29. April

TWENTY-NINE

APRIL

With the baseball camp over, my mornings were suddenly my own again. It took me a solid week to get used to not waking up so early. It also meant Steff and I were free to hang out with each other. I stretched out in bed that morning, enjoying the fact that I'd gotten over nine hours of sleep. It was amazing. I swept my legs out of bed and padded to the bathroom to pee.

My stomach rumbled. I was starving. It would be nice to take Steff out for breakfast, I thought. When I got back in the bedroom, I was surprised to see he was still asleep. Usually, when I got out of bed, he was either already awake, or my movement woke him up. Steff was a pretty light sleeper, especially the last few weeks. He'd been edgy and on alert, and usually was up before the sun rose.

Peeling back the covers and sliding in next to him, I wrapped my arms around him, peppering his face with kisses. He stirred and groaned, finally waking up. Sliding my hand down his side and across his stomach, I decided I wanted to see if he was ready for a quickie before we went for breakfast.

As my hand brushed his crotch, he exploded in movement. In one swift motion, he spun around, straddled me, and grabbed both my wrists, pinning my arms above my head. I let out a squeal of delight. This was going to be a fun morning. Then I looked at his face, and the smile died on my lips.

His eyes were blazing with intensity, and they weren't human eyes. The bear was there, front and center. He was looking at me like I was something to devour, and not in a good way. His teeth were bared, and I could almost swear I saw the canines starting to lengthen. A pit of fear opened in my stomach.

"Steff?"

My voice was small and afraid, and it seemed to take him a moment to realize I'd spoken. He blinked and shook his head. The primal look that had been in his eyes faded, and he suddenly looked like himself again. He stared at me in confusion, almost like he didn't recognize me. Then, as though a flip had been switched in his mind, his face went deathly pale. Fear, or more appropriately, terror washed over his features. He jerked his hands away from my wrists, pulling his hands back so fast it looked like he'd been burned. He climbed off me and started pacing the room.

I rubbed my wrists as I sat up to watch him. He ran his hands through his hair viciously, like he wanted to tear it out by the root. He kept murmuring to himself, but I couldn't hear what he was saying. This wasn't like him, and frankly, it scared me.

"Steff, what's going on?" He didn't answer, didn't even seem to register that I'd spoken. "Steff, you're scaring me. What?—"

"Shut up! Give me a fucking minute, okay? Jesus."

I gaped at him. He'd never spoken to me like that. I'd never heard him talk to anyone like that. The moment the words were out of his mouth, he clamped his jaws shut and growled, then slapped his palm against the wall.

Shaking his head, he said, "April, I didn't mean that. I'm sorry."

It was nice to hear him apologize, but it didn't take away what he'd said. I gritted my teeth together, trying to keep my voice calm. "I don't know what the issue is, but if you ever talk to me like that again, I'll have your balls in a jar on the counter. Do you understand that, Steffen?"

He hung his head and looked completely miserable. "I'm sorry. I'm so overwhelmed, and I shouldn't be taking that out on you. You deserve better than that." With his shoulders slumped, he walked toward the bedroom door. "I'll give you some space."

I didn't try to stop him. He left, and I remained sitting there, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened. He'd never acted that way before. Ever. The whole thing with the hunters was intensely stressful, yes, but that had seemed like something else. Some other issue was eating at him, making him snap. I wanted to know what the hell was going on, but I didn't want to push and make things even worse. When he had calmed down and was in a better mood, I'd try to get him to talk to me.

After I was dressed and ready for the day, I headed downstairs to find Steff. He wasn't inside. I was on the verge of panicking when I saw him outside with Bently. Sighing with relief, I watched him. It was disconcerting to see him just sitting in the yard, staring off into space as the dog rested its head on his lap. He seemed to be lost in his own head. I really wanted all this shit to be over so we could relax again.

