Shift Happens (A Carus Novel Book 1) (8 page)

I wouldn’t race downstairs on Wick’s heels like a lovesick puppy. Even if he did have a nice ass. I flopped onto the bed, spilling throw pillows onto the floor. The ceiling had been recently painted. The crisp white glared back, illuminated by a pendant styled light fixture. The home décor in this place so tasteful and precise it drove me nuts. Things needed imperfections.

I glanced over at the lock with my pin lodged in it and smiled. I made my mark and it was better than having to pee on something.

****

I expected to see the usual brat pack lounging in Wick’s living room for lunch, but the room appeared empty. “Where is everyone?”

Ryan looked up from the newspaper in the dining room and smiled. Every day he tackled the
Preturnatural Times
crossword and failed. Even on the ‘easy’ Monday ones. I couldn’t judge. I sucked at them too—not that I would let on. Four letter word for
‘it’s usually a drag’
? Bunt? Seriously? What sane person would know that?

Three days ago when Wick sent Ryan away on some chore for the pack, I hid the newspaper and switched it with the paper on the next day. Ever since, Ryan worked a day old crossword. He never checked the dates and hadn’t caught on. I kept the newest paper with the answers for the previous day’s crossword well hidden.

I might not be a crossword genius, but a genius in my own rights. The Weres thought I was a human encyclopedia.

“They went with Wick on an errand.”

“Does he need that much backup?”

“Yes.” Ryan focused on the crossword. His brow furrowed.

“Why?” I slid into the seat across from him.

Ryan glanced up. “Lucien.”

That stopped me from assessing Ryan’s lack of progress on the puzzle. I looked up and briefly met Ryan’s piercing blue eyes before his gaze slid away.

“Did he send for Wick?” I asked.

Ryan sighed. “Do you think Wick would go to him willingly?”

Sinking back in my seat, I looked around. And bit back a gasp. The windows behind Ryan in the dining room were open.

Open!

I hadn’t noticed when I came downstairs.
How could I miss that?

“They should be back soon.” Ryan glanced up from the paper.

Huh? Oh. Wick and the other Werewolves
. They’d be back soon. I’d have to act fast. I glanced over at Ryan. He was quick. Too quick for me to make a run for it. I’d have to distract or incapacitate him to escape. And I needed to make my move before the others returned.

“What’s a five letter word for wolf?” Ryan asked, oblivious to my conundrum.

I gave him a flat stare. “Seriously?”

“What?” He looked up, confused.

Even I wasn’t that bad. “Lupus?”

His white teeth flashed as he scribbled in the letters. I got up and looked around. Maybe I could find a baseball bat and knock him out. Too risky. Weres were difficult to sneak up on and if he caught me skulking around with a beater stick, my chance to escape would be gone. Let my cat maul him? He didn’t deserve that. I couldn’t shift to a falcon in my clothes. My wings would get caught in the bulky material. It would be difficult to explain why I stripped. Unless… Thinking it over, I walked into the kitchen and looked for my hidden paper.

“Okay, Andropedia,” Ryan said.

The nickname made me smile.

“What’s ten letters for ‘horsewoman who barely made it through town’? Two words and starts with an L.”

“Hmm. Let me think,” I stalled.

I’d hid today’s newspaper with the cleaning supplies under the kitchen sink. I made a show of cleaning up on a regular basis so it would explain why I kept going into the cupboard. Maybe I spent too much effort on something as trivial as crossword superiority. It wouldn’t help me escape. It did, however, provide me with a form of entertainment.

Rummaging around the various bottles, I pulled out the all-purpose cleaner and today’s newspaper. I knocked over a white bottle and reached to pick it up. When I realized what I held, I smiled. Bitter Apple—the dog repellent that discouraged chewing and used for helping new Weres gain control. Perfect.

“Well?” Ryan asked.

“I’m still thinking,” I called out. “Go to the next one.”

“I already have,” Ryan grumbled. I don’t think he meant for me to hear.

“Lady Godiva?” I said, reading off the crossword. “Does that fit?”

“Of course!” Ryan exclaimed. “That makes sense. She rode through town naked. Whoever writes these crosswords has a great sense of humour.”

