Deceived By the Others

chapter 21



It took a long, long time for the helpless tears to taper off. I remained limp and still against the counter, unable to bring myself to pull away from the running tap, though the water had long since ceased swirling in a pinkish streak down the drain.

After a while, it was the cold that brought me around. I was shivering so badly my teeth were chattering. The one lamp in the bedroom had miraculously survived the altercation between Nick and Dillon, illuminating the destruction and the first questing tendrils of night fog creeping in through the open door.

Wrapping a dish towel around the cuts, I slowly pulled away from the counter and trudged to the door. There were no visible signs of either Were pack outside save for a few tracks left behind by Nick and Dillon when they’d rushed off. Staring numbly into the white fog creeping between the trees, I listened for any hint of their whereabouts.

Not a sign.

Shutting the door, I stared around the room, taking in the wreckage in a detached way. The table was beyond repair, as was the dresser. Some clothes had spilled out when the lower drawers splintered. The floorboards were marred with claw marks.

Like the ones on my arm.

I covered my eyes with a hand, purposely holding my breath to keep from hyperventilating. The desire to gasp in air was powerful, but I couldn’t afford to pass out. Not now.

When the worst of the involuntary trembles tapered off, I hobbled across the room on shaky legs, keeping my eyes averted from the furrows in the floor. I snatched a T-shirt from a drawer and tossed it over the marks, hiding them so I wouldn’t have to see them every time I turned around.

Slowly, the rage that had fueled my actions earlier returned. None of this would have happened if I hadn’t agreed to Chaz’s suggestion to come here. If not for him, I wouldn’t have been put in the position to be infected.

Even thinking the thought was enough to make my stomach churn uneasily again. Breath came short and sharp between my clenched teeth as I tore open the drawers and tugged out his things, throwing every last stitch of his clothing on the bed.

Next, I stalked over to the fireplace, gradually regaining my balance as purpose and anger took over. My hands shook from cold and fury as I reached for the matches. It took a few tries before I managed to light one. The tinder caught immediately, flaring up with warmth that matched my rage.

I fed the flames, watching them grow as they consumed every last article of clothing Chaz had left. There wasn’t much after what the Nightstrikers had done to our first cabin. By the time I was done, the only set of clothes he’d have would be the ones he’d worn before he hopped into bed with that whore, Kimberly.

Fueled by reckless rage, that last thought gave me an excellent idea.

I rose, not bothering to look for a weapon to take with me as I exited the cabin. The fog could’ve hidden anything, from werewolves to Werebears, and I wouldn’t have taken notice. All my anger and energy were focused on reaching Kimberly’s cabin.

A big, rangy crow cackled at me from a nearby rooftop. I ignored it, but it followed me, fluttering from building to building as I wound my way along the muddy path.

Kimberly’s door wasn’t locked. I strolled right in and wasted no time in hunting down every last stitch of clothing and footwear I could find.

Once I had everything piled on the bed, I took an empty designer suitcase that had been tucked in the closet and tossed my findings inside. Intent on my mission, I lugged the full baggage outside. The crow had waited for me there, watching with bright, beady eyes, tilting its head this way and that as I struggled with the bag on the stairs.

The bird fluttered to the ground. Up close, it was much bigger than I’d thought; it was closer in size to an eagle than any other crow I’d ever seen. No wonder they called him “Hawk.”

He squawked at me, and I paused, setting the bag down at my feet.

Apparently satisfied that I wasn’t going anywhere, the oversized bird hopped in its gangly, awkward way behind a nearby bush. Familiar popping and stretching sounds, accompanied by a somewhat pained groan, were soon followed by Hawk’s distinctive features—sans glasses, leaving his pitch black eyes clearly visible, even in the dark—peering at me from around the thick cover of leaves.

“Hey, look, I wanted to apologize. It didn’t occur to me until later how upsetting that must’ve been for you.”

I stayed where I was, swaying slightly on my feet as the absurdity of the situation and his statement hit me. Upsetting. Right.

“The Nightstrikers are around if you need us. Look us up on Other-net sometime, okay?”

“How are you—”

“Human?” He smiled. “Doc, Spike, and I aren’t bound by the moon like the werewolves are. We’re keeping an eye on things in case Chaz decides to pay you a visit tonight. Get out of town as early as possible tomorrow, okay? We’ll stick around until we’re sure he’s not going to come back this way to take anything out on you.”

