hands, then stare at myself in the mirror.

My makeup is still exactly where Reagan placed it earlier, and my hair remains perfectly tucked in a half-updo.

I don’t exactly look like myself, but I feel pretty.

Although the outfit isn’t one I’d have ever chosen for myself—it’s at least one size too small, and honestly, I’m surprised my curves even fit—I can’t deny that I look good. Sexy, even.

The moment I leave my peaceful haven, I immediately want to go back or, better yet, go home. Except I promised Reagan I’d give this party a chance. After a shitty winter break stuck at home with my mom, maybe I just need to act like the young adult that I am and have a little fun.

The kitchen is empty when I arrive, but no less loud—thanks to the cut-out in the wall above the sink.

I rummage through the fridge until I find something for Reagan and Carter, then dig through the cooler to find the yummy seltzer thing I had earlier.

Buried beneath a mountain of melted water and ice, I find one.

“Thought you could hide from me, huh?” I say to the cold can as I shut the cooler lid. Turning around, I find someone else in the kitchen with me. “Oh, shit.” It startles me enough that I almost drop the drink in my hand but manage to catch it before it hits the floor.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” the cute guy says. He’s got all the typically handsome features one might find on a surfer. Blond hair, blue eyes—he’s even wearing a necklace made of shells. I’ve definitely seen him on campus before, though we’ve never interacted.

“Not your fault,” I reply as my pulse returns to a normal rhythm now that there’s no danger. “Can I get you something?”

He smiles. “I’d love a beer. Whatever’s in the fridge is fine.” I grab one and hand it over. “Thanks. I’m Brad.”

“Cara.”

“Pretty. Is it short for anything?”

“Nope. Just Cara. My mom despises nicknames, so she thought giving me a short name would limit the options.”

“And has it worked?”

“A little. But let’s just say my best friend can be very creative.” Speaking of Reagan, she and Carter appear on the other side of the hole in the wall, their smiling faces flushed from dancing.

“Harlot, there you are!” she squeals, and I laugh.

Brad looks at me, mouthing, harlot? I only shrug in response.

“Here I am. And here are your drinks.” I hand a water to Carter and a weird gin mix to Reagan, then crack open my nearly forgotten drink.

We’re silent as we all take long sips, but then Reagan says, “Come dance with us. You can even bring your beach boy.”

“You guys go. I’m good here.” My best friend quirks a brow and gives me a knowing look, so I add, “Promise.”

“Fine.” She turns to go but then whips back around, spearing Brad with a look. “You hurt her, you deal with us. Got it?” She drags a hand across her throat, threatening him with a bloody end to his life. Knowing Reagan, I’m not entirely sure she’s joking.

He nods, motioning with his hands in a cross my heart and hope to die way, which appeases my best friend while I’m over here mortified.

Kill me now.

Someone else comes in to grab a few drinks, but then Brad and I are alone again.

“Not really your scene out there, is it?”

“That obvious, huh? I’d rather be at home, curled up on the couch in my pj’s. Hell, I’d do schoolwork over this, to be honest.”

That makes him laugh, but I’m not kidding. I normally wouldn’t pick studying over hanging out with Reagan and Carter, or even Melanie and Gemma, but this crowd is too big. Too loud.

“What are you studying?”

“Business. You?”

“Political Science.”

We talk about the gap year we each took—his was two years, where mine was only one—which is why he’s only in his third year.

Reagan catches my attention from where she sways slowly with Carter on the dance floor, a question in her eyes.

I give her two thumbs up and a quick smile while Brad grabs another beer from the fridge.

If she sensed I was uncomfortable, she’d swoop in and save me in an instant, but, to my surprise, I’m actually enjoying myself.

The conversation flows smoothly, just like this seltzer.

I toss the empty can in the trash as Brad goes on about his uncle, who’s some high-ranking politician and the reason he chose this career path.

It doesn’t even bother me that he’s been talking about himself for a while.

I much prefer it when the focus is on others.

