“I’m taking a late lunch,” she explained. “I saw you across the Parkway walking really slow and was worried something was wrong.”

  “You know, you could’ve told me how much basilisk poison sucks ass. One attacked the troll shop,” I said, clenching my teeth against the pain.

  With care I didn’t expect, Erica drew her arm around me and guided me toward my car. She shouldered my weight with ease and my head bent forward as hurt flashed through my arms. I tried to straighten my back and tilt my chin higher and failed. Everything hurt so damn bad.

  “Breathe through it,” she whispered. “We’re almost there.”

  Did she really drop her head so it was lower than mine? Or was I so jacked up I hallucinated?

  We finally reached my car and I unlocked it. Erica opened the passenger-side door. Alarmed filled me when I spied stains on her shirt. My wounds were oozing something and I’d stained her luxury linen top.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said. “That’s an expensive shirt...”

  She scoffed. “It’s a knock-off. A good one, but still a fake. I can’t afford that kind of stuff anymore.”

  It was hot and stuffy inside the Altima, but I didn’t care. Erica walked around to the other side of the car and got in behind the steering wheel.

  “Oh, my God, it’s so hot in here. Sorry Nat.” She put out her hand for the keys and I handed them over.

  The whole sequence of events felt strange—out-of-body. What happened to the woman who’d bad-mouthed me in hope of gaining Thorn’s love?

  The car started, and soon all the windows were open to fill the interior with the breeze, hot and humid. Despite the heavy pollen from the nearby oak trees coursing through the car, I sucked in the fresh air.

  How I wished the air conditioner was enchanted. A blast of cold would’ve been welcomed with open paws.

  “Do you want to go home?” she asked as we pulled onto the Parkway.

  I shook my head. Aggie shouldn’t see me like this either, but I needed fresh clothes.

  “Your parents’ place?” she suggested.

  Then I’d have to face my family.

  “Dollar Mart?” I whispered. “These clothes are dirty.”

  “Um, okay.” Erica activated the air-conditioning, but with the town being so small, by the time we reached the Dollar Mart, the air blasted by the car’s vents would be anything but chilled.

  We passed the low-cost store and continued into South Toms River. I forced myself to sit up from slouching.

  “Where are we going?” I asked, sliding back down my seat.

  “You’re not walking into the Dollar Mart looking like you got mugged. I’m taking you to my apartment.”

  “You don’t have to do that.” The ache in my arms should’ve eased, but the pain only worsened.

  “Yes, I do. Believe it or not, I know what you’re about to face with those scratches and bites.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “After the first basilisk used me as a basketball, I got home and tried to sleep to let my body get rid of the toxin, but that wasn’t enough. If your cuts are deep, you won’t heal, at least not as quickly as you usually would. What your body is expelling can re-enter through the deep cuts. You need a shower.”

  This was getting better and better. At least Jocelyn hadn’t gotten hurt.

  “I don’t want to inconvenience you—don’t you need to go back to work?” I wondered.

  “Fuck Bill. He’ll be fine.”

  My head whipped to the left, and I flinched.

  I caught the hint of her smile. “He complained about you all morning.”

  “Great. Now Kramkar and Bill can trade war stories of employing me.”

  We took a left on 5th Ave and drove around a series of apartment complexes. The buildings were white with carnation flowerbeds in front and brick posts along the driveways. We pulled into a parking spot under a carport.

  “I’ve never been here before,” I remarked.

  “Yeah, it’s on the edge of town and relatively new. Most of my neighbors are commuters.”

  Erica pulled into the parking lot. Naturally, at that moment, my phone buzzed with a call from Thorn. I used the annoying Bugle Wake Up ringtone for his number.

  “Do you need me to answer the phone for you?” she asked.

  “No, I can call them back.”

  She stopped in the middle of the parking lot. “Stop being so stubborn.”

  Before I could say anything, she fished the phone out of my purse. When she spied the phone number, she paused.

  “Yeah, you can answer it.” She activated the phone and placed it by my ear.

  “Hey, you.” I feigned strength in my voice and held the phone as Erica parked the car.

