~Chapter Twenty-Two: The Interrogation~
I am not sure if I am disappointed that I was unable to return to my cabin last night or excited that I did not have to sleep on a couch. I did have to share a bed with Dylan, Erika, and Diego again, though. Something about it not being safe for a little cat like me to be surrounded by such big bad Alphas. The worst part is that it was not Dylan's overprotective friend mode that stuck me in a bed with those three, but Erika's concern for my safety. Maybe it is because she has never seen me fight. Dylan, at least, has. Up-close and personal.
When I asked why we all have to sleep in the same bed, even though the threat is merely a few wolves that would really have no reason to attack me in my sleep, Dylan told me that a warm bed is the best, especially when it comes with body shields in case his wife started sleep punching him. Such a great way to make a guy feel safe.
Thankfully, I managed to slip out of the bed in the middle of the night without waking anyone and spent the rest of the night on the floor, wrapped up in a throw blanket. It was not a very pleasant experience, but it beats being smothered all night. Markus woke up before me and ended up stepping on me in his sleepwalk to reach the shower. I think he was too out of it to realize that I was not furniture, as he made no comment about it when he was completely awake fifteen minutes later.
"What is with all those moon phases for pack names? Isn't that stuff straight out of a tween fantasy novel or were you guys just so terrible with names that you went with the first thing you saw while howling at the night sky?" I ask over breakfast the next morning.
Markus snorts some of his cereal milk out his nose, clearly not expecting me to be chatty so early. If he was, he would not have been caught off-guard by my question. Dylan's eyebrows shoot up, his face the perfect picture of amusement. "There is this longstanding joke in the packs. Werewolves are thought to be moon-chasing dog-men and every time someone in a pack marries a human, the first thing that human asks is somehow moon-related. So, during one meeting, the Alphas from two generations ago changed their pack names," he says with a shrug, returning to his toast.
"Then why are you still the Colorado Springs pack?" I inquire.
Dylan smiles. "My grandpa didn't get the joke."
I stick out my tongue at my friend while pushing my empty bowl of what used to be marshmallow cereal onto the island counter. Erika, who is doing the dishes, meets my gaze and rolls her eyes. "The sink is four feet away, Cade," she scolds. "You have two feet, use them."
I smirk. "Touché."
Markus snickers softly when I move around the island to give Erika my bowl, acting like a good house guest. I would offer to do the dishes, but Erika always turns me down on the basis that I am a guest and should not be doing the housework for her. In fact, she has even taken to complaining if I do ask anymore.
"Anyway, I should be heading out before my sister starts tearing apart my cabin to find my nonexistent secrets," I announce, running a hand through my disheveled bed hair that I was too lazy to brush. Thankfully, the clothes I left here last time had been washed and I was able to put them on this morning instead of wearing yesterday's clothes.
Dylan ditches his toast in favor of giving me one of his I-will-crush-you hugs. "Ribs. Ribs!" I shout, tapping his back repeatedly in hopes it will get him to release me. Stupid wolf.
Next, Erika gives me a much kinder hug, one filled with something akin to sisterly care, keeping it tender and nice. That, and I think she is worried about my now bruised ribs. When I look over at Markus, though, he remains seated. When he sees my pointed look, he raises his hands. "It's not like you're going away to summer camp," he says.
"Aw, sugar-lips, you wound me," I tease, putting my hand over my heart in mock pain. Dylan is the one snickering now when Markus just glares.
"Try not to hurry back," he growls, though his light tone proves that he is only joking.
Erika smirks at Markus. "Man up," she says, before smiling genuinely at me. "Drive safe."
- - - - - - -
When I arrive back at the cabin, I am relieved to find that my home is not torn to shreds. In fact, it looks like she barely touched anything. That is the first sign something is wrong.
The second sign is when I find my sister, still asleep in my bed. While I know that she is the type who never sleeps past nine, even on a weekend, I do not wake her. Instead, I pull the sheets up to cover her better. Or I would have, had I not seen the scarring.
All along her stomach, there are thin scars. They have clearly been healing, as Weres do not scar easily, but they would have had to be bad if they still look so nasty and jagged. Considering her natural healing ability, she would have had to have gotten these while in New York.
