Run With It #4

We spent the drive out to the ranch in painful silence. There really wasn’t anything to talk about. We had no idea what was the problem.

It started six years ago, when I was finishing my undergrad degree. Deciding where to go for my Masters. Dreaming grandiose and ridiculous dreams of my future. With my husband, Parker.

We had floored everyone we knew by eloping on Spring Break the year before. Not because anyone doubted we’d get hitched. Just because we’d always wanted the rockin’ reception with family and friends around us. But Las Vegas gets to you, and we were ok with the idea of celebrating once we graduated. Two reasons to party, only once expense. It worked for us.

We found a sweet little shithole of an apartment, were insanely busy, but blissfully, blindly happy. We were busting our butts for finals. The fridge was empty, so Parker went to get some basics: beer, ramen noodles, pop tarts and milk. I only remember that because they found the list on him. He always brought a list, even though he never actually followed it.

He got hit by a car. Not sure the culprit ever even knew they hit someone. They certainly didn’t stick around.  

At the wake some asshat, claiming he knew Parker, made a pass at me. Something about the best way to grieve was to get laid, and he was the man for the job. Never meek or mild, I humiliated him before he was dragged out and dealt with by our friends. I walked into the apartment a few days later to find I had an unwanted, angry guest in the mood for revenge.

Five days in a coma, four emergency surgeries, three months of relearning to walk led to two words that sum up my one goal in life. Never. Again. I will never again be unprepared to defend myself.

I don’t remember any of the attack. I cannot recall a single moment of the funeral, nor being told Parker was dead. The last thing I can remember clearly is being kissed breathless by the man I love. Whispers of encouragement for my exam and how we’ll celebrate that night at home.

Then it’s just pain. And shame and anger.

My first clear memory is a newspaper article taped to the wall, with the words ‘Parker is dead’ scrawled across the top. Toby told me I insisted that be done when I kept forgetting. I hated losing it in front of everyone, and realizing it happened over and over pissed me off. I suppose that’s better than the numbness I feel now.

Cam and Toby lived in our building at the time. Just starting their computer consulting business, they had irregular hours and didn’t travel as far. I was lucky they came home when they did. They saved me. The Asshat didn’t make it. The well deserved consequences of taking on two men who collect forms of martial arts as a hobby. They’ve never told me what happened, and I don’t ask.

 ********

Alex’s POV

Dammit. Cazzo. Porca puttana.*

I keep checking in the rearview mirror to make sure Rory is still there. I know it’s stupid, but, fuck, it’s been four years since the last time someone came after her. And the Pack still hasn’t figured out why she’s a damned target to begin with or who is after her.

She’s pale. Silent. Huddled in the middle of the back seat between Toby and Cam, eyes unfocused. Suppressing a sigh, I turn back to the road.

Six years ago, Cam called in the Pack to help with a neighbor who’d been attacked. No. Mauled. Beaten. Bitten. Some Born bastard came for her. It happens, they get bored and want a new plaything. But he didn’t have a pack mark.  Neither did any of the others that came after. It didn’t make sense.

Even knowing how strong she had to be to survive, I can’t get past how fragile she seems. I bet against her living all those years ago, not that I’d ever tell her that. Helluva a fighter, our Rory. She’ll be an Alpha some day.

I look one more time in the mirror. It’s not like she going to vanish from the car. She’s intact, not a scratch on her. There’s plenty of us to keep her safe on the ride home. Hell, we even grabbed James. If the four of us can’t keep her safe…not gonna’ finish that sentence.

A low growl from the back grabs my attention. Toby murmured an apology. I’m not the only one frustrated by the lack of answers. He and Cam have given up more than anyone else in the Pack to solve this. Being away from everyone for months…it’s self-imposed exile.

Rory looks up at me, her eyes meeting mine in the mirror. Normally a laughing greenish-gray, now they hold fear, and trust. She trusts us to get her through this. Like Cam and Toby, I know that the sacrifices are worth it. We won’t betray her trust.

 *************

Rory’s POV

Everyone’s tense, even imperturbable Toby is losing his cool. I hate how much everyone has given up to help me. I wish I could tell them why, think of some clue from my past to assist in my own defense. I cower here, amongst my dearest friends, my chosen family, helpless. I see Alex watching me. Meeting his worried gaze, I know despite it all I am safe.

