Anna
By the time I get off work, it’s nearly seven and I’m exhausted. I go home, shower, and eat a bowl of cereal while reading the news on my phone. Oliver hasn’t called, but if I’m honest with myself, I didn’t really expect him to.
Besides, there are worse things than having really, really, really good sex with a stranger and never hearing from him again.
This way, we’ll never have to ruin a relationship because we never would have started one. We’ll never have to get to that point where we’re worried about hurting each other. We won’t fight over how to celebrate our anniversary because there won’t be an anniversary. Things won’t get awkward and strained between us because there isn’t going to be an “us.”
I tell myself these things as I eat my food, but this doesn’t really calm me down or relax me. I don’t really feel sad, but I do feel disappointed. I knew he wouldn’t call, but there’s still a part of me that wanted him to.
Everyone wants to feel like they’re important.
I finish my cereal and wash my bowl before heading upstairs to bed. The house I live in is pretty small. It’s just a two-bedroom, but it’s more than big enough for one person. It’s more than enough for me.
I’ve just settled in for a good night’s sleep when I start feeling uneasy, like someone is watching me. What the hell? I’m not one to spook easily, but the feeling that someone is in my house is unmistakable.
Did I check the back door?
No, I didn’t, but I locked it earlier. I know for sure that I locked the front door, too. I shouldn’t be feeling this uncomfortable, though. I shouldn’t be feeling nervous or anxious in my own bedroom.
I sit up in bed and look around, but in the darkness, I can’t really see anything. I flip on my nightlight, feeling like I’m being ridiculous, but as soon as the light flickers on, I scream.
And scream.
And scream.
“Shut the fuck up,” Carl says, slinking out of the dark corner. “Or I’ll make you shut up.”
“What the hell are you doing in my house?” My stepfather is a fucking freak. I don’t know what my mother saw in him. At least until this point, I didn’t think he was unsafe.
An asshole? Yes.
A home invader? No.
“I think a better question is what you think you’re doing, dear daughter of mine.”
“I’m not your daughter.”
He laughs. “I think the world begs to differ. Oh, there might be a ‘step’ in front of the title of our relationship, but it’s the same. I’m your father, and you’re my little girl.”
“What the hell do you want?”
“I want to know what the fuck you were doing at an attorney’s office today, Anna. I want to know why you were bothering my lawyer, and I want to know why the hell you think you’re better than the terms of your trust.”
“You were spying on me?” A sick feeling slides over me. Being a jerk is one thing, but this just feels dirty, gross. My stepfather has been spying on me, following me, and chances are that he knows much more about my life now than anyone should know.
“I like to think of it as protecting my investment.”
“You followed me.”
“What were you doing, Anna?”
“I don’t think that’s any of your concern,” I spit out. I try to stay angry and upset. I try to stay pissed off. Carl is a shifter, which means he can smell my emotions. My scent changes when I’m scared, and he knows it. I’m not going to let him play off my fears. I’m not going to let him know he’s getting to me. I take a deep breath and remind myself that I hate this guy.
Angry.
I need to feel angry.
“On the contrary, anything that might impact your future is my concern.”
“Why the hell do you care about my future?”
“Anna, Anna,” he moves stealthily across my room, getting dangerously close to my bed. I swallow hard because the closer he gets, the more afraid of Carl I become. I shouldn’t be afraid of him. I know that’s what he wants. I know if I feel scared, I won’t be thinking rationally, and I’ll slip up.
What I should be doing is reaching for my phone.
What I should be doing is calling the cops.
What I should be doing is trying to escape because something tells me this isn’t some friendly visit.
Carl is a shifter, though. He’s a fucking monster. Unlike most shifters I’ve met, he’s mean, and he’s wicked, and he’s not afraid to get his hands dirty when he needs to.
“You need to leave,” I say. I sit up straighter in my bed, still feeling vulnerable.
“The only thing I need,” he says, growling. “Is for you to accept that you’re not getting a fucking dime. You’re not getting that land. You’re not getting anything. No one is going to want to marry you. No one is going to want to put up with you.”
“Wrong,” a voice says from the doorway, and my jaw practically hits the floor when I see Oliver Lyon standing in my doorway.
“Oliver?” I say. “What are you doing here?”
“I could ask this asshole the same question, but I think I already know. And since he seems to be so intimately familiar with my fiancé, I’d appreciate an introduction.” He turns to Carl. “Who the fuck are you?”
“Anna,” Carl turns back to me and growls. “What is this all about?”
“I…I…”
“Answer me now!” Carl raises his hand like he’s about to hit me, but Oliver slips between us almost instantly and grabs Carl’s wrist.
“Get the fuck out of this house,” Oliver says. I can see the beginnings of orange fur starting to peek out from his collar. He’s starting to shift, but he’s trying to hold himself back. He’s trying not to turn into a giant tiger in the middle of my bedroom, but he’s on the edge. “And don’t expect an invite to the wedding.”
“Wedding?” Carl says, suddenly realizing what Oliver just said. “Whose wedding?”
“Mine and Anna’s,” Oliver says smoothly. “Hasn’t she told you? For someone who doesn’t seem to have a problem breaking in the back door of her house or lying in wait for her, you sure don’t seem to know very much about her. Maybe you’re not as good of a stalker as you thought.”
“I’m not a stalker. I’m her father.”
“Stepfather,” I correct.
“Father,” Carl says again.
“Whoever you are,” Oliver says. “I believe your conversation here is finished.” Oliver points at the door. “Leave now. The cops are already on their way. When I arrived at my darling fiancé’s house this evening, I wasn’t expecting the scent of fear to be wafting out of her windows or for her home to have been broken into. Naturally, I called for police backup. They should be here any minute.”
“I don’t think you understand who or what you’re dealing with.”
“Ah, yes. My sweetheart already told me you’re a shifter. Yes, well, good for you. What kind of animal are you, Carl? A snail? A rodent? Perhaps a little housecat? Either way, I don’t much care. Just fuck off and get out of this house.”
Carl lets out a growl that shows me this isn’t over yet, that he’s not done with the fight, that he’ll be back for more and next time, he’s not going to let Oliver get in the way. Carl growls so loudly that I wonder if he’s going to try to kill me in order to get the inheritance, and I scoot back further in my bed.