Five Weeks (Seven Series #3)(27)

She leapt off the bed and her wide collar pulled down in the back, revealing some of her shoulder blade. I caught a glimpse of a birthmark and watched as she scrambled to fix her shirt. “Oops. You weren’t supposed to see that,” she said, her cheeks flushed.
“I promise I won’t tell anyone,” I said with a curious smile. Human children were so endearing.
Her worry evaporated, and she swung open the door. “Nice to meet you, Miss Izzy.”
After the door closed, I snatched my clothes off the floor and wrapped a throw around me so I could hunt for the bathroom.
I checked two rooms in the hall before I found it. I slammed the door and took a quick pee while waiting for the shower to get hot. Then I began rifling through the cabinets in search of towels. I needed to get moving and find a motel—hopefully one that would accept a late payment.
After I rushed through a hot shower and shut the water off, I remained in the tub and dried my legs with a hand towel because it was all I could find. They must have had a linen closet in the hall where they stored the big towels, unless they just walked around naked.
When I heard the door open and close, I stood paralyzed with fear. Through the frosted shower curtain, I watched a shadow move to the left and lift up the toilet seat.
Oh. My. God.
I wasn’t used to locking bathroom doors and must have forgotten. This was embarrassing. It was past the point I could say anything since they were already unzipping. I touched the towel to my hair so the water droplets wouldn’t tap against the tub.
I covered my eyes until he finished, and when the toilet flushed, I blew out a quiet breath of relief. Then I heard the sound of pants dropping on the floor and someone getting naked.
Very naked.
The kind of naked you get before taking a shower.
Eek!
My eyes went wide, and the little hand towel would only cover one private area of my body, so I chose the southern hemisphere. Before he could tear open the curtain, I grabbed the end and blurted out, “Occupied!”
Silence followed for what seemed like eons.
“Occupied? What the fuck?”
The curtain tugged, and I gripped tighter. “Don’t you dare come in here!”
“Who the hell is in there?”
When the curtain moved to the left, I screamed. It was a shrill scream—the kind heard in horror movies. While I had no problem with nudity, I had a real problem being naked with a stranger in a confined space.
The door kicked in and someone entered the room.
“What’s going on?” another man said in a deep voice. I got butterflies in my stomach and knew it was the Packmaster.
“Don’t look at me. I sing tenor, not soprano. I thought the last person finished up in here. Who the fuck is that?”
I peered around the edge of the curtain, my wet hair dripping as the cold began to make me shiver. To the right stood a fierce man with dark tattoos inked on his shoulders and upper arms. Like me, he didn’t have a shirt on, and a medallion glimmered against his chest. He had dark hair and the bluest eyes I’d ever seen.
As soon as he saw me, his eyes narrowed at the man to my left, who wore nothing but a pair of silk boxers. “Did you touch her?”
The guy in boxers looked just like Wheeler—the Shifter with the tattoos April had introduced me to last night. They shared the same eyes, mouth, face, and dirty-brown hair. The striking difference was that he had no facial hair or tattoos. He seemed a little softer than what I imagined Wheeler must look like beneath his clothes, but they were unmistakably twins.
“Ben, get out,” the Packmaster ordered.
“What’s going on in here, Aus?” another voice said. I cringed when Denver moved into sight. His eyes widened when he saw me peering out from the corner of the shower. “What the hell is she doing here?”
Hell’s bells, this was Jericho’s pack!
I looked at his threadbare T-shirt with Popeye on the front. “Nice shirt.”
He ignored me and tipped his head at the Packmaster. “Do you know who that is, Austin?”
“Our guest.”
“That is Izzy Monroe. Ring a bell?”
Austin’s jaw set, and another person squeezed into the room.
“Is this a party?” Jericho blanched when he saw me.
“I really don’t want to be rude, because I appreciate that you let me stay the night and use your shower, but could you all leave the room? I’m naked.”
“I’m Austin,” the Packmaster said, stumbling over his words and looking at Jericho. “That’s Izzy? Your Izzy?”
“I’m nobody’s Izzy. I’m naked,” I reminded him. “Could you all leave before I completely lose my mind and start screaming? No offense or anything, I’m just naked in a room full of strangers!”