  “Hey, you,” he replied. “You want a sandwich from Barney’s? Rex is about to take over my shift at your parents’ place.”

  Erica climbed out of the driver’s side then maneuvered around to my door and helped me stand. I held in a groan as she helped me up a step.

  “Nah. I’ll eat lunch at...” Another step. “Erica’s place. She felt sorry for me…Kramkar’s store is a mess.”

  That got a moment of silence. There was no way Thorn would come here. Hanging out an ex’s place had to be on the no-go list in any dude’s head.

  Erica kept a straight face the whole time.

  “Okay...” he began to say. Then he added, “Are you all right? You sound out of breath.”

  I chuckled as Erica buzzed us into the building and cool air drenched us. “I’ve been running around like mad.”

  “Right.” He didn’t sound convinced. Shit.

  Erica, thank God, had a first level unit down the hall from the outside entrance. Once inside, she said in a too loud voice, “You want some leftover barbecue ribs?”

  “Sounds great.” Ugh, the enthusiasm in my voice was as fluffy as cotton candy.

  “I’ll check on you later then,” Thorn said.

  I closed my eyes, knowing very well that was Thorn-speak for, I know something is up and you’re going to tell me exactly what is going on when I see you next.

  I ended the call. How long did I have until he showed up? It seemed an evasive wife trumped avoidance of an ex’s place, and if I was lucky, I’d be able to wash up and redress before Thorn arrived.

  “Have a seat,” Erica offered.

  From my left, an orange pet darted down the hallway and into a bedroom. My nose told me that had to be a cat. Werewolves rarely kept pets. Having them around when we went into heat or around the full moon wasn’t wise. Not to say we’d eat our pets, but if we spent a couple of days during the full moon out hunting, Hannibal the Hamster would have to fend for itself.

  I looked around the picturesque room you’d expect to find in a spread for Martha Stewart’s magazine. And damn, was it pink. Accent pillows covered in pink tartan were arranged on a chic, peach-colored loveseat and couch. Two more tufted chairs in soft brown broke up the pastel overload nicely. Here and there, I spied silver framed photos of Erica with her best friends and many others with her dad.

  “You have nice furniture,” I remarked. “How about I sit in the bathroom? Less likely to get basilisk goo on something.”

  She rolled her eyes and fished out an old blanket from a closet. “You can sit on this.” She placed the blanket over the loveseat.

  I eased onto the couch. “Don’t you care about the blanket?”

  “It’s from an ex-boyfriend from Connecticut. Back in college, he cheated on me with some chick who slept with him after waving hi. Now I loathe Pottery Barn bedding with the passion of a thousand fleas, which is a shame ’cause Pottery Barn’s nice stuff.”

  The blanket looked perfectly fine to me, but I had to admit I’d probably burn the blanket if I was mad enough.

  On the way to the bathroom, she hit play on her answering machine. The machine blurted out that she had two messages. One was from her college alumni association asking for a donation and another message was from her dad. I tried not to listen, but I was right next to the darn thing.

  In between the sounds of the shower starting, I caught Oliver Holden saying, “Hey, sweetheart, it’s Dad. Did you get my phone call yesterday? I know I’ve been quiet lately, but we need to sit down and talk about the changes I have in mind for the pack. Call me back soon!”

  What was that all about? Changes in mind?

  My thoughts about Oliver’s message trickled away as I heard Erica moving around in the bathroom. I still had to take a shower. Damn, this day wasn’t ending well. Could I keep my clothes on and maintain my dignity?

  Not with OCD, sister, my heart reminded me.

  I was too weak to rip off my clothes and I had nothing to replace them. Thus, I sat there and ignored the stains. Dr. Frank would be proud of my progress.

  Steam wafted from the bathroom down the hall. Erica returned and stepped up to me. “Time to get you clean.”

  When she reached for me, I flinched. She glanced away, sensing my discomfort.

  “I know you’re not thrilled about this.” She folded her arms. “But it is what it is.”

