Despicable by Rory Miles

BELLATRIX

The water heater in this house is magic, even so, I make sure not to stay under the scalding spray for too long because I don’t want to waste it all. Someone came in and dropped off clothes, which was only a little awkward. The curtain is dark, and I’d rather have clothes than walk around in a towel, so I can’t complain.

Turning off the water, I squeeze out my hair and snag the fluffy towel off the hook on the wall, drying myself before twisting my hair in the towel to let it dry. I pick through the small stack of clothes, grabbing a thong and trying not to think about why Creed, the creep who saved my life, went with the slinky underwear. There are a pair of jean shorts which are a little too big but fit well enough they don’t fall off. There’s no bra. I’m not sure if that was intentional or an oversight, so I tug on the tank top, frowning at how my nipples show through the material.

Bastard.

Whatever, I’m not ashamed of my boobs, and if he wants to torture himself by bringing me a shirt without a bra, he can suffer. I undo the towel on my head and scrub my hair a bit before finger combing it, settling it in a mostly neat style. It’ll be a bit frizzy when it dries, but my hair is straight enough it won’t look too bad.

I search the cabinet drawers for an extra toothbrush, but come up empty. I contemplate using one of theirs, but think better of it. No telling what sort of germs they have. Shifters can’t get diseases like humans, and we don’t get sick, but I don’t know them nearly well enough to share a toothbrush. So, I use my finger, cleaning my teeth as well as I can.

After I rinse and spit, I study myself in the mirror, knowing I’m stalling. My blonde hair is mostly tangle free, but I can only do so much without a brush. Ultimately, the smell of frying bacon drags me out of the safety of the bathroom. I pad down the hall, trying to listen to their hushed conversation. My ears have healed enough I can almost make it out, but there’s still a little damage. I’ll shift again later to heal the rest of the way, but for now, I want food.

My stomach growls in agreement, and I tip my chin up, strutting into the kitchen like I belong in their house and putting my hands on my hips.

“If any of you try to kill me, I’ll castrate you. Capisce?”

Ronan bites his bottom lip, trying not to laugh, and Creed’s gaze slips down my body, oblivious to the threat hanging in the air.

Dax turns, pan in hand, and scoffs. “You sound like Harlow, only less threatening.”

I’m plenty threatening, so I have no idea what he’s talking about.

“Try me, Old Man.”

He gives me a dark look. “Your food is ready.”

“Oh. Thanks.” I meet him at the counter, watching as the giant omelet slides out of the pan and onto my plate without any help.

The eggs are perfectly cooked, and I think I see bell peppers or tomatoes. He definitely can’t be the murderer because I’m going to need one of these again. Ignoring the weight of their gazes on me as I take the plate from Dax, I go sit between Creed and Ronan.

Creed stiffens, back going rigid, and I smirk, settling in like nothing about this is weird. I catch Ronan’s eyes, which are a reddish-brown color, and he releases a soft laugh when he sees my grin. Dax leans his hands on the other side of the counter, intently watching me take my first bite. I hold his stare, wrapping my lips around the fork and savoring the flavor.

“Oh, man,” I mumble around the food, nodding my head and pointing to the plate. “This is good shit.”

His eyes light, and the answering smile I get almost makes me choke. “Coffee?”

“Definitely,” I say around another bite. “One scoop of sugar, please.”

“Well, when you ask so nicely.” He turns to the coffee pot, filling up a mug for himself and then for me, scooping a generous heap of the glorious white granules.

Sugar and caffeine, the only legal forms of crack. Not that shifters get much of a rush, it’s more about the ritual than anything. Something about drinking a warm cup of coffee brings me comfort.

I continue eating, blocking them out because if I focus on how aware Creed seems to be of my proximity or the way Dax and Ronan study me without a care in the world, I’ll get nervous. I’m a confident woman, but they’re unreasonably attractive, and I almost died because I ignored Creed’s warning. Then there’s the whole dragging me out of harm’s way while being completely naked part. I'm not immune to embarrassment, but I can fake all the confidence in the world if I have to.

Fake it till you make it, folks.

Taking a sip of the coffee, I hold back a grimace much to Dax’s amusement.

“Wolfsbane’s finest brew.” He lifts his cup. “Apparently, the High Pack doesn’t think we deserve the good stuff.”

I pull the cup back, giving it a suspicious look but deciding to drink it anyway. “So they bring supplies?”

Dax nods. “They make drops once a month.”

“Hmm. At least they bring us food.” I finish the last of the omelet and push the plate away, resting back in my seat.

“That’s all they bring.” Creed side-eyes me, gaze slipping down to my chest before snapping back to my face.

I put my arms under my boobs and push them up a little, mocking him. He’s the idiot who brought me a tank top, may as well make him pay for it.

Ronan chuckles again, and I tip my head in his direction.

“You all live together?”

He nods. “Yup.”

“How many people live on the island?”

“Counting you? Ten.”