*Italian for 'Fuck. Son of a bitch.' Thanks to the Great and Wonderful Maz for help with swearing like a sailor in Italian. :)

Run With It 3

Alex’s apartment was at odds with the dilapidated building that contained it. Tastefully painted and attractively furnished, the Den of Seduction was an oasis of sophistication in a desert of frat boy chic. It reflected the perfectly groomed image of its owner. Usually. At the moment, he was a disheveled drunken mess sprawled facedown across his couch. At least he was dressed.

I dropped my bag by the door, shouldered past Cam and took a running leap onto the prostrate fool. “Damn, Alex, you reek! What were you drinking?”

Cursing quietly in Italian, Alex rolled us both off the couch, his 6’4” brawny frame trapping me underneath him. “Moonshine. Won it in a poker game.”

I shoved at him, laughing. “Well, you smell like you slept in the still. How much did you have?”

Toby strolled out from the kitchen, chuckling at my futile efforts to move the uncooperative brute. “Two quarts.”

“Two…” Horrified, I smacked Alex in the head, satisfied with the resulting groan. “Idiot.”

Cam slid onto the vacated couch as Toby pulled Alex off me. I scrambled up, unfazed by the aggravated grimace Alex sent my way. Cam tapped the back of the couch to get Toby’s attention. “Quick. Get some popcorn, the show’s starting.”

“And miss the opening act? Not happening.” Toby dropped next to his love, draping a long arm behind Cam. I spared them a smile; they were such a striking couple. Toby’s lean form and dark good looks were a stunning contrast to the burly tattooed canvas of Cameron’s body. I must have paused too long, because Toby waved for me to get on with it. “C’mon now, I’ve missed watching you take him down a few pegs.”

Alex staggered toward the half wall that separated his kitchen and the living room. I beat him there, cutting off access to the coffee. “Sandie came to see me this morning.”

Alex growled, grabbed a mug from behind me. “You can yell at me for drinking or sex. Not both.”

“Well, I guess I’ll have to gripe about you being a lush. After two quarts of moonshine, no part of you was upright last night.”

That earned me a smack on the ass which morphed into a none-too-gentle shove. “Bitch.”

“In every sense of the word.” Covering the mug with my hand got me elbowed. I almost gave him a quick jab in the kidneys, stopping short when he snatched the coffee pot up. It wasn’t worth getting burned. Instead, I nicked the sugar bowl.

“Like I can’t figure out where that went.” Alex rolled his eyes as he added cream to his coffee.

I stuck my tongue out at him. “You’re too hung over to figure out how to get it without spilling.”

Alex scoffed “I’m not an idiot. Unlike some people, I already have my PhD.”

I snorted. “In porn.”

That earned me a glare. “Sociology.”

Cam and Toby chimed in from the couch. “In sexual subcultures.”

Yes, we have had this conversation before. Often.

It was my turn to roll my eyes. “Which means you have a truly frightening collection of porn.”

“Erotica.”

“It only counts as erotica if it actually has a plot. The rest is just porn. Seven servers full of porn, plus all those bookshelves in your spare room. Face it, Alex, no one thinks you’re smart because you have a PhD. They think you’re a genius because you found a way to make your smut addiction not only tax deductible but somewhat socially acceptable.”

Alex practically preened. “I’m just that good.”

“Last night you weren’t, I can guarantee it. You’ve been a man-whore long enough to know that drunk men don’t perform up to standard.”

“Oh, yeah? What does Stacy have to say about that?”

“That she’s pregnant.” God, I love when Alex is not awake and still sort of drunk. His face is so much more expressive that way. The horror, stark fear and absolute confusion parading across his fine features had our audience leaning on each other to smother their laughter. I knew he’d realize the baby wasn’t his soon enough, but for now his alcohol induced stupidity was so enjoyable.

“Fuck.” He swayed a little and just barely sat on the stool next to him. “I don’t want kids. What do I do now?”

“Get a vasectomy.” A warning hiss came from the peanut gallery to go along with the bemused stare from Alex.

“That doesn’t help me now.”

He looked so pathetic, I just had to have a little mercy. “Oh, sweetheart, it’s not yours.”

He looks up at me hopefully. “How do you know?”

“Because you were too drunk to sleep with her. “ His growl made me laugh. “I’m just surprised there hasn’t been a whole pack of women showing up with your pups.”

