Feral (6 page)

Icarus rolled his eyes and slung Jack over his shoulder, careless of his inert state.  “Rule number one, you
never
,
ever
submit,” he scolded.  “You just failed completely which means that you are now completely at my mercy, Thaleia Llorente.  Welcome to my domain.”

He hated me.  I swore it as I scrubbed the floor in the kitchen.  Icarus’s kitchen.  I’d already cleaned the den, the bathroom—God help me, because it needed hazmat tape and a power washer rather than the measly sponge and scrub brush he’d provided—and select bedrooms in the house.  This was
his
idea of punishment for yielding to him.  Had another male lycanthrope dominated me, Icarus assured me I wouldn’t be afforded the same maltreatment.

The irony was not lost on me.  Had I
not
submitted to him, he would’ve offered me said maltreatment with certain relish.  While he maintained that he disapproved of my presence, he was still a man.  I have no doubt he would’ve enjoyed dominating me immensely.  Personally, I think he was taking out a little pent up sexual frustration by making me clean his house.

Tyrant.  Sexist.  Jerk.

“Whoa, what’s that smell?” Lucius inquired, leaning across the kitchen island.  Lucius was a taller, black-haired boy, wiry in build with dark eyes, almost black in color.  Icarus had made a point not to introduce everyone.  I was still an outsider.  Since I wasn’t in a sociable mood, I didn’t take offense.  Nonetheless, I’d paid attention.  Crispin was the young curly hair boy. Maximillion resembled Icarus, though shorter in height.  His eyes were much deeper in color, sapphire compared to Icarus’s pale cerulean.  And Bacchus was the shorter wonder twin.

“Are you
cooking
something?”

The twins had watched with patent enthusiasm while I scoured the
ir house, moving furniture, assisting in any task that allowed them to flaunt their masculinity.  I ignored them industriously except to use my manners.  My mother had taught me better.  In any event, no matter how impassive I was, Icarus grew annoyed with the attention I was receiving, and he chased everyone off using his imperious voice.  But slowly, one by one, the boys returned, drifting unconsciously to the island, enticed by the goings-on in the kitchen.

“Do I smell
food
?” Max inquired, claiming the stool next to Lucius.  He rested his chin on the hands, smelling the air with dreamy eyes.

“Dude!” said Crispin, appearing at Lucius’s side.  “Is something
cooking
?”

Bacchus and Caius happened at that moment to return from their shopping excursion, dropping their bags on the floor as they raced into the room, fighting boisterously over the last counter space at the kitchen island.  “Holy crap!  Are you
cooking
something?”

“
Thaleia,” said Crispin in awe.  “She
cooks
.”  He spoke the word like a revelation.  Evidentially, cooking was an uncommon occurrence.  I wondered idly what they normally ate.

“You just helped yourself without first asking,” said Icarus, materializing beside me.  It wasn’t a question.  It was an accusation.  He wasn’t pleased.

“Kitchen’s done,” I said, disregarding his observation.  Rising from the floor, I extended my hand, a blue Colgate balanced across the width of my palm.  His eyes flickered from my hand to my eyes, narrowing.

“Is that
my
toothbrush?”

I shrugged.  “It really is a versatile tool.  Works wonders around all those little nooks and crannies you can’t reach, like the faucet or the corner of the shower.  Oh, and the hinges on the toilet seat.  For that alone it’s absolutely priceless.”

Gawping at the toothbrush, his mouth twisted into a frown.  He took it from my hand and tossed it in the trash on the way out of the room.  I noted with much smug satisfaction that he didn’t assign me another grueling chore.  Perhaps he’d think twice before my next punishment.

“Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned,” Lucius said, eyes twinkling with mirth.  “I’ll make sure I am ever on your good side,
Thale Llorente.”

“Don’t mind him,” Max
added.  “He’ll come around.”

“I’ll take that for you,” Caius offered, taking the bucket from my hand.  “Sit down,
Thale.  Take a load off.  You look exhausted.”

“Here,” Crispin said, vacating his stool.  “You can have my seat.”

