5

CHAPTER FIVE

Just like the inside of his car, his room is spotless.

Not a thing is out of place in the spacious, pale gray painted room that takes up almost an entire floor of the third floor.

Much as I expected, it's a masculine room with golden wood furniture, a king-size bed in the center, covered with a red and navy comforter with a solid wood headboard. It looks homemade, rustic, and I like it a lot.

It doesn't take me long to get the impression that Dayne's the sort of person who doesn't need a lot of stuff around him, because other than a heavy, home-made looking dresser, bed, and thick tan carpets, there's little else in the room.

I take a good twenty minutes examining everything, including a framed picture hanging on the wall of the pack sat around on the grass, grinning up at whoever is taking the picture from the porch at the front of the house.

All except for Dayne, who's standing at the edge of the shot wearing the same brown cowboy boots, a white t-shirt, and blue jeans. The frown on his face makes him the focus of my attention since he's the only one not smiling.

Since Dayne looks several years younger than he is now, I realize the picture must have been taken around the time he slaughtered his family and killed the last alpha since most of the rumors say it happened five or six years ago.

So, the not grinning kinda makes sense. Who would smile then? Apart from his pack that is, but he could've just threatened to kill them if they didn't. Maybe?

Leaning closer, squinting, I veto that idea since the smiles appear to be genuine. But since I don't know this pack, I could be wrong.

Shaking my head, I spend the next thirty minutes examining the adjoining bathroom since I'm too scared to be caught rifling through his drawers and closet.

But no matter where I look, everywhere is spotless. There's not a speck of dust to be found in any corner of the room.

It's a little scary. Okay, more than a little scary. Terrifying actually, because I have a feeling he's going to expect me to keep his car, room, and house looking this way. Perfect. Which means if I get it wrong, punishment won't be far behind.

We all had jobs in my old pack, but the bulk of it naturally fell to me given my low pack status, and how much my pack lived to treat me like shit. Except for the cooking. Since Uncle Glynn loved his food and Keith, a pack member, was a chef, he never expected me to take on that role.

But everything else—the cleaning, laundry, and anything else no one wanted to do, all fell to me. I wonder if I'm in line for more of the same here.

I try to comfort myself with the knowledge that at least the pack house isn't as large as the one in Dawley, so at least that's something to be grateful for.

Whoever does the cleaning takes pride in it though. I could tell the moment I stepped in the front door and discovered that the inside was as well-loved and maintained as the outside. The hardwood floors had been polished so well I didn't even want to step on them because with bare feet, I didn't want to track any dirt in.

But that was a couple of hours ago, and Dayne still hasn't emerged from his office where I was told he'd gone.

With boredom setting in, and the sky darkening into early evening, I'm still not feeling brave enough to venture downstairs and hang out with the pack.

After a super awkward silence, where it became obvious Dayne wouldn't be hurrying back, a girl I later learned is named Jenna, clearly submissive given how determined she was to avoid meeting my eye, approached with a shy smile and asked me if I was hungry.

But the thought of putting anything in my mouth, much less chewing and swallowing, was so beyond me. All I could do was shake my head as tension roiled through me.

What would this new pack be like? Would there be more clawed fingers digging into my back? More vicious words? Or the chair being pulled out from under me just as I prepared to sit?

It got to the point I'd wait until most of the pack had already finished eating since Uncle was always the first to turn up for a meal, before I'd grab a plate of food and eat it standing up, as far away from the others as I could.

On and on it continued, right up until Uncle clocked what I was doing and demanded I eat at the same time he did. And then all the cruelties, some of it petty and spiteful, most of it downright vindictive and evil, would start up again.

"Well, if you've been on the road for hours, you must be tired even if you're not hungry. How about I take you up to your—yours and Dayne's room, and you can relax for a little while?" Jenna had suggested.

Which is how I ended up here, upstairs in our room, ignoring the muffled sound of laughter coming from the den downstairs, and the smell of something tasty cooking in the kitchen. Lunch, probably.

Even when there was a knock at the door, I ignored it until the person—Jenna, from what my nose told me, went away.

I am hungry. Of course, I am. It'd been hours since I'd last eaten, and even then, all it had been was a few bites of my burrito since I'd been so tense from working up the courage to ask Dayne about going to Walmart to stomach the idea of eating.

Now, I sigh at the thought of the burrito, even as my stomach grumbles. It smelled really good, and there was spicy salsa and cheese and fried potatoes in it. My stomach rumbles louder at the memory of it.

I think about the yummy, barely eaten burrito lying helpless in a bin on the side of the highway. I hope a homeless guy at least found it and had something nice to eat so it didn't go to waste.

I should have just eaten it and forgotten about the clothes. At least, then I wouldn't be starving.

Shifters burn through a lot of energy changing, and being able to do all the things we can do—our enhanced strength, ability to heal, and our speed takes a lot out of us.

And although I don't change, haven't changed for a while, it doesn't mean I’m not using up a lot of energy, probably more than the other shifters in my pack actually, so my not eating is only likely to cause me trouble later down the line.

If Uncle Glynn ever learned the reason I needed to eat as much as I did, why I needed to keep my strength up, he wouldn't have hesitated to deprive me of food the way he deprived me of everything else.

Soon, the sound of voices outside thankfully distracts me from my increasing hunger. It sounds like Dayne outside on the porch talking to someone.

Quietly, I rise from my perch on the edge of the bed and cross over to the window, which faces out to the front of the house.

With my forehead pressed against the cool glass, I stare down with dawning rage at the sight below me.

Dayne is quietly talking with someone. A woman. One of the pack, my nose tells me. I didn't see her earlier, this woman he's talking to.

Although my arrival was a super overwhelming experience, I'd have remembered seeing her. This girl with long waves of sunny-gold blonde hair which stops at the curve of a small, but pert, ass.

Her hair is incredible, but when she turns and I glimpse her face, I know I'd have recognized her. She's beautiful, like a model on the cover of vogue beautiful, and she's laughing up at Dayne who, unless my eyes are deceiving me, is smiling down at her.

Dayne Blackshaw not only knows how to smile, but he looks good doing it too? Who knew? I certainly didn’t.

My fingers tighten around the windowsill as I continue to study them, hearing none of what they're saying since all I can focus on is how close she's standing to Dayne, and how he has his head bent over hers as if poised to kiss her.

A soft snarl slips between my lips and both Dayne and this mystery woman lift their head toward me. As if they heard me. Which considering shifter hearing is second to none… they likely did.

Stumbling back from the window, I nearly fall in my head-run dash to the bathroom.

Even before I get to the mirror, I know what I'll find.

My eyes, which are normally a perfectly ordinary brown, are now a silver-blue.

They've gone wolf.

I know now that I can't stay here. I can't risk letting my wolf out. I haven't been here for even a single day, yet she's already threatening to break free. And if she gets out… well, I can’t risk it.

I have to leave. Now.