I yawn, making him laugh. “Oh, no. I’m boring you,” he teases.

“Not at all! It’s just past my bedtime, is all.” I glance at the stove behind us. Midnight. Oof. Yup, I’m usually dead asleep by now.

“Let me guess… you’re a morning person.”

“Ew, no. But I do need to get enough rest, or else I’m a total beast.”

“I doubt that.”

I smile and look away, feeling all warm inside from his compliment and the booze. That’s one thing about not being a big drinker. In the right environment, I can catch a buzz with only a drink or two.

Four people enter the small kitchen area, breaking the quiet bubble Brad and I have been in for the last hour, and I end up trapped in the corner while some guy shakes up a beer and opens it.

The liquid goes everywhere, and someone laughs obnoxiously as another person slips on the beer-soaked floor.

I glance at the dance floor, but Reagan and Carter have disappeared, likely gone to make out somewhere or cross off another thing from their crazy sex list.

I think it’s time for me to go home.

Since I can’t just leave a mess, I grab a few paper towels and begin cleaning up the beer those idiots spilled everywhere and then abandoned. To my surprise, Brad helps too. When we’re done, I pull out my phone and tell Brad, “I think I’m going to go home.”

“Me too. Want me to walk you?”

I stop mid-text to Reagan and look up at him. Do I want him to walk me home? He hasn’t done anything to make me feel uncomfortable, and I know he’s interested.

“No pressure or anything, of course,” he adds.

I ask myself, What would Reagan do? But I immediately know the answer.

She’d let this guy walk her home, probably fuck his brains out, and then kick him out once satisfied.

Okay, so maybe I don’t want to do all of that, but allowing him to walk me home doesn’t necessarily mean I’ll need to invite him up, right?

“Sure. I’d really appreciate it.”

We make our way out of the kitchen and head toward the door.

He touches me for the first time, placing his hand on my back to guide me, and I don’t hate the warmth it brings.

Several people say goodbye to us on the way out, though it’s more to him because I don’t recognize them.

The moment the chilly night air touches my skin, I feel like I can finally relax.

Brad must sense that I enjoy the quiet, because he says nothing as we walk along the sidewalk in the direction of my apartment. It’s not a long walk, maybe twelve minutes in normal shoes and slightly longer in these damn wedge contraptions Reagan lent me.

“You’re not on campus?” Brad asks as we step off the sidewalk and onto the gravel that skirts the tree-lined forest beside us.

“No. But it’s not far. And if at any time you want to turn around, please know I won’t be offended in the slightest.” I giggle; the cool air somehow adding to my buzz.

“I really don’t mind,” he says just as I stumble a little on a rock. He catches me, and another giggle escapes me. God, I must be more drunk than I thought, because I’m not normally a giggler.

When he pulls me flush against him, I suck in a lungful of air, feeling every inch of his body. “Thank you,” I whisper, looking up to find him staring at my mouth. He’s not going to try to kiss me, is he? Right here on the side of the road? But that’s exactly what I think he’s going to do.

His head lowers, lips pressing against mine. I kiss him back, the heat of it warming me all the way to my toes. His tongue is tentative, and I open for him, but instead of the slow, sensual teasing I expect, he damn near chokes me by thrusting his tongue in and licking the roof of my mouth.

It tickles and I laugh, pulling away to tell him just that except he doesn’t let me. His grip on my arms tightens painfully until I know they’ll leave a bruise.

“Brad,” I say, wincing.

“I love it when you say my name, baby,” he replies, then forces his lips back on mine. I try to push him away, but he’s just too fucking strong.

So, I do the only thing I can think of. I bite him.

“You bitch!” His hold on me loosens at the same moment I push, but without his arms there to catch me, I tumble backward. My bag hits him in the head as I fall down into the damp ditch, landing with a thud.

Pain explodes through my body as I hit the ground hard, then continue rolling and sliding into the wet mud at the bottom.

The sound of rocks skittering down the ditch toward me has my heart racing.

He’s coming for me.