Chapter 36

36

S leeping on an actual mattress last night was a game changer. Definitely the best rest I've had in weeks, even if it was interrupted by Avery sneaking into bed with me at three in the morning. Can't complain about how that turned out. She wound up creeping out of my room around six, and I caught another hour or two of sleep before dragging myself out of bed and into the shower. I worked up a sweat in the middle of the night, after all, and I'd be remiss not to take advantage of the private bathroom while I've got it. Who knows how long it'll last.

After toweling off, I find that the dresser is stocked with a variety of clothes in different sizes, landing on a plain white t-shirt and a pair of navy athletic shorts to outfit myself for the day. One of the perks of being around a bunch of shifters is that there always seems to be an abundance of clothing stashed nearby… which I suppose makes sense, since the act of shifting tends to destroy whatever you're wearing if you don't strip down first. It only took one shift for me to learn that lesson.

Once I'm dressed, I sit on the edge of the bed staring at the door for a good ten minutes, wondering if there's some sort of protocol I'm supposed to follow here. Avery stressed the importance of me staying shut up in this room last night, but she didn't say anything about today. This isn't a cell. The door isn't locked. So am I supposed to stay put, or can I come and go as I please?

Fuck it. I'm not just going to default to being a prisoner if I don't have to. Unless someone wants to try and stop me, I'm taking advantage of my freedom.

Pushing up from the bed, I stride toward the door, opening it and stepping out into the hall. I follow the sounds of clinking dishes and the smell of food all the way to the kitchen, poking my head in the doorway to find Sloane at the counter making breakfast. She's dressed in leggings and a loose cotton tee that's hanging off one shoulder, her curly hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun. Clamping the waffle iron in front of her shut, she turns to glance back at me over her shoulder as she presses a button on the handle, a friendly smile lighting up her face.

"Good morning!" she sing-songs, waving me inside to join her. "Hope you're hungry."

"Starved," I chuckle, approaching the large kitchen island and sliding onto the nearest stool. I think the last thing I ate was that protein bar before Sloane came into my cell yesterday. Unsurprisingly, nobody was really thinking about food in the aftermath of The Guild's attack.

Sloane scoops up a white ceramic mug with ‘Duchess' stamped on the side in big black lettering, strolling over to the nearby coffee maker. "Coffee?" she asks as she lifts the pot from the burner, tipping the steaming liquid into her cup.

I give a little shake of my head, mumbling, "I'm good."

She arches a brow as she replaces the pot on the burner. "Not a coffee drinker?"

"Not really. Or at least, not unless I need the caffeine. Or a shot of whiskey."

She darts me a smirk. "We've got whiskey. "

"Nah, it's not that kinda morning."

I watch as she pivots to carry her coffee over to the fridge, sliding the mug onto the counter beside it and pulling open the door. She grabs a container of caramel flavored coffee creamer from inside, pops the cap, and pours a ridiculous amount into her cup before returning it to the fridge and nudging the door closed with a hip. Then she picks up her mug and spins around, approaching the opposite side of the kitchen island and leaning forward against it, resting her forearms on the surface.

"I didn't get a chance to say thank you," she says, her cup clinking against the quartz counter as she sets it down. "Ya know, for saving my life and all."

I shrug a shoulder, averting my gaze. "It wasn't a big deal."

"Excuse me, it was totally a big deal," she scoffs, her hard stare burning into the side of my face until I finally turn my head to meet it. She's such a pipsqueak that even while she's standing and I'm seated, we're still not quite at eye level. "You didn't have to turn around and come back for me, but you did," she points out. "I definitely owe ya one."

"Guess it was the least I could do after you let me out, huh?" I reply, chuckling uncomfortably.

"Yeah, about that…" she trails off with a sigh, lacing her fingers together and bringing them up to rest underneath her chin. "Are we gonna talk about you being an intuitive or what?"

I furrow my brow, but then the waffle iron beeps and Sloane holds up a finger as if to tell me to hold that thought, pushing off from the kitchen island and spinning around to tend to it. I watch as she lifts the clamp and uses a fork to pull the fluffy waffle off, moving it to the top of a stack plated up on the counter.

"Damn, what's in those?" I ask, my mouth watering as the sweet scent wafts toward me. "They smell amazing."

"Bananas and walnuts," she quips, pouring more batter into the waiting iron. It sizzles as it spreads into the grooves, smelling fucking heavenly, and she closes it and presses the button before spinning back around to face me. "They're Madd's favorite," she adds with a wink as she crosses back over to the island, reaching for her coffee. "Figured it'd be a good idea to start his day on a positive note after all the craziness yesterday."

I snort a laugh, jerking a nod in agreement. Now that I've met both Sloane and Madd, their whole dynamic is fucking mind-boggling to me. I have no idea what a sweet, perky little thing like her sees in a surly asshole like him , but there's no denying how much they care for one another. And I can't help but be a little jealous that even as prickly as he is, he's got someone who cares about him enough to wake up early and prepare his favorite breakfast. Nobody's ever cared that much about me .

