Dragon Marked_ Supernatural Prison #1(15)

I leaned in close and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Dropping my head into the crook of her neck and shoulder, I breathed deeply, hoping she’d act on instinct and do the same. Instead she freaked out, shrieking and diving away from me. I landed on all fours on the floor, low growls rumbling in my chest. It took me a few moments to calm.

“What the hell were you doing?” She was still shrieking. I resisted the urge to punch her out and quiet that racket. I have sensitive hearing and her shrieking was grating. Lucky for her I didn’t act on my instincts. I simply picked myself up and sat back on the chair.

“Touch and scent are comforting between shifters,” I bit out through clenched teeth. “Especially wolves.” I massaged my temple. Not enough sleep and too much stress was giving me a headache. “I was trying to be nice.” Last goddamn time too.

She studied me for a few seconds, before tears pricked her eyes again. “I’m so sorry, you must think I’m a mess.” I kind of did, but knew better than to say anything. “I just have no idea of this world. I’m not sure I’m cut out for this life.” She slouched next to me, closer than last time.

Her reaction was the reason we didn’t interact with humans. They couldn’t handle the supernatural, they needed their world ordered, and we went against their laws of nature.

She was still talking. I forced myself to pay attention to her.

“So … you never leave this town?”

My head tilted to the side as I examined her. “Some do, the hunters who search for the criminals, others who take jobs in different communities, but most of us never leave.” I shrugged. “It’s not that bad. We have about four hundred hectares of forest that we use to run in and hide the–” I broke off. Was she supposed to know about the prison?

“Vanguard … the supernatural prison.” She nodded her head, as if pleased she finally knew something. “Mom hinted it was something about this jail that forced her to flee with me when we were babies.”

I got a strange punch-in-the-chest feeling whenever she mentioned our mother. I was so not ready to explore that emotion. I changed the subject. “What are humans like?”

I was curious. We had human studies twice a week, and I watched television. On paper I knew all about them, but had never met one. It struck me that despite her naivety to the supernatural world, she would be a hell of a lot more knowledgeable about the rest of America. She’d been out, traveling around, going to normal school. Sometimes I longed to spread my wings and fly – I know, weird analogy for a wolf shifter. Stratford for all its wonder was still a cage.

She scrunched her forehead like I’d asked the stupidest question ever, although the tears had at least stopped. “Well, humans are just … normal.”

I sighed, and was proud of the fact I didn’t growl at her. If my question was stupid, her answer was even more so. Apparently she wasn’t finished though.

“There are so many different types, funny, petty, cruel, evil, sweet, and honorable. I’ve never had many friends – we moved around a lot – but there are great people in the human world. I’ve loved, lost, had fights and more fun than I’d ever dreamed I could.” She was studying her hands again. “And through all of my experiences, I still always felt different, living on the outside a little.” She met my gaze. “Guess I finally know why.”

Humans sounded like supernaturals, just with shorter, more fragile lives. We had plenty of drama here also, but maybe not on such a grand scale. We were more patient. Say if we wanted to exact revenge, well, sometimes that could take ten years to play itself out. We had a lot longer to think it through.

“Can you tell me about your world?” she asked, as she studied her fingers. It looked as if she didn’t care, but I knew better. I could see the slight tremble of her hands.

As if they’d been timing their entrance, the front door slammed open.

Maximus’ voice led the way. “Jessa, you okay?” There was a dark warning in his tone.

The four of them prowled their way into the living room. Judging from their expressions, they’d come in here expecting the worst. I guessed they’d heard voices and wondered who else was in their home. The room seemed smaller as they moved into a semi-circle around my back, towering over me and Mischa. She looked a combination of freaked out and awed as she shrank back, her gaze drifting between their four faces.

“Guys, meet Mischa, my sister.” Yeah, I was acknowledging the relationship. Seemed stupid not to. As far as I knew she was just as much a victim of our parents as I was.