Chapter 2
Casey
I glare up at Wrath, refusing to step back, refusing to back down. Aggression is what he’s offered, so aggression is what I’m going to have to give.
“Listen to me,” I hiss and then take a deep breath and force calm.
Responding to shifters in a way I’d like to might get me killed.
They are, after all, alphas. Their aggressive tendencies are much more trigger-happy than mine, and they have the ability to rip me apart with their bare hands.
I need out of this house and away from this enclosed powder keg.
“This is my home, and I don’t want this.
I had no idea what I was agreeing to, but if we work together, we can get this,” I wave the cuff in his face, “off. And the five of you can trot off to terrorise someone else.”
My heart is beating so hard, and there are pretty white spots in my vision. Don’t pass out, please don’t pass out.
“You think it’s that easy?” The voice is like silk and sin.
My mouth waters, and my knees wobble slightly as I turn.
A man with very tanned skin and glowing golden eyes stares at me.
Jet black hair sits perfectly in layers on his head.
I don’t even know why I notice that, but I do.
His cheekbones are high and angular. And he’s as gorgeous as Wrath but in a completely different way.
Wrath is unspeakably beautiful; this man, this shifter in front of me, is the sexiest person I’ve ever laid eyes on.
Not fair.
“This is my pack brother Riot,” Wrath whispers with a laugh. “He bites.”
Riot smiles, revealing perfect white teeth. “Mmm, sometimes it’s enjoyable, too.” He pauses dramatically, his eyes flicking down my person, leaving me feeling like a grubby child. “For me.”
I cannot spend a day with them in my house. There’s no way I’m going to survive this.
My eyes flicker to the doorway where another man stands. The brown isn’t brown on his human form; it’s a shade darker than gold, mixed with bronze. His hair has gold and copper threads in it, and even though I can’t sense any menace from him, he’s the one that makes my heart skip a beat.
This shifter is the pack leader. The wolf who will keep the others in line, the one who will try to force me to obey. The one who will hurt me.
I lower my eyes, looking at the floor as I try to find a way out of this.
He advances towards me, and Riot and Wrath fall away, leaving just a patch of light from the window that lands across his boots. His feet are large. He is large. I can feel the massive size of him displacing the air.
I tremble violently.
“Casey.” The soft way his voice lingers on my name brings unwanted images of a secret lover whispering my name in the dark, fingers sliding over my curves, wrapping around me.
Stupid, stupid imagination.
I lift my eyes; the gold and chestnut depths stare from just a foot away. They are strong, calm, and so very angry.
Everything in me begs to lower my eyes, but I won’t, instead holding his gaze and refusing to back down. This is my home, and I will not be the weak one under this roof.
“You can call me Khaos.”
Even his name gives me a chill. “Khaos,” I echo.
The last two appear at his side, tension running between them.
To my surprise, they are twins but for their colour differences.
Ethereal men. Translucent skin, thin and tall.
One with the darkest auburn hair glinting like fire, the other with hair as pale as snow.
The redhead has gold eyes, light and bright.
They dance with curiosity, while the snow white alpha has ice blue eyes that crack with temper and suspicion.
Both have hair that reaches their mid-back, though the redhead's is curly and full of waves and life, while the other has hair as straight as silk, hanging in a sheet.
“Hazard,” Khaos indicates the red head man with his probing gold eyes. He smiles slightly and dimples flash. “And Angel.”
The alpha with his pale white hair snarls at me low under his breath. I get the impression that he would kill me or at least try.
Fun.
I bob my head. “Fascinating.”
I turn my back on all of them and return to the island, opening the bag of groceries and pulling them out to put them away. I hesitate and leave out a loaf of bread and the meat I was going to cut up and freeze.
When everything’s put away, I cut up the vegetables and meat and stick them in a pot. The effort of ignoring them is making the process a million times harder. I’ve almost chopped off my finger, dropped the carrots, stubbed my toe, and spilt water all over the kitchen.
Then, I go about my normal routine. I can feel them everywhere I am, but I just ignore them, and they seem to take their lead from me and let me be.
The tension doesn’t abate, and no matter how many times I try to sort out an answer, when I look down at that bracelet and remember the cold snap of magic, I know there’s no way out of this.
Freida taught me a lot about magic. She took the hermit witch living on her mountaintop mantle to the extreme.
I manage to get some of my energy out chopping wood, but, after a while, I realise I’m avoiding going back inside, and the daylight is slipping away. I stop and stare at my cabin, contemplating it. To sleep with men under my roof is one thing, but to sleep with shifters? My worst nightmare.
What am I going to do?
I could let them know that I’m one of them, but that would mean exposing my lack of wolf.
There is no way I’m doing that. I don’t do packs, not anymore.
That is…there’s no way. I didn’t spend all these years escaping Cindel to end up in another situation.
To be a breeder to those heathens in my house or the Foster pack.
A low on the podium wolf, used for nothing but a plaything for other shifters. I need time and a plan.
A human is the worst mate one can have. At least with me, they’d be getting the genes. I’m not desirable, but I’m acceptable.
I shudder. No, I won’t let that happen to me. If I’d had a wolf…I could have run, I could have found my own way in the world. No one would have stopped me.
But I’m not a wolf, and I bury my omega scent under the scent blockers, hoping that no one will learn my secret.
