Page 24 of Caelum

TWENTY-THREE

DRE

As Nestor strummed his guitar, I sank back into the sofa and let his tunes soothe me.

I was riled up, angry, and I wasn’t even sure why.

We were heading out in a few hours, just waiting on the plane to arrive, and I was ready for it. Ready for everything the motherfuckers could throw my way, so why was I so on edge?

So antsy?

I studied Stefan, who had a piece of soap in his hands and a small penknife.

As I watched him whittle it down, leaving shavings on his lap, I murmured, “Why are we all on edge?”

Eren, who was face deep in one of Stefan’s stashes, replied, “On edge?”

I rolled my eyes when he retreated from the cupboard with a pack of cookies, Gatorade, and some candy.

We weren’t supposed to eat that shit, but Stefan had some sent in from the mainland every now and then. He said it made him feel less deprived but really, the dude was a hoarder who wouldn’t admit to it.

He had everything in those cupboards: protein bars, shakes, that shit that he somehow got from the US army just in case there was zero access to food for whatever reason. But I got it. We all had our demons, and Stefan’s was hunger.

He’d been starved as a kid, and when he’d had to live out on the streets, food had come at a premium. I had a feeling he’d sold his body for food, but I’d never ask him. Never shame him so badly by bringing it up.

And, honestly, I didn’t want to know because if I did, I’d want to go and kill the motherfuckers who’d fucked a thirteen-year-old rather than just give him some money to grab something to eat.

The world was full of sick bastards, and they weren’t all Ghouls either.

Most of us had sad pasts, but some were worse than others. Stefan’s was one of them, Eren’s too. I’d seen his scars. He usually covered them up with cycling shorts under his baggier training gear, but I’d seen them. Knew there’d been a time when he self-harmed.

Cutting a look at what was literally a few pounds of sugar in his hands, I stated, “You sure you should be eating that shit? You sleep like crap as it is.”

He narrowed his eyes on me. “You my mom?”

I snorted. “If I were I’d have slapped you around the head a few times already today. You think I wouldn’t find out you’d shown her my garden?” The place was booby-trapped, and he’d fallen straight into it.

That had him grunting. “I should have known you had that place wired up.”

“Not having any bastard sneak in there and ruin my plants,” I grumbled. “Why did you show it to her anyway?”

He shrugged. “She wanted a walk.”

“Then take her to the goddamn beach.”

Stefan sighed, and it was louder than the scrape of his knife into the soap. “She won’t leave the building’s perimeter.”

I rolled my eyes again—that woman. I didn’t say shit, though, because they’d harp on at me about it. I was already getting crap from them, and I didn’t want to spend the next few hours of waiting for the plane with them trying to convince me how her shit was made of gold.

She was Pack. I got it. But I didn’t have to like her, and she’d have to do more than blink at me with big, admittedly pretty, honey-colored eyes to earn my loyalty.

“We need to work on that,” Nestor said absentmindedly as he plucked the strings of his instrument. The damn thing was like another limb. The way he played it could make even my eyes water.

My bro had talent. Major talent.

Just a few notes could make the hair at the back of my neck stand on edge… Like it was now. The soulful sounds weren’t easing my mood though. If anything, they weren’t fast enough, hard and heavy enough, to appease the rapid beat of my blood through my veins.

My Hell Hound was in action today, and it wanted to be let loose .

“Yeah, we do. Plus, that shit with Coach has to stop,” Stefan stated grimly.

“Do we have to talk about her?” I complained. Fuck, that’s all it was now. Eve this and Eve fucking that.

Stefan cut me a look, but he said nothing. Just carried on whittling. When I saw a woman’s face begin to appear in the carving, I wanted to grunt.

“Why are we so on edge?” I demanded, trying to get the topic back on track. “Nestor only plays when he’s nervous, Eren eats like a glutton, and Stefan only whittles when he’s antsy. I’m feeling it too.” Though the Hell Hound was in charge, my basic nature was Were which meant my skin was prickling with the need to shift.

I seriously couldn’t wait for the day I could turn into my true beast. And that day? I’d be shipping out to Mexico on the hunt for some coyote blood.

My mouth watered at the prospect.

“It’s our first Alpha Unit mission?” Stefan hazarded a guess.

“I don’t think so,” Eren stated after he slurped down some Gatorade that would only amp him up—and not in a good way either. He cut me a look. “I think it’s to do with Eve. She’s Pack, whether you like it or not, Dre, and she’s not coming with us.”

