Jacob takes two large steps back into the shadows the instant I pull away from him.
Way to make a girl feel wanted, I think with a laugh, not even trying to seek him out in the darkness. One would think no-one's ever dared to hug the man before, but from my own experiences with physical contact from strangers I slowly realise that might actually be true.
Well, he's a big boy. He can handle a hug.
Turning on my heel I move towards the exit and pause. There's something decidedly off about the room that I just can't put my finger on.
"Something's different in here," I say.
"Nope," Evan says with a tilted head. "Nothing out of the ordinary."
The steel walls are gleaming brilliantly — the harsh white light from above reflecting off its surface in a bright glow, giving a fake warmth to the cold room. I skim a finger over the wall I was so busy scrubbing at yesterday when it clicks.
"It's so clean in here," I murmur, turning to face them. "Even your cages look new."
"There hasn't been any visible blood for two days. You're a cleaning machine, lady."
"But…" I look down to my raw arms, pink and sore. "Oh."
"Yeah." He glances at the others. "You were starting to scare us, and trust me when I say that's almost impossible to do lately."
I shake my head. It's best not to think about it.
"No wonder I feel so tired," I laugh. "I'm back on my game now. My head's clear and it's probably time for breakfast, so I'll be back soon with the food bag."
"Can't you bring us some croissants or muffins instead?" Evan groans. "I haven't had one in so long, my mouth is watering just thinking about it."
"She's not the cook here," Paul says from his corner. "And from the looks of her she wouldn't know how to make anything with carbs." His smile is all pointed teeth. "Or meat."
My arms cross in indignation. "I'll have you know I'm a good cook."
"Of course you are."
"I am. One day, when I'm old and retired, and living in my own house, I'm going to make a huge banquet of just pasta, bread, and pastries. I'll make you come eat your words."
The thought that most, if not all of them, will be dead by then crosses my mind. It crosses theirs as well judging by their weak half-hearted attempts at a smile and laugh. I shuffle my feet uncomfortably for just a second.
"Back soon."
"Hey, Bella?"
I turn to the sound of Evan's voice. "Yeah?"
"I'm glad you're okay."
My chin dips and I squeeze my lips tight. "Me too. Thanks, Evan."
By the time I reach my rooms Alice is already there, breakfast tray in hand, looking around for me. I give her a small smile.
"Morning," I say brightly. "That for me?"
She nods and hands me the tray that I put off to the side on my drawers. Her eyes roam over my figure and I run my hands down my clothes to try to smooth out the creases that formed when I was sleeping. "What are you wearing?"
"My uniform," I say with a hint of confusion. "I have work to do?"
"Not on a Saturday you don't."
"Saturday?" It's already been a whole week since I arrived? I guess the days went by a lot quicker when I was in shock. "I didn't realise; I thought it was Friday. I'll get changed now."
"It looks like you've slept in it," she says. Her brow furrows further when she notes the state of my bed; unslept in. "Bella?"
"I know how it looks, but I was just really tired from how hard I've been working and didn't realise how exhausted I was until I fell straight asleep in my bed. Then I got up early and figured it wasn't that big of a problem to not wash my uniform."
A touch of sympathy bleeds into her face and she looks at me in concern. One hand brushes my shoulder. "Are you sure that's it? No-one made you sleep somewhere else; somewhere you might not have wanted? Someone who you might feel you can't say no to… your boss for example?"
I jerk back from her in surprise. He's seedy and more than a little creepy but that idea never crossed my mind.
"No way! I'd have the police here in a heartbeat. Is that the sort of behaviour I have to worry about from Edward? Rape?"
"No," she gasps. "It was hypothetical. I didn't say anyone specifically, I was just worried. Sorry, let's forget it."
She hovers around while I get changed into a warm, casual outfit, and eat the cold toast and porridge on the breakfast tray. There might've been a time that I would selfishly grumble about eating such a bland, tasteless meal, but thinking about the sack of stale food, tossed down a metal tube, that I give Jacob every morning has me thanking the gods for it.
"Here," Alice says when I finish my last spoonful. She reaches into her woolly coat and removes an envelope, yellowed with age. "I thought I'd bring this to you in person. It's your weekly pay cheque. Not really a cheque though because the Master likes to pay in cash — no paper trail that way, you see."
She pushes the bulky envelope into my cold hands and with a curious glance back to her I rip it open. It's full of cash. A lot of cash. A few hundred more than I was ever expecting to get.
"Wow," I say quietly. "Is Edward always so generous with the pay?"
Alice sneaks a glance, unable to tame her own curiosity, and whistles low. "No. He must really like you. I usually only get fifty to eighty dollars a week, and I spend nearly all of it on the basics like tampons and new underwear. Can you believe he doesn't consider them to be necessities?"
I definitely can.
I flip through the wad of bills, counting each one carefully. Seven hundred dollars. For a single week. Without even needing to worry about board and bills! I know my work is hard but only emotionally, not so much physically.
"What am I supposed to do with all this?"
"Start saving up for your retirement or buy clothes or jewelry. Maybe some perfume, it still kind of stinks down here, though you've done a good job so far."
I slide the cash envelope into the pocket of my hoodie and give it a solid pat for good measure. "You said you go out to pick up the household groceries. When do you do that?"
"Several times a week. I'm going out today in about an hour, actually. We don't have any lambs' hearts stocked so of course that's what Edward wants to eat for dinner."
"Would it be okay if I came with you to start spending this money? I won't be any trouble, I promise."
"Ah." She rubs the back of her neck uneasily. "I'm not sure that's such a good idea. Normally the servants just write down what they want on a piece of paper and someone goes out to fulfill orders once a month."
"Please, Alice," I beg. "I need to breathe in some fresh air. Being trapped underground for a week has been draining me more than you'd know."
"You can go outside whenever you want. You're not trapped there forever — you're not like the prisoners."
