31. Eva

Since Silas walked in on me with Cole on the sofa, I'd mostly avoided the guys. I still blushed every time I thought about what I'd let Cole do to me. The worst part was, I enjoyed it. More than enjoyed it, in fact, and would very much like to do it again.

Except…I couldn't.

It didn't matter how much my body wanted Cole - or any of them - I was certain it only happened because he felt sorry for me. Of course he did. I'd spent enough time with him to understand his instinct was to take care of people. He had a caring, empathetic nature, and when he saw my scars, he probably felt like it was his job to make me feel better.

Really, it was less about me being a sexy siren and more about him trying to boost my self-esteem via sex.

Pity sex wasn't what I needed right now. I just wanted my freedom, away from abusive assholes. Being here was freedom in the sense that nobody tried to control me and I was free to do what I wanted within the parameters of the cabin and immediate forest, but I knew I couldn't stay here forever.

This wasn't my world.

I wasn't a shifter.

I was just a pathetic little human who had nothing to offer powerful beings like them.

The sun appeared from behind a fluffy white cloud and distracted me from my morose thoughts. For the first time in days, it had stopped snowing. Huge drifts of snow covered the sides of the cabin, but Silas had cleared the deck and made a pathway to the small barn where they stored tools, an ATV, and the logs.

After being cooped up indoors for days, I had serious cabin fever. The snow hadn't stopped the guys from disappearing for runs every day. Their wolves didn't care about the snow or the bitter cold, apparently.

Tanner had been conspicuously absent for a few days. When I asked, Cole told me he was busy fitting some new security cameras, which seemed odd. I'd not seen any new cameras around the cabin, so where he was installing them was a mystery. We were in the middle of a dense forest, for fuck's sake. It wasn't like the cabin was in danger of being burgled.

I chose not to consider what sort of risk Brent and his cop buddies represented. The chances of them finding me out here were low. Brent wasn't much of an outdoorsy person, so it was highly unlikely he was on the mountain tracking me.

If it had been him trailing me the night I crashed, with my body missing from the wreck, he probably assumed I'd been dragged away and eaten by some predator. There was no way he'd know about the shifters living in the forest. Nobody did.

Thinking about Brent was bad for my mood, which was already low, so I pushed him out of my head and concentrated on the glorious scene in front of me. The snow sparkled in the sunlight. High in the trees, birds chirruped and squirrels chased each other. All the forest creatures seemed happy the storm had passed, and I could hear low-key rustling among the leaf litter from small critters rooting around for food.

The air was crisp and cold, but the ferocious wind had died away. It was a beautiful day. So pretty it could have featured on a Christmas card. Which reminded me, today was the day before Christmas Eve.

I'd not realized until Cole told me this morning when he handed me a mug of hot chocolate. Not wishing to get into a conversation, I'd just nodded, thanked him for the drink, and disappeared back into my room.

It wasn't until a bit later that it occurred to me I should probably make an effort to come up with some kind of gift for them. Gift-giving was something normal people did at Christmas, right?

Not that I had much experience. Dad wasn't one for presents, even when I was smaller. We'd always been broke. My grandmother was the only person who'd made Christmas special.

When I was young, she'd ensure I had something to open on Christmas morning, but after she died, Christmas pretty much died with her.

The first Christmas with Brent, after my father died, he had made a bit of an effort. We ate a nice dinner, and he bought me a couple of dresses. But the minute he decided I owed him a debt, that changed. After that, Christmas was a day when he drank to excess and meted out punishments for whatever wrongs he deemed me guilty of. Needless to say, I had very few treasured memories to fall back on.

This year would be different. Sure, it was awkward, what with all the tension between me and the guys, but I was determined to make a small, token effort. What, exactly, I had no clue. But maybe inspiration would strike if I went for a walk.

My jacket wasn't thick, but layered over several sweaters and thick pants, it sufficed. I wore a knitted hat I'd found in the box of clothes we brought down from the attic. My hair hung in a long braid, tucked under a matching knitted scarf. The whole Frosty the Snowman vibe would not win me any style awards, but at least I was relatively warm.

Being outside lifted my mood as I tramped through the snow. Cole had warned me last week not to venture too far from the cabin, but I wasn't worried. The last time I'd been out there, I'd spotted a blueberry patch, and I planned to harvest some if the birds and squirrels hadn't already beaten me to it.

Since I had limited options for making a gift, thanks to no shops or cash, I needed to think outside-the-box. The only and best option I could come up with was to make some blueberry cookies. It was pretty dumb, given Cole's baking skills were vastly superior to my own, but I figured that some home-made cookies were at least a token gesture.

And if they hated them, well, the birds would most likely appreciate my efforts when I tossed the leftovers out into the snow.