“They’d have to know his name for that.” Toby added dryly.

I raised an eyebrow thoughtfully. “That makes much more sense than my explanation.”

Alex ground out, “Which is?”

“Sterility.” I smiled sweetly. Cameron roared with laughter. Toby’s shoulders shook as he leaned his head against the couch. Alex went white, then red, and I held my ground. “What? Think of it this way, you wouldn’t need a vasectomy.”

I slid the sugar bowl toward him with a small smirk. He snatched it up, sending me a mock glare. Whatever retort he was about to make was lost as everyone’s cell phones went off in quick succession. The guys all had texts. I got the joy of a call from Mark.

“You find the boys and all of you get your asses back to the ranch. Right now.”

I felt the fear numb my body and knew my earlier unease was not paranoia. One look at my now deadly serious friends told me I was going to be in trouble for not pointing out Stalker Boy and Blue Eyes.

Damn. Play time’s over.

Run With It #2

A quick volley of texts told me that Alex was at his campus apartment. He found it more convenient for late nights and research than heading back to the ranch in outer suburbs. After packing up my computer, I grabbed my jacket and bag, and then jogged down the two flights of stairs. Classes just let out, so the stairs were crowded. I kept my eyes down and concentrated on getting outside as fast as I could. I don’t usually mind small spaces, or large groups, but too many strangers brushing against me raised my hackles. When one of those strangers stepped in my way, deliberately waiting until I met his gaze before moving, I was unnerved. It was brief, but there was something challenging in his cold blue eyes. Refusing to look back, I swore I could feel his gaze follow me out the door. I tried to brush it off as I hit the fresh autumn air, letting the anticipation of tormenting Alex cheer me.

Halfway there, my unease returned. I hesitated, trying to decide if I should figure out what was wrong, or just hurry to the safety of Alex’s. The quad was full of its normal denizens: those on their way to class navigating around the ones lounging on the grass, or playing ultimate Frisbee. As I tossed my hair over my shoulder, I noticed a broad shouldered fellow heading in the same direction as I was. Nothing strange about that, but the way he slowed when I glanced at him put me on full alert. I decided to pause a moment; pretended to look for something in my backpack while checking out the area. My suspicious friend also stopped a few feet ahead of me, answering a call. I would peg him as an upperclassman, his jeans and jacket too worn and beaten for a freshman, except the school cap had that glossy new look to it. His backpack was not only new, it was practically empty. Now that was odd. It was far enough into the semester that no student left home without provisions. Snacks, notebooks, textbooks, DS, MP3 player – every square inch of space in that bag should have a purpose. Whatever was in it, I didn’t recognize the shape. I grabbed a granola bar from the bottom of my bag, repacked and set off again. I heard the mystery man finish up his conversation as I walked past him, saw him fall into step just behind me.

Just perfect. It could all be innocent enough. Alex had snagged a two bedroom apartment just off the quad where a lot of grad students and upperclassmen lived. I tore into the granola bar packaging. The last thing I wanted to do was eat it, but it gave my hands something to do besides shake. I managed to swallow the last of it as Stalker Boy and I reached the beginning of student housing. I slid my phone out of my jacket, and texted a quick 911 to Alex, hoping he’d at least meet me at the door of his building.  Part of me wanted to turn and get a good look at this guy. Furtive glances had gotten me nowhere. The hat was too low to see his face, and he was just a bit too far behind me to see more than the shape of his brown leather jacket. I didn’t think he was much taller than me. I felt ridiculous. Just one more block away, and I could relax, laugh off my paranoia, and spend an afternoon teasing Alex about the latest editions to his research material, and the notion of him as a father. Picking up the pace, I half-jogged to corner, looking for cars as I crossed the street. Two buildings left, and relief washed over me as the door to Alex’s building opened. A familiar half-dressed form leaned out, but not the one I was expecting. Fueled by adrenaline and sheer joy, I sprinted the rest of the way.

“Cameron! What the hell are you doing here?” my momentum knocked him back a step as he wrapped me in a bear hug. From the safety of Cam’s broad shouldered embrace, I watched Stalker Boy continue on. I felt foolish for worrying about him.

Cam squeezed me tight. “Toby and I finished our project in Tokyo and flew in late last night.”