"It's not just the air, I need to be away from here if only for a little while. Especially after what happened to Margo…"
She sighs long and hard, frustrated. "All right, fine. I don't think it's breaking any rules, but if anything happens you feign ignorance okay?"
"It's what I do best."
"Meet me at the front door, outside, in an hour. If you're not there I'm going without you."
The moment she leaves to head back upstairs I run to where I've hidden my notebook, stashed under a pile of clothes, and rip out the section where I've written down the items requested by the men. I fold it up and place it in my pocket before going out to begin my morning routine.
"What's got you in such a good mood?" Sam asks in between mouthfuls of food. "Does it have anything to do with why our dear alpha has been pacing since you left?"
Has he? I file the information mentally away under 'things that probably mean nothing and should definitely not think about so I don't go crazy'.
"Maybe she had a good night sleep," Embry says slyly. "She looked cozy."
"She might've but the rest of us sure didn't with all that snoring," Evan pipes in. "I can't believe the amount of noise that came out of such a tiny girl."
My mouth hangs open as I look to them mortified. "You're lying, I don't snore." When he doesn't answer but merely keeps smiling I turn to Jacob. "Right?"
"You don't snore. You slept like a baby, actually," he says, which I'm not sure is any better.
It now occurs to me that while Jacob trusted me enough to shift in front of me — granted it was in the darkness so I couldn't see a thing — I was also put in a vulnerable position last night. He just as easily could've ripped out my throat while I lay sleeping under his fur.
"You even cried out and grabbed onto me when I moved away to get into a more comfortable position. Very pup behaviour."
"Ugh." I drop my head into my hands to hide the rising heat in my cheeks while everyone laughs. "I suppose I should be lucky you thought it was pup-like when you could've ripped my head off."
The men quieten and glance at each other, while a few send hurt looks my way.
"Ripped your head off? You still think we're the vicious monsters here, don't you," Jacob says. "No matter what we do or what we say, no matter what you say, you can never fully trust us."
"Whoa, hey, no I didn't mean anything like that. I just meant that I know it would be a struggle to contain your other-form's instincts so if it saw me as a threat…"
"You don't know what you're talking about," he snaps. "Maybe a child would have a little trouble but we don't."
A child? "So you're telling me that in your other form you are completely conscious and aware of what's happening? That you can control your body?"
"Of course we can. How else would we be useful as soldiers if we couldn't control our own damn bodies?"
I put my hands up. "Okay, I'm sorry I said anything."
"You don't believe me," he mutters. And he's right to some degree, I don't completely believe him because I know for a fact I can't control Jane. At times I can get through, but when she's in control she's in control.
What I do believe, however, is that he would have enough willpower to control his shapeshifting.
"I'm sorry, I do believe you."
Distracted by Jacob, I don't notice the little orange monkey flying at my back until its sharp claws dig into my shirt. I scream in surprise, throwing a hand back behind me to tear it away but it shuffles up over my shoulder to perch there and peer up at me with familiar eyes.
"Evan?"
The orange monkey reaches a hand out, that I instinctively try to duck, and grabs my nose before making a very human "I've got your nose" gesture.
"You see?" Jacob says. "Evan, what's four times seven?"
The monkey holds out two fingers, and then holds up eight.
"What's thirteen times twelve?" I ask.
The monkey shrugs and grabs at my lips. He squeezes them lightly until I laugh.
"I had no idea it could be like this."
"Who told you it couldn't?" Jacob doesn't sound angry anymore, but interested in a cautious sort of way.
I shrug the shoulder Evan isn't perched on. "No-one. I guess I came to the conclusion on my own."
"How do you feel about us now that you know we're not even close to the animals you think we were."
"You make it sound worse than it is. If I didn't trust you in your other shape I wouldn't have slept with you." I blush hard. "I mean, I wouldn't have gone to sleep on you. Which I'm way more embarrassed about now that I know you had a human mind."
He simply smirks at me and says, "Evan, go back and change. Bella doesn't want your fur all over her."
The little monkey jumps several times and grabs at my hair and then at its own.
"I think he's trying to say he has hair, not fur," I say, laughing as the monkey bobs its head furiously in agreement. He turns to me and keeps nodding. "Yes, yes, I know you have hair."
Although that hair isn't in a nice condition. Like their human hair it's been neglected and suddenly I know what several new items to get on my outing today will be. I've spent too long on the walls and floor, and not enough time on them.
Monkey-Evan scuttles off my shoulder and squeezes through his cage bars. He twirls a finger around clockwise to me, telling me to turn around, and when I do I hear the shift back.
When the rustling of clothes stop I turn back. "All decent?"
"Yep!" There's more blood in his cage now because of his change from a small form into a big one, something that requires the smaller body to explode outward, but otherwise he's in fine spirits. "What did you think? Was I a cute Fera?"
"In all honesty I can say you are the cutest orange ball of fluff I've ever seen."
He beams and I grab the cleaning supplies to give his cage a quick once-over before the blood settles in. All the mess is gone in under five minutes.
"Hm." I look around. "Now that I've cleaned most of the room I'm not sure what I'm supposed to be doing before I buy the shampoo and soaps."
"You can scrub me down without soap," Paul winks from his cage. "I'm too weak to bathe myself."
I blush. "You, Paul, are anything but weak. Or was I imagining all those push-ups you were doing?"
"Fine, I'm not weak, but there's a spot I can't reach just down—"
"Paul, quit it," Jacob barks out.
"Aw, what, so she's off-limits for fun now?"
"Yes."
There's an awkward pause before one of the younger males, Seth, says almost shyly, "You could tell us a story."
A story? Now that's different. "I would but I don't know many stories to tell, I'm afraid. Plus I'd probably mess it all up or forget the ending halfway through."
"I don't mind. You said yesterday you haven't heard that story Paul told about how we came to be. So I'm guessing you know another one. If it doesn't involve our ancestors humping a dog I'd like to hear it. I miss hearing stories."