  She looked me directly in the eyes, only for her gaze to dart away again as if she recalled her place. “Let me help you, and then we can forget this ever happened.”

  As Erica helped me stand, I knew there was no way I’d ever forget this.

  Eventually, we reached her bathroom, a beautifully updated space with chocolate brown and pastel pink accents. She even had a small vase of pink poppies. A pop of playfulness. This bathroom was everything I’d expected from Erica Holden.

  Right outside of the shower, I said, “I can manage it from here.”

  She stood there briefly, and I waited. After she drew a deep breath, she pointed to a pile of fresh linens. “Here’s a towel and washcloth. I’ll leave you some sweats outside the door. There’s also a fresh loofa in the shower...” She let her words hang in the air. Maybe my former rival realized how our relationship had evolved, too.

  I tried to stand as long as I could before I slumped against the nearest wall. It took me ten minutes to get out of my clothes and step into the shower. The lukewarm water slipped over me and I settled into sitting on the bottom. My head rested against a support bar, and I slipped into a painless oblivion.

  Chapter 21

  The shower water pelted me, a gentle drizzle lulling me in and out of sleep. Memories fluttered in and out of my head. Most of them fleeting, but one stuck and the scene unfolded like a fractured fairy tale.

  Two women were alone in front of my old house in the woods. It was a chilly evening in December.

  The blonde woman stood over one with dark hair.

  That brunette woman was me.

  Less than twenty-four hours before that scene occurred, Thorn and I had made love. I’d defied Erica’s order as alpha female to stay away from him.

  Now she wanted me to pay the ultimate price. Seeing everything unfold from a distance felt out-of-body.

  In the evening light, Erica’s eyes resembled the midnight sky. Dark and foreboding. She drew her arm back and struck me with a crowbar repetitively on my leg.

  I cringed from the metal bashing tender flesh. My leg blossomed with blood and bone. Seeing myself choking out cries nearly drove me deeper into despair.

  Erica leaned into say, “When burned, a lesson learned.”

  Then she reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a box of matches.

  Please, no.

  Erica lit a match and pressed the hot end to my hand. I shrieked and cowered. But Erica’s lesson wasn’t done. She stepped back and circled me before tossing her crowbar in the snow. With a smile and a steel-toed boot, she kicked my side.

  While I gasped for breath, she leaned down and grabbed my hair to force me to look up at her. “I told you over and over again to stay away from him. I guess you’re too stupid to figure it out.”

  Just as quickly as the scene appeared, the memory vanished in smoke, leaving me hollow and scraped down to nothing.

  The world would never know what happened that day, but pretending it never existed allowed a wound to fester between Erica and me.

  The time would come—sooner than later, I feared—for us to rehash that night and come to terms with how it changed us. For I had learned: forgive but never forget the people who harmed you.

  No one interrupted my shower or witnessed the tears I shed in my sleep.

  When I propped myself up, the water wasn’t as warm, but my wounds seeped less and strength returned to my limbs.

  Time to kick some ass in the living-here-and-now world.

  I stood, much more easily than before, and considered washing myself—until I spied her soap and hair products. Erica might’ve been on a budget, but she splurged on expensive-looking bottles of hand soap, shampoo, and conditioner. Two bottles had labels in italicized languages I couldn’t read. To my misfortune, the floral-scented shampoo and conditioner smelled like her. Yeah, not a good idea, considering I wanted my husband thinking of me, not her.

  I used the hand soap. Not the best choice compared to a sudsy bar of soap, but the cleanser was antibacterial and soothing with hints of eucalyptus and mint that both cleaned my wounds and dulled the pain in my muscles. The water turned downright frigid by the time I finished in the shower. My teeth chattered, and I shook like a dog coming in from the cold, but a quick glance in the mirror revealed pink scars. No longer oozing and infected, yet there is no way Thorn wouldn’t notice them.

  After drying off, I peeked outside of the door. As Erica had promised, a set of clothes lay in a neat pile. A pink pile of clothes. The closest I came to wearing pink was downing a bottle of Pepto-Bismol after eating too much at my mom’s house. And a good wolf didn’t traipse out into the woods wearing clothes that screamed here-I-am!

