Despicable by Rory Miles

RONAN

I double-check my watch when I see Dax strolling by on his way home. He should still be watching Bellatrix, so I don’t know why he’s here. Climbing down from the small guard station, I jog out from the trees and make a beeline for him.

“Hey, what are you doing?”

He gives me a haughty look. “She doesn’t want to be saved.”

“She saw you?”

Grunting, he nods and glances away. “I tripped on her porch. She came out with a knife and threatened to castrate me.”

I whistle. “Damn, dude. Sounds like my kind of woman.”

“Shut up,” he mutters.

His ego must be wounded. I’m a beta and that sort of threat wouldn’t bother me, but for an alpha? He must be seething. Alphas don’t like to be challenged, but the way his frown deepens the longer the silence stretches between us tells me he isn’t mad at all. More concerned, which is strange considering the circumstances.

Maybe this woman is trouble after all.

“Why didn’t you find a new place to post up and look out?”

Seriously, it’s a little surprising he didn’t think of that.

“Oh I did, but she wouldn’t go inside until I left. I just came for a coffee.”

“You think that’s safe?” I look in the direction he came from. “She’s vulnerable.”

“Trust me,” he says with a shake of his head. “There’s nothing vulnerable about Bellatrix.”

Raising my brow, I give him a once-over, scoffing when it dawns on me. “You’re fucking kidding me. You too?”

“Shut up, Ronan.”

I laugh and shove his shoulder, walking with him to the house. Most everyone is asleep now, so I’m not so concerned about people coming to take advantage of the store. In reality, we probably don’t even need to guard the supplies, but Dax insists we do it so there won’t be some big confrontation. It’s smart, but time-consuming on our end.

“Man, she must be something else. Or is it because it’s been a while? Maybe your hand isn’t cutting it anymore? I told you man, all you need is a fleshlight—”

He growls and I dodge the fist he throws, cackling as I dance out of reach.

“Whoa there, sunshine. No need to get violent if fleshlights aren’t your thing.”

“I hate you.” He ignores me the rest of the way to the house, and I continue to take jabs at him for already being affected by her.

I know we’ve all been here a while, but this is a new record. Harlow came about seven months ago and neither of them reacted like this. I was interested until she gave me a death glare that screamed I will murder you.

“Must be her boobs,” I say to myself. “Boobs have always been my weakness. You’re a boob man, right, Dax?”

He rips the back door open and marches to the coffee machine, filling up one of the to-go cups we’ve been washing and recycling for guard shifts.

“Ass,” he says after a long sip.

“Well, it’s no Starbucks, but the coffee isn’t that bad.” I shake my head and fill up my own cup.

“No, stupid. I’m an ass man.”

“Oh.” I chuckle. “That makes more sense. Well, you know what they say.”

“What?”

I frown at my coffee, realizing I don’t know what they say. “Never mind.”

“You know, for a smart guy, sometimes you’re pretty dumb.”

“You know, for a dick, you sure are little,” I shoot back, smirking when his eyes darken. We’ve known each other long enough that he doesn’t get all alpha or growly at me. He does, however, get annoyed.

“Whatever. I’m too old for this shit. I’ll see you in the morning.” He’s only ten years older than me, but sometimes he acts like he’s seventy.

“Too proud to admit defeat?”

He walks out of the house, lifting his hand and flipping me off without bothering to look over his shoulder. “Don’t die.”

“I’ll try not to. You either,” I say, forgetting all about our joking.

There’s a murderer on the loose, and I don’t think George is the only reject who will end up dead.

* * *

BELLATRIX

Soft tweeting wakes me, and for a second, I have peace. Rolling over in my bed, I pull the comforter up, frowning when the texture is off.

Did I fall asleep in my sister’s room?

Sighing heavily, I peel my eyes open, glancing down at the bed only to find I don’t recognize any of it. I jolt up, not caring that the sheet falls away to reveal my naked body. Memories from yesterday rush through my mind. Chad. His dumb sneer. Me rejecting him only to be rejected too. The cuffs and chains. The angry marks on my arms are proof it’s all true.

I’m stuck on a fucking island, have a stalker who might be a murderer, and Chad rejected me.

Well, maybe I’m not stuck. I’m not the best swimmer, but a little determination can go a long way. First things first. I shift, landing on all fours, letting the magic of the change heal my wounds. I’ve let myself suffer long enough, and I’ll need every ounce of energy I can get. The wounds might slow me down, so they have to go. I revert back to my two-footed form. My wolf whines, but I can’t let her frolic through the town right now because our current mission is to escape. I have no idea how far I’ll have to swim, but I have to try.

I hold my arms up, inspecting the faint dark brown lines running over my skin. The shift healed the worst of the damage, but it seems I’m going to have permanent scars from the silver chains.

Fucking Garry.

If he were here, I’d rip his head off. Since he’s not, I opt for punching a pillow a few times then go get dressed. The fridge is mostly empty, except for some expired condiments, a container full of leftovers that look more like straight mold, and a jug of turned milk. I find a box of granola bars in the pantry and grab two, inhaling them as fast as I can because they’re also expired and a little dry, but any food is better than no food.

Grabbing a short glass from the cabinet, I fill it with tap water and take a sip, washing down my pathetic excuse of a breakfast. I contemplate waiting a little while to attempt my escape, but I’ve already wasted over twelve hours. Yesterday I’d been too exhausted and the taser zapped the last of my energy, but I feel a lot better now that I’ve shifted and slept.

Time to see if I can swim to the mainland.