“No, sit,” I declined.  If I sat, I might not get up again.  “I’m fine.  Besides, the timer’s about to go off.”  Famished, the thought of it sent my stomach into a frenzy of audible spasms.

“Sit,” Bacchus ordered, pushing me onto the stool.  “You’ll pass out.  You should’ve eaten earlier.  After everything you’ve been through, you’ve gotta be
starving.”

After everything I’d been through, I was surprised to have an appetite at all.

“Icarus is usually more attentive,” Lucius assured me.  “But this whole thing’s caught us unawares.  He’s got your…Marcus was his name?”

“Asshat, fucktard or
shitface works for me.”

“Can
’t say I blame you,” Max empathized.  “Did he really—”

“Please,” I interjected, raising my hand.  “I’d rather not right now.  Neither do I want to hear about your iniquitous leader.  He has the compassion of a crocodile and all things considering, I’m not feeling overly
affable at the moment.”

“What
’s iniquitous?” Crispin asked quietly, sidling closely to Caius.

“She’s angry with Icarus, Runt.”

“Oh…well…if it makes you feel any better you can cradle me against your bosom and cry into my hair.  I’m a really good listener.”

While the four others played pong with Crispin’s noggin, I smiled dryly.

“Thank you, Crispin, that’s so very generous and completely altruistic of you.  I have to say it’s relieving to see that chivalry still exists in this world.”

“Stop!  Morons!” Crispin scoffed fending off his brother’s strikes.  “She smiled for Christ’s sake!  Have a sense of humor! 
She
does!  Losers!  Bullies!  Beefheads!  Knock it off!”

“She’s enduring you,” Lucius chided.  “Note her use of sarcasm.”

My smile fell.  He was right; I was enduring him.  I endure most men.  Boys. Males.  Age mattered not.  It’s an ingrained reaction.  Marcus reminded me off why that was, the sleaze.

I was thankful when the timer for the oven beeped, a welcome distraction.  I motioned to rise, but a restraining hand dropped on my shoulder.

“I told you to sit,” Bacchus scolded.  “I’ll get it for you.”

“Are you all so
bossy?” I grumbled.

“No,” Max
answered.

“
Oh, just Icarus then?”

“
I apologize for his crass behavior, but he really does have a lot on his mind.”

“
Yeah, well, I didn’t exactly ask to be here.”

“It’s complicated,
Thale,” he pressed.  “You have family—”

“No effing way!” Bacchus exclaimed, bent over the oven door.  Tugging the trout-shaped oven mitts firmly onto his hands, he reached into the oven and pulled out the large casserole dish with an exultant smile.  “She made enough to share!”  His voice squeaked with glee.

“Yes!” Crispin crowed.  “I’ll get the forks!”

Enthusiastically, he fetc
hed a box of plasticware from the drawer and flipped it, dumping a dozen forks skittering onto the granite surface.  I looked on with amused fascination as they each seized one, their eyes alight with anticipation.  However, they didn’t dig in, but turned to me expectantly, puzzling me with their abrupt cessation.

“What?” I asked.

Caius gestured to the dish with his fork.  “You first.”

“I didn’t boil it in toilet water if that’s what you think.”  Though I should’ve after they left me alone with Icarus.  I made a mental note to remember that in the future.

“Etiquette,” Caius explained.  “You cooked—you eat first.”

“It’s the way of the pack,” Crispin confirmed, nodding exuberantly.

“Fine.”  Digging my fork into the corner, I scooped a crusty, cheesy mouthful of macaroni.  As I lifted it in the air, cheese stretched from my fork to the corner of the casserole, breaking as I gave it a quick twirl.  “Mm,” I mumbled around my full mouth, permitting them to follow suit.  No pun intended, but they attacked it like a pack of wolves.

“What are you all doing?” Hailey asked curtly, arms crossed over her chest.

It was a disquieting sight, I observed, when a small girl such as Hailey could instill fear in the hearts of five much larger boys.  Werewolves at that.  Like chastened puppies, their heads dropped, eyes darting nervously about, forks and food forgotten in their hands.

Crispin straightened his back, braving to speak.  “
Eating.  Thale cooked.”

“I see that,” Hailey said.  “
But
why
did Thale cook?”

