She made her way into the small bathroom where the sink actually worked. She brushed her teeth and pulled her hair into a messy bun and opened the door just in time for Dead to knock. He stepped back fast and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Sorry, I wasn’t meaning to intrude. I just…”
“You what?” she asked.
He chewed on the corner of his lip and searched her eyes. “I made you uncomfortable, and I didn’t like the way it made me feel. I wanted to find out why I made you uncomfortable so I don’t make us feel like that again.”
“You didn’t make me uncomfortable, Dead. I just didn’t want you to shut down. I wanted you to keep talking, telling me interesting stuff about yourself, and not go to bed yet. I know that’s silly because you’re a stranger and you’ve already opened up so much, but I guess I’m selfish and wanted more.” She inhaled after saying all that on one breath. “I like learning about you.”
The corner of his lips turned up in a smile for just a second before it disappeared. “You asked about why I hate humans.”
She nodded and wrapped her arms around herself to hide her nipples perking up against the thin fabric of the T-shirt.
“I’ve never talked about that with anyone. It’s a scary thing to do.”
“Talking about personal stuff with a stranger?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, you can look at it that way, or you could see it as less risky. After tonight, you’ll never see me again. And I’m good at keeping my word. I will never speak of your reasons again to another living soul. Not even my pet plants. So, you can share that story with someone who won’t be affected in any way or judge you. And then you will have told someone. And maybe it won’t be so scary to talk about it then.”
“Filsa.”
That word chilled her blood and made her skin tingle.
He backed up and sank into the couch. “I can tell by the look on your face you know what that drug does.”
“It makes your animal go to sleep.”
Dead rested one ankle on his knee and shook his boot slightly—a nervous tic, perhaps. “And how did you learn about Filsa?”
“My friend Anabelle has used it before. She wanted to see what it would feel like to be human again.”
“Mmm.” His eyes were darkening to the color of whiskey. “Only you aren’t human when you have that drug in your system. You’re still a shifter, just helpless to protect yourself.”
“That’s what Annabelle learned, too. Did…did you try the drug?”
“Not on purpose.”
“Someone gave it to you?” Raven guessed, her stomach churning.
Dead’s eyes glazed over as he looked at something faraway, something right through her. He nodded. “Someone did that.”
“A human?”
Another nod.
“Who?” she asked.
His lips twisted up into a humorless, empty smile. “No one important anymore.”
And it hit her. Hit her like a lightning strike and sent chills up her spine. “You never admitted your mother was a human before it was announced at your last rodeo. You never talked about her in interviews either.”
Dead didn’t move a single muscle.
So she took another guess. “Your mother gave you that drug?”
“She wanted a normal son. A human one. I changed for the first time at my seventh birthday party in front of all her friends. I’ll never forget the look of mortification on her face. Or the sounds of her screaming and crying and asking the sky, ‘Why me?’”
“Oh, my gosh.” Raven closed the few steps between them and sank onto the couch beside him, tucked her legs right against his ribs and rested her head on his tensed shoulder. “How long did she give you the drug for?”
“I didn’t even fuckin’ know she was doing it for a year. Maybe longer. I just thought my animal had disappeared, but there was this anger left behind. I couldn’t stop fighting the other kids in my class, and the more time that went on, the sicker I felt in the head. And, eventually, my body got sick, too. She wouldn’t take me to the doctor. Said I was going through growing pains. Only my skin turned pale, and I couldn’t keep any weight on, lost my appetite, was exhausted, my eyes were all sunken in. I looked like a corpse. An eight-year-old corpse. I thought I was dying. Hell, maybe I was.
“I’d never met my dad, but one day this big bear of a man kicked in our door. I was lying on the couch, staring at a television set that wasn’t even turned on. He took one look at me, and I remember his eyes went so sad. Mom came barreling down the stairs with a shotgun in her hands, pumped it, and aimed it at his chest. She told him to get away from me, said he’d done enough. He told her to go ahead and shoot him. It’s what it felt like when he found out I existed anyway, like he’d been shot. He accused her of giving me Filsa, and I didn’t know what that meant. And, honestly, I didn’t really care. I felt so awful I could barely lift myself off the couch cushion. I remember the rage in his eyes when he told
