Chapter 6
JESS
I woke up naked and shivering in the woods outside my grandfather’s ranch.
At first, I didn’t even know where I was. I lay curled on the ground, my mind churning with images of bushes and stones, treetops and a brilliant sky ablaze with stars. A chase. Dizzying speed and predatory excitement. A lunge. Triumph. Hot blood erupting into my mouth and flowing down my throat.
As I pushed myself up to a sitting position, the images jumbled and became confused. It was dark all around me. My eyesight always took a while to adjust when I came back from sleep shifting. I recognized the gnarled oak tree where I had come to rest. I’d climbed it joyously in my childhood when I’d visited my grandparents. I leaned back against it now and tried to catalogue what I’d done.
I must have ventured outside to run as a wolf. Or fly as a darkling.
This time it seemed I’d done both. I had tangled memories of viewing the night-time world from above as well as from the ground.
I’d hunted and killed my prey. The metallic flavor of fresh blood still lingered in my throat.
A cool breeze shook the leaves of my tree. I folded my arms around myself and jerked to my feet. I had to get inside. Without fur or feathers to keep me warm, I was freezing.
As I jogged across the field and the back garden of my grandfather’s ranch, I felt like even more of a freak than I was. It’s unusual for a shifter not to retain full memory of the shifted experience. It was probably related to my assault. Supposedly, the problem would fade over time.
I’d been hoping it wouldn’t happen here in Montana. I’d thought I’d feel safe and protected, living with my grandfather.
But there was no safety here.
It had been a rotten week. I’d spent several days and nights going back and forth from the hospital in Whittier to Grandpa’s. His SUV was in the shop for repairs, but I had my own car, and I’d come to know every curve of that treacherous road where our accident had taken place.
Dr. Cartwright had given me more information this morning before ordering me to go home and rest. The news was even grimmer than we’d feared.
The latest scans had shown that the cancer was everywhere, and the accident had left Grandpa with broken bones and a stubborn infection that was getting worse instead of better.
It was beginning to look as if he might never leave the hospital.
I’d finally followed the doctor’s orders about resting because some of the shifters from Grandpa’s pack, Cade Derringer among them, had shown up around noon to sit with him. I’d come home and pulled all the curtains to shut out the sun. But I was so distressed by the bad news that I found sleep impossible.
I’d set up my easel in the living room of Grandpa's rambling old house, once the main building of a successful ranch. My work had always been a source of comfort in times of stress, but all I could do was stare at a blank canvas. Instead of soothing me, the smell of my oil paints irritated me so much that I’d finally packed them away. I’d stretched out on the sofa and tried to relax.
The rustic ranch house resembled a hunting lodge, with its rough-finished woodwork and dusty old fixtures that gave off little light. There was a stag's head over the fireplace—a magnificent animal with a huge rack of antlers. Another stag’s head adorned the west wall. There were ducks—both stuffed and wooden—on the top shelf of a bookcase. Several trophy-sized trout had been mounted on the walls.
I found the trophies repellant, but I couldn’t stop staring at them. Trophies from dead animals reminded me of Jonathan. Those were memories I did my best to suppress.
I must have dropped into a restless sleep because I began having nightmares about the Highland wolf pack we’d lived with in the years after my father’s death. My mother and her fucked-up lover Martin. Jonathan’s bullying of me. My anxiety as his violence escalated. The horror that had struck so unexpectedly when I’d thought I was safe.
I’d woken up sweating and shivering. I hated feeling that way. Hated myself for allowing my past to haunt me. It seemed weak, and I wanted to be strong.
I’d prowled the empty house. Driven by instincts I couldn’t resist, I’d ventured outside to the old stables, the barnyard and beyond to the meadow and the woods. It had been evening by then. I’d lain down under my old oak tree and dozed off. I remembered the pain of shifting, but very little after that.
Until now. Waking up bare-assed in the woods.
Once inside, I headed directly for the shower. I was covered in dirt and grit, and there was blood under my fingernails. I must have shifted back to human while I was still reveling in the blood of whatever I had killed.
I turned the water on as hot as I could stand and scrubbed myself so hard that my skin was left raw. Then I called my cousin in the Highlands.
Cam Malloch, my darkling shifter cousin, was not thrilled to hear from me. “What the fuck are you doing calling me at this hour of the morning?” he’d growled when he’d answered his phone.
Right. Scotland was a few hours ahead. “I think I’m regressing,” I told him. “I sleep-shifted again. I don’t remember what I did, but I must have hunted because there’s blood.”
“Animal blood? Do you know what you killed?”
“I don’t know.” I had to squeeze my eye muscles tightly to keep from crying. Cam had zero tolerance for women who cried. “There are woods behind the ranch and that’s where I was, so animal blood, I guess. I don’t think I attacked a person or anything.”
“You’re fucked if you do, Jess. I warned you about this. Are you under some kind of stress or something? Having flashbacks?”
“We were in an accident and my grandfather’s dying.”
“Shit. That isn’t good. Tell me.”
I spilled the whole story, probably in more detail than he would have liked. He wasn’t the most patient man in the world. Nor was he particularly empathetic. I wasn’t even sure I liked him much, but he was the only person I knew who shared my curse of darkling shifting.
He’d been teaching me how to control my demon side, but his methods had been harsh and I wasn’t sure they’d worked on me. He’d also tried to recruit me into his secret spy organization or whatever it was. I didn’t know too much about it. I didn’t want to know and I certainly didn’t want to participate. Cam scared me sometimes.
“You still have the collar I gave you?” he asked.
“Yes, but—”
“You haven’t found anyone you can trust to put it on you and remove it?”
“I thought Grandpa would be able to do that, but now that he’s sick, he can’t.” Now that he’s dying.
“You’ll have to find someone else. No boyfriends yet? Are you having sex?”
“Jeez, getting personal? Are you?”
He snorted. “Of course. You should be too. It lets off steam. Relieves some of the pressure. Go fuck some American cowboy and you’ll start to regain your balance.”
“I don’t have time for romantic relationships. Didn’t you hear me? My grandfather is dying.”
“I’m not talking about romance, I’m talking about fucking. Go to a pub and pick up a guy. Or use one of those hookup apps. You’re hot enough. All the guys around will be swiping to get you. Find one and fuck him.”
“That’s the advice you’re giving me, Cam? Go fuck someone?”
“Works for me.”
That was the trouble with my cousin—he tried, but he wasn’t all that helpful. He was the first to admit this. “I’m not a goddamn therapist, Jess,” he’d said to me over and over. “All I am is a few years older than you. If I can figure this thing out, so can you.”
We hung up and I’d tried to settle myself down to get some actual sleep, since it was now after eleven and there was no point in returning to the hospital tonight. I called the nursing station near Grandpa’s room and found out that he was resting comfortably. His condition was the same. I hoped he’d have a good day tomorrow. Maybe he would even feel a little better?
I was planning to settle down and try bed again when the doorbell rang. The members of Grandpa’s pack had been rallying round, both here at the ranch and at the hospital, bringing food, sympathy, and encouragement. I didn’t know any of them very well yet, but I was grateful. I went downstairs, wondering who would stop by so late.
I found Cade Derringer on our front porch, looking just as big and tall and hot as ever.