25. Electrocuted

25

Electrocuted

Y ou never truly know how restless your mind can be until you're locked inside a room without entertainment for a few hours. What kind of psychopath doesn't have a TV in their bedroom? I shouldn't be too surprised since Cameron is a werewolf and a kidnapper.

I've already gone through all of his drawers and discovered he organizes his underwear by colors—again, psycho. I went through his closet and found an assortment of tennis outfits. The fact that he plays shocks me more than if I had found a string of human teeth. I can't imagine Cameron swinging a racket on a court in those tiny shorts. Okay, maybe I can imagine it—as much as I try to push the thought away once it swims down to my core. Tennis just seems too normal. He should be pillaging villages and practicing witchcraft—not coaching soccer and working on his backstroke with a bunch of retired women.

It only takes about two hours to snoop through all of Cameron's belongings, and it doesn't bring me any closer to escaping his room. My mind races, wondering how worried Granny probably is.

Jack would know that I'd been captured by a werewolf by now. My car is still parked in the driveway, and I have mysteriously disappeared. It's his job to handle shit like this, after all. So why is it taking him so long to rescue me? Maybe the other werewolves are pretending they still have me captured and are using me as a bargaining chip for more power? Or maybe they told him I escaped, and he's searching for me through the endless woods. Whatever the case, I hope he figures it out quickly because I'm so bored I'm about to smother myself with one of Cameron's pillows.

A knock sounds on the door.

"I hope you're here to kill me now."

Cameron cracks the door open, but I don't lift my head from lying flat on his mattress. "I was here to see if you wanted to take a walk, but I am feeling rather peckish, so maybe roasting you over a fire is a better idea."

I strain my neck to look at him, amusement dancing in his amber eyes. The sarcasm oddly puts me more at peace, even if he joked about eating me. It couldn't have been more than five hours since I saw him last, but he looks completely different. He has a full beard, and hair covers his ears, running down his neck. He's wearing a long-sleeved shirt and tucks his hands under his armpits, but I catch his long fingernails before he does. God damn him to look so hot even while he's obviously transforming into his monster self.

I sit up, crossing my arms over my chest and my tattered T-shirt I'm still wearing from— I don't even know how many days ago. "I don't know if you've seen yourself lately, but if you're trying to make a joke, now isn't the best time."

The light dims from his face, and he walks into the bedroom. "It's the Blood Moon coming up. It makes even the strongest of us turn without control."

This statement piques my interest. I know little to nothing about werewolves, even though their kind makes up a part of my DNA. I began this whole journey to find answers. First, it was about the attacks, and then it became more about my family history. I still don't trust Cameron as far as I can throw him, but maybe I should utilize my time in captivity to discover more. "Fine. Where are we walking?" I ask as I stand from the bed .

"Just around the property. It's not good for us to be cooped up here all day. But don't get any ideas about running away."

I straighten my smelly T-shirt. "Don't you know anything about reverse psychology? It's like you're practically begging me to run away." I walk into his closet, grab a cashmere sweater, and pull it over my head. I catch his glance—laced with something like disgust, or arousal—I can't make it out. He turns his head as if the sight of me in his clothes makes him want to vomit. Or jack-off. Again, I have no way of reading him clearly. I try to ignore him—even if I can't ignore his smell as it slips around me, peppering my skin with goosebumps. "I guess it would make sense since you're all wolfy right now. You probably want me to run away so I become a more exciting meal."

He sighs and turns away from the door to the living room as I walk toward him. "Although I love hearing your offensive assumptions about werewolves eating humans, it's getting a bit old. I'm tempted to prove you right just to shut you up."

"So werewolves don't eat humans?" I catch up with him as he walks out the front door, straining to read his face. The cool midday air wraps around me, making me feel less claustrophobic. As much as I hate to admit it, Cameron was right about it being a good idea to get out of the house. Maybe that's what he wants, though—me to feel more comfortable so I don't try to run away again. If that's the case, he's a bigger idiot than I imagined because it will take a lot more for me to develop Stockholm Syndrome than a brisk walk through the woods, regardless of how handsome he is.

"No, we don't." He pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, lighting one and bringing it to his lips.

"Ugh," I cry in disgust. "Do you really have to smoke right in my face? You know those things will kill you."

He squints at me with a smile. "Since when do you care about my health?"

"I don't. I just…" I stutter, trying to find my rebuttal.