The longing in his voice is heartbreaking. He's older than me but the request for nothing more than a story seems so innocent and full of hope that I might've thought him to be several years younger.
"I'll try. Let me think… have you heard the one about the moon and the sun being the world's creators?"
When Seth shakes his head I take a seat on the cold ground to get comfortable. A pillow slides my way and I look up just in time to see a hand retract back from the cage bars.
"Thanks, Nicholas," I say softly with a smile. He gives a timid one back in return and looks away.
"Well," I start, "Long ago the moon and sun were loving sisters—"
"Why not brothers?" Seth immediately interrupts.
"Because there are already too many boy gods. Anyway, they both had incredible powers including the power to create, and while the sun was busy making the mountains, and the desert, and the oceans, the moon was working on the critters, both tiny and large, to live there. Most of the animals loved the moon and stayed awake while the sun was away to bathe in her moonlight. They were all nocturnal, you see, but the sun saw this and she became fiercely jealous because her mountains and lakes couldn't show the same affection the animals did. She decided to create her own type of animal that was awake while she was shining so they could worship her, and asleep while her sister was out."
"The humans, right?" Seth asks.
"Right. But the humans thought they were better than the other creatures so they started to kill them off; not for food, or for warmth, or out of self-defence, but for fun. They began to enjoy hunting the critters so much that many of the animals were killed into extinction. The moon grew angry at the savage, intelligent creatures the sun had created and she sought to rectify her sister's mistake. However, the moon was weaker and didn't have the power to create humans from scratch, so at first she took human babies and changed parts of them into animals."
"Like us?"
"Stop interrupting, Seth," Paul snaps. "Keep going."
"No, not like you, the first ones she made were literally half-animal. Centaurs and mermaids and satyrs. But they were too obviously different and were quickly slaughtered by the humans and forgotten about, a myth from long ago. Then she tried a different mixture of her favourite animal, the wolf, and a human."
"Why was the wolf her favourite?"
"Because the wolf always howls at her of course. Her new creation was the first known werewolf, a man that transformed only on a full moon, when the moon was at full power. But the werewolf was vicious, uncontrollable, and more bloodthirsty than the humans, so with a heavy heart she stopped creating them. For a long while she gave up and let the humans continue in their savagery until she got the perfect idea.
"She gathered all her energy during the full moons and released it into all the newborn humans. If they were lucky enough, they would be the ones that could change at will into one chosen animal — a whole animal, far different from the werewolves — who hopefully might gain enough empathy for her critters so they could convince the others to stop hunting. And even now she continues to gather her strength and give this gift to newborn babies every year. That's why most shapeshifters are born under a full moon."
"Why are they always males? Does your story say?" Seth asks.
I shrug. "Maybe because men were the hunters while women were still gathering berries and didn't kill the animals as much. Maybe it's just luck. I don't know."
"It doesn't exactly paint humans in a good light and it kind of makes us to be the good guys," Embry says. "Who told you that one?"
"My dad," I answer. "He told me it when I was a kid so it might've been different and I simply forgot."
They must like the little fairytale because Seth doesn't stop asking questions for five minutes and the others are silent listeners, pretending not to really care but still hanging on every word. Even Jacob concedes that it's "nice" as far as origin stories for them go.
"All right," I say, getting up to stretch. "I have to go for a while but I'll be back with hopefully a nice surprise for you all."
"Nice surprise; I've heard that before," Embry mutters.
My fists clench. "No, this is a good one. You'll see."
"You don't plan on doing anything stupid, do you?" Jacob asks wearily.
I can't help but throw him a teasing smile. "Maybe."
"Bella," he growls.
Oh, that's sexy.
"I won't do anything stupid on purpose. You can trust me."
"You, maybe. It's the other humans I have a trust issue with."
I falter at the door, savouring and repeating his words like it was the sweetest chocolate. You, maybe. Hiding my smile, soft victory music plays in my head and I force myself not to skip down the corridor in joy.
Fresh air. Clean, crisp, marvelous fresh air.
I gulp it down greedily the moment I step out of the house of horrors and tilt my face up to the warm sun. Never will I ever take the simple things of sunlight and air for granted again.
"Bella, come on!" Alice calls from the driver seat.
Minutes later we're out of the gates and driving through the fake woods surrounding the mansion. Fake or not it still reminds me of the reservation and forest back home, and I touch my finger to the window. How different things were for me only a week ago. How much things can change in seven days.
My mind takes in the route and road Alice is driving along just in case… in case I might ever need it.
"Has anyone ever tried to escape?" I ask Alice, playing it cool to mask my thoughts.
"The shifters? Of course they have."
"Were any successful?"
"I think you know the answer to that," she says and throws me a sharp look. "If that's what you're thinking about doing, trying to work out if you can help any escape, tell me now so I can lock you in your room. Every escape attempt has ended in a tragic accident and a quick funeral."
"I'm not planning anything. I've had enough adventure over the past week to last a lifetime. Besides, maybe I'm just concerned for my safety, if they manage to steal my access card—"
"If they manage to steal your access card and they make it outside, passed all the guards and the guns and military grade bolted doors and the snipers on lookout? They still won't make it. I don't know how Edward does it but under him and the previous owner, there hasn't been a single successful escape. So do not think about it."
Apparently I'm too transparent so I drop the subject and lean back with a sigh.
"Who's going to replace Margo?" I say suddenly after a minute.
Alice's fingers grip the steering wheel tightly. "Margo? Who's Margo? Never heard of that name."
"I think that was her name. She was the weapons trainer for—"
"I know who Margo was, I'm trying to teach you what you should say if you hear that name. She never existed to us, okay? We never heard of her. We don't know her. People die in that house often, scarily enough, but we pretend to forget they were ever there to begin with. Just like we do with the escapees."
"What about their families? Aren't there investigations?"
"Accidents happen. The house is virtually off the map, fake addresses are given when necessary, and bribes work just fine on police officers snooping around. The whole city's police department is bought and paid for actually and the government's well aware of the happenings going on."