Deciding to give him space for a little while longer, I started making breakfast. This was not how I'd imagined the morning going. Going out didn't seem appealing now, and it didn't look like either of us was going to be great company. While I made him a breakfast sandwich, I let my mind wander. I probably looked the same way Steff did—a thousand-yard stare, zoned out and oblivious to the world.

The bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich smelled delicious, but I had no appetite anymore. Setting his plate on the table, I went to the back door to call him for breakfast. But only Bently was in the yard. The dog was sniffing the ground where Steff had sat. After walking out to see what the dog was sniffing, I found several massive bear paw prints leading off into the forest.

It annoyed me a little that he'd go on a run without telling me. I sighed. Over the last couple of weeks, Steff had done everything possible to be near me and make sure I wasn't alone. Now he'd vanished into the forest without even saying a word.

Taking Bently by the collar, I led him back inside, then closed and locked the doors and set the alarm. The dog immediately climbed onto the couch and lay down for a nap. Wishing I could do the same, I tried to busy myself with cleaning the kitchen. After almost twenty minutes without Steff returning, I thought over the way he'd acted this morning in bed. It was completely out of character for him, and I needed to talk to someone who would know what was up with him.

Harley answered on the third ring. "Hey, April. What's up?"

"I need some advice. I didn't know who else to call."

"Sounds like man trouble. What did he do?"

I grinned despite myself. "Steff's been acting really weird. Not at all like his usual self. Is Tate there? Maybe he has some insight."

"Yeah, hang on." She called for Tate, and a few seconds later he took the phone.

"This is Tate. What's the problem, April?" He sounded worried. Which, in turn, made me even more worried.

"Like I said to April. It's Steff. He's not himself."

Tate was silent for several seconds before he spoke again. "In what way? Short-tempered? Angry outbursts? Pissy mood?"

"Uh… well, yeah. That's exactly it. Do you know what's going on? Is this part of being a shifter?"

Tate sighed. "Has Steff had a conversation with you yet?"

"What kind? About the curse, you mean?"

"Crap. I told him he needed to get this out in the open. It's gonna eat him alive if he doesn't. I'll handle it, April. I'll be there soon."

He ended the call before I could answer. Tate had seemed irritated, but not at me. So, clearly, the way Steff had acted had something to do with the curse. That was another thing I wanted to be behind us. I wanted to be with Steff forever, but deciding to completely change who and what I was had a very disturbing effect on me. It was a huge decision. Bigger than marriage, bigger than having kids, bigger than anything. I wanted him to claim me, but I was still working up my courage to ask him. Could that be the problem? Was he angry that I hadn't asked him to bite me yet? That seemed petty and below Steff. Surely it had to be something else.

I put the sandwich plate on the floor and Bently scrambled off the couch to gulp down the food. Grinning at him, I said, "At least someone gets to enjoy my cooking today."

Once I finished the dishes, I decided to go take a shower because I didn't know what else to do while I waited for Tate and Steff to get here. Halfway up the stairs, the doorbell rang. There was no way Tate could have gotten here that fast, and Steff wouldn't have rung the doorbell. He had a key.

A glance at my watch told me it was too early for the mail. My heart started hammering in my chest. Frozen on the stairs, I looked at the front door. It took on a sudden and unexplainable malevolence. Like it was a portal to hell. Steeling myself, I forced myself to move toward the door. Even as I moved, I realized this was usually the moment in a horror movie that I'd be screaming at the main character not to go near the door. Yet, here I was, doing exactly that.

Once I was by the door, I pulled up the camera feed on the control panel on the wall. The security system Steff's team installed had several cameras at the front and back of the house. At that moment, the camera showed no one at the front door. My anxiety eased a little. Rewinding the feed by five minutes, the actual perpetrator showed up on the screen, and I let out a sigh of relief.

The video showed a guy in a brown delivery uniform walking up onto my deck. He had a matching brown hat pulled onto his head, and he was looking down at a clipboard, so I couldn't see his face. He put a box on the doorstep, rang the bell, and walked away. Rolling my eyes at my paranoia, I chuckled to myself. Christ, I was looking for monsters under every rock and around every corner. I'd been seconds away from calling the police. For what? To tell them a delivery guy was dropping off the sandals I'd ordered two days ago?