  With a sigh, I considered the possibility Erica did this on purpose.

  I took the clothes anyway. Erica had left me a body suit. Huh? People still wore those? What did she do? Raid the bin of clothes she intended to donate? I climbed into the garment, then slipped on pink velour Juicy jogging pants and matching jacket.

  And God help me, the word Juicy was scrawled in white cursive across my ass.

  Everything fit too snuggly—which suggested Erica had a smaller figure. At least I wasn’t naked. A win-win, my uncle Boris would probably tell me.

  After I was fully dressed and tamed my hair to not look like a knotted-up Tibetan terrier’s tail, I refused to look in the mirror. Nope, didn’t need this memory of my attire seared into my gray matter.

  I ventured out of the bathroom to the inviting scent of baked barbecue ribs.

  And Thorn waiting for me in the living room.

  With a straight face, I joined them. Erica sat on the couch—while on the opposite side of the room, Thorn leaned against the wall near the door. Even in my exhausted state, I could smell a new aroma in the air: awkwardness.

  “You look better, Nat,” Erica said.

  “Thanks.” I forced myself to not touch my waist where the pants dug into my skin.

  “You hungry?” she asked.

  “Starving. Are the ribs, ready?” I remained at the edge of the living room.

  “I left it in the oven on low heat. Let me get you a portion with some sweet tea.” Erica got up and went to the kitchenette to the left.

  Thorn’s gaze was fixed on me as she passed him.

  “Did you plan to leave me a message?” he finally said.

  “You were protecting Grandma. I didn’t want to alarm you until I got home.” Then I added, “I’m stronger than I look, you know.”

  He crossed the room in rapid strides. “Where are you hurt?”

  “The basilisk made my arms and chest Swiss cheese, but I’ll be fine.” On the other side of the room, I caught Erica opening the oven and placing the platter of ribs on the stove.

  Then the sounds stopped. Not even a breath from her. Why did she hold it?

  A familiar feeling tugged at me. Was she feeling the jealousy and pain I’d experienced? Half a year ago, I was forced to watch Thorn stand next to Erica. She fawned over him, even though he didn’t want to be with her. I longed for him to the point of physical pain in my heart.

  “I’ll be fine,” I said gently and pulled myself out of his embrace. I stroked his cheek, and he leaned in to kiss the top of my head. Everything was right with the world again as we shared a breath.

  With a sigh, I went into the kitchen. “I’m starving. Need any help?”

  Erica faced her wall of cabinets. There was no window there, though, and she gripped the counter hard enough for me to feel guilty. She had put three plates on the counter along with utensils and stopped right there.

  She turned around with a false smile. “Sure, can you get some glasses from the cabinet next to the fridge? You can pour the iced tea for us.”

  I did as she asked while she arranged the plates on the four-seater table between the kitchen and living room. How did she expect us to eat?

  “You’re not hungry, are you?” I asked Thorn. Maybe he’d take the bait and give Erica some space.

  “After sitting in the truck all day, I’m hungry,” he admitted, glancing briefly at the steam rising from the beef ribs.

  Damn, he didn’t take the bait.

  I couldn’t let this go on. “Erica, this looks fantastic and smells delicious, but do you have any Tupperware containers?”

  A wave of confusion flashed over her face. “Sure, I grabbed some from the store before I moved in.”

  She pointed to the second to last cupboard and I got what I needed. As quickly as possible, I placed Thorn’s and my portion into the containers.

  “What are you doing?” Erica asked lightly. “Are you going somewhere?”

  “I’ve inconvenienced you long enough. I realized you probably had to call Bill and ask for the afternoon off. Right?”

  She nodded. “It’s no big thing. The pack helps one another.”

  Helping shouldn’t equate to hurting.

  “Bill can be an asshole if you ask for too much time off.” I sealed the containers shut and returned Erica’s false smile. “Since I’m stuck at the troll mart, he’s gonna need your help to keep the fire witch from burning the place down.”

 

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