"So that's it? We just forget her?"
"Who?"
"Marg—"
She shoots me an exasperated look and I slump a bit further down into my seat.
"No-one, right," I huff. "How did you know about what happened to her in the first place?"
"The guards are surprisingly big gossips. I heard it all before I started bringing your food down to you after you begun missing meals. It wasn't too hard to see that the gossip was true, it was all over your catatonic face. I'm really glad you seem to be on the mend."
"Was I really that bad? It's not like I was banging my head against a wall and speaking in tongues."
"You replied to questions normally enough, but you were just not all there; your eyes seemed spacey and your voice was monotone. I can't describe it. At times you were aware and then you just clocked out."
I'm sorry. Thanks for not letting me starve. I owe you."
"It's not me you owe," she says and turns on the radio to drown out the conversation.
It doesn't take as long as I remember to get back into Fork's business and commercial district. Knowing I'll be back underground soon is making the time slip away.
The shopping centre we pull into is gigantic — far, far grander than anything my little hometown saw. The glowing sign outside of it highlights what's available, from clothing to hardware to electronics. It's everything I can possibly want rolled up into one large building and I jump out the second Alice puts the car into park.
"Be back in an hour and a half," she demands, pointing a slim finger to me. "No dawdling and absolutely no talking to anyone. If cops or journalists show up at the house both of us are dead. No cell phones either, and no cameras. Got that? He'll have both of our heads."
"Yeah, got it, but you're not coming with me?" I ask. The thought it both thrilling and nerve-wrecking at the same time. I could run. Run and keep running. Disappear like Margo, although hopefully not as permanently. Who could stop me?
"Nope! Getting food for everyone takes ages and I'll be grumbling the whole time. You'll be fine by yourself unless you want to come with me?"
"Nope," I parrot and begin at a jog towards the crowd, my pocket heavy with cash. "See you soon."
"I better!"
I move into the crowd, keeping a firm hand on my pocket in case there are sneaky thieves about, and gracefully avoid the bodies lumbering about mindlessly. Crowds usually make me anxious; at the best of times they're just suffocating and smelly, but it doesn't bother me now.
When the crowd thins out I slip into the first store I come across. There's just so many things waiting to be bought that it's tempting not to buy everything I see. I will myself to ignore the impulses; the men don't need a new pair of women's converse shoes or hoodie or matching bra and panties set.
What do they need? I think, looking around. Toothbrushes and scentless deodorant, definitely. New blankets of course. Shampoo and soap is a must. Something mentally stimulating as well.
After grabbing a few items from one store I hop to the next one, and then the next one, gleefully throwing item after item into my shopping cart. The pitiful written list in my pocket was completed within minutes and barely takes up any space in the oversized cart - now I'm shopping for pleasure. New pillows, air purifier, combs, soaps, shampoo, lice killer just in case, a dividing screen for bathroom privacy, lots of socks, books for Seth, another electric heater, cards, plastic plates and cups.
The list keeps growing and growing. Everything I pick up off the shelf seems absolutely vital until the cashier rings it all up with an annoyed look, and I walk away out of the complex four hundred dollars lighter.
Oh well, I still have more money than I ever expected to have tucked away.
Before I leave to catch up with Alice, I make one final stop into the grocer's to pick up lots of cupboard food that won't spoil, no-oven baking ingredients, and as an afterthought I throw in two dozen croissants and muffins.
We'll see who can't cook anything with carbs, I think with a grin, unwrapping one of the blueberry muffins for myself.
Alice is packing up her own bundles into the car by the time I arrive back. She takes one look at my bulging cart and raises an eyebrow. "No impulse control, huh?"
"You could say that."
We manage to squeeze everything in somehow and start on the short journey back. My heart's still racing at the act of buying the gifts. I can only hope that's not against the rules; since Margo's death I've realised I really, really don't want to get on Edward's bad side. His slap was bad enough but now… now I don't want to displease him at all. To just do what he says.
The buildings pass in a blur and I lean my head against the window to watch them zoom by.
"You really shouldn't be so obvious," Alice says softly.
I give her a lazy side glance. "Obvious about what?"
"About your feelings for the prisoners. If you're going to buy things for them you should buy small and build it up from there."
"What?" My head snaps up and I sit up straight as I give her my best are you crazy look. "I'm not buying anything for them."
"Sure," she laughs, "I guess you just happen to need fifteen new pillows in case of emergencies."
I suck in a harsh breath. "Please don't tell anyone."
Silence stretches between us and Alice's lips pull down into a frown. She slows the car until we're going well under the speed limit, at almost a snail's pace.
"You know you're not the first or only person to want to help them, right?"
"I know," I nod slowly. "There are a few sympathisers out there."
"There's a lot more than a few. Every year when it gets close to the Hunt, activists turn up in the hundreds scattered around the business district, usually in front of the National Bank and the gambling Lodge, and begin to picket. I see them every year. Different ones every time."
"Really?" I gasp. I can't begin to imagine what that might look like.
Whenever I heard the word sympathiser I always pictured a person quietly saying that perhaps it's wrong to imprison and hunt men, and that they're overheard and taken away. Being a sympathiser can be a death sentence. It makes no sense that someone would choose to publicly announce themselves as one.
"How is that possible? Don't they get jailed for it?"
"Every year. Jailed and beaten. A lot of them go missing but the government does just enough to keep it out of the spotlight. News reporters are forbidden by law to do stories on the protests, but if enough people start to go missing there's nothing from stopping them doing a whole segment on it. So there's a lot of jail time, fines, beatings, and for lead activists, false charges are usually conjured up so they're given capital punishment." She slides her finger across her neck for emphasis.
"They don't kill them outright? The public might even prefer that."
"No, they won't publicly kill a human for being sympathetic. They'll do it privately. People may hate the shapeshifters but they don't want to see their fellow man mistreated."
