Page 57 of Lycan Prey
They aren’t fucking listening.
The click-clack of my mother’s heels is like a countdown to my doom, each step another tick on the clock of my waning sanity. I’m one scratch and sniff away from losing my sense of smell. With panic nipping at my heels, I rush into the closet, hands frantically searching the hanging clothes for a hideout, where is an invisibility cloak when I need one, anything.
Crap!I hear the shower running, Mom won’t walk in on her showering, though I will to escape her! I rush and burst through the door of the bathroom.The shower tiles are slick beneath my feet as I nearly slide into Bree, who’s just a silhouette behind the fogged-up frosted glass.
“Hide me!” I blurt like an idiot.
“Soren!” she shrieks, her voice climbing an octave before my hand lands over her mouth, silencing her mid-scream. I shut the shower door, ignoring the way the water lashes at my clothes, plastering them to my skin.
“Shh,” I hiss, barely audible above the drumming of water on the tile. “It’s just me.”
Water cascades down, masking our frantic breaths as the droplets pelt my already drenched shirt. The tension coils in my chest, a spring wound too tight, ready to snap. “If she asks, I’m not here!” I hiss at Bree, my voice barely above the rush of water.
Her gaze locks onto mine, confusion and a hint of irritation flickering across her features. “If who asks?” Her question pierces the steamy haze of the bathroom, and suddenly, I’m acutely aware of the heat—not from the shower but from her, so close and startlingly bare.
Instinctively, my eyes drop, tracing the rivulets that run over her skin, mapping a path along her curves. It’s a moment suspended in time, the primal part of me awakened by her vulnerability, my Lycan side stirring by her proximity. Bree’s fingers are ice and fire against my jaw, forcing my gaze back to hers. “Soren!” she snaps, frustration etched in every line of her face. “Who?”
“My mother!”
“You’re hiding from your mother in my damn shower!” she shrieks and I try to hush her, holding a finger to my lips. “You can’t hide in here!” I slap a hand over her mouth, hearing the bedroom open.
“Soren?” The call of my name in that familiar, lilting tone sends a spike of ice through my veins and her eyes widen as she tries to shove me out of the shower. I scramble, gripping the wall and shoving her against the cold tiles.
“Please, I’ll do anything!”
“Anything?” she hisses and I nod holding a finger to my lips.
“Soren, dear, are you in here?” Her voice cuts through the steam and the sound of cascading water like a cold draft as we both look in the direction of the door but can’t see through the frosted glass.
Bree’s body tenses against mine; muscles coil, ready for a fight she can’t have. A low growl vibrates from her throat, a primal sound that stirs the beast within me. “She’s at the door!” she hisses and I press closer, my hand clamping over her mouth, feeling the slick heat of her skin. Our hearts race in unison, pounding a frantic rhythm as I crush her against the wall.
“She won’t come in here,” I whisper, more to reassure myself than Bree. The intimacy of our proximity is forgotten in the face of my mother muttering about needing to open windows and let air inside my room. But my mother’s intuition is second only to her tenacity; she’s a force of nature not easily deterred. Especially by a bathroom door.
Chapter 23
• Aubrey •
Before I can even protest, the sound of footsteps approaches, and Maribel’s voice echoes through the room. “Bree, darling, have you seen Soren?” Soren stares at me pleadingly and I clench my teeth. He removes his hand and I can see the fear of me calling him out. Rolling my eyes I answer.
“Uh, just a minute!” I call out, trying to sound casual while mentally cursing. My blood runs cold when I hear the creak of the door. The bathroom door opens, and my eyes widen in horror, she is coming in! This isn’t happening! Soren shifts, attempting to make even less of himself, pressing me against the wall like we can somehow bleed into the tiles.
Maribel, however, is not one to be put off. “Don’t mind me; we are both girls, after all.” She giggles. “You haven’t got anything I haven’t got!” She chirps like that is supposed to make me feel better about being spotted naked by my fake mother in law. Oh gosh please don’t open the door.
“Soren disappeared on me. Oh well, I have other things to do,” she says and I try to peer out the frost glass but only see a shadow through the thick shower screen. She seems to be fixing her hair in the mirror.
“So, I was thinking about the something blue for the wedding. We have a traditional family anklet for the wedding, it’s been passed down generations to each bride. But I need tomeasure your ankle, I was a bit of a porker when I married and Soren’s last wife thought it was gaudy and refused to wear it. It won’t take long, I just need to measure your ankle to see if I need to get the chain and links adjusted.”
I panic internally. Soren’s presence here could not be discovered, especially not like this. “Oh, I’ll just finish up and jump out.”
“No, no, you’re fine, I don’t want to disturb you, just slip a leg out the door I will be quick. I have a measuring tape here, I always carry one, you never know,” she insists, and I pull a face at Soren as we both stare at her through the glass. Did she just pull a measuring tape from her cleavage? I shake my head at him. I am not having his mothers boob tape measure my ankle! I nudge him, and he nudges me back as we have a silent mouth war. I am tempted to shove him out and give him up to his mother!
“You do it!” he mouths and I point at the door. We probably look ridiculous like we are miming at each other in some foreign language neither of us understands. No! I mouth at him and he presses his lips in a line when his mother’s voice reaches us again.
“Don’t be shy. It will only take a second, dear. I won’t even look, promise; just slip a leg out.” I grit my teeth when Soren suddenly lifts his pants leg, and I stare at him before my eyes widen in horror as he slips his leg out the door. Oh goddess! He smirks at me and I cover my mouth with my hands to stop from giggling when he gives it a wiggle.
His hairy leg sticks awkwardly through the frosted shower screen, looking completely out of place.
There’s a sharp intake of breath from Maribel. “Oh good god!” she gasps.