"So, intuition," Sloane says, taking a sip of coffee before setting her mug back down on the counter. "It's like having gut feelings about things, but on steroids. You can sense things other people can't. Like danger, for example."

I stare back at her blankly, still not fully grasping her explanation. "So, is that part of the whole shifter thing?" I ask.

She suppresses a giggle, shaking her head. "No, not usually. All shifters have enhanced senses, rapid healing, increased strength…" she trails off with a flippant wave of her hand. "You know the basics. But there are also some rare traits that only a few shifters have, and those are usually passed down through families. Intuition is one of the rarest."

"Okay," I reply slowly. "I don't think that's what's going on here, though. I mean, a lot of people have gut feelings."

"Sure, but it's different when those feelings are more like a premonition," she says, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the counter again. She tilts her head, peering at me thoughtfully. "When we were down in the cell yesterday, what'd you feel, exactly? "

"Like someone took an egg beater to my intestines," I mutter, flickering my gaze away.

"See!" she declares, slapping a palm against the counter so loudly that I flinch. "I felt the same way! My mom knew she was an intuitive from the time she was a kid, but I only got my gifts recently, so I feel like I can recognize the difference. It's so much more intense than just a hunch about something."

I swipe a hand over my chin, brow furrowing in contemplation. Sure, as if being a werewolf doesn't make me enough of a freak, let's just add one more thing to the mix.

"Have you always had those types of feelings?" Sloane asks, softening her voice as if she's sensed my discomfort and is trying to rein in her enthusiasm.

"Not often," I grumble, darting her a glance. "Are you trying to tell me I'm psychic?"

She winces, chewing on her lower lip. "Well, in a sense. I mean, everyone's gifts are different, and some are more developed than others. Some people with the gift are just varying levels of intuitive. My mom's gifts are really developed, she's a seer. She can call a vision forward when she wants to, but she only sees what fate wants her to. So, for example, when Avery was captured, she tried to use her gifts to help us find her, but she couldn't get any visions to come. Fate must not have wanted her to intervene."

I nod slowly as I process her words.

"And as for me, I have some visions, but mine are different," she continues, waving a hand. "My mom can call visions forward by touch, but mine come to me in dreams. And they're kind of all over the place right now, I'm still trying to get a handle on how to control them. Sometimes I have no idea what they mean, like with you. I kept seeing you in my dreams at night, but I had no idea who you were or why I was seeing you. But like I told Aves, now that I know you're her mate, it makes sense."

"What were the dreams about?" I ask, internally cringing at the thought that she might've seen me being a total dick to her friend.

The corner of her lips lift in a coy smile. "Well, I'm not really supposed to say. My mom says sharing visions can mess with fate, so you have to be careful what you actually disclose. But…" she leans forward, dropping her voice to a whisper. "I saw you fighting with us against the hunters."

My brows shoot up, jaw going slack.

"That's why I let you out yesterday," she admits, waggling her brows mischievously as she lifts her coffee mug and takes a sip. The smell wafting from it is sickeningly sweet; I'm pretty sure it's more creamer than coffee. She licks her lips before lowering it to the counter again, grinning at me. "Let's just say I knew we could trust you because fate gave me some insider information."

"Can you tell me how this ends, then?" I grumble.

The beep of the waffle maker interrupts us again and she pushes off from the island, crossing back over to the opposite counter. "Wish I could," she sighs as she unclamps the iron and pulls the fresh waffle off with a fork. "Unfortunately, I can't pick and choose what I see. I just get snippets." She gets to work pouring in more batter and setting the iron. "I mean, yesterday could've been a fluke, but I think you're a little bit of an intuitive," she says absently, turning to face me. "I'm not trying to freak you out or anything, I've just never met anyone like me. Well, other than my mom of, course. It's kinda exciting."

I open my mouth to respond, but snap it shut at the sound of footsteps pounding down the stairs. A wise choice, since Madd storms into the kitchen a couple seconds later wearing ripped jeans, a backwards hat, and an angry scowl. He stomps directly over to Sloane, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her body possessively.

"The only reason you're not in a cell right now is because I love my sister," he growls, glaring daggers at me over her head.

"Madd, stop being a dick," Avery calls as she bounds into the kitchen dressed in the shortest shorts known to man. Goddamn , those legs. "I'm the only one who gets to torture our prisoner," she remarks, shooting me a wink as she breezes past and goes straight for the coffee maker. It takes incredible restraint not to stare at her ass while she reaches into the cabinet above it to retrieve a couple of mugs, setting them on the counter to fill them up.

"Is that what you were doing last night?" Madd scoffs.

Avery whips around to gape at him, a blush rising to her cheeks, but she quickly covers it by raising her coffee mug to her lips and taking a sip, regaining her composure before lowering it again. "I don't know what you're talking about," she says dismissively, picking up the second coffee mug and carrying it over to him.

The waffle maker beeps, and Madd begrudgingly lets Sloane slip from his arms to go tend to breakfast, turning to accept the coffee from Avery. I can't help but notice that his cup matches Sloane's, but instead of white with black lettering, his is black with ‘Duke' imprinted in white. Didn't peg him as the cheesy, matching-coffee-mugs type, but I suppose love does strange things to people.