"Save it. I don't usually smoke. It's just with the Blood Moon coming, it puts me on edge. Mix that with being around you."

"Oh, please." I hit his shoulder, electricity zipping through me the moment we touch. That's so fucking annoying, but maybe it's a reminder that I should avoid touching him at all costs.

I shake my head, ready to get this conversation back on track. "You said there were bad eggs in the bunch. Do the bad eggs eat humans?" Maybe these are the ones that killed my parents.

"Have you heard of Jeffrey Dahmer?" he asks, not turning toward me .

"Was he a werewolf?" Oh my God, I never thought that people I've thought were people could very well be a werewolf or a paranormal monster. The edges of my reality shake with questions.

"Nope. He's a human that eats humans. That's about how common it is for werewolves to eat humans."

"Oh." I'm kind of disappointed. I think I'd rather have all serial killers be monsters instead of fucked up humans, even if I am a fourth werewolf. Maybe it would make the universe seem less harsh. "Well, what do werewolves eat then?"

He finally looks at me, scrunching his brow in disgust. "We eat the same things you do."

"Okay, geez. How the heck am I supposed to know that?"

"Your father was Charles Hoodson, right? You're part werewolf. Have you ever had any cravings for human flesh or wild boar?"

"Just because my father was supposedly a werewolf doesn't mean I am. I mean, I know for sure I'm not. I'm just a regular human."

He glances at me curiously as if to say something but then shakes his head and continues to look straight ahead.

I peel myself away from the shade of our conversation to notice our path. Damn it. I should have been paying more attention to the surroundings of Cameron's cabin so I can escape later whenever I find a way to get out of his room. I've been in and around his house before—when I wasn't a prisoner, but I wasn't too focused on mapping out an escape route then. We're already deep within the woods, walking along a worn path. A creek bubbles in the distance, and birds chirp overhead, but I hear no signs of cars or civilization.

A thought blares through my consciousness, snapping me out of my survival mode. "Did you know my father?"

"Yeah," he says, not slowing his pace.

If he knew my father, he must have known about me. "Why didn't you tell me you knew who I was when I first met you?"

"I didn't know who you were until Jack arrived at my house. Then everything clicked into place, and at that point, I figured you were already brainwashed."

"I'm not brainwashed," I say with an edge.

"Whatever you say."

I take a deep breath. Cameron knew my father, the real version of my father. I need to know more. "What was my dad like?" I say, softening my tone.

"I was just a kid, but he's actually the person that inspired me to become the Human Liaison."

"Human Liaison?"

"Yeah, that's my position in the pack. That's why I'm the park ranger and participate in community activities. Only a few government officials know I'm a werewolf, but I need to ensure I integrate into society to keep the peace."

So Cameron is the person that Jack was mentioning couldn't be touched. Why the fuck didn't he tell me the powerful werewolf was Cameron? "And that's what my father did?" I don't even realize how close I'm walking with him now. It's like I'm inching as near as I can, as if I need his memories of my parents to seep inside of me.

"Yeah, that's how he met his mate, your mom. You really don't know anything about your family history, do you?"

I want to tell him that he's an asshole and that, of course, I don't know anything because his people murdered them before I ever got the chance to know them, but I'm too distracted. "They were mates?"

His cheeks blush, which is odd because in the short time I've known Cameron, he hasn't been one to show much emotion besides asshole-ness. "Yes, werewolves have mates. Well, not all, just the lucky ones. It's a pre-destined partner, and there's only one in a Were's lifetime. A Mate is your perfect match. It's something no one can control."

I don't mention that Jack already explained mates to me. I figure bringing him up won't keep this conversation moving. I don't know if I like the idea that my parents only got together because they were mates, but it explains why my mom would end up with a werewolf. Maybe I should think it's romantic that they were destined for each other, but I'd like to believe in love where there's a little more choice in the matter.

"And my father, the half-werewolf, half-human, found a mate with a human hunter?"

Cameron chuckles. "Yeah. Even though I was a little kid, I remember it being quite a big deal in the pack. I thought it was cool, though. It was like a real-life Romeo and Juliet situation."

"You know about Romeo and Juliet?"

He stops and glares at me. "I didn't grow up under a rock. I went to public school for fucks-sake!"

"Okay, okay, geez. Sorry, I don't know everything about werewolves."

"It's just that you know nothing."

