Shadow Soldier (5 page)

“Thank you,” Roux mumbled, balancing the offered clothes on her fingertips so as not to dirty them. “I’ll, just…” Trailing off, she jerked her head to the side. “So, yeah.”

Without waiting for a response, she ducked into the bathroom and locked the door behind her. After placing the clothes on the vanity between the double sinks, she dropped her bag to the floor and pushed it into the corner with her foot. Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself before lifting her gaze to the mirror.

She didn’t even recognize the person staring back at her. Her pale skin stretched too tight across her sharp cheekbones, and the dark circles around her eyes made her look almost ghoulish. Even the greens of her irises appeared dull and murky. Mud stuck to her hair in clumps, the strands so dirty she couldn’t even tell what color they were, and skin flaked from her dry, cracked lips.

Unable to bear the sight of her own reflection, she turned her back on the mirror and peeled her clothes off, dropping them into a pile on the black and white tiles. She’d had an idea of the damage malnutrition had done to her body, but seeing it firsthand drove home just how bad things had gotten.

If someone had told her that after a year and a half of running, she’d end up standing naked in a shifter’s bathroom, she’d have laughed right in their face. Being in Deke’s house didn’t worry her nearly as much as it should. He’d been right about one thing—if he wanted to hurt her, she’d already be dead. Furthermore, if he’d intended to turn her over to the Coalition, he would have done that as well.

After starting the shower, Roux leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes while she waited for the water to warm. She had so many questions, not the least of which centered on why Deke would go to so much trouble to protect her.

She’d seen his face in the woods, heard the barely-contained rage in his voice, but she hadn’t been afraid. Some part of her had known he wouldn’t hurt her, but he’d have killed the werewolf without hesitation if it had come to it. She didn’t understand why, but it didn’t change anything, either. No matter what pretty lies he told her, she couldn’t let herself trust him.

She couldn’t trust anyone.

Steam fogged the glass and billowed out of the shower stall when she opened the door to step beneath the spray. A long, low groan bubbled through her lips at the first rush of hot water down her back. Bracing one hand against the wall, Roux dropped her head, watching the layers of dirt and other filth swirl down the drain. The heat seeped into her skin, warming and relaxing her, loosening the tense muscles in her neck and shoulders.

Bottles of liquid soap, shampoo, conditioner, facial cleanser, and shaving foam occupied the two triangular shelves. Just like the books in the living room, the containers had been precisely arranged by color and size. For some reason, the strict organization made her laugh. Deke had some serious OCD issues.

After washing her hair and cleaning the rest of the grime from her body—taking special care with her wounded arm—Roux remained under the spray until the water turned cold. She didn’t know when she’d see another shower, and she meant to enjoy every minute of it while it lasted. When her lips began to tremble, and her stomach growled with hunger, she finally shut off the water and stepped out onto the plush, cream-colored bathmat.

With a fluffy towel in the same cream color wrapped around her breasts, she shuffled back to the vanity. Once she’d combed the knots from her hair, she slathered paste onto a new toothbrush and scrubbed her teeth for a solid five minutes. Feeling mostly human again, she turned her attention to the stack of clothes on the countertop.

All three T-shirts—two black and one gray—looked to be the same size. Choosing the gray one, she pulled it on over her head, wrinkling her nose when the sleeves fell down past her elbows and the hem brushed the top of her knees. He’d only included one pair of bottoms—a pair of red and black basketball shorts.

While they hung down to her shins, the elastic waistband also contained a drawstring. It wasn’t perfect, but after a little tweaking, she managed to keep the shorts from falling off her hips. When she couldn’t stall any longer, Roux shoved her old clothes into her bag and carried the pack down the hall.

Delicious smells wafted through the house, making her mouth water and her stomach twist with hunger. Following the aromas, she stopped just inside the pristine kitchen near the glossy, oak table.

The stainless steel appliances gleamed, reflecting the overhead light, not a speck, smear, or fingerprint to be found. The slate-gray countertops had been polished to a shine, the hard marble devoid of any clutter. Only a coffeemaker occupied the counter with a set of multi-sized, black canisters lined along the wall beside it.