“Thank you,” I said, taking a few breaths to calm myself. “I don’t think he’ll be coming back until morning.”

“Maybe. We’ll be around for a couple of hours, then we’re heading back to the city. Until then, call for us if you need us.”

I nodded, pressing a hand to my forehead and closing my eyes. When I opened them again, he was gone.

Too shaken by everything that had happened, I stayed where I was for a few minutes, shivering. Despite the blood loss and the cold, I felt energized. Vibrating with the need to destroy things. If I wasn’t careful, I might end up doing more damage to myself in the rush of hate and fear-fueled adrenaline than Dillon had.

It took a while for me to get going again. Not because I didn’t want to move, but because I knew that if I allowed myself to give in to the seething fury, I’d start screaming and never stop. I might do something irreparable, like hunting down every last Sunstriker until they cut me down, or until they were all dead.

Panting, I came to a halt before my cabin, tilting my head up and closing my eyes as I breathed in the night mist, forcing calm on my unraveled nerves. It took several long minutes before I felt composed enough to do what I intended.

With deliberate care, I unzipped the suitcase and sorted through the clothes until I found the shirt, pants, and underclothes Chaz had left behind in Kimberly’s cabin. As I held up the pale blue silk boxers, the same color as his eyes, I dimly noted a few blood spots blooming on the slick cloth. I hadn’t felt the sting of my nails biting into my palm, cutting even through the fabric.

With a sense of finality, I tossed all of his things into the muddiest spot I could find, the mulch still damp from the sprinkle of rain on our first night here. With a bit of stomping and grinding of my toe, I soon managed to cover every last inch of fabric with dirt and bits of leaf mold.

That task accomplished, I stepped over the suitcase and over the threshold, making a beeline for the closet. There, tucked away in the bottom of my duffel bag, lay the contract that sported my signature. My unspoken promise of devotion to Chaz and the rest of the Sunstrikers.

It took an effort not to toss it into the flames burning cheerily in the fireplace. Instead, I took it with me outside and promptly tore it into quarters, dropping the shredded fragments of paper onto the mound of muddy clothes. They stuck to the wet soil, soaking up the moisture, but the title and my unmistakable scrawl were still clear enough that Chaz wouldn’t miss what he’d given up once he returned from the forest.



I spent the next hour or so feeding Kimberly’s clothing, piece by piece, into the flames. She’d probably end up borrowing clothes from one of the other Sunstrikers, but doing this gave me a sense of deep, abiding satisfaction anyway.

After the last piece was eaten up by the fire, I sat on the edge of the bed for most of the night, watching the bloated moon creep toward the horizon and the stars fade into day.

In the predawn light, Chaz stalked out of the forest, pausing in the clearing before the cabin. Despite my haze of anger, he still looked magnificent, a golden god of the forest prowling in glorious, unabashed nakedness through the last tendrils of mist fading in the gentle rays of morning sun. I watched through the window, though I made no move to get up to confront him. Particularly when Kimberly leapt with the grace of a doe out into the sun, every bit the creature of the woods that Chaz was. A hot flare of jealousy beat in my breast as she pressed a hand to his bare back. The other hand swept her enviably straight blond hair back in a casual gesture that only served to set every hated, perfectly shaped asset she had to jiggling in ways that would have sparked envy if I hadn’t been shaking with fury.

He wasn’t paying her any mind, though. In the space of a few seconds, his expression shifted from wariness to surprise to anger to chagrin as he spotted the pile of ruined clothes and the torn shreds of the contract that would have bound me to him, body, mind, heart, and soul.

He slowly knelt down to pick up the damp pages, running his fingers over them. I watched as he clenched the fragments in his fists. He turned away before I could get a good look, but I thought I detected a glitter in his eyes that looked suspiciously like tears.

He was gone before long, taking the soggy mess of clothing with him. She followed, saying something I couldn’t hear. The two were no doubt off to seek consolation from each other in privacy.

Some of the other Sunstrikers wandered by on their way to their cabins, looking tired and worn. Though I might have admired the lean bodies or been embarrassed by the nudity before this last hellish night, there was nothing left of me to be moved by the sight. Instead I sat dry-eyed, fingertips of the opposite hand playing over the tiny ridges of scabs on my left bicep.