With the disarm code punched in, I unlocked the door and glanced outside. Definitely in the clear, not a person around. The box was on the doormat. I picked it up and closed the door behind me. It probably was the sandals I'd ordered. I couldn't think of anything else I was expecting. Setting the box on the kitchen island, I started cutting through the packing tape with a knife.

Something rattled in the box. That was weird. It almost sounded like there were rocks inside. Maybe Steff had ordered something? I moved the flaps of the box aside and froze. There was an envelope inside the package, and another smaller box. That was weird. Definitely not sandals. The box wasn't big enough. The envelope had my name written on it in blue ink. My fingers shook as I tore open the envelope.

The paper inside had a single line of text written in the same script:

Snitches get stitches. You're welcome, April. Enjoy the peace and quiet.

My heart hammered in my chest, and I stared at the smaller box in terror. The seconds ticked by like hours, my hands unable to open the box. Finally, finding some reservoir of courage I didn't know I had, I wrapped my fingers around the smaller box. That rattling sounded again. Wanting it over, wanting to go ahead and rip the Band-Aid off, I slid the box lid off and clapped a hand over my mouth to stifle my scream. There was a polaroid picture of Luca, his face covered in bruises, cuts, and contusions. His eyes were rolled in the back of his head and blood trickled out of his mouth.

Air exploded out of my lungs so fast and I gulped to get some of my breath back. With trembling fingers, I lifted the picture… and screamed. I screamed in a way I didn't know was possible. It was deep and guttural. My lungs threatened to collapse, to explode—I wasn't sure which. Beneath the photo was a severed tongue and at least a dozen teeth. Each tooth was ivory white and spattered with blood.

I stumbled away from the box, my knees buckling. I collapsed to the floor, my screams so loud they hurt my own ears, but I couldn't stop. I didn't even hear the door smash in. Steff sprinted into the room with Tate close behind him.

"What's wrong?" Steff yelled. "What happened?"

All I could do was point at the box. Steff knelt beside me, cradling me in his arms as Tate walked toward the island. My screams finally subsided, with the comfort of Steff's arms around me. It was quiet in the house when we heard Tate hiss a disgusted breath.

"Holy fucking Christ," he murmured, turning away from the box. He glanced at Steff. "Get her upstairs. I'll call the cops."

"What the hell is it, Tate?" Steff asked.

Tate waved at the stairs. "Bro, get her upstairs, okay?"

Not questioning him again, Steff scooped me into his arms and carried me up the stairs. Laying me in bed, he pulled my shoes off and crawled in next to me, holding me close. I was shivering and could feel my mind trying to separate itself from my body. Was this what it was like to go crazy? Could I be on the verge of a full mental breakdown?

"I'm gonna throw up," I wheezed as I leaped from the bed and ran toward the bathroom.

Steff was behind me in a flash and held my hair back as I dry heaved into the toilet. I hadn't had any breakfast, so the only thing that came up was some of the coffee I'd had. Still, I couldn't stop gagging. I kept seeing Luca's severed tongue and ripped-out teeth. Each time I pictured it, another spasm hit my stomach. Steff kept rubbing my back, murmuring something, but I couldn't hear what he was saying. Honestly, I didn't care.

Finally I was done, and I wiped my mouth with toilet paper before lowering myself to the floor and leaning against the wall. I felt feverish, my body aching and exhausted. Tears were still leaking from my eyes, but I had myself mostly under control again.

Steff stood in the doorway, talking to Tate. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but Steff's face went pale in shock, then red with rage. Tate patted his shoulder and went back downstairs. I could hear sirens in the distance. Steff was kneeling beside me, his face a mask of agony and regret.

"I'm sorry, April. I shouldn't have left you. I'm so sorry."

I rested my head against the wall, too tired to even look him in the eye. "Steff, I don't need your apologies right now. I only want all this to be over."