Sensing the change, Risa tilts her head back to look up at Bane. “Not really helping your guys’ case here.”
His attention remains focused on Carson and Parker, though his thumb starts stroking over her shoulder. “You want proof, beautiful, we’re happy to. You just didn’t ask, and we didn’t want to push you too far, too fast.”
Knowing where her head is at, having been in her shoes before where everyone around us hasn’t, I explain, “In our society, asking someone to shift for you is pretty much foreplay. Most people have to strip first so they don’t destroy their clothes, and once they give into their other half, their baser instincts tend to drive their actions. It’s pretty much a declaration that you’re interested and want to start a sexy game of chase.”
Chagrined, she cranes her head to look at me, still trapped by Bane’s unrelenting hold. “So I don’t need to worry about that if I ask you guys because you’re my-“ she struggles to say the last word, like voicing it makes it fact “-sires?”
I pointedly ignore Carson and Parker’s uproarious laughter at our expense. “It’s our job to help you transition, no matter how you feel. We aren’t going to try something you’re not comfortable with, if that’s what you’re concerned about.”
Stryker puts himself between Risa and the others, helping Bane relax a fraction. “You’ll see when we walk you through your first shift.”
“Woah, wait, she hasn’t yet?” Parker interrupts and the look the three of us shoot him is deadly enough that he takes a step into the house.
Risa shrinks back into Bane’s chest, leaning into his hold as her nerves spike. “Was I supposed to?”
Her anxiety helps to snap Bane out of it, his pupils returning to normal and guiding her towards the steps, away from the house. “None of us expected you to, don’t worry. Most turned shifters wake up after about a day, so since you were out a week, we already assumed it probably wouldn’t be for at least a few days, if not longer. Don’t let them get in your head, gorgeous.”
Face furrowed with concern, she doesn’t look back at the men standing in the doorway, missing the heavy look they exchange before I shoot them a death glare, ensuring they keep their mouths shut this time. No doubt the entire clearing will be filled in before dusk, but at least we can shield Risa from hearing the whispers. If they get in her head and psych her out, it’ll make it ten times harder for her to let her guard down, making the first shift hurt worse than it already will.
As she passes by me on the stairs, leaning against the rail, she meets my eye and I mentally curse, because she’s definitely spiraling now. “Can we call it a day?”
I shrug, trying to play it off. “Sure. Not much to see anyway. A circle of houses filled with obnoxious men, a couple of women, and a convenience store. You have to drive about thirty miles out of the woods before you actually run into anything interesting.”
Stryker’s hand winds up on the middle of her back to guide her steps, unable to fight the impulse that I’m trying so hard to tamp down. Her unease is like a siren’s call, making me want to punch the world in the face before crushing her to my chest to ensure she’s safe. My fingers twitch, itching to reach out to her, to touch her and assure myself that she’s alright.
Much more of this and the only way that I’m getting any sleep tonight is by drinking myself into oblivion.
When we’re on the stone pathway leading up towards the door, she quietly asks, “So it’s not weird if I ask one of you to shift? To prove I’m not crazy for buying into all of this, I mean.”
My gums ache as my fangs fight to descend, her tone far too innocent for what she’s asking. None of us answer for a few seconds, the others clearly struggling as much as I am.
Clearing my throat, I recover first. “Not at all. Any of us you’d prefer to do it?”
She takes a second before shaking her head. “Not particularly. Just... seeing is believing, you know?”
I share a glance with the others, knowing they can read my hesitance. Honestly, I’m not completely sure that it’s a good idea for me to do so right now when I’m already struggling. Bane’s clearly having the same dilemma, face tight, so Stryker tries to smooth over the awkwardness by volunteering.
“I’m the one that decided your fate by biting you, so I should do it.” We head inside the house, Stryker discreetly drying his sweaty palms on his jeans. “Want to do this now or later?”
Risa bites her lip, and I watch the transformation overtake her features as she bolsters herself up. “Let’s just rip off the bandage.” She turns to look at me, violet eyes hypnotic and drawing me in. “But I hope you have something to drink here, because I can almost guarantee I’m going to need a bottle of wine or two after.”
