Shift Happens (A Carus Novel Book 1) (7 page)

“You could try.”

Sighing, I flipped onto my back.

“I would wake before you had a chance to do anything,” Wick continued. He was right.

“I think I prefer dumb guards.”

He chuckled, but then turned serious. “What was your nightmare about?” I didn’t need to see his face to sense his frown. I heard the concern in his voice and smelled his confusion in the air.

“None of your business.”

“If it keeps me awake, it will become my business.”

“It’s nothing.”

“It didn’t sound like
nothing
.” Was he mocking me? My voice couldn’t sound as bitchy or clipped as he just made out.

“It’s in the past.”

“Our past can come back to bite us.”

Surprised at the irony, a laugh escaped my lips. “Interesting choice of words.”

“Why don’t you tell me about it?”

“You’re my captor, not my therapist,” I said, although his offer tempted a part of me.

Wick snorted. “Have it your way. It’s an open invitation.”

The silence stretched. “Good night.” I wished my voice sounded more final.

“Good night.” His soft reply kissed my skin.

“Fifteen two, fifteen four, fifteen six, fifteen eight, straight twelve and the jack make it thirteen.” I laid the cards down for all to see. Not the best hand, but not the worst either.

Ryan groaned and leaned back in disgust. “Every time.”

“One might think you cheated.” John glared. At least I think he did. His usual expression toward me was dark, so I struggled to tell the difference.

“Who me?” Batting my eyelashes, I moved my peg fourteen notches instead of twelve. They didn’t notice.

John put his hand down. “Eight,” he bit out.

I hated when people didn’t count their points out. I watched him move the measly eight notches and suppressed a grin.

“It’s ten,” I said when he finished. A growl escaped John’s throat as I moved my peg two more notches. In crib, if an opponent missed points in his or her own hand, another player could take them. Normally I didn’t steal points, but John brought out the worst in me.

“Where?” John demanded.

I took his hand, counted out the points and tried not to look smug.

“Bitch,” John grumbled and sat back. I half expected him to throw his cards. He exploded into tantrums when he didn’t win. While healing, I’d come to know Wick’s inner circle quite well, and planned to sleuth information from them. My devious plot failed. Nobody would tell me a thing. Not why Lucien wanted me, or how the Werewolves connected to him or my hit on Clint. Nothing. Nada. Zilch.

“Mutt,” I replied. He snarled at me, but I ignored it. He knew his place.

“Calm down,” Ryan said to John. “At least you win some of the games.” He spoke the truth. John and I split the wins pretty much fifty-fifty, leaving poor Ryan out. He sucked at cards. Luckily, he wasn’t a sore loser. This last week in captivity would’ve been unbearable if I had to deal with two Werewolves having snits.

“Purge you,” John said, but it lacked heat.

Biting back a laugh, I shuffled the cards. John and Ryan were good friends and bickered like an old couple.

I dealt the next hand and ignored John’s brooding look as he picked his cards up. Lousy poker face. Guess he blamed my dealing for his bad hand.

The slamming of the front door startled the cards out of my grasp. They sprayed out in all directions. Turning in unison, the three of us watched Wick stalk around the corner. Ryan and John stood up, while I remained in my seat, one of those oversized armchairs. I sank into its plush cushions and waited.

Wick stopped in front of me. I tried not to be impressed by his dominant, attractive appearance. I failed.

Wick looked me up and down. His brow furrowed.

“What?” I asked.

“Try to look pathetic,” he said. “And…”

The sound of the front door opening and closing cut him off.

“What the hell?” I asked.

Wick waved me off. Biting down a terse response, I looked at the other Weres. Their muscles tensed and their weight shifted to their toes. If they’d been in wolf form, their hackles would be raised.

The unmistakable scent of dried blood and dead meat hit my nose before a solid Asian man walked into the room.

“Vampire,” I breathed.

“Lovely welcome,” the Vampire’s smooth voice rolled over my skin and raised goosebumps. He floated farther into the room. “I don’t know what I was thinking, expecting house manners from dogs.”

John’s chest rumbled. One look from Wick stopped his growling. The Vampire wiped his hands off, as if touching the doorknob had soiled him. He looked around the room with obvious distaste and sneered at John. “It appears you still need to house train some of your pack.”