"Wow." I lean back in the plush leather in a daze.
"But as a piece of advice," Alice continues, "Don't get attached to any of the prisoners. I know it's hard not to because you're working so closely with them but try to keep your distance. If they don't die in their cell, they'll die in the Hunt, and if they don't die there they will as a soldier. They're born to die. Maybe one day it'll change. Maybe it won't."
"It sounds like you're speaking from experience," I whisper. "Did you get attached to someone?"
Her lips crook up in a sad smile. "When I was younger and a little more naive, I admit I developed a crush on one of the men. He was so charming and handsome it was hard not to. I would sneak down and give him extra food and he'd always say 'thanks, Darlin' with an accent that drove me wild."
"What happened to him?"
"He died, of course. Made it through the Hunt and even managed to take a bite or two out of the Hunters in there which hardly ever happens. It was as hilarious to watch as it was frightening. He was an ugly little vampire bat," she laughs. "Hand to God the ugliest little thing you'd ever see, with a squashed in face and tiny rat-like fangs. But my little guy made it and moved on to be a soldier, fighting for a country that hurt him so much. He was so good at it they promoted him to Major before he was killed. I don't think it was in combat, either."
"I'm so sorry, Alice," I say softly.
She scoffs but tries to smile regardless. "Yeah, well, just be careful. No matter how many activists protest they will never stop the Hunts or the experiments. It's too profitable. There's too much to learn still from their biology and they haven't figured out how to weaponize it yet. It's best to accept that now."
She picks up speed again and we fall back into a now uncomfortable silence. My throat burns with all the things I should be saying. At least an acknowledgement that her secret interest in a dead man will remain a secret, but time passes too quickly and I lose my nerve to bring it back up.
When we pass the gates, after a quick scan by the monitors, Alice doesn't drive to the front, like she did when I arrived a week ago, but rather off to the side, in a narrow path that connects to the back of the house.
"The kitchens," she states as she parks. "I'll help you bring your bags in but you'll have to make a few trips to get them down to your rooms from here."
"That's fine." I jump out and help her unload everything. A few curious stares come my way from the people working in the adjoining rooms but they duck away when I meet their gaze.
"Do you ever get a break? A weekend off?" I ask, watching as she takes out a large sack of flour and heaves it up onto the bench.
"Not if we want to eat I don't. You'd think I'd get paid loads for overtime but it doesn't work like that, unfortunately. Now you better get moving while I start on lunch."
"Sure."
"Oh, wait."
I turn to look at her cautiously.
"You're okay, aren't you? Do you need me to keep bringing the meals down?"
I wish she would. Anything to avoid extra time with the Master. "No, I'm okay now. I'll be up for the meals from now on."
"Great because I hate it down there. It's like a B-grade horror movie only real and smelly."
"Tell me about it," I mutter and pick up a few of my items.
It takes me seven trips from the kitchens to get all my bags down to the elevator, and by the time I'm hauling the last one into my room I'm sweating profusely. Wanting to surprise them in one go I pull around one of the bigger rolling tray tables that resemble a gurney from the other room and pack all my things onto it in a neat pile.
Giddy with excitement I almost run with it to the men, my fingers fumbling with the access card as I do.
"Look what I've bought," I call out in a sing-song voice when I enter.
"No way!"
"What is all that?"
The men titter from their cages and push their faces through to get a better look.
"This," I say with a flourish. "Is for you all."
I start handing out the items as they appear, feeling a bit like Mrs. Santa Claus, and the reactions from the men tend to be the same; stunned and awed. Not a hint of distrust or suspicion. Every slack-jawed face builds my confidence until I'm grinning in selfish pride. I've left no-one out of a small personal gift. Derek has tears in his eyes when I hand him the professional sketchpad and pencils, and Seth laughs a breathy "this is crazy" when I hand him a large book of tales.
The muffins and croissants get gleefully eaten within minutes. Even the surly Jacob can't resist one when I shyly pass it through the bars to him.
"How did you get the money for all of this?" he asks. The others quiet down, holding onto their new toothbrushes and pillows as though I'm about to snatch them away.
"I was paid today."
"You bought all of this," he gestures to everything, "with one week's worth of pay? What's the catch? It's all rented?"
"There's no catch, I was just paid really well. Edward probably pays all the new staff well on the first week and then cuts it down."
"So these are Edward's things," he spits out the name in disgust.
"No, they're my things, I damn well earned that money. What's your problem?"
"My problem is you're giving them hope they shouldn't have. Look around you, little human, where are you? A dungeon and we're in cages, do you think any of this superficial shit is of any use to us?"
"You need food and blankets."
"We need sustenance, not fancy fucking muffins from a bakery."
I curse my weakness for the umpteenth time as tears once again fill my eyes.
"Damn it," Jacob curses. "Stop crying."
"What do you want me to do then? Take it all away? Why are you hot one minute and then cold the next with me?"
"Don't listen to him, Bella," Sam says as he fluffs up his new pillow. "Jake's just mad he can't provide for his pack while he's trapped in here; it's instinct for the alpha to be the provider, and he's probably miffed a human female had to take over."
"Have I not provided you with what you needed, Sam?" Jacob grinds out. "Are you so soft that you cannot possibly survive without a nice pillow?"
"Jacob," I whisper. "Please don't do that. He didn't mean anything by it, and I'm sorry I made you feel like you couldn't provide for them. That wasn't my intention."
"You don't—" He runs a frustrated hand through his uneven hair. "You don't have to apologise because I'm being a dick but you also can't mother them like this. It will turn them soft like you."
I frown.
"It's not a bad thing; your naivety is… endearing but it's maddening. Just don't buy them anymore useless crap. We can survive without it and you shouldn't be drawing attention to yourself."
My instincts all scream to do what he says, that this man knows what's best for his pack and that I should give in to his demands, but when I look around at the 'useless crap' being fawned over I can't bring myself to say yes.