“That wouldn’t put me on edge,” I countered. “If anything, having her with us would . She’s a liability.”

He shrugged. “You’re feeding off our nerves.”

Stefan nodded. “He could be right, Dre. I know I’m feeling like shit for not explaining what might happen while we’re gone.”

I eyed him. “Why haven’t you told her?”

“Because I’m a selfish fuck.” His mouth tightened. “If I tell her she’ll try to talk me out of it.”

“Women are weak.”

Eren scowled. “Eve is the exact opposite of that. Just because she’s not strong in the way you think we should be doesn’t mean she isn’t strong in her own way.”

“He’s right, Dre. Don’t be blinded by your prejudice,” Nestor intoned darkly, but his gaze never left his guitar. “Eve is strong, and she will, with time, be a worthy member of our Pack.”

Yeah, and pigs flew over this fucking island every goddamn day of the week.

She’d taken me down once. While I was feeding. That didn’t make her Wonder Woman. But the way they went on about it, I knew I’d never live it down .

Something else to lay at Eve’s goddamn door.

“Though it’s driving me mad not being Claimed, I’m almost glad for it now,” Stefan admitted, his tone low.

“You wouldn’t tell it was driving you mad,” I pointed out, surprised by his words. Aside from the angry burn on his back, it was easy to forget he wasn’t Claimed—aside from the fact that Eve was a huge reminder.

“I try to burn it out in the gym.” He shrugged. “Some days it works; some days it doesn’t.”

“You Incubus today?”

He nodded.

I winced. “Ouch.”

“Yeah.” He blew out a breath. “But, and it’s a huge but, if I die, she won’t become crazed. That’s my only consolation here.”

If she’d Claimed him fully and he passed, she’d live on but she would, without a doubt, go nuts. It could even trigger her into becoming a Ghoul.

That was why the faculty kept mated students apart. We were training to be soldiers, and although my Pack and, I’d begrudgingly admit Frazer’s too, were fucking good, we were still trainees. Accidents happened when you were sent into a warzone.

Mated females who were disconnected from their Chosen were known to make Vlad the Impaler look friendly.

Whole wars had been started on the back of a mourning female grieving her lost Chosen.

I rubbed my chin as I contemplated Stefan, wondering if their unease really was feeding my own, and I had to think that it might be.

I’d expected this moment to feel validating. We’d been working for months for this chance. We’d spent the past few weeks working behind the scenes on intel that would feed this mission, and we’d been training to be the best we could be.

Before Eve had come along, we’d eaten, breathed, and slept this mission.

Now? Shit had grown shaky and I wasn’t happy about it.

Not happy at all.

When the door opened and Eve wandered in, her nose in a book as per fucking usual, I wanted to grit my teeth at the sight of her. When I saw Stefan stuff the soap he’d been whittling under a cushion, I shot him a look and he just frowned at me.

Why was he keeping that little habit of his a secret from her?

I didn’t know and wouldn’t find out. Stefan could be a close-mouthed shit when it came down to it.

Nestor didn’t stop playing but his tunes turned less melancholic, a change in the melody making it more upbeat, and Eren stopped eating pure sugar.

Because she made them feel better just by being in the room? Or were they hiding their nerves from her?

As I stared at them, looking at the men I knew as well as I knew myself, I had to accept that she made them feel better.

Stefan, before he’d started whittling, had been playing with his fingers. Cracking his knuckles, his unease making him rap the tips against the sofa.

Nestor’s music had changed, but I could sense the move hadn’t been a conscious decision because I could hear the undertones of the song were the same as what he’d been playing before, but it was just brighter, bouncier, somehow.

And Eren?

Well, he wasn’t eating. Instead, he’d curved his arm around Eve when she took a seat beside him. Her dark hair gleamed against his olive skin, and I hated that I noticed that. Hated, even more, that I saw her honey-colored eyes soften as she looked up at him and over at Stefan and Nestor. Me, she avoided like the plague.

As I stared at her, the woman who was a thorn in my side, I found myself, for the first time in forever, grateful that she’d given my brothers some peace.

This was the calm before the storm, after all, and if this was the last time we saw her, I’d remember her with thanks for this moment. A moment of respite before we were shipped off to a war that no one except the creatures and the Ghouls in this world knew we were battling.