I coughed to hide my groan.

“I would never have thought of that,” Ryan said.

Me neither
! Walking over to the living room, I hid the bottle of Bitter Apple under the couch. “Have you seen the remote?” I asked.

“No. Isn’t it on the coffee table?”

Pretending to look surprised, I picked up the remote. “So it is. I must be blind.” I flicked on the television. “Want to find out if you ARE the father?”

Ryan chuckled. “Normally I like to refrain from watching trash TV before noon, but okay. I need a break from this one anyway.” He threw down the pen and pushed away from the table. I waited until he walked away from the open windows and over to me before I made my move.

“What are you doing?” Ryan asked as I removed my shirt.

“I thought that might be obvious.” I slunk up to him. He flinched when I reached out.

“I can’t touch you,” he said. “Wick’s orders.”

“Wick said nothing about me touching you.” I slid my hands up Ryan’s chest and over his shoulders. My body pressed against his. I reached back and popped my bra off. The friction against his body made my nipples hard.

“Seems unfair.” His voice roughened.

“That’s the thing about alpha orders. There will come a point where your own basic needs will break the command.”

I would know. Survival instincts and desire were the two emotions powerful enough to break the will of an alpha.

Ryan raised his brow. “He’ll find out.”

Running my hand down his hard chest, I smiled. “Tell him I took advantage of you. It will be the truth.”

Ryan laughed and opened his mouth to speak when I pressed my finger against his lips.

“No more talking.” I used my favorite line. It worked every time.

I leaned up, rubbing my breasts against his chest again, and nipped his jaw. He growled in response. He tried to reach out, but Wick’s compulsion held him back. I kissed him gently. He tried to say something, but I slipped my tongue between his parted lips.

My wolf stayed silent. She didn’t want Ryan. And if I was honest with myself, I didn’t want him either. Ryan would figure it out, too. I had to act fast.

I pushed him onto the couch and let him lie there while I slowly removed my sweatpants and undies. I crawled on top of him. One part of his body had no difficulty reacting to me. My one hand pinned both of his over his head—a pitiful hold, but he couldn’t move against it. Not yet. Not unless he knew I planned to escape.

I ground against his hard erection. He growled again, but this time it originated somewhere deeper and more primal, close to breaking Wick’s control. I kissed him again. This time I made it rougher. I put my teeth and tongue into it. My free hand groped to the side of the couch until it found the bottle.

Giving no warning or apology, I leaned back and sprayed him in the face.

Ryan howled in pain. He swung out blindly. Out of his reach and running toward the window, I spread my arms out and willed the change. My shift quick, I soared out the window and into the fresh spring air. Free. At last.

The wind pressed the underside of my wings—the familiar pressure a gentle caress. Ever present, the bird’s predator instincts weren’t as aggressive as the wolf or mountain lion; instead, it soothed and brought a sense of peace to whatever inner turmoil raged inside me.

Ryan would be calling Wick right now. Something pinged in my little bird chest—because I betrayed Ryan’s trust or Wick’s? Ryan didn’t deserve what I did to him, but it was gentler than a bat to the head or a mountain lion mauling. I lacked options.

No. No point in regretting my escape. Seducing Ryan and leaving Wick were a small price to pay for freedom. They might be great guys and Wick might be…well, something, but they’d both give me up to the Vampire Master in the end.

I angled toward the park where I left my car and shook away any further thoughts of the werewolves like a playa shaking off women with attachment issues.

Circling the parking lot a couple of times gave me the confidence that the area remained wolf free. Midday on a work week, no norms or other supes milled around either.

As soon as I touched down beside my car, I shifted back. Automatically my cat and wolf pushed forward, fighting to dominate my senses. A strong need to analyze the area emerged—to sniff out information like a hound dog or prowl around as an angry cat. Both tempting.

I’d learned the hard way not to think of the wolf or mountain lion in falcon form. Being much smaller and different in nature, I struggled to keep focused. I didn’t want to shift into a hundred and twenty pound mountain lion mid-flight. Luckily, when I’d first learned this lesson, I’d been close to the ground and walked away from the “learning opportunity” with only a broken arm and splitting headache.

