I snatch my trunks off of the foot of the bed to go find somewhere to change, but stop as falling fabric in my peripherals pulls my attention back. Rather than step into the attached bathroom for privacy, Sabrina begins stripping down right here, just facing away from us.
I’m not the only one that completely freezes, the palpable change in the room’s atmosphere causing a few of the others to cut off mid-sentence as well. It’s not the first time I’ve caught a glimpse of her naked, but it was never deliberate on her part.
I don’t understand exactly what’s changed, don’t have the first fucking clue where her head’s at, and I’m ashamed of myself for not being able to care right now. Because even if it’s only that she’s comfortable enough around everyone in the room to change in front of us like it’s no big deal, that’s a huge step forward when it feels like we’ve been losing ground left and right.
Stepping into the black one piece, she slips it up her legs and over her ass, tying it at the nape of her neck. Spinning around to face Cin, she fights off a smile. “On one hand, I’m thoroughly impressed at your fashion sense, and on the other, unsettled that you were right; it fits perfectly. That’s kind of creepy, but also incredibly useful, so I’m torn.”
While it’s a solid black one piece, the sheer, see-through sections take it to a dangerous level of temptation; as enticing as lingerie versus straight up nudity. The solid piece creates a heart shape over her breasts and ribs, tapering down to a sharp point where it connects with the bottom bikini. Her sides are concealed by the thinner fabric, with a decorative, solid strip in the center. While her cleavage is covered in the same pattern, it leads up to a collar ringing her throat, tied in the back.
Cinjin jumps up onto the mattress to walk across it, flopping onto his ass when he reaches her side, and grips her hips. “I’m good with impressively creepy, no worries.” Tugging her down so that she’s forced to straddle his lap, he nuzzles her throat.
“Though Iamsurprised you didn’t opt for some skimpy bikini,” she adds, looping her arms around his neck.
“It was a safer bet after seeing how uncomfortable you were with how much skin was showing in that little black dress at Emmy’s dinner party.” He hitches a thumb over his shoulder to indicate Reid. “Well, that, and this stick in the mud overruled my first eight choices.”
Scowling, Reid finishes tugging on his swim trunks and returns to wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her off of his twin and chucking a pair of trunks at Cin’s face. “No one needs to see herthatexposed besides us. Just because she’s got a thing for the thrill of getting caught with public sex doesn't mean she wants to be on display for anyone to eye-fuck.”
“Valid point,” Bo murmurs, staring at her as obsessively as I am.
Slade still hasn’t moved a muscle either. "I mean this as respectfully as I can, but I want to do some very disrespectful things to you right now."
As she chuckles, it helps break the spell, the rest of us making quick work of changing and getting ready to go. Tying off my shorts, I glance up as the floor board squeaks with her approach.
Frowning, she slowly scans all of the skin currently on display. Stiffening, I bite my tongue to hold back the immediate retort that I almost spit out without thinking. Scars from Reid’s claws rake over my right side along with my chest, but that’s not what’s holding her attention. Between the ceiling collapse and the fire, my legs are a mess of multicolored scars. Some are already faded to white, and others are still dark pink and upraised, but they’re all surrounded by angry looking burned patches mottled across my legs, hip, and part of my back. Sure, I healed, but it wasn’t completely. It’s only been a few days, so even the most minor of the injuries haven’t had time to fade away to a less noticeable coloring, and while I don’t carry any embarrassment over carrying them on permanent display, the memories associated with them are shameful ones that I don’t have any interest in reliving.
If we’re allowed a fresh start relationship wise, and the Hawthornes’ on life, I want one too. Everything in my life up until the moment Sabrina bit me has been depressing, miserable, and painful. I’ve carried around enough guilt about everything I was forced to do to survive; I’m done. How can I tell Sabrina to move on if I can’t do the same?
As she reaches out to trace the claw marks on my chest with a guilty expression, I grab her wrist before she can make contact. “If we’re going to start comparing scars, you’re going to beat me again. And as fun as that sounds, I’m not in the mood, so come on.”
Putting a hard stop to things before they can take a serious turn, I lead the way out of the hotel suite and down to the pool outside. A wrought iron fence surrounds it, requiring me to scan one of our room keycards to gain access. Swinging open the gate, the eight of us stride in, all rigid with nervous tension as we face the other two dozen people out here with us.
I’ve no doubt that I could kill them if push came to shove no matter what breed they may be, but unfortunately, things aren’t that easy. You can’t simply kill people in the heart of a city like you can back home, and now that we know this place is filled with people like us, but we don’t have any information on their potential abilities, it would be a bloodbath. So we’re forced to play nice and hope for the best, when hope has never solved any of my problems before.
My chest aches uncomfortably, encouraging me to keep Sabrina in my line of sight to ensure that she’s safe, while simultaneously assessing our surroundings. It’s impossible unless I strap her to my side, and even though she trusts me enough to take point on keeping us safe so she can relax, she wouldn’t be able to if I was that high-strung.
Glancing over my shoulder at her in the center of the circle we naturally fell into, I find her scanning our surroundings with as critical of an eye as I am. Instantly, the tightness in my chest fades like I was doused in ice water.
She’s feeding off of our anxiety. I don’t know how it’s possible or what it means, but she doesn’t react like the wolves I grew up with. We tend to instinctually pick up the slack, to fill in the gaps when there’s a weak spot so that it remains as strong as possible. But Sabrina? She doesn’t act like anyone’s counterpart, she mirrors them.
Which logically means that she only fell apart because we were.
We’ve been at each other’s throats for days. All of that tension would have raised her already tumultuous feelings to a breaking point.
So in theory, if I want her to feel better... I need to put more effort not in taking care of her specifically, but the pack. There’s a clear divide between Kaige, Damian, and me, and the Hawthornes. A pack constantly at each other’s throats isn’t healthy, it’s a weak one. And Sabrina’s at the heart of it, suffering because we have our priorities mixed up.
She doesn’t need us to fixher,she needs us to fix ourselves. Everyone keeps talking about her being better than us, and it’s only encouraged her to become worse.
Son of a whore, that’s it, isn’t it? Bringing the worst parts of us to light, being worse than us so we overcorrect and try to be better for her. Kaige and Damian are fucking right; she’s our salvation, just not in the way we pictured it. She makes us so much worse that it actually circles around to where we’re better off than before we met her. But where does that leaveher?
Snagging a clean towel off of the stack on one of the carts placed sporadically around the pool, Reid drapes it over Sabrina’s neck, discreetly covering her up under the guise of being kind. “Here you go, love.”
Caught off guard, she gives him a confused smile. “Thanks. Aren’t you going to grab one for yourself?”
Without missing a beat, he capitalizes on the twin bond, Cinjin acting as an extension of himself without either of them communicating a word. “No need, Cin’s got enough for all of us.”
Finding a group of empty lounge chairs, we drop off the towels and turn toward the pool, but despite my running theories, I can’t help the scowl that twists my lips as I find everyone subtly glancing our way. Sure, there’s natural curiosity, but then there’sthis.Of all of the people here, there are only three women. It’s clear as day who each is with because they surround her as obviously as we are with Sabrina. That still leaves about half of the men unaccounted for, andtheirattention is the one that pisses me off.
There’s curiosity, and then there’s that dangerous, suicidal glint that men get when they think they have a chance. I’m not sure if it’s because compared to those here who only have three or four mates, they take the seven of us as meaning Sabrina could be convinced to let one more slide into her ranks, but it pisses me the fuck off. They don’t even know what species she is yet, they’re simply looking at a shifter female with a large harem and thinking they can get in on the action when they aren’t giving the same attention to the other women here.