I returned the hug, thrilled to have him home after 3 months away. Firmly pushing him away, I circled him to see what changes he’d made on his journey. Cam never came back from a trip without a tattoo, especially from Japan. This time he’d had the color on his eastern dragon finished. It traveled up his spine and ended with its head peering off his left shoulder.  We met just after he’d had the outline done. The last six years was told as a story using the art on his body. I moved his elbow length auburn hair out of the way so I could ooh and ah over how well the finished piece turned out. He pulled it over his shoulder and told me which parts hurt the most. This ritual greeting of ours dulled the sliver of fear still needling me.

Sliding my hands down his well muscled back, I leaned into him, pushing him toward the door. “If you spent the evening partying with Alex, why didn’t you keep him from Sandie’s sister? Since we all know he has no impulse control, I’m holding you responsible for this morning’s assault. And where the hell are your shoes? It’s cold out here!”

He chuckled as he unlocked the door and let me lead him inside. Looking down the block one last time, I saw Stalker boy and the blue eyed stranger talking outside the corner store.

Run With it #1

I'm going to try my hand at a serial story. These character have been poking at me for a long time now, it's time they come meet the world. I hope you all enjoy it! Here's episode 1 of Run with It:


Let me tell you about myself.  I’m 26, an only child with long, dark blonde hair and hazel eyes. I work as an ASL interpreter while finishing my PhD in linguistics…

“There you are! Do you know what that sexual deviant did this time?”

My chin dropped to my chest, as the strident tones interrupedt the painful process of filling out an online dating form. I couldn’t decide if I’m relieved or aggravated.

I sighed, turning wearily toward the invader: my zealous Christian colleague from across the hall.

“Seriously, Sandie, you have no business calling anyone a sexual deviant,” I said, hoping to derail whatever rant was on the way.

“Excuse me?!”

 I now had a rabid, insulted 5’3” Jesus freak standing in the doorway of my office.  Might as well keep going, maybe she’ll get pissed off enough to leave.

“You’ve been dating Brian for 6 years, but you won’t have sex with him, and you don’t masturbate. We’re talkin’ some serious deviations from sexual norms.”

Her scowl was fleetingly replaced in quick succession by shock, embarrassment, and indignation before returning with a vengeance. Well, that plan didn’t work.

“Lorelei, I’m not going to get into the reasons why one should stay chaste.”

Thank God for small miracles.

“There are more important issues at hand. That, that, hedonistic heathen slept with my sister!”

I sighed. A large number of heathens have slept with her sister, but it’s probably not safe to point that out. Back to the heathen in question. If she was coming to me, it was a specific one.

“Okay, now that you’ve tattled on Alex, what do you expect me to do about it?”

 That actually stumped her. She looked perplexed for a moment before asking, “Is beating him an option?”

“Not a good one,” That was a stupid question, and we both knew it.

“Why not?” The plaintive wail grated on my nerves.

“Sweetheart, he brought a dominatrix to Christmas. Beating him will not get you the response you want.”

She dropped into the chair by the door with a disgusted snort, rested her chin on her hand, and glared at me. I returned a level stare.

“She’s pregnant.”

 I refuse to ask what happened. I try very hard to not know what Alex is up to. It saves me from feeling the need to bleach my brain.

“And the Anti-Christ is conceived. Prepare for Armageddon.”

Sandie slapped my arm. Hard. “Be serious! He seduced her last night and..”

 “Hold on. He slept with her last night? And just last night?” I rubbed at my arm.

“She’s only been here two days. And we spent the night before at a play.”

I tsked in irritation. “It’s not Alex’s.”

“But they were…”

I cut her off again. “It takes up to a week after ovulation to implant, and another week after that for the test to be able to detect the hormones. Did you forget your basic biology?”

Sandie bristled. “I was excused from class on those days. I’m …”

“Chaste. I know. But that means abstaining from sex, not health class! Jesus!” Annoyance thy name is Holy Roller.

“Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain!”

“Believe me, Sandie, that was a prayer for patience. Y’know what, I don’t have time for this. Alex isn’t the father. Go catch up on 7^th grade sex ed and we’ll talk later.” I dragged her out of the chair and shoved her out the door. Leaning against it, I glared at my laptop. Suddenly finding a date didn’t seem so interesting. I grabbed my phone. Time to find the other sexual deviant and give him the news. I smirked. Alex as a dad. I was going to enjoy making him squirm.