I frowned. The Vampire stole lines from my insult book, though it didn’t sound so witty coming from him.

The need to defend the Weres concerned me more.
They’re not pack
.

Eyeing the Vampire, I decided he wasn’t Lucien, but probably high up in the horde hierarchy. He was also one of the biggest Asian men I’d ever seen. Not sumo wrestler big, either. His muscles strained under his well-tailored suit. Black hair cut short and chiseled features made him more handsome than he deserved.

The Vampire moved to stand in front of me, beside Wick. “Are you going to introduce us?” he asked.

I stood after he spoke; not out of respect, but necessity. Sitting down wasn’t a good defensive position.

“Allan, this is our prisoner, Andrea.”

Wick used my full name. Thank the beast Goddess! I didn’t want to be on familiar terms with Allan.

“Allan?” I asked.

He dipped his head in acknowledgement. His gaze travelled up and down my body, assessing me.

“Doesn’t exactly inspire a lot of fear,” I stated.

Allan flashed his fangs. A Vampire smile unnerved me no matter how many times I saw one. “Is that what you would like, little girl?” His voice offered promises I didn’t want.

I shrugged and refused to look away.

“Do you have a Chinese name?” I asked, purposely making a mistake. With his high cheekbones, strong jaw and large eyes, his features appeared more Japanese. I bit my tongue from laughing at his expression. He looked like he’d bitten into a rotten apple.

“I’m Japanese,” he said with a flat voice.

“Oh? I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.”

All three Weres snapped their heads to me, scenting both lies. Wick wasn’t pleased. He stepped forward, like he wanted to throttle me.

Allan’s hand on Wick’s chest stopped him. “Easy, Wick.”

Wick glanced down at Allan’s fingers like he wanted to bite them. He must’ve thought better of it because he rested his weight on his heels.

Assured of Wick’s compliance, Allan turned back to me. “You’re not and you did,” he said.

“Excuse me?” I asked.

“You’re not sorry and you knew I had Japanese ancestry,” Allan stated.

I crossed my arms. “Vampires can’t scent lies.”

“True. But we’ve had years and years to read humans.”

“And masters gain powers as they age,” Wick added, his voice warning.

“I like to think we’re like fine wine. We get better with age.” Allan examined his nails.

Oh shit
.
Please don’t be a mind reader
.

Allan flashed his fangs again.

“Ah fuck,” I breathed, visualizing a forest with birds chirping away.

Allan laughed. “At least you’re not an idiot. What a delight. Keep thinking of your sanctuary, Shifter. While you checked out my muscles and thought about my handsome face…” He lifted his eyebrows, daring me to contradict him. My cheeks flamed. Someone growled. “I got what I needed,” Allan finished.

“And what was that?” I asked.

Allan ignored me and turned to Wick. “She deliberately antagonized me in hope I would harm her. It would delay her meeting with Lucien and give her more time to escape.”

He’d read well past my surface bitchiness. Allan glanced in my direction and smiled. His fangs descended a little more—the Vampire equivalent of a hard on.
Gross
. He kept his gaze locked on mine while they grew longer.

Wick’s chest rumbled, sending vibrations across the room. Or was that me?

“And if I accidentally killed her, at least it would be fast and not the slow, tortured, drawn out death like the one Lucien has planned.”

I shuddered. Allan went deeper than I knew possible. What else had he seen?

“Don’t suppose you’d like to clue me in on why I’m here? When did Lucien concern himself with hits on mere norms?”

He shook his head.

Jerk.

Allan’s fanged smile broadened before he nodded at me and turned to Wick.

“What piques my interest, wolf, is why you shield so tightly.” He leaned in. “What is it you don’t want me to see?”

Wick directed an unfriendly smile at Allan. “You’ve groped enough nerve endings here. I think it’s time you got your perve on somewhere else.”

“The night is still young,” Allan agreed. “One week,” he said, glancing at me before gliding toward the exit. “Then we’ll see how deep I can go.”

The door clicked shut and released whatever hold Allan had on us.

“Ugh,” I said, brushing off my shoulders. “Vampires.”

“For once, we agree,” John said. “I feel dirty being near them.”

Ryan grabbed his sweater from the couch and put it on. The room wasn’t cold.