Wanting to make sure there are not more, I gently pull her t-shirt up a little to reveal more of her perfectly flat stomach. The scabbed over skin I find that makes me feel sick to my stomach at the same time as it makes my blood boil. Who would dare to hurt my sister?
I withdraw my hand and am about to cover her up with the blankets to let her sleep longer when her hand suddenly wraps around my wrist. "What time is it?" She asks groggily.
"Where did you get those scars?" I demand instead of answering. I was going to let her sleep, but if she is already awake, I have no problem keeping her up. "It wasn't your chew toy of a boyfriend, was it?"
Her eyes fly open and she looks down at her exposed belly. "What? No, Jeremy wouldn't, no," Heather says, tugging her shirt down to hide the scabs and scars. "I was just, uh, helping a friend and things got a little heated."
"You're not in trouble, are you?" I ask after a moment. While it does not sound like she is lying, that does not mean she is telling me everything. In fact, I know she is hiding something. Getting information from her is like pulling teeth.
"No, I'm good," she replies, a fake smile on her face.
I would push for a real answer, but then she would only shut me out for the day and this is one of my few chances to spend time with her. "What do you want to do today?" I ask, changing the subject before she gets the chance to push me away.
Her smile becomes genuine, letting me know that I made the right choice. "Breakfast?" She suggests as she gets out of the bed. I move out of the way to give her some room to stretch. Knowing her, she would smack me while stretching – her favorite excuse – if I am in reach.
"I already ate," I admit, "but I would never say no to a second breakfast."
Heather snorts softly as she raises her arms above her head and leans back a little. The scars on her belly become visible as her shirt rises up, causing me no end of protective brotherly pain. If only she would tell me who did it. I do not doubt her able to protect herself, but if she gets in over her head, I want to be able to help her in every way that I can. And I cannot do that if I have no idea who to kill first.
"Give me a few minutes to get ready," she says, which is sister language for 'I need thirty minutes of you not bothering me so I can look pretty'.
I spend the next twenty-five and a half minutes lying on the couch, counting the seconds. It felt like hours. "Please tell me my bathroom doesn't smell like your disgusting perfume," I whine, earning a giggle form the bathroom's general direction.
As she walks up the stairs, I notice how loud she is compared to Ryland and his eerily stealthy ways. She might be a stealth cat like me, but the giant of a cat has her beat in the sneakiness department. Though, only when he really wants to. When Heather's head appears over the back of the couch, right in front of my face, I dismiss the thought from my mind immediately, instead glaring up at her in mock annoyance.
"Are you ready now?" I ask, jokingly angry. Heather just rolls her eyes before disappearing over the edge.
When I sit up, I see her heading for the door. "Are you coming or not?" She asks. I follow her out the door, the keys already in my pocket. However, I hesitate on the porch when I see she turns to face me, holding out her hand, palm up. "I want to drive."
"What? No! Why?" I demand, putting my hand protectively over my pocket of my jeans. That was a foolish move to make, as her eyes zero in on the hand and what is under it.
"Because I have some things I want to talk to you about and I would rather you not drive us into a tree," Heather confesses, her eyes moving away from my pocket to look at my shirt...Stain, maybe?
While I am still a little hesitant, I hand her the keys. "Don't kill my car," I sigh as she snatches the keys from my hand. She practically bounces over to the left side of my Jeep before climbing in. The second the passenger door closes behind me, she is peeling out of my driveway at speeds I did not think were possible for my poor little Jeep while in reverse. "Shit!"
Heather laughs gleefully and I wonder if I just signed my own death warrant. Ryland will kill me if I get myself killed. As we turn a corner, that thought is thrown from my mind and I shut my eyes out of dread. Sisters are crazy...
"What did you want to talk about?" I ask once we are on the highway into town, no longer in reverse, and not about to die or get a speeding ticket.
"I want to know why you haven't been answering any of my calls or texts," she answers, glancing at me for a few seconds before returning her gaze to the road.