The clock on the microwave over the electric range flashed the time—just after one o’clock in the morning. Roux had been in the bathroom longer than she’d realized, but damn, it had been worth it.

“Feel better?” Deke asked. He kept his back to her while he stirred the contents of a pot on the stove. “It’s almost ready if you want to grab a seat.”

“Yes. Um, do you have bandages? I couldn’t find any in the bathroom.”

“There’s a first aid kit in the foyer closet,” he answered, still not facing her.

He’d changed into a pair of black shorts, with a matching tank top that stretched tight over his muscular frame. A smattering of freckles dotted the tops of his shoulders, barely visible against his sun-bronzed skin, but she had no trouble making out the tattoo on his back.

Dropping her bag against the wall at the mouth of the hallway, she shuffled a little closer and tilted her head to the side. A crescent moon with four small stars had been inked onto his back, just above the scooping neck of his shirt. While curious as to what the symbol meant, Roux bit back the question with a shake of her head. Come morning, she’d be gone. She just needed a place to sleep—not a new friend.

“Did the clothes fit?” Stretching to reach the top cabinet on the right, Deke removed two black, square plates and finally turned to face her. “I can look for—oh.”

“What?” Stumbling away from him, Roux stared down at her baggy clothes while she patted her hair and face. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Deke cleared his throat and shifted to set the plates on the counter. “It’s nothing,” he answered easily. “You look different without all the mud, that’s all.”

The feminine part of her wanted to ask if that was a good thing or not, but she ignored the impulse. “What are you cooking?” she asked instead, dropping into the chair at the end of the rectangular table. “I’m starving.”

“Steamed rice with vegetables.” He scooped the rice mixture onto a plate while he spoke. “There’s chicken as well, but I’ll put it on the side, just in case.”

“In case of what?”

Without filling his own plate, Deke carried the dish over and placed it in front of her on the table, along with a knife and fork. “The rice will be easy on your stomach, but you might need to build up to the chicken.”

A shower, fresh clothes, steaming food that made her mouth water, Deke’s seemingly genuine concern—Roux suddenly felt anxious and overwhelmed. Lowering her head, she hid her face behind the curtain of her hair as tears gathered in the corners of her eyes.

Get it together. It’s just a plate of fucking rice.

“There’s water, soda, beer, or milk.” Deke either hadn’t noticed her little breakdown or he chose not to comment. “I’d advise against the beer for now, but it’s up—
”

“Water’s fine,” Roux interrupted, wiping roughly at her wet eyes.

Her stomach growled angrily at the smells wafting up from her plate, but she resisted the urge to dive into the meal. Drugging her wouldn’t serve any purpose, not when Deke had proven he could easily overpower her. Still, her paranoia won out over her hunger.

“Here,” Deke said, his voice quiet, gentle. He placed an unopened bottle of water in front of her before sliding into his seat with his own heaping plate of food. “I know you won’t believe me, but there’s nothing in that rice other than a little ginger.”

As if to prove his point, he shoveled a large forkful into his mouth, chewed quickly, and swallowed. When she didn’t follow suit, he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his massive chest. The minutes ticked by in silence while they stared at each other, neither of them moving, until Deke finally sighed and shook his head.

“There’s a pizza in the freezer. You can watch me stick it in the oven, or you can do it yourself.”

Roux considered him while she took the water bottle from the tabletop and twisted off the cap. “Why are you doing this?”

“Feeding you?” He shrugged. “Because you look half starved.”

“Look,” she bit out, her anger and frustration bubbling to the surface. “I’m not stupid. I know how this works. I want to know why you’re helping me. What do you want from me?”

“Right now, I want you to eat. After that, I want you to sleep.” Deke scooted his chair closer to the table and began eating again. “I think that’s enough for now.”

Even with the rebels, no one did something for nothing. Every act of generosity demanded a price. “Stop it!” she yelled, slamming the bottle down on the table and splashing water everywhere. “Just stop being so…so…”

“What?”

“So…nice!”

Deke arched an eyebrow at her. “Would you rather I locked you in the bedroom with a collar and a bowl of water?”

No, she didn’t want that, but it would make the situation easier. At least that type of behavior she expected.