“Handsome?” Wick asked, still standing in front of me. He hadn’t moved.

“Seriously?” I asked. I put my hands on my hips and waited for Wick to move out of my way. He didn’t. “Out of everything he said that’s what you comment on?”

Wick shrugged. “The rest is expected.”

“Yeah.” Ryan nodded. “Pain, death, torture, suffering…yada, yada, yada. Vamp threats are all the same.”

If that was true, why did Wick and Ryan look worried?

The hairpin snapped. I grimaced and looked down at the traitorous half that fell from the lock. I bit my tongue to stop the curse threatening to burst from my mouth. Those dogs could hear anything. I’d been in Wick’s house for a week now, healing faster than I’d like and waiting for an opportunity to escape. My days filled with watching paternity tests on daytime television, kicking some ass playing cards and sparring with Wick. My nights filled with restless sleep while I tried to ignore the beefy paperweight sleeping next to me.

No opportunity to escape presented itself, the guard duty impeccable. Never left alone, not one window cracked open, not one door unlocked. My little date with Lucien became more of an impending reality. Allan’s visit made everything more real. I didn’t get to stay and play at Wick Wonderland forever. My introduction to the Master Vampire would be any day now. I was royally screwed.

I picked up the piece of my hairpin and worked on the other half still jammed in the window lock. I didn’t possess any lock picking skills, but when Wick told me to “sit and stay” like a good little puppy in his room, I decided it couldn’t hurt to try. At least it felt like a more productive way to pass the time than counting threads in the sheets or looking through Wick’s drawers. He wore boxer briefs.
Yum!
My mind drifted to the first time we’d sparred. He hadn’t been wearing anything then.

Focus! I bit my lip while I concentrated on the jagged end of the pin. I wanted out of this locked room.

Sit and stay
. Wick used those exact words. The audacity! His cheeky smile made me want to punch him in the face. I wasn’t his to command.

Keeping my rage close to the surface, I continued to wiggle the pin. It helped distract me from what else I would like to do with that man’s face. Talk about Stockholm syndrome. I needed out of here.

The end of the pin snapped off when I pulled it to the side. I flailed backward. My head snapped back against the floor and pretty little stars danced in my vision. I took a deep breath to find some inner calm and failed. Sitting up anyway, I assessed my progress. A jagged end of the pin protruded out of the lock, barely enough to pinch between my finger and thumb. If I didn’t get it out, Wick would notice and I knew how he’d punish me.

I enjoyed our daily sparring. Wick kept trying to goad me to shift to my wolf form. That would be a mistake. I avoided shifting altogether, much to his disappointment. The stripping down process with him watching felt like a mistake. Too much heat in his gaze and too much energy between us.

Time to escape.

I made a promise years ago. Never get trapped again. Never be
owned
. I shut my eyes against the memories and the images of Dylan’s face. At least I no longer had panic attacks.

“Shame on you,” a deep voice startled me.

I cursed and scrambled to my feet. My muscles protested the quick movement. Wick leaned against the door frame with his arms crossed. His lips quirked up at one side and his eyes crinkled. Wrapped up in my attempt to escape out the window, I failed to hear him approach the room or open the door. Andrea McNeilly, badass assassin.

“Those anti-picking locks are expensive.” He squinted in my direction. “You better make sure you get that pin out.”

Fuck that
. I’d leave the broken pin jammed in the lock now to spite him. I made a show of brushing off my sweats. They weren’t dirty.

“I wonder why your room is equipped as a prison.” I crossed my arms to match Wick’s stance. “Keeping a lady friend too difficult?”

A growl escaped Wick’s throat, sending shivers down my spine. “All the rooms are set up this way. The meeting is over, by the way. You can come downstairs now.” He turned to leave. “And for the record—I never have to force a
lady friend
to do anything.” He shut the door firmly as he left.

Probably not a good idea to piss off the alpha, which was apparently what I just did. That didn’t worry me too much. But why keep me in his room if any of the bedrooms would suffice as a prison? I didn’t like the answer my brain gave me. I paced around the room. Maybe there were other prisoners.

Eavesdropping on the pack meeting might’ve answered some questions, but when I’d placed my ear against the cold and lifeless wood door, solid oak from the smell, not even my superior Shifter hearing could pick up anything. They’d all be leaving now.