I shrug, turning my attention to the world passing by outside the window. "I've been busy with college," I mutter. Lying to my sister is next to impossible. I feel guilty and it ends up showing on my face.
"Is it because of your boyfriend?"
It takes a few seconds to register, but when it does, I nearly choke on my own tongue. "W-what?" I blurt, whipping my head around to gape at my older sister. She beams at road, clearly excited by my reaction. "I don't have a boyfriend."
"Then what is he? A lover?" She asks, turning to me with big, innocent eyes. Sneaky little weasel...
"He isn't my lover!"
She smiles, "Ah, but there is a guy, huh?"
"I don't-how did you even figure this out?" I demand in surprise. Barely a second later, my shock turns into repulsion. "I no longer believe that you haven't somehow put cameras into my house."
Heather rolls her eyes. "When will you get over that idea? I only threatened that once and I never even tried to carry through with it," she alleged. I glare at her until she continues, "Your place is too clean for a lazy brat like you and your shirt is one size too big, yet the sleeves are a stretched and it smells like a man, even under all a cat even under all the wolf and detergent. I am guessing it's not yours."
I glance down at the shirt I am wearing, realizing that it is, in fact, not mine. It is the one that Ryland lent me for our first date and I never had the chance to return it because it has been at the pack house the entire time.
"What are you, some female version of Sherlock Holmes?" I exclaim, completely aghast by her deduction. What the hell does she do in her free time? "Besides, that isn't concrete enough to think I have a boyfriend."
"The wolf who drove me home last night told me everything," she replies, disproving my theory immediately.
"Shit," I snap, nibbling on my pinky nail for a moment. I take a deep breath, inhaling the scents and realize it was... "Diego, that bastard."
My sister shakes her head, not impressed by my growl. "I don't know why you felt you needed to keep it a secret. Mom and Dad are very accepting and I doubt they would care if you announced your gaydom," Heather assures, however that does not make me feel any better. In fact, I might throw up.
"Y-you didn't tell them anything, right?" I ask, completely ignoring her assumption that I am secretly gay. Which I am not.
Heather immediately shakes her head again. "Of course not. I won't tell them if you don't want me to, but if you get mated to this guy, you're going to have to tell them eventually," she tells me.
"I'm not gay, Heather."
She snorts, "Sure you are-"
"No, seriously, I'm not gay. I'm not dating the guy, nor do I want to. He's the one looking for a relationship," I explain, hoping that will somehow convince her that I am not lying.
Her face softens a little, but there is hard edge to it. I am not sure if that means she believes me or thinks I am in denial. Maybe even a little bit of both. "Where is he? I want to meet him," she says impassively.
"He's in Italy."
Heather turns to face me, her face revealing her surprise. "H-he left you here? Don't tell me you kicked him out before you gave him a chance," she scolds, somehow making it seem like my fault.
"What? I wish," I scoff, though perhaps I should not be so amused by her response considering the reason for this conversation. "He's a lion, Heather. I couldn't even make him budge an inch, let along leave the country if he wasn't willing."
"Then why did he leave? Surely he wouldn't just give up so easily," she says, eyeing me, probably thinking of some other way I could have made him leave the country that would reflect badly on my personality.
"He's just visiting his family while you're here. I didn't want you to catch him here and start asking questions," I admit sheepishly.
Her expression shows her surprise, followed by this look of admiration. She has not even met the annoying lion and she already likes him. Of course. "I expect to be invited to the wedding," she declares happily. I make a noise of protest, but she cuts me off before I can start by asking another question, her face suddenly serious. "Do you like him?"
"I-no. I don't," I answer.
She sighs a little, but does not look deterred. "You don't hate him, though."
Even though it was clearly a statement, I nod in reply. "I did at first, but I can't anymore. He's just...helpful."
"Helpful? Really? That's the best you can do?" She asks, unimpressed. I scowl at her, choosing not to reply. "I know about the bet-deal you made. Or, at least, as much as the wolves do. Do you think you'll lose?"
I force my face to remain impassive. "Let it go," I growl, no longer in the mood.