How am I going to hide it from five alphas?
A pang cuts through my chest, but I press with my hand. It’s better this way. Sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it. To keep fighting. My back has been against the proverbial wall since I was sixteen.
There’s nowhere to run.
Now…I don’t even have my home.
I make my way back to the house, my stomach growling.
The stew should be ready by now. I walk in and spot all five lounging on my couch.
That’s fine. I walk into the kitchen and stop.
It takes everything I have not to let a sound out.
I want to cry. It’s a mess. My already exhausted muscles tremble and protest as I take in how hard I’m going to have to work to clean it up.
They obviously ate a while ago and just left dirty dishes all over.
Is that stew on the roof? I open the lid of the pot and find it completely empty.
I put it back and close my eyes.
Fine, I’ve lived with shifter males, I know what this is. Power-play tactics, putting me in my place.
But I’m not a shifter. Not really. I have my feet in two worlds.
I set my kitchen back to rights, dig out my stash of jerky, grab a mug of coffee and a beer, and head into my bedroom.
I kick the door closed and then kick off my shoes.
Instead of sleeping in a t-shirt, I opt for jeans and a long-sleeve top.
I lay in bed with a book in my hands, but I can’t read.
I just stare at the words for hours. Finally, I close it and lie down, listening to the dark and wondering who is breathing on the other side of my bedroom door.
I wake up to my anguished screams again. Screams that I never made in real life always manage to escape me in sleep. My bedroom door opens, and I launch myself up, throwing my fists at the man walking in. The rage I feel throbs heavily in the air.
Liam walks towards me, his hands out, placating me. I can hear him say my name, soft and full of concern.
“I HATE YOU!” I howl and rush him. “Get out!” I hiss. “Get out of my life. Get out of my head. I hate you. I fucking hate you!”
“Hey!”
The tone is wrong; the voice is wrong. Clarity rips away the cobwebs of my nightmares, bringing my cabin into focus. My chest heaves, and I blink sweat out of my eyes.
That isn’t Liam. He’s not here. I’m safe.
The wolf, the black wolf.
I slam a fist into his stomach. “Get out.”
He spins me around, somehow keeping hold of my arms and crossing them over my chest until I’m pinned, my back to his chest.
“Get out of my room.”
“Maybe if you weren’t screaming like you were dying, I wouldn’t be here checking on you.” The voice growls. “You’re waking everyone up and freaking Angel out. It’s been half an hour. What is wrong with you?”
What’s wrong with me?
So much.
Riot. It’s Riot. That sexy, sinful voice isn’t one I can forget. The relief I feel is ridiculous. Sweat runs down my face, but I’m shaking. I’m so angry, so full of fury. I lash out anyway because there is a strange alpha in my room, and I don’t know him.
He snatches me up tighter, holding me against his chest. Riot refuses to let me go, even as I struggle and fight against him. He only relaxes his hold when I relax, closing my eyes and breathing in and out the way Frieda taught me.
My pulse gradually calms, and when I tug myself free, he lets me go. I go into the bathroom and splash water on my face. When I come out, he’s lying on the bed, staring at the roof.
My feet stop while my mind tries to figure out what this is.
“What are you doing?” Why is there so much hurt in my voice?
He hears it, too; I know he does.
He arches an eyebrow; even in the low light I can see the mocking smirk he gives me.
“This bed looks comfy.”
“Get out of my room, Riot.”
He grins. “Make me.”
“I don’t know you. I’m not sleeping with a strange alpha in my room.”
“I’m not going to touch you, but maybe if you know there is a dangerous animal here ready to defend this space, you might sleep with fewer shrieks.”
My flinch is something we both ignore.
“I can’t. Get out. Please.”
He sighs and gets more comfortable.
I want to wail, to scream, to protest, but I can’t win this fight, and I know it. Physically, I can’t do anything to this alpha.
I walk over to the bed, grab my pillow, eye the blanket, but there’s no way I’d be able to move him in order to get it out, and stalk into my lounge room. I put the pillow on the couch and curl up in a ball.
The dream still lingers, dragging me back into it. The hands that grabbed. I can still feel them forcing their way into me. I exhale and toss on the couch, trying to dispel the memories. It’s been weeks since I’ve woken up like that.
Fucking Liam. Seeing him rips open those scars every time.
I’m half asleep, still lost in those bad thoughts when something warm hops up on the couch and curls up at my back. Warm and furry.
I should protest, but I’m sore and tired, and wolves aren’t as threatening as men. I’d take fangs and claws any day. Especially a wolf that looks like it came straight out of my childhood fantasies.
I twist around and find golden yellow eyes staring at me. They blink slowly.
“What are you doing?” I groan in token protest. I don’t have much more left in me, and the giant black wolf is warm and soft.
When was the last time I slept beside anything alive?
He huffs and lays his head down again as if it should be clear exactly what he’s doing and that I am being an ass.
“Fine, but just tonight. This whole thing is a mess, and I’m not sure what tomorrow is going to bring.”
There’s silence, but my guilt won’t let me sleep. So, I say the words that have been sitting on the tip of my tongue.
“Thank you, Riot. For checking on me.”
The wolf stiffens, and I feel rather than see him lift his head. Surprisingly, now that I’ve said the words, sleep pulls me back under.