"No," I state softly.
"No?"
"No, I'm going to keep buying junk if it makes them happy. It might make you happy as well if you let it. They need hope, and stimulation, and clean air, and blankets, and for god's sake toothbrushes, soap, and toilet paper. None of that is useless."
I don't wait around to see his reaction, but instead go to set up the more high-end electric heater to replace the crappier one, and air purifier to keep cleaning out this disgusting (but thankfully faint) smell and warm up the place. Within minutes there's already a change in the air and I know I've made the right choice.
Damn what Jacob says. A golden cage is still a cage, but it's better than a rusted, cold, blood-stained one.
"Now that that unpleasantness is out of the way, who's up for a friendly game of Blackjack?" I pull out the two packs of cards I bought and wave them in the air, pointedly ignoring Jacob completely.
It does seem like a silly gesture, especially after Jacob's speech about useless things, but at least half of the men eagerly agree and I open their doors to bring them out into the bigger, empty space.
I throw the pack to Paul, and pull around a pillow, a pair of scissors, a comb, and a bottle of two-in-one shampoo and conditioner behind him.
"What are you doing?" he asks as he begins to shuffle the decks.
"I'm going to cut and clean up this mess on your head. If that's okay."
He shrugs and sits down in front of me, tilting his head back so I've easier access. I squirt some conditioner on the ends of his lengths and start to tug the comb through. Although I try to be gentle, his head is yanked back every few seconds from a hard knot that seems to be everywhere.
"Sorry."
"It's okay." He deals the cards out face down. "Any favours for the winner? Something to spice it up?"
I tug at another knot. "Hm, how about the winner can ask the losers a question on each round, how's that?"
They all nod — Paul a bit more cautiously — and begin their game.
Paul, who seems to have trouble knowing when to quit, loses frequently and since I'm the one working on his hair I've been unofficially clumped in as his team member, which also makes me the loser and fair game to be questioned. The questions aren't so bad, mostly revolving around my human life before I arrived. My questions back, when Paul wins, are just as mundane; about their favourite movie or colour. I purposely keep them light as to not pry.
Eventually more and more of the men ask to join until everyone but Jacob is participating.
"Blackjack!" Paul yells out, pumping his fist in the air. Some of the others grumble about it not being fair, since they can't get anymore cards due to there being so many people playing at once.
"Nice job," I say. I fill up a small cup with the water from the bucket next to me. "Now, tilt your head back so I can get this shampoo out."
He does and I pour the unfortunately cold water through his hair, running my fingers through it to make sure it's all out. When it is, I hand him a small towel to dry it off.
"Did anyone else get twenty-one?" I ask. "No? Okay Paul, you're the winner, what's your question?"
He hesitates and rubs the back of his head with the towel. The sight of the large man acting shy is almost cute. He turns to me, "Don't think I'm gettin' sappy, but do you think there's a chance there's a girl out there for us? You know, a human girl that wouldn't run, scream, or throw things at us if we showed interest?"
A few hours ago before hearing about the activists I might've honestly thought no. "I don't see why not. You're all handsome, kind men. Any girl would be lucky to call any one of you her boyfriend."
"Even you?" Embry teases. Without conscious thought my eyes wander instantly to Jacob who's staring straight back at me intensely, with just as much curiosity as the rest. There's no missing it and Paul oohs playfully in response.
"Now I see why you didn't want me messing with her," he says to Jacob. "You're wanting to do that yourself."
"Shush up you. Don't provoke him," I say with a laugh and lightly slap Paul's arm, staunchly refusing to look back in Jacob's direction at all. "I'm serious though. You are a great guy and I know there's someone out there for you."
It breaks my heart to think he might not be alive to find her.
The men play for hours, switching the games up, as I work on all of their hair until it's as clean and soft as duck down. One by one they get tired of cards and go back into their cage to test out their other new toys. They don't stop running their fingers through their new clump-free hair as they do.
I purposely miss lunch just to spend more time with them. In a way it feels like comradeship to only eat when they do, even if my food is much nicer.
I'm packing up the scattered cards when bare feet stop at my wrist.
"Deal me in," Jacob says huskily, and sits cross-legged in front of me.
"I didn't think you'd play with useless crap," I say somewhat bitterly but nonetheless begin to shuffle the cards. I'm tired of cards myself, but the chance to play anything with this man is too tempting.
"I'll make an exception."
"Blackjack?"
"Poker."
"I don't know how to play Poker."
He takes the cards from my hands, accidentally brushing a knuckle on his way. "I'll teach you."
The next twenty minutes are spent in frustration as I try to absorb all the new rules and tricks for the game. There's a lot to remember but after a couple practice runs we begin. I lose straight away with a ten high.
Jacob leans back and folds his arms with a small smile. "You have a terrible poker face, do you know that? Don't ever play for money at a casino. Are we still using questions for the stakes?"
"Still using questions. What do you want to know? Unless that was your question in which case yes, I do know that I have a terrible poker face. I'm an open book."
"My question is: what's your deepest, darkest secret? And don't bother lying, I'll know if you are."
"That's a loaded question!" I snap briskly. "And it's too invasive. Ask another one."
His nostrils flare ever so slightly, possibly taking in the small beads of sweat that's started to build, along with my uneven breathing and twitchy fingers. No matter what signals of anxiety my body is throwing out, there's nothing he can do that will make me spill about Jane.
"I don't want to lie," I continue. "But I can't say. Please, just ask something else."
"All right, if it means that much to you." His hands come up in surrender. "How much do you secretly resent us for—" He motions to the area around my eye that is still a little tender to the touch and now a faint yellow.
"You had nothing to do with it and I don't resent or even dislike you one bit. Before or after this."
"At all?"
"No."
I'm not lying and he knows it. He tries to play off his shock with an easy shrug but I can see I've gotten to him. His eyes trace my face while he starts to shuffle the deck again, and when I lick my dry lips nervously two cards slip from his hand. A terse growl is thrown my way as if I purposely smacked them out.