* * *

CREED

A few minutes after I trade shifts with Ronan, she marches by with a fierce look of determination set on her face. She doesn’t notice I’m watching, and I’m pretty sure she doesn’t know where the guard station is, so I allow my gaze to stay stuck on her. Blonde strands haphazardly thrown into a bun, a Wolfsbane t-shirt, and short shorts. It shouldn’t be attractive, but I’ve been imagining women in my head for years now.

Harlow doesn’t count because she scares the shit out of me.

Seeing her in all her hot mess glory almost has me groaning in frustration. If this is my life now, it’s going to suck. Not only does Dax’s presence torture me—he has no idea I’m bisexual, has never shown an interest in men, and is oblivious to my crush on him—now hers will too. When she suddenly starts sprinting, I stand from the folding chair and lean over the railing of the lookout tower wondering what she’s doing. The road bends so I can’t see her anymore.

“Fuck,” I mutter, smacking my hand on the wood and climbing out of the little booth we built in the trees. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s a lot more comfortable than standing or sitting in front of the store. The trees provide much needed shade during the long shifts, and it allows us to see in almost every direction. Every direction but around the damned curve in the road.

Dax would be pissed if he knew I left, but curiosity is digging its talons into me, and I can’t leave her alone.

I have to know what she’s running from.

Starting off in a sprint, I move to the shoulder so my steps are muffled, though if she’s listening close enough, she’ll hear my approach. With my heightened sense of smell, I follow her around the bend in the road, then veer into the trees, frowning when I realize she’s running straight toward the water.

She’s trying to escape.

She has no idea about the high frequency sonar, but she’s about to find out first hand how painful it is for shifters, and if she’s lucky, and I find her in time, she won’t drown. I skid to a stop when I see a bronze strip of skin and slip behind a tree so she doesn’t see me.

After a few seconds, I glance around the trunk and watch her stand at the edge of the island. There’s no beach on Wolfsbane, so she’s standing at a small drop-off. The water is fairly shallow, probably only six-feet deep, but it’ll still be enough to cover her head.

I wish I could say I was stronger and I didn’t let my gaze travel over every inch of exposed skin, but I’m a weak bastard. I greedily feast my eyes on her flesh, noticing a small strip of white around her waist; maybe from a thong style swimsuit? Her ass is the same shade as the rest of her sun-kissed skin, so she’s definitely been out in the sun nearly naked.

Part of me wants to make some noise so she’ll turn around, letting me see those tits, but I stay quiet, taking my fill over her profile and backside. Maybe it’s the years I’ve been here, or maybe it’s just her, but I’m certain I’ve never seen a body so perfect. Shaped like an hourglass, her hips flare and supple love handles tease me with the prospect of something to hang on to.

Adjusting myself, I suck in a hard breath, reminding myself I can’t be the island pervert. The way I occasionally check out Dax is bad enough.

Lifting her hands over her head, she crouches slightly and pushes off the ground, diving into the water. She’s lucky she missed the rocks. I count the seconds until she surfaces, sighing when her head pops up and she lets out a sharp laugh.

Now that she’s somewhat covered, I step out from behind the tree and walk to where she stood moments before. She’s too distracted, staring across the water, and she doesn’t notice my approach.

“You can’t escape that way.”

“Motherfucker,” she says with a gasp, spinning in the water and scowling at me. “Oh great. Another stalker.”

Frowning at that, I point to the water. “You can’t escape that way. You’ll drown.”

She squints at me. “Who are you?”

“No one,” I say. “You should come back.”

“Why, so you can murder me?”

Ronan mentioned Dax had to explain the murder to her. I know better than to think her aura of distrust is wholly attributed to the killer on the loose. No.

Rejection has a way of damaging shifters, shredding trust and optimism.

“I’m not the murderer, but you’re going to drown if you try to swim.”

She shakes her head. “I’m strong.”

“I never said you weren’t. They have high frequency sonar in the water. It messes with our enhanced hearing, and if you get far enough out to hear it, you’re going to get confused and you’ll probably drown. It’s happened to a few shifters.”

“I don’t believe you.” She turns and starts to paddle farther into the water.

“Dammit! You’ll drown, you stubborn woman!”

“Better drowning than being murdered in my sleep by stalkers!”

“I’m not stalking you!”

She stops swimming and looks at me over her shoulder. “Then why were you staring at me before I jumped in?”

Shit.

“I—”

“Whatever. Go stalk Harlow.” Then she dives under the surface, swimming underwater a bit before coming up for air.

Looking at the sky, I grind my jaw and try to turn around. I should go back home and forget about her. I should let her find out the hard way. I should not strip out of my clothes and jump in after her.

I’ve never been good at following my instincts, so I undress and jump in, ignoring the glare she sends my way as I start to swim after her in the cool water. If it weren’t for my supernatural body and the warm temperature outside, my teeth would be chattering. She picks up her pace, trying to outswim me, but I’m a little faster than she is, so I catch up to her before she hits the first buoy.

The warning zone.

She stops for a second and glares at me. “What are you doing?”

Giving her space, I stop a few feet away from her and tread water. “Come on, let’s go back. I’m not lying to you. You don’t want to keep going.”

“Why do you even care?” she mutters, swimming past the buoy.

Truth is I’m not even sure why I care, but I do. I don’t want her to drown, and for whatever reason, my mind is screaming at me to grab her and drag her back to safety even though that would cross too many lines.

Without thinking, I yell after her, “If you start to drown and I have to try and save you, I’m going to smack that ass.”

She huffs. “You can try!”

A tiny smile tugs at my lips, and I swim after her a little slower than I did before. She’s close to reaching the second buoy, and that’s when things will get complicated.