Shift Happens(17)

Wick growled.

“Aren’t you afraid I’ll smother you with a pillow?”

“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.





Chapter Eight


“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.”