"Look, I'm terrible at this game," I say. "Why don't we just ask each other questions as a sort of 'get to know you' experience instead? Drop the pretense. I'll do your hair like I did for the others as we talk."
"You really want to get to know me?"
"We're going to be together for a while, so yeah, I would."
"The Hunt's coming up soon and then I'll be gone. It would be a waste of time on your part."
"You could be gone tomorrow and I wouldn't think getting to know you today would be a waste."
He stretches his long legs out in front of him so one brushes my outer thigh. "Okay. Shoot."
"Before I do, do I have permission to fix—" I gesture to his hair.
When he nods, I slide around behind him to perch on my knees and drag around my hair cleaning kit. The position feels intimate in a way it didn't for the others. His back is wider than my shoulders and I have to lean up higher to tilt his head back.
I run the conditioner through the hardened ends of his hair while ignoring the prickling sensation of having such contact with him, as sad as that is, and steady my breathing. "Margo — the lady from the training room — she said you turned yourself into the authorities recently. That they didn't know you weren't human until then."
A quiet murmur goes across the room and I hear Evan faintly ask, "That true?"
Jacob's back stiffens. "And you want to know why."
"No," I say quickly as I comb the knots out. "Well yes, not now. I don't want to pry into that, but it'd mean you got a career letter as well, right? We all did after graduating. My question is what did it say? What did the government think you'd be best suited for?"
"Mechanic," he says sharply after a moment's pause. Probably trying to work out what my angle is.
I picture him in a dirty, oily garage with his monstrous frame too big to hide under the car's body. His tanned skin and overalls covered in grime and sweat.
"Did you enjoy it?"
"Do you enjoy yours?"
"I'm enjoying it now."
He's silent for a moment. "I didn't hate it. Ran my own garage for a while though it wasn't legal, and you asked two questions."
I take the opportunity to slap his shoulder playfully — flirtatiously even, despite not knowing at all how to flirt — and to my surprise and pleasure, he doesn't pull it away.
"Tilt your head back and I'll wash this out."
When I crawl into my bed that night, under the blankets already warmed up by the heater I took back, a deep sense of accomplishment washes over me.
Despite Jacob's insistence this morning that last night meant nothing I already feel a change between us. Maybe my days in shock were so pathetic that there's now no way I could be an enemy to watch out for. Maybe my inability to lie well or my gifts has proven I'm an ally. Either way I replay all of his half-smiles and slight nods he sent and press my face into the pillow to smother my girlish laugh.
My first crush?
If only it's that simple. I roll back over, close my eyes and dream about what we might be like if he was just a normal boy and I was just a normal girl.
It's the cool air on my legs that wakes me what feels like only seconds later. Somehow my body remains relaxed and loose as if I'm still asleep, although my mind is slowly awakening.
Did I kick off my blankets? I think with a light, frustrated moan.
Cold fingertips trail up the fleshy part of my thigh and when I moan again, this time out of panic and fear, they press cruelly into my leg, excited at my breathy sounds. The sound of wet lips smacking together echo out.
This isn't a dream.
My body bucks involuntarily in fright, but my eyes remain shut, not wanting to open. Not wanting to wake up to face reality and see whatever demon is touching me. The demon — who logically must be a guard or Edward and is definitely not a figment of my shock.
I kick out at the figure while pretending to turn in my sleep. Just like I'm having a bad nightmare and my body's fighting it. My foot connects brutally with some part of the intruder and he grunts painfully. I pretend not to notice and settle into a tight fetal position.
He hovers over me a moment longer, putrid breath warming the side of my face before thin, damp lips attach themselves to the slope of my bare neck and he licks.
"Isabella," the demon sighs in demented pleasure.
Edward.
Just when I'm about to scream and wake up fighting he moves away from my still body and out of the door, closing it softly behind him. When I can't hear the sound of his footsteps anymore I leap out of my bed, grabbing a single pillow under my arm, and just run.
I'm gasping for breath and control when I force the main Fera door open. Only a couple of the men are still awake, some in their other form for extra warmth in their cold cage.
"Wha—"
"Can I sleep here?" I whisper, already putting down my pillow on the hard ground before they answer. "My heater broke and this one is new."
"Bella?" Jacob's voice is raspy and deep with sleep.
"I'm sorry for waking you. My heater broke. I'll just sleep here if that's okay." My voice is as quiet as I can make it but more of them are waking up.
"What's wrong?" Jacob asks, perceptive as ever.
"Nothing."
"You're lying."
"I would just really like to sleep here. That's all."
"Jake," Sam grumbles out. "You know what she's after. Shut her up so we can sleep."
"Yeah, I've got her," Jacob says and once again parts the bars to make enough room for him to walk out of his cage. He yawns and lifts me up easily with one arm around my waist. "Let's go."
"No, wait, that's not why I'm here," I insist weakly. It sounds like a lie even to my own ears. I'm not here because of Jacob I'm here because of Edward. There's a difference, isn't there?
"I'm too tired to argue with you," he says and walks me into his cage.
He releases me to give himself enough space to shift but his arms quickly come back around me in a tight vice. His head dips into the curve of my neck and he sniffs obnoxiously loud.
"What the fuck?"
"It's not what you think," I say quickly, terrified he's about to accuse me of sleeping with Edward. Of being a traitor. A deceiver who's infiltrating their ranks.
"What's happening?" Paul whispers.
"Not now, Paul," he says, and then quietly he growls into my ear, "We're going to talk about this in the morning. I'm going to need to know every detail about how the fuck Cullen is able to waltz into your room, molest you in your fucking sleep, and leave his stench all over your neck."
"It's not… Oh." I guess it is exactly what he was thinking. He's even more perceptive than I give him credit for, and for that I'm thankful. I don't know if I'd be able to stomach having to convince him I was the victim in this while he was silently judging me.