“Because…
because…”  Crispin floundered, grasping for a respectable answer.  One that wouldn’t get his head bitten off by the demon in the girl suit.  Clearly, they were afraid of her.

“Because I was hungry,” I spoke up
, since nobody else was man enough to stand up to the omen.  “And nobody offered me as much as a glass of water since I’ve been here.”

“But this isn’t
your home.”

“
No, it’s not, but considering I just scrubbed parts of this house that you didn’t know existed, I didn’t think I would be intruding anyone’s personal space by making a chicken casserole.”  Picking up a fork from the counter, I proffered it in her direction.  “You’re welcome to join us, but if you wanna eat up then you’ve gotta pipe down.  I’ve had a tough day.”

Overruled, Hailey’s eyes narrowed slightly
.  “I’m not hungry,” she sniffed and left the room.  Shrugging, I dropped the fork back to the counter and took another mouthful of pasta.

“Whoa,” Crispin mouthed.  “Cat fight.”

“Is she always that atrocious?”

Max
grunted, not to be deterred from his meal.

“
She’s complicated,” Lucius interpreted.

“
Complicated, huh?” I said dryly.  “She must take lessons from Icarus.”

“He’s
really not that bad.”

Lifting one shoulder, I shrugged indifferently. 
“If it walks like a duck and talks like a duck, it’s usually because it’s a duck.”  (In Icarus’s case, a top notch asshole.)

“Did your mom teach you how to
cook?” Crispin asked, changing the subject.  Ever the peacemaker.  It was all I could do to keep from tousling his curly hair.

I shook my head.  “No, my mom’s a terrible cook.  She’s more of a desert person, but not a baker.  She blends things.  Fruit mostly, though she’s tried vegetables.  That didn’t go so well.  My parents founded O’berries actually.”

“O’berries?” Max echoed.  “Like the smoothie place?”

I nodded.  “The same.  Anyhow, my parents both work full time running the corporate office so my brother Bennie and I try to help out wherever we can.
”  We figured that since my mom was such a bad cook, and we still needed to eat, we were best served in the kitchen.  My mom opposed completely.  Said we weren’t getting the proper nutrition.  So we made a deal that she would allow us to do the cooking if we could fit at least three food groups into our meals.  Today, we had dairy in the form of cheese, starches—macaroni, vegetables—spring peas and poultry—chicken.

Technically, it wasn’t the healthiest of meals, but then I didn’t have much to work with.  Their cupboards w
ere nearly bare.  And the fact was, I was starving.  Otherwise, I wouldn’t have cooked at all.  As Icarus and Hailey pointed out, it wasn’t my home.  At any rate, welcome or not, I figured they would pardon my offenses if I made enough to go around.  And with the rare exception, my plan seemed to work successfully.

“Um,
I’m just going to take some to Icarus,” Max mumbled hesitantly, gauging my reaction.  “If that’s ok with you.”

“No need to ask me.  It’s your food.  I just cooked it.
”

Visibly relaxing, he scooped some
casserole into a bowl and headed off to find his alpha beneath whatever bridge the troll was currently hiding.

“So how did you all end up together?” I inquired, spearing another chunk of chicken.  “Were you lucky enough to stumble upon Lord Icarus the same way I did?”

“No, we’re all related,” Bacchus answered, grinning at my depiction of Icarus.  “Icarus’s father was my uncle.  He was the oldest.  The alpha. Max’s father was their younger brother.  Lucius and Crispin’s father was their middle brother.  Hailey’s the only cur in our pack.  We took her in about five years ago.”

So they were cousins.  That explained their likenesses.

“I’m sorry.  I don’t mean to pry, but what happened to your parents?”  I noted that he spoke of them in the past tense.

“They were killed about ten years ago during an attack on our pack.”

“Our fathers were killed,” Crispin interjected.  “We don’t know about our mother.”

“Ten years, Crispin,” Lucius objecte
d bitterly.  “She’s de—”

“She’s not dead
!” Crispin shouted, his bottom lip trembling, eyes rimmed with moisture.  He looked like he wanted to pulverize his brother into a pulp.  “She could still be alive!”