Dillon was among those to pass by my cabin. He flashed me a vicious grin when he spotted me in the window. I didn’t give him the benefit of a reaction. His grin soon wavered as he found himself unable to meet my unflinching gaze.

There would be a reckoning between us, I was sure. It would come as soon as I made up my mind whether I wanted to carry out that revenge myself or let the law do it for me; either way, he wouldn’t survive it.

My unkind thoughts were disrupted by the sound of a woman’s angry scream echoing across the valley. Kimberly discovering her things were missing, no doubt. I didn’t bother to investigate, as some of the others outside were rushing off to do.

Some time later it dawned on me as I watched some of the Sunstrikers and their families wander past with bags and suitcases that I would need to figure out how to get home.

I had no cell phone to call Sara. Even after I cleaned the soda off the battery, Arnold’s computer wouldn’t boot up. The cost of a cab back to the city was far above and beyond my budget, and I hadn’t seen any car rental places in the tiny town—even if I felt like walking the miles of wooded track to wander around the streets in hopes of finding one. Mr. Cassidy might let me use his phone, but I’m sure he was none too pleased with the Sunstriker party, and the rest of the Cassidy family were probably not feeling too charitable toward their guests just now.

After a sleepless night, still in my bloody clothes, I wasn’t feeling brave enough to face the day. It stung when I remembered destroying the coffee pot in my efforts to stave off Dillon’s attack; even that simple pleasure would be denied me this morning.

Fighting tears, I collected some clean clothes and shambled into the bathroom, losing myself in the warmth of a shower. It woke me up a little, swept the remnants of last night’s fight from my skin, and gave me a chance to relax despite knowing I’d have to face the inevitable and speak to one of the Cassidys about finding a way home.

When I stepped out of the steaming bathroom wrapped in a towel, I very nearly screamed when I saw a hulking, menacing shadow hovering in the doorway.

Chaz stepped inside, holding up his hands. “Please, don’t start that again. I came to talk to you.”

He looked so earnest in the early morning light, dressed in someone else’s clothes. They didn’t quite fit him; the jeans hugged his hips and thighs too tightly, outlining the strong play of muscle beneath. In contrast, the shirt was too big; his fingertips dangled below the cuffs of the soft gray oxford sweater, a light sprinkle of chest hair peeking above the collar. His golden skin was perfectly smooth, his blue eyes radiating warmth and sincerity even as his lips turned in that babyish pout that I’d once found so very kissable and attractive.

It took every ounce of willpower I had not to retreat into the bathroom and slam the door in his face. Every moment he hesitated gave my anger time to reheat, the dying ashes flaring up with newfound life and purpose. It took a great deal of effort to stand there, dripping and cold, waiting for him to spit out whatever he wanted to say without screaming at him to get out and leave me the hell alone.

“Shia, I really don’t want to fight with you this morning. I know you need to get home, so I wanted to offer you a ride. All I ask is that you promise to let me talk on the way. No interruptions, no fighting, just let me have my say. Agreed?”

“I’ll find a ride with somebody else,” I snarled, backing into the protection of the bathroom. Before I could shut the door, his voice cut through my angry haze, stopping me in my tracks.

“No one else will take you. I already asked. And unless you want to rent a moving truck, there are no car rentals for twenty miles. Do you really want to make Sara or Arnold drive all the way out here to come get you?”

I closed my eyes, baring my teeth as I fought the urge to shout something decidedly uncomplimentary back at him in response. He was right, of course. I knew Sara’s schedule; even if I managed to reach her, she was supposed to be on a surveillance gig this afternoon until midnight. She would miss her mark, and a big paycheck, if she didn’t stick to her agenda. There was little doubt that Chaz was right about no one else being willing to take me; he must have already investigated ways to get me home without causing a scene if he’d looked into car rentals.



“Fine,” I said quietly, unclenching my fist when I realized my nails were cutting into my palms again. “Give me a few minutes to get dressed and pack.”

He inclined his head graciously, smiling like there was nothing wrong between us, like he hadn’t destroyed every last salvageable facet of our relationship last night. “I’ll get the car warmed up. Meet me in the parking lot.”

The bathroom door slammed shut behind me.