I eye his long hair and beard, wondering what they feel like. “Minus the dead body?” I ask, relishing in the way his mouth pops open in surprise.

“Yeah,” he grunts. “Minus the dead body.”

“Do you have any suspects?”

“The guard is going to investigate,” Dax begins, but Creed’s growl cuts him off.

“They’re not going to do shit, you know that.”

I watch the men have a silent conversation, wondering what the stewing looks and lifted eyebrows mean.

“So that’s a no,” I say, tapping my fingernails on the counter. “Thanks for breakfast. Who’s going to let me into the store to get food?”

“You’re leaving?” Creed sounds betrayed.

I roll my eyes. “Yes, as much as I loved the omelet, I’m ready to go.”

“You don’t have to leave,” Dax says, grabbing the plate from the counter and taking it to the sink. “Are you still in pain?”

“A little, but I’ll survive.” I look at Ronan. “Take me to the store.”

He seems like the safe bet.

“Let me grab my keys.” He ignores the glares Dax and Creed shoot at him and runs up the stairs, likely going to his room to get what he needs.

“Bellatrix, it’s not safe.”

“Call me Trix,” I correct before I think better of it.

Creed nods. “Okay. Trix. You should really stay here.”

“I’m good. Besides, isn’t Harlow in danger too? I don’t see you asking her to stay with you.”

“Harlow is a different story.”

I give Creed a look. “How?”

No one answers me.

“Cool. I don’t want special treatment because I almost died. I’ll be fine.”

“Ready?” Ronan asks when he returns, resting his hip on the wall and twirling the keys around his fingers.

“Thanks for breakfast.” I smile at Dax then cut my gaze to Creed who still looks ready to argue with me. “Thanks for saving my life, but don’t think I forgot about you perving on me.”

His cheeks turn scarlet, and my stomach does a little flip. Now is not the time to listen to my insatiable libido. I hop out of my seat and strut out like I don’t have a care in the world, including a nip-slip. This shirt is really tight, but I kind of like the way Creed looked at me.

No, Bellatrix. You can’t go there.

Here’s the thing, I know what I should and shouldn’t do, but I have a little demon who whispers why the hell not all the time, and I have a tendency to listen to the fucker.

* * *

I’min the middle of grabbing some lunch meat when Ronan pops up beside me. His smile is wolfish, and I side-eye him.

“What?” I drop the turkey into the basket I’m carrying and go to find bread.

He trails after me, clicking his tongue. “You’ve made quite the ruckus with my friends, you know.”

“Oh?” I lift an eyebrow at him.

Grabbing the whole-wheat loaf, I move to the snack aisle. Technically, I should be more concerned about fruits and vegetables, but chips and salsa are essential for a healthy diet. I think my doctor told me that.

“Mmhmm. I’ve never seen Creed blush so hard or Dax be so willing to serve.”

I shrug. “What can I say? I have a way with men.”

“I bet you do, Trix.” The way he says my name, deep and tempting, has me swinging around to face him. His eyes skate over my body and he nods, a piece of brown hair falling out of his man bun. “Yup. He was right.”

“Who was right and what about?” I cock my hip and tap my finger against my side, holding the basket with my other arm.

“Creed. He said you were trouble.”

“Is that so?”

“Yup.”

“Well, seeing as I have no plans of being around you all, you don’t have to worry about little old me.”

“That’s a shame.”

I glare at him. “Are you flirting with me? I almost died like an hour ago.”

“But did you die?”

“Jerk,” I mutter. “I could have.”

He tips his head back and forth. “Probably, but you didn’t. You know you can stay with us though, right? I’m sure Dax and Creed would be thrilled.”

“You sure are doing a lot of talking for them. What about you?”

“Me?” he asks, rubbing his hand over his beard.

“Yeah.” I step closer, noticing the faint flecks of gold in his irises. “How would you feel about me moving in?”

“It wouldn’t bother me.”

I try not to frown. It wasn’t the fun sort of answer I was expecting, but he’s being honest. A slow smile crawls over his face.

“Not what you wanted to hear?”

“It’s not not what I wanted to hear.” I grab a box of white cheddar Cheez-its and a bag of chips. “I’m done.”

“I’ll grab you a bag,” he says, surprising me again when he doesn’t continue to pester me about what I actually wanted to hear. He’s perceptive, but he’s not going to be an asshole about it which I appreciate.

Meeting him at the counter, I set the basket down and help load the items into two reusable bags. He doesn’t say much as we work, and when my basket is empty, he holds up the straps for me to grab.

“I’d offer to help you, but I think you might tell me to get fucked.”

I laugh and nod. “You’re probably right.” Taking the bags, I tip my chin up. “You’re not so bad. Thanks for the help.”

Then I leave him to close the store and start back toward my home… or at least, the house that I’ve claimed. This island isn’t home. It’s essentially jail but without cold metal bars and shit food.

Since I can’t escape, I’ll have to find a way to be comfortable here. Which means no matter how much I hate this place, it is my new home.

This is the worst.