"Yeah. Oh." He takes a few steps back and I hear the snapping of bones as he once again shifts into his massive Fera form. One hand — paw — curls around my waist and pulls me down hard against him. I let him arrange me like a limp doll until we're both comfortable.
"Thanks for understanding. I would've been okay to sleep on the ground but this is nice," I tell him and run my fingers over the fur on his paws. It's smooth and now unknotted thanks to my ministrations.
He snorts into my hair, whipping it up into a frenzy, and runs a rough, canine tongue over the area of my neck Edward had touched. I instinctively lurch forward and away from him but he simply growls and uses the collar of my nightgown to pull me back into him. His paw drapes over me, pinning me into position, as his tongue resumes its cleaning. It might be an intimate act if he wasn't so methodical about his actions and his tongue wasn't so rough.
He sees the problem and tries to fix it. That's all. Nothing at all erotic about it.
At least he's removing the stench of Edward that even my nose can detect. For that I'll take any discomfort.
"I think you got it all, big guy."
He snorts again and nips my neck in reprimand. I contain my less-than-sane giggle and close my eyes, feeling nice and warm.
"What am I going to do?" I whisper to myself, seconds before drifting off again.
It must still be early when I wake up because no-one else is up and about. Jacob's paw is still heavy on me and I try to nudge it off with my shoulder. He flattens me a little more with it and on my second shove moves it away himself, and I hear the shift take place.
"Where're you going?" he asks groggily a moment later.
"To make breakfast."
"Make breakfast? It's five in the morning."
I look around the room, still as dimly lit as ever considering the light doesn't switch off. "How can you tell?"
"It's a gift."
"If you're right then I have just over an hour to remember a baking recipe that doesn't require a stove or oven."
"You're really going to make us breakfast?"
"I'm going to try to. Key word is 'try'. You have to pretend to like it even if it's bad."
"Hell, you could hand me a sack of flour and I wouldn't complain."
"Even if it's not a necessity? I hope you're always this easy to please," I say before my brain catches in innuendo. "I'm going to go. Go back to sleep, I'll wake you when I'm back."
I speed walk out and back to my room before he can reply, smacking myself on the forehead repeatedly on my way. "Stupid. Stupid."
True to my word I come back a little over an hour later with a tray of tasteless, non-aromatic scones. There's no need to wake them as they're all up and fresh faced.
"Muffins!" Seth yells and shoves his hand out impatiently through the bars, giving me the universal gimme, gimme hand sign.
I hand them out to everyone with a slight apologetic wince, watching them bite into the floury concoction.
"Is it okay?" I ask nervously. "I didn't have access to an oven so it's kind of a no-bake, no-cook thing. They're tasteless as well because I forgot some of the ingredients like vanilla when I was out. I think I put in too much flour as well. I'm usually much better at cooking than this when I have a recipe. Honestly."
"It's perfect," Seth says before choking and spluttering on his own words.
I grab one of the plastic cups I bought yesterday and fill it with water from the pitcher.
"Here," I say, handing it over. He greedily gulps it down.
"Thanks. It really is good."
Everyone else is nodding their heads but it's hard to tell whether they're lying or not.
"Really good," Paul says with an exaggerated moan. "I take back what I said about you not being able to cook with carbs. This is great."
I blush and cover my face at his words. "You're sweet. You're all liars but sweet. I'll work on getting it right next time."
When they're finished Jacob waves me over to him.
"We need to have that talk."
I sigh heavily, my good mood disappearing. "I don't want to think about it right now. Can we talk about it some other time? Or preferably never?"
"We're going to talk about it now. I need to know what's going on on the outside and why that scum is able to get to you the way he has been. Where the hell are the cops in all this?"
"If the police didn't come here after what happened to Margo they're not going to come for whatever else goes on. He mostly just watches me sleep. Yesterday was the first time he got close… I think. I don't know."
"You don't know? He just watches you sleep? Just?" His voice becomes guttural. "That sack of shit shouldn't be anywhere need your private room let alone just watch you sleep while you're at your most vulnerable. You sleep in here from now on."
"I can't—"
"This isn't a negotiation."
"But I—"
"Shit," he interrupts and pushes me back. "Guards are coming. Everyone in position — don't give them any reason to beat you."
The rest scramble to hide their belongings under their metal cots and stand to attention, some already glaring at the door, others looking meek. I throw anything I can get my hands on into the locker; the cups, plates, and cards. The second I slam it closed the door bangs open and two guards saunter through, dragging a bloodied, slumped over figure behind them.
A figure that's all too familiar.
"Morning ugly beasts. Looks like you've got yourselves a new roommate," one laughs. The same pervert that said I looked good on my knees. "You ferals play nice with him."
They throw him without care into one of the empty cages besides Evan, and spit at his crumpled form, laughing at their synchronicity.
"I don't think that one liked that very much," one says to the other, nodding towards Evan who's openly glaring at them.
"Looks like I might have to teach him some respect." The guard's hand hovers over the button that causes the floor to light up with electricity and I snap my arm out to grab his wrist, stopping him in his tracks.
"Don't."
He looks down at me like I'm a bug under his shoe. "Get your animal-loving hand off me."
I release him but quickly step in between him and Evan's cage. I'm clearly not a threat, and either of them could knock me over very easily if they wanted to, but damned if I don't try to do the right thing.
Surprisingly they just look at me, and then at each other; a wordless conversation going on between them.
"I don't have time for this," one says and they both start to leave the way they came without a fight. I can barely make out the faint words of, "one day Cullen's little pet" before it's gone.
I rush over into the cage with the new male and gently, so, so gently, turn him around onto his back and wipe the blood from his face.
"Bella?" he moans painfully, trying to open his swollen eyelids.
"Pillow," I call out and someone throws in one of the old, used pillows. I carefully lift his head to place it underneath him.
"Oh, Eric," I whisper mournfully. "I was really hoping it wasn't true."