My cheeks heat. "Well, forgive me for having my parents murdered by werewolves when I was five years old. How the hell do you expect me to learn anything?"

He stops walking, his eyes softening as he studies me. "That's really what you think happened?"

I stop next to him. "Well, I used to think they died from a regular murder, but yeah, apparently, the reality is monsters murdered them."

He grabs my arm, electricity shoots through me, and I try to pull away. He doesn't let go. "Red, that isn't true. Werewolves didn't kill your parents. You need… "

"How can I trust you?" I yell, finally regaining ownership of my arm. "You were just a kid when they died. How could you know for sure? Besides, you have me trapped in your house as a prisoner. Why on earth would I believe anything you say?" I turn, picking up my feet to charge away from him. Trying to escape now is useless, but I must move my body. I need to create distance between us so I don't implode.

I only make it a whopping three steps away before Cameron pulls me against him. I'm pissed now, and I kick at his ankles and claw at his arms.

"Fuck," he mutters as he lifts me off the ground.

I continue my attack until Cameron trips, falling and bringing me with him. I squirm under his large body as he lifts himself up on his forearms. "Let me go!" I yell, now facing him.

He looks down at me, his expression completely calm as he shakes his head. I continue hitting his chest until he grabs my wrists in one swoop and brings them over my head. "Another step, and you would have been dead!"

"Just kill me already if you're going to keep threatening me."

His grip tightens, and a surge of energy flows through me. I push against his grasp, enough to break my hands free. His expression morphs into shock, and I can't tell if he's fucking with me or if I really just overpowered a werewolf on the brink of transforming.

"You were about to step on a rattlesnake," he yells before I have a chance to push him off me.

"What?" I ask, straining my neck to look behind my head. Sure enough, only a few paces away from where we lay, a brown snake coils in the center of the path, his tail rattling and his head perched, ready to strike.

"Oh," I say meekly, finally returning my eyes to him.

He sighs and shakes his head but doesn't move. My body relaxes, and I rest my hands against his biceps, not realizing it until my skin meets his. I gasp, feeling that same energy I felt moments before. This time, though, it's not clouded by adrenaline. It's as if I've been electrocuted but can't pull away from the source. My mind rushes with impossible thoughts. I could move mountains. I could defeat armies, but I don't want to move a muscle. All I want to do is revel in this feeling, to increase it—bring the sensation to every inch of my body.

Cameron's eyes lock on mine, and I can read everything behind them. He feels whatever I'm feeling, too. Fire dances behind his amber eyes, and it's like they're pulling me in—calling me to be consumed by the flames. I head to his siren song. My body slackens, but my grip grows tighter, pulling him into me .

He lowers his face, his lips just millimeters above mine. His hot breath fans my skin. His scent cocoons me, and it brings me near tears. I can't pull away. I might die if I do.

A bang bellows behind me, and it's as if a cold bucket of water drops on my head. I'm snapped out of whatever weird werewolf magic trick Cameron tried to pull on me. I push him away, startling him and making it possible to escape his embrace and stand to my feet. I search in the distance, looking for the source of the sound.

"It was just a branch," Cameron says cooly, getting to his feet and dusting himself off.

"How do you know?" I ask, holding my arms over my chest and unable to stop fidgeting.

"I know every sound in these woods. Especially now, with my senses heightened." He points to his ears, larger and furrier than before we started this walk.

"Oh."

An awkward moment of silence passes between us. I stare at the ground, just praying that a bear charges through the woods and swallows me whole.

Cameron clears his throat. "Well, we should probably head back. It's about to get dark."

I nod and begin walking in the direction we came.

After we walk for a few minutes in silence, I clear my throat to speak. "Thank you for saving me. "

"Of course," he says, his eyes meeting mine—as intense as they were when he loomed over me on the forest floor.

I break his gaze and stare ahead. "I guess it's better for you this way."

"How so?"

"I won't be a great meal riddled with snake poisoning."

He clicks his tongue in annoyance. "Oh, my God, shut the fuck up." He runs his hand down his face.

"No. I'm still a prisoner. If I'm too annoying, just let me go."

"God, why didn't I let that snake bite you," he says up to the clouds.

I walk ahead, not wanting to be near him for another second. "From what I've seen, everything you do is stupid, so it doesn't surprise me." Maybe I'm the idiot, though, for thinking this time as a prisoner could be useful and I could learn more about my family's history. There's no silver lining to my captivity. My focus needs to remain on escaping.