Chapter 9: S1 Ethan: Are They Watching?

Sadie Reed

"You said something back in the house." Something was bothering her, and she needed to get it off her chest.

"I said a few things inside." He glanced over his shoulder and held her gaze. "Care to be more specific?"

The irises of his eyes, liquid pools of silver, made her feel as if she had fallen inside a blacksmith's melting furnace.

"If you can . . . if you can smell them," she hesitates and narrows her eyes, "then why didn't you know they were here earlier before they attacked? You know, when we first arrived?"

"They used the rain to mask their scents, which is why I didn't pick up on them." He motions for her to sit on the seat behind him.

"Does that mean you're one of them?" A tremor shakes her body. "One of those things?"

"A lycan, no." Ethan holds out a hand. "And I'm not part of that tribe."

"Tribe?"

"Look, all you need to know for now, is that I'd never hurt you, Sadie Reed."

"And why's that?"

"Because my wolf would never allow it."

"Oh." Sadie sets her hand in his, and he wraps his fingers around her slender hand.

She straddles the bike, leans forward, and then wraps her arms around his waist.

The familiar feel of his body under her fingertips, and his scent, offers comfort - one she can't fully explain.

When those things, the lycans, had attacked, he stayed with her, protected her. She's a complete stranger to him, no one to him, and yet, he stayed and fought them with his bare hands.

So, if he's not one of them - what did he call them, a lycan - then what exactly does that make him? The thought replayed in her head.

The roar of the engine and the vibration between her legs garnered her attention for a few seconds, then her thoughts wandered again.

He said he wasn't like them and that the ones who attacked - the werewolves - were from the Kweo clan.

She wondered if that was another way to indicate a clan or a division within a gang.

What the hell does that even mean? And how many other clans are there?

A gust of humid, balmy air blasts against her face, chilling. It blows her long locks loose from the twisted, messy bun on the back of her head.

Her hair whips against her face, neck, arms, and back. She hugs Ethan's body, using him as a shield against the wind.

More so now than ever, she wishes she had grabbed some jeans to put on when she first headed out on the drive. At least then, her legs wouldn't be so cold that they felt numb.

"Looks like the weather's giving us a small reprieve." Ethan's voice carries over the roar of the motorcycle engine. "But from the looks of things brewing in the west, it's not gonna last long."

Even though it's no longer raining, her soaked clothes offer no protection from the wind gusts or from the chill in the air.

A coldness creeps deep into her bones that she can't shake, and she shivers. She tightens her hold on him and absorbs the warmth of his body.

Her hand slides under his shirt, creating skin-on-skin contact.

God, he's hot. The thought dawns on her, and not just easy on the eyes. His body is like a burning inferno. But he doesn't seem feverish or sick.

Ethan pulls out of the Novak Ranch driveway, then turns right onto the two-lane highway he had driven on prior. He travels a couple of miles, and then turns into a private paved road, which leads up a steep incline.

The motorcycle accelerates, picking up speed as it climbs up the hill. All around her, shadows play under the light of the moon.

Rows of fence posts and barbed wire carve out a path along the road. At the top of the hill, under the light of the moon, a single-story home comes into view.

Its log exterior has a welcoming appeal to it. A few touches to the exterior make it stand out: wooden shutters, a chimney stack for a fireplace, and a large bay window.

The sensation of eyes watching her makes her shudder, and she tightens her grip on Ethan.

She glances into the densely wooded area, wondering if something or someone's out there, watching. Shadows snake through the trees, grass, and shrubbery, playing tricks on her eyes.

Are they there, watching? Her body shakes, but she's not sure if it's from the cold or something else.

A circular light hanging from a metal pole illuminates the front of the house, which has a log cabin-like feel with a contemporary look.

Seems someone's been doing routine maintenance on the place.

It's a big place, which makes her wonder if he lives alone, with friends, or family.

In the gravel driveway, a black, double-cabbed truck sits alone. Near a storage building, a covered trailer cinched up tight sports a logo that reads Cotter Construction.

Ethan pulls up next to the F150 vehicle and parks.

Like before, he waits for her to slide off the seat before deploying the kickstand.

"Come on." He gets off the bike.

Standing on shaky legs, she follows him up the winding path leading to the house.

In the distance, a mournful howl pierces the shadows of the night.

Her body shakes from head to toe. Picking up her pace, she closes the small gap between her and Ethan.

"Those things-"

She reaches for his hand and laces her fingers with his.

He glances over his shoulder. "Don't be afraid. I won't let anything or anyone hurt you. You'll be safe here."

The door to the house swings open, smacking the side of the house.

A man, a few inches taller than Ethan, wearing frayed jeans, an unbuttoned shirt, and boots, steps out. The muscles of his ripped abdomen ripple with each step he takes.

He sniffs the air. "Who is your friend, little brother?"

"Sadie Reed," says Ethan. "Meet my brother, Cole."