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“I’ll go first and make sure things are clear before you board,” I say, reaching into the small bag with only a couple things left in it. Not like we’ll be able to use the matches now. The water canister is still good, and so is a knife.
“I’ll go with you.” Evander helps Eliana off his back and Chase takes over, helping her hug him from behind.
The five of us swim together toward the stern of the boat, and I grab on to the first rung of the ladder leading to the swimming platform where a garage remains locked. I wonder if that’s where they keep the dinghy or some jet skis. I wouldn’t be surprised. This massive yacht is equipped for basically anything.
I sit on the platform and grab the shorts from Chase, untying the leg holes to let the air out. I doubt Evander wants to stroll around the boat butt-ass naked, and Chase and Tristan can hold on to Eliana, keeping her secure and safe here.
Reaching down, I offer my hand to Evander and help him up. The guy was brave to swim with his cock out. He’s both a grower and a shower and makes me feel a bit inferior. At least it’s not obvious now that I’m dressed.
Fuck. I never thought I’d be putting this much thought into someone else’s dick.
I look at Eliana, watching her drink in the sight of Evander. Raising my eyebrows, I smirk. She’s so damn hot that I don’t even care if she flirts with all of us. I don’t mind her giving each of us attention. I’m just happy that she never rejected me, and there’s still a chance to create something between us. Who fucking knew I’d be so open to the idea? A part of me hopes that the other guys will back off eventually. I figure if I wait it out, they’ll get too jealous to deal with it. Me? I’ve never been a jealous guy. What’s the point when Eliana has been clear about things?
Evander smacks my back, pulling my attention from my thoughts. I shake my head, flinging the water off. Excitement courses through me. This yacht is the fucking shit. I can already imagine exploring the seas or finding a less savage island to live out my days without the dumb shit laws and ways of life the civilized world forces on us. It shouldn’t be so damn expensive just to exist.
“If you guys see anything, whistle.” I look at Chase and dip my chin. “If I call out panda, it’s safe to board. If I yell raccoon, get the hell away from the boat.” I don’t know why the animals come to me, but I once saw pandas at the zoo, and they were dope, rollie-pollie bears and my kindred spirit creature. Raccoons, on the other hand, are mean as shit. Far from deserving the name of trash panda. More like asshole bandits.
No one comments on my word choices, and Evander searches the in-seat compartments of the swimming platform and yanks out a chain. He winds it around his fist while I keep the knife, and we stay close, though I lead the way.
I focus on our surroundings, keeping a lookout for any signs of someone on the yacht. The pathway wrapping around the deck doesn’t allow much of a visual. We reach the grand entrance of the main salon at the stern. Lights illuminate the luxurious living area. Sleek metal and dark woods accent a room bigger than any apartment I’ve ever lived in. It’s fucking awesome.
“Damn. How in the hell do these bastards own this?” Evander mutters, strolling past me. He heads to the sectional couch in front of the fireplace and grabs a decorative sword from above the mantle. He unsheathes it and grins at me.
I shrug my shoulders. I don’t know how to use a sword. Hopefully, he does or I might lose my head. A hand or some shit. Things I like having around.
Stepping back, I put some space between us. “Let’s start with the bridge and then the master stateroom.”
Evander nods his head and searches around, spotting a staircase leading up next to the elevator. There’s no way I’m getting trapped in a box, so I take the stairs two at a time, trying to hustle my ass.
Evander cuts in front of me, preparing to stab anybody who gets in our way with the sword.
In any other circumstances, I’d hesitate. But not now. I don’t care who it is. Anyone on this yacht is our captor and an enemy. I thought killing would be hard—it should be hard—but when fuckers keep coming at us with teeth and shit, I’m going to do what I have to for our survival. Kill or be killed. My dad prepared me for this my whole life as if he knew I’d find myself in this situation. Of course, he only thought it’d be a wasteland of dickhead humans fighting for resources after some natural disaster or plague or whatever. He’d shit his pants knowing that werewolves exist.
I was lucky I didn’t have pants. Or not. I need to focus. I’m way too distracted to be preparing to head into battle. There’s no way this boat is empty.
“There.” Evander points the sword toward a closed door.
I shake out my nerves and clutch my knife tighter. I’m a bit thankful that Evander has the sword. He can rush whoever, impaling them. The little bit of space between us will give me the chance to take a fucker down.
“Take that side of the door. I’ll be on this side. We’re not going in and getting trapped.” Evander steps toward the side where the door swings in.
I stand on the opposite side, ready and waiting. If anyone’s in there, I’m sure they’ll come running out. As long as we can get to them first, we’ll get through this.
I raise my hand to knock on the door, but Evander stops me. He’s a fucking smart guy, and I realize that if we knock, they won’t come running. They’ll have a chance to change into their beast forms. To get out, they’re going to need to be in human form to open the door to rush us.
I clear my throat. “Hey, fuckers? This is a hostile takeover. Come out with your hands up.”
My muscles bunch as I say the words, waiting for the door to crack open. But nothing happens. I don’t hear anybody either.
Evander waits another moment, motioning me to stay in my spot with his index finger. We stare at each other and then look at the stairwell and the elevator, half-expecting somebody to come rushing from those spots. But it remains silent. If someone’s on this yacht, they’re either not in this area or super fucking heavy sleepers. It wouldn’t be the first time someone slept on the job. I can imagine whoever is the captain of this yacht might be kicking back in his chair and taking a fucking nap.
“Kick the door open, and I’ll charge in.” Evander readjusts the sword, trying to get a good feel of it to hold properly.
I nod and move in front of the door. I wish I could rely on myself to kick it hard enough from the side, but I need to be right in front of it. I’m fucking barefooted. I swear I better not break something.
Instead of trying to be a hard ass like a movie hero, I touch my fingers to the doorknob to check if it’s unlocked first. I can open it and kick just as good, if not better, than if I were to try to break the damn door down like a raging badass. I’m not exactly that. But I’m trying. Eliana is more fierce than I am.
I touch my fingers to the handle, and it easily clicks open. My heart races as I kick the door with my barefoot and it swings open hitting the wall. Evander rushes in only to be greeted by no one. Maybe the captain and crew are sleeping. They are anchored, after all. There are no storms coming either. They wouldn’t have very much to do. Not this late at night.