"Cadey-wadey, I asked you-"
"I'll only answer if you tell me where you got those scars," I snap. It is rude of me to bring that up again, but I really do not want to talk about this. If I do, I will start second-guessing myself and I really cannot let that happen with the month half over. Fifteen days have passed and my opinion has already changed from hatred to a reluctant friendship-type relationship. Who's to say it will not change again?
I won't let that happen.
Thankfully, my sister clams up almost immediately. Heather does not look happy that I brought it back up again and while I feel bad at having done so, I do not regret it. "I'll let it go, but I expect weekly reports from now on. Capisce?"
"Yeah, fine," I grumble before looking around, realizing that we are already in town. "Where are we going?"
"This amazing coffee shop Diego told me about. Apparently, they have the best coffee cake."
It is only a few minutes later that we are pulling into the perfect parking spot directly across the street from the café. Heather hops out and is already crossing the street by the time I manage to untangle myself from my seatbelt. I quickly chase after her, but as soon as I walk into the shop, she points at one of the empty tables instead of letting me join her in the line, where she is already nearing the counter.
The table she chose is near the back, thankfully, and there is no competition at this time of the morning for the spot, as there are two other tables which are near the door. I sit back in my seat as I try to process all that has happened this morning. While I did not think she would be oblivious to the few signs I would be unable to hide – scratch marks on the trees, Ryland's apartment if we were to get too close, his truck at the airport that smells like him, and so on – but I did not expect to be told on by one of the wolves.
"Cade, is that your sister?"
I look up to see Riley sitting one table over, leaning in my direction. I am surprised I did not catch his scent, but not surprised that I failed to notice him. He is currently wearing a hat, sunglasses, a scarf, and carrying a newspaper... "Are you on a stakeout or something?"
The odd human grins like an idiot. "Nah, just taking a break from my brother. He's been trying to convince me to talk to Cameron about him, even though he's your friend, not mine," Riley explains, adding to my assumption that Jason is really gay, or at least bisexual like my vampire buddy. He sounds annoyed, but the smile on his face says otherwise. Then he smiles again, seemingly changing the subject with just a look, "She's your sister, right?"
"I am," Heather says, suddenly joining us with two bags in one hand and one of those cardboard cup holders in the other, perfectly balancing the two steaming cups in it. "I got you plain black coffee, Italian blend."
Did she just wink at me?
"That's fine," I reply, taking the drinks from her and setting them down on the table. She hands me one of the bags once my hands are free and I sit back again.
Riley smiles politely at my sister before leaning closer to me and whispering, "Dude, your sister is hot."
Heather does well to hide her smile, but she still nearly snorts some coffee out her nose, just barely stopping herself by making an odd sound. When Riley glances over at her to make sure she is already, I kick her shin under the table. "Eavesdropper," I mouth when I catch her eye. She just smiles.
"I'm Heather, it's nice to meet you..." she purposefully trails off. I roll my eyes at her, but she ignores me.
"Riley," my human friend rushes to answer, holding out his hand. She shakes it to be polite, though I do not think she was expecting a handshake. When she glances at me to make sure she was not missing something, I simply shrug. Once he has his hand back, he picks up his newspaper. "Well, I have to go make sure my brother hasn't called the police to file a missing person's report. See you in class, Cade."
Once he is out of sight, Heather tilts her head to the side and taps a finger to her chin in the perfect picture of thoughtfulness. "He smells odd," she declares after a few seconds. "He's human, right?"
"Yeah," I answer. If she had met Riley a month ago and asked me that, I might have been concerned. However, Cameron has taken an interest in Riley and he has no doubt been doing weird things to Riley, some of them I bet even Riley does not know about.
Heather seems to consider this for a moment before saying, "He's cute."
"You have a boyfriend," I point out, making her giggle.
"Doesn't mean I can't be on the lookout for fresh meat."
I grimace, "Cannibalism is frowned upon by society."
She snorts before pulling her coffee cake out of her bag, reminding me that I still have yet to even touch mine. I hum softly after taking a sip of my Italian blend coffee, finding that I actually like the taste of it. "Don't you just love Italian?" Heather asks with a suggestive smile.
"Shut up."