Jetta pack of misfits bo.., p.15
Jetta (Pack of Misfits Book 3), page 15
Her eyes dart over to me before she looks forward again, keeping her pace. “Why are you asking?”
“Honestly? Because you seem like you don’t know the answer yourself.”
I expect her to tense up, to tell me to fuck off, or to just plain ignore me. Those are all three of the usual Jetta reactions. But to my utter surprise, she lets out a huge weighted sigh that curls in her shoulders. The same shoulders that always seem to be straight back, like she’s afraid to relax for even a second, or else the world she’s carrying up there will come crashing down.
“That’s because I don’t,” she admits with bitterness. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.”
I can tell this admission costs her, so I’m quick to reply. I want her to be comfortable with me. She’s a cold one, hard to get to warm up to you, but I have a feeling that if I could get Jetta to relax just an inch around me, it would be the most rewarding thing in the world.
“Talk it out with me. I promise to keep it between us.”
I don’t know why I blurt that out, but I do. I fully expect to get shot down. No one, not even Alpha or Addie, has gotten her to fully open up. So she shocks the hell out of me again when she starts talking.
“Kaazu is the most powerful conjurer I’ve ever seen. He uses some sort of external energy to pull from. But he’s fast. He can use his power to form barriers or whips like lightning. He doesn’t even have to lift a finger to take you down,” she says, her eyes full of fierce conviction.
“He’s that powerful?”
She nods, our footsteps in sync as we head toward the warehouses. It’s midday, so the sun is shining down on us, and the pack is busy with activity.
“He’s incapacitated every single one of my troupers at the same time, just with a pulse of his energy. He even keeps a barrier up when he sleeps, in case any of us get any ideas about trying to end the bastard. When a crowd got too rowdy once, and they tried to rush the stage because they claimed a fight was rigged, all he had to do was flick his wrist and they were all taken to the ground. He’s untouchable.”
“He doesn’t sound like a good enemy to have.”
“He isn’t.”
“Well...your tracker is broken, so that’s something. But...”
“But fucking Rockhead.”
I nod at her. “Yeah. How’d that prick recognize your collar, anyway?”
“He and his buddy tried to grab me in town when I first got here. I got the jump on them, and they must’ve gotten pissy about it and looked into me. They got a good look at my collar that day.”
“Shit.” That’s not good. “You think they’ll actually contact him?”
“Yes,” she answers without hesitation. “But I have one thing going for me.”
I lift a brow, curious. “What’s that?”
A mischievous smirk slips over her lips, and just that tiny hint of a smile wraps a fist around my chest. “I’ve been leaving false trails.”
Surprise filters over my features. “How?”
“Every town I’ve been in, I’ve gotten people along the way to call Kaazu’s number and give him a false tip. He’s had phone calls from eleven different people—mostly vagabonds and truckers—who’ve told him that I’m in eleven different states.”
I whistle between my teeth. “Smart.”
“It’s something at least,” she says with a shrug. “So even if Rockhead has contacted him, either Kaazu thinks it’s a lie like the other tips or he’s busy tracking down every single lead, and it might take more time for him to make it down here.”
I can’t help but respect her shrewd forethought. “Or he might not come here at all. Then you have nothing to worry about, and you can forget the troupe and stay with us,” I tell her.
She shakes her head vehemently. “It’s not that easy.”
“Why?” I press. I really want to understand. For some reason, I have this need to figure out what makes her tick. My animal wants to reassure her, but I can’t do that if I don’t know what has her so tangled up.
“I left him behind.”
Her admission comes out like a tumble. As if they were stones instead of words and they just slid off the cliff and landed in a pile of jagged boulders and broken rocks on the ground. Her whole body is a tremor, shaking from the aftershock of it, and I’m suddenly on unsteady ground.
My brows furrow. “Left who? Kaazu?”
“Heathcliff.”
I’m so shocked at what I’m hearing that I don’t even comprehend it for a second. I never imagined that she left behind someone that she cared about. I probably should’ve. I mean, Jetta is a strong, beautiful, fierce female. Of course she’d attract someone’s affection. Even so, I don’t like the idea. Not that I have any right to feel one way or the other.
I clear my throat and act like I’m not juggling knives of irrational jealousy. “He was another shifter in the troupe?”
“Not a shifter, but yeah.”
“He isn’t a shifter?” I ask, confused. “But Kaazu still owns him?”
She nods in answer. “Kaazu has a vampire too. He collared them just like the rest of us.”
“Bastard.”
“Yep.”
I try to ignore the newfound pile of bitterness that’s gathered in my gut as I clear my throat. I have no idea what to say about this...Heathcliff, and I don’t like the way it makes me feel. “You know, I think this makes me your best friend here. You’ve talked to me the most,” I muse. “Except for Freddie, maybe.”
She snorts. “That little spawn needs to get a hobby.”
I smirk. “I think he did. Following you.”
She shakes her head, and from this close, with the slight breeze in the air aided by the swish of her ponytail, the scent of her permeates the air around me.
It makes my mouth water.
But then I remember this faceless Heathcliff.
What a lucky fucker.
