Page 57 of Shifter Situations

“Get yer minds out of the gutter, Vampire. They’re leadin’ the hunt whenever the full moon is, so they could’ve gone ta scope out the area.”

“Sure they have. You can’t read her mind, Mage. I can…”

I chuckled as I sat on the tailgate. “The full moon is tomorrow, Palmer. Take a fucking nap.”

12

Sloane

Thursday, June 4th

Late Night

I wasn’t sure where to start with Briggs, but a run seemed like the best choice to calm his wolf down. When he chilled out, so would I.

The bond between us was full of unstable emotions, and they were making me anxious. I didn’t know how to fix feelings, especially when I wasn’t the one who made him feel this way.

Fighting my impulses was getting harder the farther we ran. I had never wanted to harm someone as badly as I currently wanted to.

The she-wolf was another name on my list of people living on borrowed time.

We’d all gone in circles, thinking about who we suspected was behind the drug push with the shifters, though we hadn’t voiced anything yet. We were all leaning in the same direction.

Idly, I wondered how many bones I could break in Anna’s body before she passed out from the pain.

If the adult human body had two hundred and six bones, and I factored in the higher threshold for pain within supernatural creatures… then maybe thirty-eight?

I might have to start with the smaller bones to hit that number.

The task itself sounded like an exhausting amount of work, but it was a great idea for an eternity of suffering.

No matter how I killed her—or if torture was involved—I wasn’t leaving North Fork without her soul. I’d gladly release some of the others I was hoarding to make room for hers.

As long as the Underworld stood, her punishment for hurting my mates would too.

Would it be too terribly tasteless if I took a picture with her lifeless body to frame and set it next to her little glass case in my collection?

Also, would it be inappropriate to keep her skull and paint on it? Nothing pretty; I just felt the need to continue fucking with her after she was dead.

I needed to befriend a necromancer or ask Stone to call his friend. I’d pay him to bring her back to life so that I could kill her multiple times. Maybe the necromancer had an hourly rate.

Those were probably not the thoughts of a sane individual, but I didn’t have anyone to ask at the moment except for Briggs. The angry snarls coming from him told me that now wasn't exactly the time to ask him for his opinion on the matter.

I’d have to ask Jack or Hyde what they thought of my ideas.

My imagination bounced from one end of the spectrum to the other, none of the plans suitable enough to pacify my need for bloodshed.

I shifted back to my skin, hoping that would help me think straight. My bare feet hit the ground without missing a step, and I stayed silent as he worked through his twisted emotions.

I didn’t pry, didn’t peek into his mind as he sorted through all the shit.

I couldn’t.

It wasn’t in me to overstep in a situation like this, even though I wanted—needed—to know that he was okay.

As he slowed his gait, I cautiously asked, “Do you want to stop for a minute or keep going? We’re pretty far outside the pack’s property.”

He snarled in frustration, but he stopped running only to begin pacing. Growling and huffing, he shook his massive head as agitation coursed through our bond.