I straightened up and eyed my car in dismay. The dilapidated rusty-red Ford Contour. I purchased it solely for its ability to get from A to B without drawing attention.

Hah! Good luck with that now
.

It reeked of wolves and bums—not the Gluteus Maximus kind of bum, the homeless kind. They’d smashed all the windows save the front windshield and the trunk hung open at a weird angle. Multiple tickets caked the wipers and the one intact piece of glass. They flapped in the wind in greeting. Smells of urine, garbage and dirty sex radiated from the interior. A miracle my A to B car hadn’t been towed.

The metal emitted a loud, nail-grating sound as I pried the trunk open farther. I peered inside. And groaned.

Tipping my head back to look at the sky, I tried to calm down. Everything was gone, including my emergency clothes. They were probably outfitting one of downtown’s homeless right now. The instinctive predatory urge to track them down hit me. My cat hissed, clawing to get out.
Settle down. They’re just clothes.

Mine,
she said.

Ignoring the cat and her territorial issues, I ran through my options. I’d have to drive out of here naked as the day I entered life. When I opened the front door, I saw shards of glass scattered on the driver seat.
Fuck.

After brushing the majority of the glass off, I sat down. Despite being tempered, the curdled pieces dug into my ass, promising an extremely uncomfortable drive.

I reached under the wheel and ripped the panel off. My spare set of keys fell out. If someone was motivated enough to get the panel off and hotwire my car, they may as well have the keys, because they were going to drive off with it anyway. At least this way there’d be less damage to the car if I ever recovered it. I looked around the interior of my molested car and sighed.

A to B started right away, which surprised me. I patted the dash and thanked her, before reaching over to close the empty glove box. I didn’t want to listen to the door bouncing around.

As soon as I drove over the first speed bump, the glove box flopped open. It swung back and forth, held in place by one hinge. I went over another speed bump.
Swish, swish, swish
. I ripped the glove box door off and flung it into the backseat.

Too risky to go to my house. My insurance papers had the address on them and I assumed the wolves knew it. Too bad. I loved that place. Instead, I would drive as far as the gas in my tank would take me toward my safe house before I shifted to my falcon.

I would have gone straight there after escaping from Wick’s stronghold, but my wing started to ache. I desperately hoped they’d missed my car, but Wick’s pack was thorough.

The light turned red and I slowed to a stop. Maybe a thief had my insurance papers. My fingers drummed on the steering wheel while the wheels in my head turned over and over. I eyed the wires that stuck out from the centre console where my radio had once been. No music on this road trip.

By now, Wick knew I escaped and would search for me with the rest of his pack. They’d check the parking lot.

I made a decision and flicked on my left turn signal. Some of the cars behind me honked in outrage. It pissed me off when people signalled late as well. Instead of flipping them off, I owned it and waved.
Sorry.

My house was too good to not try first. A drive by with the window down would be all I needed to sniff the air and figure out if the wolves had been there. I glanced at my broken windows and smirked. No need to roll them down.

Attachment to anything or anyone was a professional error. I would leave this place if I had to, but it didn’t mean I had to like it.

The block my house sat on was deserted. The work day had yet to end. Living in a neighbourhood full of professionals certainly had its advantages. Only a few had kids and I was thankful for that. I didn’t dislike children, but they were too curious for their own good. I would move before I took out a child for seeing something not fit for young eyes. And I hated moving.

My home was a two bedroom, two bathroom condo. Well, one and a half bathrooms if you’re a realtor. The dark blue siding contrasted with the crisp white trim. Inside, the open concept made a bright spacious area. The main selling feature was the master bedroom, with a walk-in closet and a gorgeous ensuite featuring a deep soaker tub. But I liked the bay windows with seating the best. There’d been countless mornings where I dragged my sorry self out of bed to sit wrapped up in a warm blanket against the windows. I’d sip my coffee and watch other people battle the elements for their morning exercise. I didn’t need to run in the rain. My Shifter metabolism and martial arts training kept me svelte enough.

I made two laps around the block—once in each direction. Time and daylight slipped away with each full roll of my tires. Once night fell I’d have to contend with a horde of Vampires as well as the pack. A faint smell of wolf lingered in certain nooks, but nothing fresh. They’d been here.