“So...this Heathcliff. You’re thinking about leaving so that you can go back to your troupe to be with him?”
Jetta looks over at me, like my question startled her. “No. I mean...” She looks ahead again, suddenly at war with herself. “Motherfuck, I don’t know.”
It’s probably a dick move, but I know she doesn’t like to be touched so I step in front of her and turn, halting her steps and forcing her to stop walking and look at me. I want her full attention.
“Jetta, I know this pack isn’t home yet. I get that you don’t trust any of us. Nobody blames you for that. But you could have a life here. If you go back...”
“I don’t want to go back,” she snaps, her dark eyes lighting up with anger. “If Kaazu finds me, it’s not like I’ll get a slap on the wrist and a thicker collar on my neck. He will kill me. End of story. But that doesn’t change the fact that I left Cliff behind.”
Everything inside me screams to step in. To not let her do something stupid or heroic like abandon her place in this pack to go off and try to save another male. But who the fuck am I? I can’t tell this female shit about what to do or how to live her life.
She’s fiercely independent. A loner. She doesn’t trust anyone. And even after weeks of being here, she’s unsure what to do. She’s warring with herself, battling with the pros and cons of her situation every day, leaving her battered and tired.
It would be a selfish prick move if I had the audacity to presume to tell her what’s best for her in this scenario. Because the truth is, even though she’s intrigued me from day one, and even though I’ve begun to like her more and more with each passing minute, Jetta isn’t a helpless female who wants me to step in and take over.
She’s not like the other females I’ve been with. She’s not some damn damsel who needs rescuing. She’s figuring out how to rescue herself. And if I’m ever going to come close to becoming someone she trusts, then I need to support her.
So I gather all those knee-jerk words up into my hands and ball them into fists, stuffing them deep into my pockets where they won’t slip out.
“What do you want to do?” I ask grimly. “Just tell me, and I’ll help you.”
She looks at me with a wary tilt of her head, making her look predatory, and I find myself once again wondering about this private female and what animal she has hiding inside of her.
“Why do you want to help me? What’s in it for you?”
I get simultaneously pissed off and disappointed by her reaction. Not at her. But for her. Did no one in her life ever just help her out just because? Besides this Heathcliff, did everyone fuck her over and make her into this distrustful female with no reason to trust?
“Nothing,” I answer honestly. “I just want to help you.”
“Your help isn’t going to make me feel obligated to fuck you or anything,” she says crudely.
I can’t help it, I laugh. And then I laugh harder because her adorable frown deepens, making her look as mad as a hornet in a Coke can. “Jet, if you ever fuck me, it won’t be out of obligation, I can promise you that.”
To my delight, her perpetually cool face cracks. Just for the span of a second, but I see it. Her pupils dilate a fraction and her breath hitches, and my animal locks onto it. Now I’m remembering the way her lips circled around my cigarette. And the way her body looked when I woke her up for training. The sexual charge amps back up to one hundred percent, and my dick hardens in seconds.
“Are you really a wild boar?” she asks abruptly, maybe solely to change the subject or maybe because she just felt the same animalistic draw that I did.
I grin. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”
She scoffs. “Fuck off.”
I laugh again, feeling lighter and more playful than I have in a long time. “You know, I find your surliness really charming.”
“Then you’re an idiot,” she fires back.
I chuckle, placing a hand to my chest. “Now you’re really trying to make me fall for you.”
“How about I just make you fall?” she says with a cruel smirk, and I know she’s remembering how she put me on my ass in the gym.
“Any time,” I grin. “Like tomorrow, when you hold another lesson for the pack.”
Jetta shakes her head. “What is it with this pack and being so fucking perky? Why is everyone so interested in training?”
“You’re kidding, right?” I ask her. When she just continues to stare at me like I’m an idiot, I chuckle. “Jetta, they’re not interested in training.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“They’re not interested in training. They’re interested in training with you,” I elaborate. “I mean, do you have any idea how fucking legend you are?”
Horror crosses her face at the thought that anyone would admire her. “I’m not,” she mumbles.
“You are,” I insist. “Every time you train or demonstrate, it’s fucking mesmerizing. You make it look like an art. Understand, some of the shifters here can’t even watch training normally. They’re too traumatized from their past. Any kind of violence puts them over the edge into flashbacks or panic attacks. We work with them as much as we can, but some of them are just too scarred,” I tell her, letting the truth sink in.
It’s important to me that she truly understands. She’s not just wasting time by doing this. She’s already helped some of them so much. And by doing this, by getting involved, it’s giving her a reason to make connections. To assimilate herself with the pack. To care.
“You know Janie? Freddie’s mom?” I go on. “She was one of the more timid ones. She had a fucked up past. Her mate helped her get through a lot of it, and she’s better, which is why she can counsel some of the others. But it’s still important that everyone in our pack knows how to defend themselves. Not just for their own safety, but because it gives them their power back.”
“You’re putting too much stock into what I’m doing,” Jetta tells me. “I’ve only been showing some moves for a week. Not even that long yet.”