"Alright, let's eat!" Sloane calls out as she forks the last waffle from the iron onto the pile, turning it off and picking up the plate. She carries it over to the kitchen island, Madd grabbing a waffle off the top of the stack before she can even set them down and biting into it like a goddamn caveman.

"Fuck, babe, these are amazing," he mumbles as he chews, his eyes rolling back. "Thank you."

"Of course," she purrs, pressing up on her tiptoes to smack a kiss on his cheek.

Avery groans as she rounds the island with a stack of plates. "Ugh, get a room, you two," she mutters as she slides onto the stool beside me, passing me a plate before taking one for herself.

Sloane grabs whipped cream out of the fridge and forks for each of us, coming around to sit next to Avery at the island, but Madd remains standing on the opposite side, eating his waffle with his hands and glaring at me.

"Hey, any update on Mason?" Avery asks absently as she forks a waffle onto each of our plates.

"Norah's with him now," Sloane provides. "I caught her before she left this morning and she said he's doing a lot better. Figured we could stop by the infirmary to check on him after the meeting."

Madd grunts in affirmation, helping himself to another waffle. My presence isn't the only thing responsible for his foul mood- his Beta was seriously injured in the attack yesterday and had to spend the night under a doctor's care. Madd should be glad to hear that his condition is improving, but instead, the atmosphere only seems to grow more tense.

At least breakfast doesn't last long. The others rush through their food, eager to leave for their meeting, and just as Sloane is clearing the dishes and dropping them in the sink, I hear someone come in through the front door. Moments later, a leggy brunette walks through the doorway into the kitchen, cheerfully announcing her arrival.

She's young- no older than twenty, I'd guess- and she's tall and slender with smooth olive skin and piercing hazel eyes. Not really my type, since my tastes are very singular these days, but she's undeniably attractive.

"So you're the hunter, huh?" the girl asks, cocking her head to the side as she gives me a slow once-over. "You don't look that scary."

I shrug a shoulder. "I guess looks can be deceiving."

"Oh, I know," she muses, a devious smirk coming to her lips that looks a whole lot like my beastie's. Actually, now that I really look at her, that's not the only similarity between them. This girl has the same high cheekbones and pouty lips as Avery, and they've both got that distinctive sharp edge to their demeanor. I'm gonna go out on a limb here and guess that they're related somehow.

Avery eases off her barstool, gesturing to the newcomer. "Cam, this is my cousin, River," she supplies.

There it is.

"I get to babysit you today," River remarks, cocking out a hip and resting a hand upon it.

I arch a brow as I swing my gaze toward Avery. " Her? "

I've got at least five years and a hundred pounds on the girl, so if I had any designs on making a run for it, she'd be hard-pressed to stop me.

Avery snorts a laugh, clapping a hand on my shoulder. "Trust me, she's the deadliest thing in this room."

I furrow my brow as I turn back to the girl in question, finding her grinning from ear to ear. Goddamn, that grin is unnerving.

"Alright, we'll be back later," Avery clucks, wandering toward the kitchen doorway as Madd and Sloane make their exit ahead of her. "Try not to get into too much trouble while we're gone, eh?"

"No promises," River calls, blowing her a kiss.

Yup, there's that family resemblance again.

Avery rolls her eyes, turning to follow her brother and his mate. A few seconds later, I hear the front door close behind them, returning my attention to my new babysitter. "Deadliest thing in the room, huh?" I ask.

She waves me off with a quiet laugh. "Story for another day. So, how's it going with Avery? Have you two marked yet?"

I choke on air, raising a fist to my mouth and coughing.

"Eek, that bad, huh?" River winces, hissing in a breath through her teeth. She advances in my direction, casting me a pitying look. "Listen, Aves might seem like she's all claws, but she's got the biggest heart. I'm sure you two can figure it out. And Madd…" she pauses to glance over her shoulder toward the doorway he just left through, then swings her gaze back to me. "He'll come around."

I snort a laugh. "You sure about that?"

River nods, leaning a hip against the counter and casually folding her arms. "Yeah, he's just really protective of Aves. Always has been. She's the same way with him, too. I've never known any other siblings as close as those two are." She purses her lips, squinting in consideration. "Well, except my mom and aunt. Maybe it's a twin thing."

"Maybe," I grumble, carding my fingers through my hair. "Never had siblings, so I wouldn't know.

"Me neither," she replies, a frown pulling at her lips. It's gone an instant later, replaced by a spark of mischief in those hazel eyes. "So what do you wanna do today?"

I narrow my eyes on her suspiciously. "What are my options?"

"Wanna practice shifting?" she asks, waggling her brows.

My own shoot up in surprise. "Is that what they told you to do?"

River uncrosses her arms, pushing off from the counter and flipping her hair over a shoulder. "No, but I'm feeling generous," she says, winking. "So whaddya say?"

"Fuck it," I sigh, slapping my hands against the countertop and pushing up from my stool. "I'm in."