“How about this?” Lifting her plate, he placed it on top of his empty one. “Go pop that pizza in the oven, and while we wait, I’ll answer any questions you have. I know you have questions,” he added when she frowned at him. “Do you want answers or not?”

He could have drugged the pizza, knowing she wouldn’t eat something he’d cooked. That theory sounded borderline psychotic, even to her. Fuck, she felt so confused, and it was making her act like a lunatic. Deke might be a shifter, the enemy for all intents and purposes, but since they’d met, he’d treated her with more humanity than she’d known from most humans.

“I don’t really like pizza.” She tried to smile, but figured that if it looked as forced as it felt, and she might as well stick with resting bitch face.

His lips twitched at the corners, but he simply nodded and rose from his seat with both plates in his hand. “I’ll reheat this for you.”

“Thank you.” For the first time, the words came naturally and without hesitation. “So, you’re a shifter.”

“That’s not a question.”

Roux rolled her eyes at his back. “I know you’re a shifter. What breed?”

“How do you know I’m a shifter?” The microwave beeped with each button he pressed. “You called Phelps a werewolf. You’re not wrong, but again, how did you know?”

Weighing how much she should reveal about what she knew of the Gemini, Roux chose her words carefully. “Werewolves are more volatile, and there’s a wildness about them, especially in the eyes.”

“And shifters?”

“Shifters have a kind of finesse, I suppose. They’re more patient.” Like a predator stealthily stalking its prey.

“There are exceptions to every rule, but that’s fairly accurate.” He rubbed the back of his neck while he nodded. “You’re very observant, so you tell me. What breed am I?”

“The deal was I ask questions and you answer them.”

The microwave beeped twice, signaling the end of its cycle. Using a square, blue potholder, he removed her plate and carried it back to the table to place it in front of her.

“Humor me,” he teased, easing down into his chair again.

Thinking over all she’d learned about Deke in the short amount of time she’d know him, Roux forked a generous scoop of rice and vegetables into her mouth, uncaring that it burned her tongue. The first taste sent a shiver along her spine, and she groaned as the food slid down her throat to warm her belly. Suddenly, she was ravenous, a primitive beast driven by instinct and her snarling stomach. Where moments ago, she’d been reluctant to even sniff the meal, now, she couldn’t get it into her mouth fast enough.

“Easy,” Deke cautioned. “Not so fast, or you’ll hate yourself for it later.”

With no small amount of effort, she managed to place her fork on the edge of her plate and pull in a deep breath. The burn in her lungs surprised her until she realized she’d been eating so fast, she hadn’t taken the time to breathe.

“You’re fast,” she said, answering his original question once she’d composed herself. “Quiet. You like things neat and organized, and you make this sound in the back of your throat sometimes, like a rumble, but not a growl. Almost like a purr.”

Deke smiled, showing off his pointed canines, and motioned for her to continue.

“I’d guess some type of big cat.” She couldn’t guess as to the species, but she felt confident in her assessment. “Am I right?”

“You’d make a hell of a detective,” he complimented. “What did you do before the Purge?”

“I waited tables.” Though she’d lacked direction or ambition, her life had been simple then. “Why?”

The captain just laughed and shook his head. “Panther.”

“Jaguar or leopard?” she asked around a yawn.

“Impressive.” Once again, he rose from the table and carried her plate to the sink. “Most people think panthers are a separate breed.”

“So…”

“Jaguar.” He scraped the remainder of her meal into the garbage disposal before washing both of their plates and placing them on the drying rack next to the sink. “Ready for bed?”

Roux slapped a hand over her mouth to stifle another yawn. “Where are the others?”

“Your friends? I already told you.”

“I want to see them.”

Turning to face her, Deke leaned back against the counter and crossed one ankle over the other. “My patrol starts at four o’clock tomorrow night, but we can go in the morning. We need to get you some clothes anyway.” He rubbed his hands together and pushed away from the counter with a grunt. “You really should get some rest.”

“One more question.”

Her earlier shower, combined with a full belly, had begun to work its magic, slowly pulling her into a comfortable drowsiness. The fact that she’d be sleeping in a shifter’s house didn’t bother her nearly as much as it had when she’d first arrived. Roux chalked it up to exhaustion.