“Exactly,” I tell her. “You’ve only been doing this for a week, and you’re already making an impact. The females feel comfortable with you. They’re amazed at what your body can do, and it gives them hope that one day, they can move like that too. So don’t sell yourself short. Don’t pretend like it doesn’t matter, because it does. To those women especially, and to Hugo, who always worries about his pack members. It matters.”
Jetta watches me silently, the moment stretching between us. I hadn’t meant to go all heavy and insistent on her, but I can’t help it. I need her to stop treating this place like a pit stop and start thinking about it with permanence.
After another second, she lets out a long, thoughtful breath. “No.”
I frown, confused. “No?”
“You asked if I wanted to leave once I got my collar off. The answer is no, I don’t want to.”
Relief bursts in my gut like a water balloon, cool hope leaking into my blood. I nod slowly, realizing how big of a step this is for her. She doesn’t concede to fuck-all, but she just gave me a truth, and that somehow feels like a big win, even though I know there’s another side to this confession.
“But?”
“But...” she goes on. “I also can’t put the pack in jeopardy.”
“Kaazu won’t take you again.”
“You can’t promise that,” she says sternly. “Don’t underestimate him.”
“Fine,” I reply, even though my animal growls at me for even considering someone taking her. “But what if Hugo tracks down his conjurer friend and gets your collar off? What then?”
“I don’t trust conjurers.”
“And I don’t blame you, but that wasn’t what I asked.”
“Are you always this fucking nosy, Jericho?”
Her spitting words don’t even faze me, because I like the sound of her husky voice saying my name. It makes me feel like a damn teenager with a crush, mooning over a girl. I want to hear her moaning it. Or screaming. I’m not overly picky.
“Only when it comes to you,” I answer honestly.
“Conjurers are fucking elitist gossips and opportunists. Whoever Hugo tracks down will take one look at my collar, call up the shifter council, and figure out who owns me. They’ll make a deal with Kaazu, and that’ll be it for me.”
“That’s a bit prejudiced, isn’t it? Not every conjurer is like that. And I highly doubt anyone Hugo knows would do something like that.”
“I don’t trust it.”
“What about the one who broke your tracker? He wasn’t bad, was he?”
She shoots me a scathing look. “He was probably bribed up to his neck by Cliff, and the only collar he broke was mine. If he was a fucking decent person, he would’ve freed everyone, or at least Cliff, but he didn’t. That says enough about his character.”
I can’t argue with that. “Fine. But like I said, not all conjurers are bad. And it’s worth a shot, don’t you think?”
She shrugs.
“Come on, Jet Plane. No harm in trying. Maybe this conjurer will surprise you.”
“I’m probably going to end up regretting it.”
“I won’t let anything happen to you,” I blurt.
Instead of swooning like the submissive females I’m used to, Jetta rolls her eyes and shoves past me with a friendly elbow to my gut that steals the breath out of my lungs. “Oomph.”
“Fuck off. We both know I’d be the one rescuing your weak ass if a situation ever came up,” she tosses over her shoulder as she walks up the path to her warehouse.
I grin and rub my stomach. Shit, that hurt.
I think I’m in love.
14
Jetta
First, a sloth in my bed, and now, a rat in my room.
I guess it was too good to be true to have a private space in a warehouse full of room-sharing shifters. The female pack rat, Reese, is timid yet curious. From what Addie told me, she’s had a fucked up life, with someone keeping her trapped in her animal form and kept like a neglected pet. But you’d think someone with those circumstances would be less...perky.
“Oh, are we watching How to Get Away with Murder again?” she asks me, all smiles.
“Obviously,” I grumble, remote in hand as I turn up the volume. Getting used to someone being in my space is hard. I’ve grown protective of my small room here. It’s been nice to have my own space when I never got that in the troupe.
But Reese isn’t so bad, I guess. Not that I’d tell her that. I don’t want her to get any ideas. That might just lead to something horrifying. Like friendship.
We’re in our room, and she’s practically bouncing with energy. We were with Igor earlier at the fence, because someone has been sniffing around Pack Aberrant’s perimeter. The two of us are the ones who have beef with outsiders, so Igor wanted us to check it out. But I didn’t recognize any scent, and neither did Reese.
I can tell the pack rat shifter is unnerved about the idea that someone could be looking for her—a fact she bolsters by trying to ask me about my past—but I shut it down. She doesn’t get offended or turned off by my refusal to get personal. Like I said, she’s alright.
I caught her sneaking something shiny in yesterday as she walked in, but I’m no longer surprised by the things she smuggles into the room. A few days ago, I found that her animal had started building up a damn collection of things underneath my bed. Hair ties, dice, paper clips, someone’s nail polish, screws, and a shit ton of nickels. She must be into the color silver.
Apparently, she’s also into Luca, the shifter dude who tried to cut off my collar in his mechanic’s shop. They just spent a week holed up together while she went through her heatwave. Gross.
“We need to murder someone?” she asks with a laugh as she settles onto her bed on the opposite end of the room as mine and watches the show with me.
“Yep,” I deadpan.
She blinks from me to the screen and back again. “Oh. Okay, cool.”
I frown at her. Cool? Hmm. Maybe I like her more than I thought.
“So…who’s looking for you?” she asks.
